Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Korra was no stranger to sex. She was an instinctual being, and the physical expression of attraction came as naturally to her as the first three elements.

Always an arrogant and willful child, her tendency to buck authority had only worsened as she approached the cusp of adulthood. Confined to the compound, one would think that she would have found it difficult to get into such trouble. But trouble seemed to her a natural state, something that just happened, like an ice-storm in winter. It wasn’t hers to question how she’d end up necking a particularly pretty earthbender in the storeroom, just like she didn’t question why the sky was blue. It just was. 

The utility of such trysts had nothing to do with affection and everything to do with relief. The tragedy of them was that this relief was short-lived, and often not worth the blowback.

If she had been a more introspective person, inclined to the close examination of motives, she might have attributed this to some inherent need to find a small sliver of freedom in an otherwise imprisoned existence. She may have wondered if it was a desperate grasp at autonomy in a life that was promised to duty, to balance, to the world - to everything and everyone but herself. She might even have recognized the hard, cold lump of fear in her gut - the one she buried under her earnest desire to be an exemplary Avatar - and realized that these dalliances, for one blissful moment, made that fear disappear. 

She was not that person. All she knew was that it felt good, and Korra liked doing things that felt good.

No, Korra was fairly acquainted with sex. Relationships, though? Relationships were like a distant relative, some cousin twice removed - something she’d heard of her entire life but had absolutely no idea what to do with when confronted with one.

She loved Mako. She really did. He was handsome, talented, and a loyal friend. More than once he had saved her ass in a fight. He smelled like musk and just a hint of woodsmoke, and like the wind before a thunderstorm. He was also infuriating. Lately she wanted to sock him in the face as often as she wanted to kiss him.

Like today when Raiko denied her request for military reinforcements. The Southern Water Tribe was under the thumb of a hostile, foreign army. Her father was in immediate danger. Her mother. Katara. Her entire fucking culture. Couldn’t he see that she was sick with worry? Wouldn’t he do everything in his power if Bolin were in that sort of peril? No, that insensitive ass had the nerve to defend Raiko’s decision, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world to sit idly by and watch everything you love ripped away. 

Korra tossed on the hard pallet in her room on Air Temple Island. She cursed under her breath, sat up, and aimed an enthusiastic punch at the threadbare pillow. Hearing her master’s distress, Naga raised her head and whined.

“Sorry, girl.” Korra slung her legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward to give the beast a reassuring pat. Leaning into the touch, Naga whoofed contentedly and nuzzled her head into the young woman’s lap. 

“Mako can be such an ass.” She sighed. “It’s going to be okay, though. I’m meeting Iroh tomorrow and we’ll get this mess sorted out. Promise.” Naga nudged her affectionately. “And Varrick and Bolin are behind us. Even Asami.”

Asami who, spirits knew, had little reason to like the Avatar and less reason to help. Well, she was making a huge sale out of the deal, possibly putting her company back in the black if she could convince the army to buy those Mecha-Suits. There was that. 

Still, it baffled Korra that the beautiful CEO had the conviction to stay on with Team Avatar after... Well, after Mako. 

Korra admired her for that, really. Asami was made of stouter stuff than most. If she harbored any ill-will toward the Avatar, she never showed it. Maybe it was high-society etiquette - to dress hostility in the trappings of friendship. Or maybe Asami was just that forgiving. Korra thought the truth probably lay somewhere in between. She’d seen hurt in Asami’s eyes before. She’d also seen kindness and sincerity, and this indomitable will to move through the wreckage and on to better things. 

They had never been close. In truth, Korra was kind of intimidated by the older woman. She was just so damn... pretty. She had eyes that could light you up in the most delightful way - smoldering with sex and suggestion - or could slice a man to ribbons over the boardroom table. Her voice was cabaret smooth, and could be soft and comforting or knife-sharp by turns. And she was smart. Crazy smart. Crazy stupid smart. 

Korra had long wanted to bridge that uncomfortable distance between the two of them. She never knew what to say, though. Every time she had a moment alone with the other woman, she lost her nerve. It always sounded so dumb in her head. “Hey Asami. So I think you’re really smart,” (and pretty) “And snazzy,” (and pretty) “And like, really really cool. Want to be friends? Like more friends than we are now? Because we’re not not friends. But we’re not, like, close or anything. And I think that would be nice. Oh. P.S. Sorry I stole your boyfriend.”

She wondered, not for the first time, why the White Lotus had failed to teach her much in the way of interpersonal relations. Seems like something an Avatar should know. 

Settling restlessly back onto the unforgiving bed, Korra silently assured herself that yes, everything was going to be okay. Things with Mako would work out. She would enlist the help of Iroh’s army. She would liberate the South and her family would be fine. Hell, she might even make a new (and pretty) gal-pal. 

Eventually, sleep found her. 

--- --- ---

She was sitting on her bed in the temple. Orange planks of afternoon light shone in through the slatted shutters. The room had an odd quality to it, some indefinite anomaly making the once-familiar space utterly and irrevocably “other.” It was like some master artist had reproduced her sparse quarters in exquisite detail, lending to it the illusion of life without the substance. The edges of her vision were slightly blurred, and as she sat contemplating this she would sometimes notice a flurry of movement in her peripheral, only to turn and find the same, empty, almost-entirely-familiar room. 

A small sound alerted her to a change in her surroundings. She looked up to find the rice-paper door sliding quietly open. In walked a tall, familiar silhouette. As the figure approached, his features settled and sharpened. Amber eyes looked softly at her. Mako.

She was instantly furious, though she could not find the reason. 

He closed the distance between them in a few long strides, pulled her to her feet, and gathered her close. He leaned down and laid his face against the top of her head. Strong, sinewy arms held her flush against him. 

“I’m so sorry, Korra.” She wasn’t sure what he was talking about or where this anger was coming from, but she offered no response to his words and no resistance to his actions. “You were right. I was such an idiot. You were right and I’m sorry and please, please let me make it up to you.” The words spilled out of him, soft and pleading, rolling like a brook down a gentle slope. He tilted her head up then, and captured her mouth in a tender kiss. 

Anger forgotten, she returned the kiss with passion. This she understood. 

The world lurched around her. When she opened her eyes again she recognized the bedroom ceiling of Mako’s flat. Cracks spiderwebbed the flaking plaster. The fan spun lazy circles and the sounds of evening traffic punctuated the growing twilight. 

Strong, calloused hands kneaded her breasts, and she arched into the touch. Hot kisses travelled down her exposed midsection, blazing a trail toward the thrumming heat at her center. She carded her hands through Mako’s hair and moaned appreciatively. Closing her eyes and burying the crown of her head in the pillow, she cherished every electric moment. 

The room shifted, listing like a vessel in a storm. 

When she looked down, she met green eyes cloudy with lust. Asami was laying atop her, chin resting on arms folded over Korra’s stomach. Her crimson lips were parted, a high color in her cheeks. Korra could feel the beautiful engineer’s quiet, shuddering breaths where her midsection pressed firm against the juncture of her legs. She was knocked breathless by a powerful longing, the urgency of which astounded her. She thought she had known need - that pulsing, primal hunger - before. This new sensation was like that, in the way that an ocean is like a puddle. 

The ocean loomed before her. And she dove. 

She pulled the older woman up and into a kiss, drinking deep and drowning. She could feel the press of breasts against her own, her hard nipples sensitive to every slight shift, her clit throbbing in response to that movement, like the two were separate parts of the same electrical system, and Asami the current. 

Asami kissed her neck, nipped her pulse-point, ghosted her lips over collarbones and skirted the curve of her breasts. Her hands were soft and strong and insistent. Korra whimpered, unintentionally, when Asami’s finger slipped teasingly along the length of her slit, and she pressed into the touch.  

Korra’s mind had lost the ability to think, her mouth the ability to speak anything but a single name, over and again. Spirits! But that felt so good! When she felt the warm, wet mouth close gently around her clit, her mind imploded. She buried her hands in thick raven locks. She bucked, rolling her hips, riding out waves of pleasure against the other woman’s face. Black consumed her vision, white lights exploding behind her lids like a thousand tiny flashbulbs. Her entire existence distilled down to one pin-prick impression.  She-

She woke with a start, the taste of Asami’s name still on her tongue. 

--- --- --- 

It’s the kind of thing that sneaks up on a person, change. 

A year ago, had Asami been present on the compound, Korra would have found her a tempting challenge. The undercurrents of rivalry, the aloofness, the heiress’s damn near impenetrable equanimity - those would have made it that much more satisfying to reduce her to a panting, quivering mess. Another notch in the bedpost, baby. Now, the thought caused her stomach to flop queasily. 

This was a different time, a different place. She was no longer a prisoner of the compound. She was in love with Mako - Asami’s ex-boyfriend - though that love was sometimes a volatile thing. 

Upon waking, flushed and heaving and thighs slick with her need, Korra had attempted to relieve that ravenous hunger burning hot inside her. The problem was that every time she tried, images of Asami flashed unbidden through her mind. It was unnerving. 

Despairing of relief - and by extension, sleep - Korra dressed hurriedly and snuck out of the temple into the unnatural glow of Republic City.

--- --- ---

Mako was dead asleep when the knocking roused him. At first he wasn’t sure what that sound was, filtering in through the haze of exhaustion. “Hrm? Hullo?”

The knocking continued, insistent. 

“Hold on! Jeez! I’m coming!” He shouted from the bedroom. He stood, tried (unsuccessfully) to flatten an unruly lick of hair, and plucked grumpily at his boxers. Grumbling under his breath, he shuffled into the living room. “What the flameo is so important that I have to deal with it at...” He cut a glance at the clock as he passed, “Three in the morning?” He sighed and pinched his eyebrows together. Fuck. He had to be at the station in less than four hours. 

There had better be a damn good reason for this. 

Navigating his apartment by moonlight, he reached the door, disengaged the deadbolt, and flung the portal wide. There, standing in the softly humming electric light, was Korra, knuckles poised mid-knock. She seemed slightly startled, frozen in the ensuing (and merciful, Mako thought) silence. They blinked. 

And then Korra was pressed against him, pushing him bodily into the apartment. Strong, tan hands fisted in the collar of his undershirt, guiding him backwards, as her lips pressed hot and hungry against his. Mako returned the kiss, unable for a moment to form a coherent thought through the sleep-haze and surprise. Even if he had been thinking clearly, he had learned early on that questioning the motives of his headstrong girlfriend gave him a whole lot of headache and nothing in the way of understanding. 

Still, this was... odd. “Mrrph,” he said into her mouth, before successfully disengaging. “Korra, wha-?”

She silenced him with a fierce kiss. “No. Talk,” she growled and gave him a shove that sent him sprawling backward over the coffee table and half onto the couch. He had a split second to crabwalk the rest of the way onto the cushions before Korra was on him, straddling his waist, hands roaming up under his shirt. 

He hissed as her nails raked trails of fire down the hard planes of his stomach. Her hips rolling against him, he felt himself harden, manhood stretching against boxers, and instinctively ground into that delightful friction. It was at this point that all vestige of reason fled him. 

They writhed together in the moonlight. Mako thought he had never felt anything so heavenly - the press of Korra’s body hard against him, soft curves and sharp edges in equal measure. He groaned low in his throat as Korra moved her hand down to cup his manhood. 

“Condom,” she commanded, voice husky and blue eyes dark with desire. 

“Yes ma’am.”

--- --- --- 

She rode him hard and to completion, limbs slick with sweat and shining in the moonlight. They collapsed, spent, onto the couch and lay together in the quiet hours of early morning. 

It was later, as sleep snuck slowly into his limbs, that he remembered their fight. “So... you’re not still mad?” He asked. 

He could feel Korra frown against his neck, her muscles tense under his fingertips. She was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” She said, and her voice was thick with hurt. “I’m fucking mad. You’re my boyfriend. You’re supposed to have my back.”

“I do have your back.”

“No. You...” She sighed. “Can we not talk about this now?” She relaxed into him, nuzzling his neck. “I just want to enjoy this. Us.”

The low thrum of a satomobile engine crescendoed as it passed nearby, some happy soul heading home after a night on the town. In the distance a foghorn sounded, slow and mournful. 

Mako’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “Korra... Please, can we resolve this?” He asked, pensive. “You can’t just show up in the middle of the night and fuck my brains out, not when you hate my guts for no reason.” He played distractedly with her hair.

“One: I don’t hate you,” Korra breathed. “Two: I do have a reason. A damn good one. And Three: I didn’t exactly plan this. I couldn’t sleep. I showed up. It just sort of... happened.”

“What?” He laughed. “You just slipped and fell on my dick?”

She poked his side playfully. “Something like that.”

Mako listened to her breathing and traced circles on her back with feather-light fingers. He frowned, and nudged her with his chin. “I hate fighting with you.”

“Then don’t do it,” hummed Korra. 

“Can’t we just... I don’t know... agree to disagree?”

A pause. He could feel her breath hitch. “Not on this, no.” Her voice was quiet, serious. She propped herself up on an elbow and looked him in the face. “Mako, I’m worried about my family.”

“I know you are. I understand that. I’m worried too. I just think Raiko has a point. He has to protect his people, y’know?” 

“This is what I’m talking about! What about my people? Who’s going to protect them? You’re such an ass, Mako!”

“What? Because I don’t think it’s Republic City’s responsibility to fight a foreign war?” Mako’s irritation was apparent in the question. 

“You’re my boyfriend,” she said, as if it were an explanation in and of itself. 

“That doesn’t mean I have to agree with you when you’re wrong.”

“Damn it, Mako! I’m not wrong about this!” She pushed herself off of him and shot him a glare fit to cut diamonds.

“Spirits! You’re impossible!” Mako thumped the coffee table hard. “I don’t know how to make you happy!”

“Help me save my family!”

“I can’t, Korra! There’s nothing I can do!”

“Fuck you, Mako. You won’t.”

Mako growled in frustration, one hand clenched in his hair. They sat now on opposite ends of the couch, shaking with fury. The only sounds were their labored breathing and the clock ticking away the present, each tock another moment gone forever. 

Mako heaved a heavy sigh and dragged his palm down his face. His shoulders slumped, and the hard edge of his anger was replaced by something tender and full of sorrow. After a silence that stretched into infinity, he looked back up into blue eyes full of fire and hurt. 

“You drive me crazy, you know? ...But I love you,” he murmured, reaching out to brush Korra’s cheek, hesitant. She swatted his hand away, hard enough to sting. 

“Yeah.” The anger in her voice bordered on contempt. 

Something broke inside Mako then. That one word reached into some deep, secret part of him, grabbed ahold, and twisted. 

“Get. Out.” His amber eyes a slitted threat. 

“Fine!” She rose and pulled on her underclothes and shirt. She stalked to the door. For a moment she paused, and the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her features softened. She opened her mouth. Closed it. She looked down at her bare legs, at her toes curling against the floor. “Mako... I... I’m sorry,” she said quietly to her feet. 

“OUT!” He threw her pants at her, whipping them across the room with surprising force. She snatched them from the air. Her boots followed suit, thumping off the wall on either side of her. Scooping up the footwear, she spun on her heel and stormed out into the night, slamming the door with such force that it rattled the walls and dislodged a few photos from their hooks. They clattered on the hardwood floor. 

Quietly, slowly, Mako set about collecting the pictures, carefully replacing them on the cracked walls of the flat, just as he collected the sharp shards of his grief, and tucked them away, deep inside. Everything in its place. 

--- --- ---

Korra thought of Mako as she padded through the hushed halls of the temple, silently tending the growing guilt that had made its home in her heart. She had messed up this time. Royally. She couldn’t shake the sound of Mako’s voice, cracking with hurt, from her memory. She swiped at her eyes when she reached her quarters, trying in vain to convince herself that these were tears of anger, not shame. Anger was familiar. Anger she could deal with. Shame, though? That dark maw gaping at the intersection of her heart and mind... That was something she just couldn’t handle. 

She had to make this right. She would make this right. She resolved to apologize to Mako - truly and sincerely - to hold him for as long as he would have her. To kiss him gently and whisper her love until her voice failed her. After all, she would have the full strength of the United Forces by tomorrow, and whether or not Mako agreed with her would be irrelevant. Her family would be safe, and her conscience clear. She could forgive him his ignorance if he could forgive her hers. 

Even after she had undressed and was beginning to drift into oblivion, her shame was a pit threatening to swallow her whole. But with this new resolution she felt like she had taken a step back from the edge, like the next gust of wind wasn’t going to knock her sprawling into the infinite black. Things were going to be all right, she told herself, and stepped back once more. 

As exhaustion claimed her, she also resolved to forget about the dream. Definitely forget the dream. That was never going to happen.

Despite this, it was a good long while before Korra could look at the heiress without blushing. 

--- --- ---

“There are those who look at things the way they are, and ask why... I dream of things that never were, and ask why not?”

Robert Kennedy

“Dream as if you'll live forever. Live as if you'll die today.”

James Dean

“Dreams, I have dreams,

When I'm awake, when I'm asleep.

And you, you are in my dreams.

You're underneath my skin.

How am I so weak?”

Brandi Carlile, “Dreams”

Chapter Text

The last vestiges of daylight were smeared red on the horizon when Korra stormed out of the Earth Queen’s palace. The pillars of the colonnade cast long shadows over her path. Her fury burned hot inside her, a dangerous, feral thing. 

“Allow me to escort you back to your quarters, Avatar Korra,” ventured Grand Secretariat Gun timidly, hurrying in her wake. Korra stopped abruptly, and the elderly advisor bumped into her and fell unceremoniously onto his rear. Spinning to face him, she clenched her fists, dark shoulders knotted and roiling.

“Grah! Who does she think she is?! I know there are airbenders in this city! She’s lucky I didn’t punch her in her queeny face!”

Gun climbed back to his feet, brushing off his robes. “You really ought not say such things about Her Majest-” He began.

“I’ll say what I fucking please!” She growled low in her throat and punched a nearby marble pillar, twisting to throw her weight behind the blow. The stone gave way with a satisfying crunch. It almost made her feel better. Almost. 

“Oh Spirits...” Gun murmured, looking for all the world like a cornered cat-deer. He glanced between Korra and the cratered pillar, and then pointedly examined the cuffs of his robes for creases. 

Grabbing a fistful of Gun’s robe, she pointed a threatening finger in his face. “I’m going to find them,” she said, voice throaty with rage. “And there’s no one in this city that can stop me. Not the Earth Queen, not the Dai Li, and certainly not you.” 

Gun opened his mouth to reply. Closed it. Opened it again. Korra’s eyes narrowed and the advisor let out a strangled mewl. 

She made a sound of disgust and pushed herself away from the trembling man. Turning on her heel, wolftails whipping wildly, she stalked off into the growing gloom. 

Behind her Gun let out a shuddering breath and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He watched the Avatar recede into the distance of the Upper Ring and shook his head. Some days he needed this job like he needed a kick in the head. This was one of those days. 

--- --- ---

It was full dark when she arrived at their compound. The walk had cooled her ire, but just barely. Tenzin was waiting for her in the common room. 

“Korra!” He rose to embrace her. “How was your audience with the Queen?”

“Terrible.” She threw herself into the nearest chair. “She took the money. And then she had the nerve to tell me that there are no airbenders in the city! She wants us gone by tomorrow. She’s hiding something, Tenzin. I know it.”

“...Clearly.” Tenzin’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “But why?” 

“Beats me,” Korra threw her leg over the arm of the chair and bounced her foot in irritation. “But I’m going to find them. And I’m not leaving until I do.”

Tenzin steepled his fingers on the table and was silent for a long moment. 

“I agree that it is extremely likely that there are airbenders here,” he began, “And that it is imperative for us to find them, but in this we must tread carefully.” Korra huffed and blew an errant hair out of her face. “I mean it, Korra. The Earth Queen has incredible influence, even amongst the farthest flung Earth States, and especially here in Ba Sing Se. We must be diplomatic in our dealings with her.”

Korra waved a hand in front of her face, dismissive. “I’m telling you, Tenzin, diplomacy won’t work on that tired old bag.” 

“Korra-”  

“I’ve tried!” 

Tenzin caught her gaze and gave her a long and searching look.

“Korra... What did you do?”

“Well... I sort of yelled at the Queen and stormed out. I mean, technically she dismissed me. I think? But yeah. I definitely still stormed.” She had the good grace to look abashed then. Tenzin pinched the bridge of his nose and ground his teeth. “And I may have threatened the Grand Secretariat.” The muscles on his jaw stood at attention. “And destroyed a pillar.” Clench. Clench. Grind. “And... maybe a few other things on the walk here...” She trailed off. 

He breathed a heavy sigh. “Korra...”

“I know! I know!” Korra raised her hands, poised to bat away the inevitable lecture. “I lost my cool. I’m sorry.”

“...Well, it can’t be helped now.”

They sat together in uncomfortable silence. Korra’s fingers drummed a staccato beat on the table. Tenzin rested his head in his hands, kneading his forehead, like if he could just rub hard enough maybe this whole mess would go away. 

“So... Mako and Bolin find Kai?”

“We don’t know. They’re not back yet.”

“Oh... Well... I’m sure they’ll be back by tomorrow.” Korra pushed the worry down. They were perfectly capable of handling themselves. And she had enough on her plate right now. 

Tenzin made a noise of agreement. “We’ll go out and look for them if they aren’t,” he said. “Right now, though, we should get some rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow.” 

“I don’t think I can sleep just yet,” Korra confessed. “I’m still a little worked up.”

“You could meditate.”

“Right...” She made a face. “I think I’ll go for a walk.” Korra rose and started toward the entryway. “I promise not to break anything this time,” grinning. Tenzin harrumphed. 

Pausing with her hand on the door, Korra glanced back over her shoulder. “You seen Asami around?”

“Last I heard she was on the airship. Something about fixing the capapilator. Capillary. Capitator. I don’t know. Something.”

“Thanks, Tenzin.” And then she was out in the crisp night air and the dim glow of oil lanterns. 

--- --- ---

She found Asami in the engine room, sitting cross-legged and surrounded by cables, tools, wires, and other things Korra didn’t have names for. She was dressed in a pair of burgundy jodhpurs, black boots, and a white sleeveless undershirt smeared with oil. On her hands she wore thick, brown leather gloves. Her ebony hair was pulled back in a utilitarian ponytail. She was hunched forward, back to the door, tinkering with some mess of components in her lap.

Korra thought she never looked more beautiful than when she was under the hood of a machine. She loved the way Asami’s eyes shone with delight on those times she tried to explain to the young Avatar the mechanics of this or the principles that governed that. Her smile was always more earnest then, less guarded. She looked so damn happy. And Korra liked that, that the brilliant young inventor could find such joy in a life burdened with grief. 

She stood a while in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching the engineer tinker in the quiet hum of electric light. The two had grown close in the months since Harmonic Convergence. After their rocky start - that awful mess with Mako and all its ups and downs - she sometimes found herself surprised that she had been gifted this opportunity at all. Not only had their friendship survived those trials, but it had blossomed into one of the most comfortable relationships in Korra’s life. 

There was something special about Asami. Sure, she was intimidating - the perfect combination of class and beauty and unshakable confidence. She was Asami Sato, The Asami Sato - CEO of a multimillion yuan company, superb fighter, heiress, society woman, brilliant inventor, and engineer of all stripes. She intimidated the hell out of Korra. But she was also patient, kind, startlingly insightful, and fiercely loyal. 

And there was something else that made her special - the same something that made Korra’s heart stutter when their eyes met, made her breath hitch when the inventor touched her arm, or said her name just so, or laughed at Korra’s capers. 

There had been a night a few weeks ago, not too long before they left Republic City, when they had driven out to the mountains beyond the city limits. They sat on the hood of Asami’s satomobile and talked into the early hours of the morning. About nothing. About everything. Asami talked of her mother, her father, her struggles with the grief and loss and betrayal. Korra talked about her childhood confined on the compound, her parents, her anger, the weight of the responsibility on her shoulders. They talked of Mako. They talked of Bolin and Lin and Tenzin and even Varrick - (“Korra! Do the thing!” And Asami would point at something or other and Korra would shoot a fireball at it or a blast of air, or spit spectacularly in that general direction or just pull a face. And they would laugh until they hurt). Yeah, that was probably the night. The night when her heart started doing the thing. 

Korra shook her head. She didn’t have time for romance these days. Avatar duties. She wondered, sadly, if she would ever really have time. 

“Hey Asami,” she called. Asami didn’t stir from her tinkering. “Asami.” She cleared her throat. “Yo, ‘Sams!” 

Asami twisted toward the door and looked up, smiling that damn perfect smile. “Oh hey, Korra! I didn’t hear you come in.”

Korra laughed. “It’s okay. I only had to say your name, I don’t know, thirty times?”

“Sorry,” Asami shrugged, and returned her gaze to the project in her lap. “You know I get tunnel-vision when I work.”

“I know. It’s cute. What are you working on? Is that the caterpillar Tenzin was talking about?”

She laughed. “Capacitor, goof. It’s a component of the ship’s electrical system, a device for storing electrical charge. I noticed on the flight today that the capacitor wasn’t holding charge like it should. It’s not a big deal. I mean, it’s not an urgent issue. It still works. It just doesn’t work to it’s full potential, which, to me, is unacceptable. So I figured since I had a few hours I’d fix it. Turns out, the dielectric is beginning to degrade. A ceramic model would provide more capacitance, and higher heat-resistance.” 

Korra nodded dumbly. 

“But that would require purchasing the part,” continued Asami. “Future Industries doesn’t have any manufactories in Ba Sing Se, and I wouldn’t trust a Cabbage Corp dielectric if my life depended on it. So, yeah, I’m just double-checking some of the circuitry in the meantime.”

“Capapilor.” 

“Capacitor.”

“Cap-avatar.”

“Capacitor.”

“Cap-” Korra ducked and narrowly missed the wrench flung at her head. The room echoed with the resounding clang of metal-on-metal as the tool bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor. The Avatar grinned. “You’re feisty tonight.”

“And you’re impossible.” Asami peeled off her gloves and placed them carefully in the toolbox. Standing gracefully, she rose into a languid stretch, hands clasped and arms high above her head.  Korra tried very hard not to dwell on how her shirt rode up as she did this, exposing the hard, flat expanse of her stomach. It was a difficult thing to accomplish. Either Asami didn’t notice, or if she did, had the decency to pretend otherwise. “How was the Earth Queen?”

“Uhg. I don’t want to talk about it. Looks like we’re going to be looking for airbenders without her help, though.”

Asami frowned at this, but kept her silence. 

“It’s frustrating. I feel like no matter which way we turn, we keep running into walls,” Korra explained. She walked over to the engineer and helped her gather the tools, chucking them haphazardly into the open box. Asami made an irritated noise and rearranged the box, meticulously placing each tool in the appropriate spot. 

“What can I do to help?” She asked as they walked toward the airship’s loading ramp.

“I need to blow off some steam,” the younger woman replied. “Care for a match?” She smirked. 

“Oh, you’re on.” Asami flashed her a sly smile. “Let me put on my wraps and I’ll meet you in the courtyard.”

“Deal.”

--- --- ---

Twenty minutes later Asami found Korra stretching in the courtyard outside the guesthouse. The engineer had removed her boots and wrapped her wrists and ankles. She wore the same ratty undershirt and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. Korra, for her part, removed her hide boots and fur waist-wrap.  

They faced each other, a few paces apart, under the light of the moon and the flickering glow of gas lamps. Below them, lights from the lower rings of Ba Sing Se twinkled like stars in a vast expanse of night.

“First blood?” Korra ventured.

“Not tonight. I’d hate to mess up your pretty face,” delivered with mischief in her eyes, perfect red lips curled up just slightly. “First pin.” 

Korra loved the way Asami talked shit. Mako could, sometimes, but other times he’d get all pensive and moody about it. Bolin, well, he was just too damn nice to effectively sling shit. 

“Ha!” She flashed a lopsided grin and laced her fingers, stretching her arms and cracking her knuckles for emphasis. Dropping into a stance, she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, arms up and at the ready. “I won’t even break a sweat.”

Asami’s smile spread slowly, deliberately. Green eyes sparkled roguishly. 

“That so?”

“Sure is. I’m the Avatar: Master of the Elements. You better pray Lady Luck is on your side, Sato.”

“Oh, Korra... Lady Luck has nothing to do with it.” She assumed her traditional defensive stance. “Because I have Lady Skill wrapped around my finger...” Asami’s smile was something predatory now, and her eyes... Shit, those eyes, though. Bedroom eyes. That’s what you called that look, right? Her voice dropped to a purr, “...Wrapped around my finger... panting on the bed, hands fisted in the sheets, begging for more.” 

“Hu-” Korra’s mouth hung open. Her face was on fire, blood rushing to all the right places and mind rushing to all the wrong. And then Asami’s leg was whipping toward her head. 

Korra stumbled backward, woozy and flushed, as the heiress’s foot passed close enough to ruffle her bangs. Asami rode the momentum forward, spinning full circle and sweeping low. Korra cursed her traitorous body, her flagging reflexes, as her feet flew out from under her. How could this woman so easily unhinge her?

“Umph!” The air left Korra’s lungs in a whoosh as her back connected with the unyielding earth. Rolling with the impact, she sprang up and back, bringing up an arm to parry a right hook, then a left. She weaved. She dodged. She blocked. Asami was quick, but that wasn’t the surprising part. She’d fought Asami before, and the heiress had always been agile. Korra was surprised at the aggression. It wasn’t Asami’s style to attack first, rather to turn her opponent’s energy against them, bending the mechanics of a fight like others bent the elements. Korra swore emphatically. 

The fight dragged on for longer than Korra liked. A few glancing blows, a few near-misses, both pushing for advantage and neither succeeding. Then Asami overextended on a jab and there it was, an opening. Korra aimed a kick at Asami’s midsection, but Asami twisted, impossibly fast, and trapped the leg against her side. Shit, a ruse! And a damn transparent one! Using all of her weight and leverage, Asami spun the Avatar off her feet. 

For the second time the earth forced Korra’s breath out of her. When she felt the other woman’s weight on top of her, well, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get that breath back.

Asami sat astride her waist, pinning her with one hand on either shoulder. Korra’s stomach tightened. That excruciatingly delightful fire burned low in her core. She could hear her pulse pounding in her temples. This was bad. 

The heiress leaned forward, jade eyes half-lidded and raven hair curtaining their faces. Korra willed her hips to remain still, a damn hard resolution, painfully aware of the pulsing, wet heat just below. Asami was close now, too close. Korra could feel the caress of her breath. She smelled of mint and jasmine and sweat and grease and dear Raava! Every nerve in Korra’s body crackled with electricity. Time stopped. 

“Pin,” Asami murmured. And then she sat back up, all shit-eating-grin and bravado.

“Uhg!” Korra shoved the older woman off, perhaps a little too roughly, growling her frustration. “You cheated.” She huffed and stalked in a circle, adrenaline and desire roaring in her veins. 

“Hardly.” Asami flipped her hair, and Korra hated that she could make something so theatric look so damn natural. “The first rule of battle is to know your opponent’s weakness. The second is to exploit it.” 

“Hrrmph,” Korra pouted, cutting a sideways glance at the heiress. Heat rushed to her face again when she realized the implications of her ‘weakness.’ Spirits, that woman was infuriating! Is she fucking with me? Of course she is. Tactics, that’s all it was. Something inside of her shifted then, a weight settling in her chest, that was quickly replaced by a slow, cold anger. This was madness. She could command four elements, restore lost bending, open spirit portals,  but she couldn’t will away this... this whatever it was.  “...It was still a cheap shot,” she grumped. 

Asami laughed, and it was like wind in the trees on Air Temple Island, light and airy and gentle as the breeze. She smiled kindly and squeezed the waterbender’s shoulder. Korra flexed instinctively, surprised by the warmth of the gesture and furious at her body’s delight in the touch. 

“Come on, Korra. The bad guys aren’t going to be pulling any punches. But if it makes you feel any better, I apologize...” Korra looked into green eyes and found sincerity. She sighed. 

“All right. You’re forgiven. But next time I’m not gonna fall for your underhanded shock tactics.” She grinned then, and shouldered the other woman playfully. Asami was beautiful, powerful, brilliant, poised, and damn near impossible to stay mad at. 

“It’s getting late.” Asami looked up at the cloudless sky. The crescent moon made her porcelain skin, still shining with a thin sheen of sweat, almost glow. “Want to call it a night?”

“What I want is to break something,” Korra huffed. 

“Still angry about the Queen?”

“Yeah, I guess.” And angry at myself. And angry that you manage to make grease and sweat look so damn good. And angry that I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you. And-

“Well, there’s always the gym on the airship. You could go a few rounds with the bag.”

“I might.” 

“Just don’t set it on fire again.”

“That only happened twice.”

“Three times”

“Close enough.”

“Promise not to do it tonight.”

“No promises.” 

“All right, Killer.” Asami punched her shoulder. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

“Whatever, ‘Sams.” Korra punched her back. “It’s not like you can’t afford to replace them.”

“True. But that doesn’t give you license to destroy with reckless abandon.” 

“I’m the Avatar. I do what I want.” She flashed a crooked grin, hands resting on her hips.  “And besides, what would you do with yourself if I didn’t destroy with reckless abandon? You’d have no more cities to rebuild.” 

“Truly I would be lost without you, oh Great and Mighty Avatar,” quipped Asami, rolling her eyes. Korra smiled wider. 

“That’s the spirit.”

Korra found herself walking with Asami back toward their quarters. She slung an arm around the inventor, and the two jostled each other playfully. This was the Asami she loved most, the one behind the poise and magnificence, all gamesome smiles and comfortable silence and easy wit. 

--- --- ---

Their guesthouse was spacious enough, especially compared to the accommodations on the airship, and lavishly furnished. There was a common room, a kitchen, and two large dormitories - one for the men, one for the women. They stopped outside the washroom, and Korra opened the door and motioned for Asami to enter. 

“You go first. I’ll be in when you’re done.”

“You sure?” The way Asami was looking at her made the blood rush to Korra’s cheeks. Her eyes were soft, searching. Was there something there? Some unspoken invitation? She hoped her blush wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

“Yeah. Go on. I could use to sit and think for a bit.” 

Asami paused, teetering on the edge of something. And then it was gone. “All right. I won’t be long.” 

Korra sighed and slumped against the wall, sliding down and splaying her legs out in front of her. Her thoughts bounced erratically through the events of the day. The Queen was obviously lying. But why? What was she hiding? They’d be able to find airbenders in this city. For sure. It was bigger than Republic City, sprawling for miles, timeworn and filthy and elegant and imposing. And somewhere in the city were Mako, Bolin, and Kai. Korra’s gut twisted when she realized she’d hardly thought about them tonight. They had to be okay, right? Mako and Bolin were capable benders. And Kai? Well, he was a scrappy little shit. She just didn’t like the idea of not knowing where they were. 

And then there was Asami. Holy Mother of Faces, that was going to be a problem. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that she felt far more than friendship for the beautiful engineer. Sure, she valued that friendship, more and more each day. She was easy to talk to. And she was fun. Spirits, was she fun! But that wasn’t enough to explain why Korra would go out of her way to seek her company, how she would lie awake at night and replay their moments, every casual touch, every word. It certainly wasn’t enough to explain that burning need in the pit of her stomach. 

Korra grunted, irritated, and buried her face in her hands. Yes, she was falling for Asami. Hard. And she knew it. And sometimes she’d catch Asami looking at her, or feel her hand linger just a moment longer than necessary, and she’d think that maybe, just maybe, her feelings were requited. The Avatar had faced a lot of trials in the last year - rushed headlong into battle, danger, and even romance. She was a woman of action. But this? This shit was scary. 

She was in the middle of giving herself one of her Avatar Pep-Talks (“You can do this! What’s the worst that could happen? You’re the Avatar!”) when the washroom door opened. Startled, she jerked out of her reverie and struck her head against the wall with an impressive crack. 

“Ow! Shit!” She rubbed the back of her head nervously, grinning through the blush. “Hey, ‘Sams. You startled me.”

Asami quirked an eyebrow. “I can tell.” She smiled and extended her hand. Korra took it and hoisted herself to her feet. She was immediately struck dumb by the vision before her. Asami was wrapped in a guest robe, raven hair wet and dripping down her back. Sans make-up, she was every bit as elegant and enigmatic as ever. 

Clamping her mouth shut, Korra fought the urge to blurt out the first thing that popped into her mind, which would probably have been about as eloquent as, “ME KORRA. YOU PRETTY. UHG.” She reminded herself to breathe, and then reminded herself that she probably looked a wreck and smelled worse than a wet dog-boar.

Instead she said, “Thanks,” and offered her most charming, lopsided smile. 

“Anytime,” Asami replied and squeezed her hand.

“And I mean... thanks for everything. For today. For being there. For being exactly what I needed.” 

Asami was looking at her with soft eyes again. Soft eyes. Soft smile. Soft hands. Korra wondered idly if her lips were soft as well. Asami’s free hand brushed a loose lock of Korra’s hair behind her ear, fingertips leaving trails of fire where they ghosted over her skin. Her hand lingered, thumb tracing Korra’s cheek. “...Anytime,” she murmured, slowly leaning in.

 Korra’s heart thumped wildly. This was it. This felt right. What had she been so damn afraid of? She closed her eyes, tilted her head up, and moved to close the space-

WHAM!

Bumi skidded into the hallway, clutching his pajama shorts and dancing forward on the balls of his feet. 

“Shove over, kids! Too much rice wine! I gotta pee!” He shouldered them out of the doorway and slammed the door behind him. WHAM!

Korra slid her palms down her face, pulling at the skin and wondering if she could earthbend a hole deep enough to swallow her forever. Even Asami, the picture of high-society refinement, looked flustered - a light dusting of blush on her cheeks, wide-eyed, one hand clutching the neck of her robe. 

They could hear the contents of Bumi’s bladder empty into the bowl, along with his satisfied “hooo's" and “humm's.” The sound stretched into forever. And then kept right on going. 

One side of Asami’s mouth quirked. She tried to stifle a snort of laughter and failed. That was the end of them. They leaned against each other in the hall and laughed until their sides ached and their eyes watered. They were still gasping for breath when Bumi emerged. 

“Hey, kiddo.” He threw an arm around Korra’s shoulders. “Did I ever tell you about the time I drank the Fire Lord under the table?”

“Another time, Bumi.” Korra chuckled and wiped at her eyes. “I’ve had a day.”

“Your loss.” He shrugged and sauntered down the hallway and into his room. 

Korra turned back to the heiress. Green eyes met blue. Land and sea. 

Asami leaned down and planted a chaste kiss on Korra’s cheek. “Goodnight, Korra.” And she turned and made her way down the hall toward the women’s lodgings.

“‘Night, Asami,” Korra called after her. She hummed contentedly, entered the washroom and proceeded to cleanse herself of the day’s worries. 

Chapter Text

They had been six days in Zaofu, and the respite was a welcome one.

Korra spent much of her time teaching Opal the basics of airbending. Suyin was often busy with the finer details of city government, and Lin spent those hours she couldn’t actively antagonize her sister pacing and huffing and slamming doors. Asami passed the days walking the streets with Mako and Bolin, watching the twins play Power-Disc, or working on the untidy stack of schematics piled high on her guest-room desk. It was pleasant to have a break. Knowing that soon enough they would have to resume travel, she resolved to enjoy every moment of it.

This particular morning Team Avatar (along with Opal and Lin) lounged lazily about one of the lavish sitting rooms of the Beifong estate. They talked comfortably about past adventures and new friends and future plans. All except Lin, of course, who hunched grumpily against a far wall. Asami realized that she had missed this, the easy banter and shenanigans. Even Mako seemed to be enjoying himself. During a lull in the conversation, Opal suggested that they take lunch on the lush rolling hills that surrounded the city. 

“A picnic!” Bolin exclaimed. He plucked the young woman off the couch and spun her in his enthusiasm. “Opal, you’re a genius!” 

“Absolutely not.” Lin spat the words out with distaste, like they were an insect that had deigned to crawl into her open mouth. 

“C’mon, Beifong,” said Korra. “It’ll be fun! Besides, you’ll be there to scare off any crazy criminals.”

“No.” 

That one word sealed their fate, Asami thought, smiling to herself. Telling the Avatar ‘no’ was just about the most effective way to ensure that Korra did whatever it was that was being discussed. This time was no different. After a short, but heated, argument, Korra declared loudly that she was going on a picnic, with or without Lin, and that nobody was going to stop her. Lin ground her teeth and held her silence. 

“Aw man, guys! We’re gonna have a super happy fun-fun day!” Gushed Bolin. 

“Fun-fun?” Mako drawled, lifting an angular eyebrow at his brother.

“Yeah! Double the fun! Fun squared!”

“Technically, double-the-fun and fun-squared are entirely different things. Unless, of course, fun has a value of two,” Asami explained. 

The group blinked collectively. Bolin scratched his head. Lin let out a clipped bark of laughter. It was possibly the only time in history that Lin had laughed, ever. Asami found the sound intrinsically unnerving.

--- --- ---

It was early afternoon when the group crested one of the many hills that encircled Zaofu. Behind them, the sun glittered brilliantly off the petals and spires of the remarkable city. Asami allowed herself a moment to appreciate the beauty of the architecture, equal parts aestheticism and utility. Truly a delightful combination. The day was warm, the breeze cool, and she could think of nowhere else she’d rather be.

Opal led the way, swinging a basket stuffed heavy with delicacies prepared by Suyin’s pirate-chef. Bolin had leapt onto Mako’s back, and Mako struggled on stoically, legs near-buckling under the strain of his little brother’s bulk. Arms piled high with rolled blankets, Lin brought up the rear, grumbling and cursing and generally being, well, Lin.

Korra reached out and took Asami’s hand, giving it a friendly squeeze. “This is nice.” She said, grinning sideways at the engineer. 

“It is,” Asami agreed, delighting in the warmth of Korra’s hand in her own. That certainly was nice. 

Asami knew what she felt for Korra. Knew it as she knew a hundred thousand things - tested and retested, examined from all possible angles, taken apart and reassembled. She had spent long nights considering this blossoming attraction, weighing the pros and cons of acting upon it. She was a woman of careful deliberation, rarely impulsive and always reflective. She built things. She fixed things. And her longest and most important project had been herself. 

She had spent a lifetime refining her ability to accept life’s inevitable turmoils, labored at it every day, just as she woke each morning and worked to improve her martial competence, sparring with partners or bag or whatever was available. Acceptance was a skill, and like all skills, it atrophied when neglected. 

The last year had provided her no lack of opportunities to practice this particular faculty. Her father’s betrayal had cut her to the quick; Varrick’s swindle had nearly cost her her company; and Mako had rebuffed her not once, but twice. More than anything she prided herself in her ability to forgive, to rise above. After all, harboring resentment was like taking poison and expecting someone else to die. She need only ponder the depth of her father’s misery to accept the truth of that statement. 

Still, though, none of those victories had come without their fair share of pain. And Asami had absolutely no desire to sign up for more of the same. 

Korra had, by fits and starts, matured in the time Asami had known her. She was not quite the walking social catastrophe she had once been, but she was still flighty and unpredictable, and that made her a risk. It was obvious that the Avatar felt some measure of attraction to her, the way she would stutter and blush and face-palm. And Asami was absurdly pleased at those reactions, and often surprised by just how comfortably that pleasure made a home in her heart. Yes, she was wildly enamored with the younger woman, and the intensity of the emotion made her that much more cautious. Perhaps one day she would reexamine the risk/reward dynamics of the situation, and decide to act. She almost had, in Ba Sing Se. 

For now, though, she was content to enjoy their comfortable friendship and the occasional thrill at baiting the impossibly adorable Avatar. 

--- --- ---

They spread out in the shade of a towering elm, passing containers of food back and forth, chatting and laughing. Lin stalked the perimeter, contributing the occasional grunt or derisive snort to the conversation when she was feeling particularly talkative. 

The fare was exquisite, rich and delicate by turns, and brought to mind quiet family dinners on the Sato estate, back before that world had fallen to pieces. It was a bittersweet feeling, recalling the tinkling laughter of her mother and the way her father’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. Her heart ached with a deep and abiding homesickness.  She was adrift, had been since her father’s betrayal - lost, alone. If it weren’t for her present company, she might have given in to the temptation to cradle that loneliness.

“Hey Lin!” Bolin called, stirring Asami from her musings. “Come join us!”

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon! Have a little fun!”

“Yippee. Fun,” she deadpanned.

He rose and approached the metalbender, making to throw an arm around her shoulder.

“Bro, I wouldn’t-” Mako began.

Lin dropped fluidly into a wide stance and bent a pillar of earth into his midsection, sending him sprawling. Mako covered his face with his hand and shook his head. Whoofing and heaving as he tried to regain his breath, Bolin writhed in the grass in a most undignified fashion. Without sparing a backward glance at the prone earthbender, Lin resumed her pacing.

“Koh’s wrinkly left nut! That hurt!” Bolin groaned, rolling on the ground and clutching at his belly.

“Koh doesn’t have nuts,” Korra said around a mouthful of food, matter-of-factly. 

“How do you know? You ever met the guy?” He crawled back to his spot on the blanket and flopped down, resting his chin in his hands. 

“Well, no, but he’s a centipede thing. And centipede things don’t have nuts... right?”

“It’s an idiom,” supplied Mako.

“Don’t call me names.” Korra punched him.

The three of them quickly lost themselves in an impassioned debate on whether or not spirits possessed genitalia, Bolin and Korra gesticulating wildly, and Mako leaning lazily back on his elbows. Opal quirked an eyebrow at Asami, and mimed gagging. The resulting combination perfectly communicated the sentiment, ‘Ew. Boys.’ Or rather, ‘Ew. Boys and Korra.’ Asami laughed. 

She asked Opal what it was like to discover the ability to bend, and Opal launched into an explanation of the experience, all bright-eyed wonder and exuberant joy. Having long since outgrown the childish wish to be anything other than what she was, Asami shared in the girl’s delight, nodding at all the appropriate times and smiling as Opal recounted the unintentional destruction of her room shortly after the ability had manifested. She found the girl easy to talk to, and her laughter infectious. 

Lin stood apart from the rest, taut as a spring stretched to breaking. Her eyes cast wildly in every direction, searching out invisible foes. “Less talk. More eating,” she barked over her shoulder. She was summarily ignored. 

--- --- --- 

Hours later, Asami sat hugging her knees to her chest as she watched the shadows lengthen over the distant city. The late afternoon light had an ethereal quality to it, gilding the scene in golds and bronzes. 

Behind her, Mako dozed against the trunk of the elm, Korra hanging from a branch above him by the crook of her knees and occasionally dropping twigs and leaves onto his sleeping form. Bolin and Opal huddled a little way off, talking in the hushed tones of budding romance. Lin sat defeated, elbows on her knees and hands tangled in her gunmetal hair, having failed for the thirteenth time (Asami had counted) to convince the unruly band to return to the city. 

She smiled as she recalled Korra and Bolin’s impromptu wrestling match over the last crabfish dumpling, which had been made entirely pointless when Opal snatched the offending item and airbent herself high into the tree. Korra had collapsed into fits of raucous laughter, and Bolin had waved his arms frantically and bounced around the trunk of the tree while the young airbender very slowly and deliberately nibbled her prize. 

Asami remembered the feel of Korra’s hands on her shoulders when the young woman sat down behind her and began to work away the knots. She had strong hands, and warm. They kneaded every trace of tension from her. Thinking on this, she allowed herself a brief and carefully controlled indulgence, wondering what else those capable hands could do. She was not disappointed by the image. Maybe one day, she allowed. Maybe one day soon. For now, though, this was perfect. 

It wasn’t often that Asami found peace, concerned as she was with the running of a company, the creation of new and revolutionary technology, and the saving of the world. These moments were precious few, and she hoarded them like priceless treasures. Would that every day could be so simple and easy.

She felt more than heard Korra’s approach. “Hey ‘Sams.” For a moment the young Avatar stood silently beside her, a statuesque sentinel, gazing out at Zaofu below. Her company was a welcome thing, calm and comforting. “What’cha doing?”

“Thinking,” said Asami. 

“You think too much.” 

“And you don’t think enough,” she ribbed. 

“Ouch.” Korra mock-pouted, then smiled and laced her hands behind her back, stretching her shoulders. Taut muscles rolled beneath perfect caramel skin. It was a beautiful sight. “This is nice,” she said, echoing sentiments from earlier that afternoon. “I’m glad Mako isn’t acting all weird anymore. Gonna miss making fun of him for it, though.”

“I don’t doubt he’ll give us plenty of new reasons. He’s never failed in the past.”

Korra hummed her agreement. She licked her fingers and fussed her eyebrows, pulling them together while pushing out her lower lip. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she intoned, deadly serious. “I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car.” She loomed imposingly over the inventor.

“That’s actually pretty good.” Asami laughed. “You’re a goof.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” said Asami, patting the grass beside her in invitation.  

“It’s great to have the team back,” Korra admitted, and sat down next to her. She scooted sideways until their hips touched, and leaned her head on Asami’s shoulder. “It feels... right.” Asami flushed, despite herself, as a strong arm snaked around her waist.

“It feels like home.” 

And it did. 

--- --- ---

“You can never go home again, but the truth is you can never leave home, so it’s all right.”

Maya Angelou

“Home is the one place in all this world where hearts are sure of each other. It is the place of confidence. It is the place where we tear off that mask of guarded and suspicious coldness which the world forces us to wear in self-defense, and where we pour out the unreserved communications of full and confiding hearts. It is the spot where expressions of tenderness gush out without any sensation of awkwardness and without any dread of ridicule.” 

Frederick W. Robertson

“Settle down, it'll all be clear.

Don't pay no mind to the demons,

They fill you with fear.

The trouble—it might drag you down.

If you get lost, you can always be found.

Just know you're not alone,

'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home.”

Philip Phillips, “Home”

Chapter Text

It was decided, then. Korra would surrender herself in exchange for the captured airbenders. Asami’s chest was full to bursting with warring emotions - pride at Korra’s stoicism, faith in her unassailable will, dismay at the internal battle writ plain on the young woman’s face, and fear. Fear most of all. 

Unintentionally, Asami began doing calculations. She counted their numbers, the numbers of their known enemy, ventured guesses at the unknown. She assigned values to the abilities of each member of the team, to the impossible power of the four Red Lotus benders. She calculated all the known facts, and threaded strings of connection between those facts and the terrain, the probable weather, the strategy they had agreed upon, the staggering leverage that the hostage airbenders gave to their enemy. The number of unknown variables was discouraging, but she made educated guesses at most of them and felt fairly confident that she wasn’t too far off mark. She rarely was.  

After considering the facts - what they had going for them and against whom they fought - Asami thought it extremely unlikely that they would get through the next day without any casualties. Fear twisted in her gut with renewed vigor, and she swallowed it down. 

Yes, the odds were against them. But Korra had a good track record with bad odds.

--- --- ---

Laghima’s Peak was still a few hours distant, and the feel on the ship was one of restless anticipation.

Su’s airship was a Future Industries model, but smaller than Asami’s. It was a personal craft designed to sleep six. With Su’s entire metal-guard onboard, quarters were more than cramped. They took to sleeping in shifts. The ship was overcrowded, ridiculously so, and this was why Asami found it strange that no one had seen Korra in a while. 

After a brief, but thorough, search, Asami found her on the deck, leaning on the railing, shoulders slumped and staring vacantly out at the passing night. It was cold - cold enough to feel the merciless bite through multiple layers. She wondered, not for the first time, how Korra could stand the chill in her sleeveless top. Must be a Water Tribe thing. Probably growing up in a frozen wasteland lent one a certain immunity to the cold.

“Hey,” said Asami. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Korra sighed. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“It’s going to be okay.” She squeezed the Avatar’s shoulder, felt the heat radiating from the dark skin even through her gloves. She wished that she was a bender then - that she could bend Korra’s worry from her like water from a flask. “I have faith in you.” 

“Thanks, Asami. That means a lot. Really.” She covered the engineer’s hand with her own. Her brow furrowed in apprehension. “I just... I have a bad feeling about this. But I can’t think of any other way.”

Asami thought of a thousand different reassurances, words to scare away the fear, words to banish the uncertainty. Words to assure the young woman that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that could stand against her, that victory was fated in the stars, as immutable as the turn of days and change of seasons. 

The words never came - wouldn’t have been able to escape her mouth, even if they tried - because she was kissing Korra then, cupping her face in gloved hands. There was a moment, only the slightest fraction of second, when she could feel Korra tense, frozen. It was over just as quickly, and the young woman was pressing back against her. Strong arms held her about the waist, pulling her close. Soft lips returned her kiss with fervor. 

The kiss, which had started out full of desperate longing and passion, soon evolved into a tender, fragile thing. After a minute - or a second or an hour or a lifetime - they broke apart, breathing quietly together in the chill night air. Asami could feel the warmth of Korra’s lips, still so close to her own. 

“Korra, I...” And here they were. The words she had waited too long to say. “I-”

“Don’t say it.” Korra’s eyes shone with unshed tears, two cerulean pools of grief so deep that Asami thought she might drown in them. Maybe she was drowning. Maybe that’s why it was so damn hard to breathe. “Please.” The word came out quiet and broken, barely a whisper, voice cracking with feeling. 

“...Why?” She rested her forehead against Korra’s, eyes shut against the answer that she already knew. 

“Because if you do, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave.” 

And so she didn’t. It was a decision she would later regret. 

Instead, she gathered the young woman in able arms, pouring all of her feeling into the silent gesture. Korra returned the embrace without hesitation, burying her face in the crook of Asami’s neck. They clung to each other as the shipwrecked cling to flotsam, knowing that to release would send them sinking into the perilous black. 

The sound of the ship’s door sliding open brought them back to the present. It was like breaking the surface after being under for a good long while. The thrum of the aircraft’s engine was too loud, the cast of its deck lights too bright. 

“Oh, hey guys,” Bolin greeted, arms clutching himself against the cold. “Man, this ship is crowded.”

“You can say that again,” said Korra, pawing at her eyes to wipe away tears that had not fallen. 

“Man, this ship is crowded,” said Bolin, dutifully. 

Korra laughed then, and it seemed to Asami that a little of the Avatar’s worry had been lifted. She met the young woman’s gaze, and those blue eyes spoke of secret knowledge and shared moments, and the beginnings of hope. Perhaps things would be all right after all. 

Bolin looked at Korra, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her pants. He looked at Asami, now smiling sadly back at him. “Did I interrupt hug time?” He asked sheepishly. “Sorry. Hey, I know! Let’s all hug.” And without waiting for an answer he scooped the two women into a bone-crushing embrace. 

Asami would have returned the hug if her arms hadn’t been pinned. Bolin’s exuberance was contagious, and the two soon found themselves laughing as he spun them with flourish. “Aw. I love you guys,” he said, beaming. “Let’s go kick some butt!”

“Let’s,” said Korra. 

“Bolin,” said Asami. “I can’t breathe.”

“Oh! Sorry!”

He set them down and the three returned to the warmth of the airship and the company of their friends, intending to enjoy the last few hours of peace before the storm. 

--- --- ---

She left those three words unspoken, left them behind on the airship, left them in a brighter, happier time. They seemed a pitiful salve to spread on such a chasmal despair, so utterly insufficient. They didn’t talk about the kiss. Korra hardly spoke at all, and when she did, her words came from some far-away place. 

Instead Asami filled the silence with tales of her childhood - how, at six, she had unintentionally set fire to her father’s workshop, having snuck in there in an attempt to assemble an engine that she had designed herself. Her father, features displaying equal parts worry and relief, listened quietly as she stuttered through the explanation. He had asked her to recreate the blueprints that had been lost in the fire, and stood over her, watching with interest and words of encouragement. The next week they had spent their evenings in a garage at Future Industries. Together they built from scratch the engine that Asami had designed. This time, Hiroshi did all the welding. She told Korra of the unbridled ecstasy she felt when the completed project roared to life, when her father had hoisted her up onto his broad shoulders and paraded her around the greasy garage. 

She talked of how, before she had been able to reach the pedals - before she had grown these forever-legs - her father would sit her on his lap and let her steer the car around the track on the estate. She recounted afternoons with her mother, walking the gardens. Her mother had taught her what she believed to be the most important things in life - how to dance without reservation, and to draw what was in her heart instead of her mind, to laugh without worry, and to see the elegance in the mundane. 

She told of long hours playing Pai Sho with her father, in the years after her mother had passed. She was twelve the first time she bested him in a game. Hiroshi Sato didn’t believe in letting people win. He had smiled sadly at her and told her that her mother would have been proud. It was the first time they had spoken of her in years.

When she was fourteen, her father had bought her a songbird native to the island colonies. The bird tittered prettily in the gilded birdcage, and Asami thought it was the most beautiful - and most tragic - thing she had ever seen. She released it the next day, before it had even been named, refusing to accept that something so lovely belonged in a cage, even a golden one. She admitted that she sometimes still felt like that bird. 

She helped Korra dress. She helped Korra bathe. She prepared her meals, laboring with Pema in the kitchen, and they took those meals together in Korra’s simple room. On pleasant days, she would roll her chair around the temple grounds, talking quietly or letting the silence say for her what she could not. 

When Korra woke screaming from her night terrors, she would hold her tight, pulling her fingers through chestnut hair, murmuring affectionate nothings until the other woman wept herself into exhaustion. Sometimes, long after Korra’s breathing had returned to the quiet cadence of sleep, she would cry as well. 

Chapter Text

Asami wrote to Korra regularly - once, sometimes twice, every week. And Korra responded to every letter.

Dear Asami,

I miss you. I wish you were here. I can’t sleep. When I sleep I dream, and I when I dream I die. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe, and my heart beats so hard it hurts. I’m scared, Asami. I’m so scared. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. 

I miss waking up next to you. I wish I had brought you with me. I think, maybe, this would be easier with you here. Things usually are. You’re incredible, do you know that?

Love,

- Korra

Asami,

Every part of me hurts. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to move. I can’t walk, can’t even stand. Sometimes it hurts so bad I cry. Laying down hurts. Sitting hurts. Eating hurts. Even thinking of eating hurts. I throw up most of what I get down, and that fucking hurts too.

Mom and Dad try so hard to be helpful, but most days I wish they would just leave me alone. There’s this pit inside of me, and I feel like I’m falling and falling and I don’t know when I’m going to hit the bottom or even if there is one. My whole body hurts. My heart hurts. Missing you hurts.  

- Korra

Dear Asami,

Today I saw Katara. I moved my toe. It seems like such a small victory, y’know? But I was so excited. That was earlier. Now I just feel dead inside. I like dead inside. It beats the hell out of hurt. 

- Korra

‘Sams,

Congratulations on the railway contract! That’s awesome! If anyone can do it, you can. Nerd. 

I wish I had better news for you. I’m not doing too hot. 

I feel so hopeless. It’s been 8 months, and I still can’t walk more than a few steps. And afterward, I’m pretty much beat for the day. 

Bolin writes that the Earth Kingdom is still a pretty big mess. I should be out there, fixing that. How can I be the Avatar if I can’t even bathe myself? I fucking hate this. Sometimes I think the world would be better off without me, honestly. I’m sure the next Avatar will do a much better job. Hell, even Varrick could probably do a better job (Seriously! At least he has Zhu-Li, his cold, heartless war-machine. Ha! I don’t even have the ability to dress myself.) Sorry. Rambling. 

The next Avatar will be born into the Earth Kingdom. Who better to bring balance to that region than one of their own? But even if I died tonight, it’d be years and years before they were ready to take up the mantle. And I wouldn’t wish this shit on anyone. So. I guess that wouldn’t work. 

I miss you. I’m lost without you. I wish you were here to hold me. 

- The Worst Avatar. Ever.

P.S. Wow. This one is going in the fire.  

Asami,

What do you think happens when you die? Do you think it’s painful? I mean, I know I’m going to be reborn, well, at least some of me is. But not all of me, right? It’s not like I’m going to suddenly wake up and find myself in an unfamiliar body. The next Avatar will be a different person. So what happens to me? Do I like, float around, haunting them? That might be fun. 

I still can’t sleep. I still dream. I see Zaheer when I do. I think about death a lot these days.  

- Korra

P.S. I can’t believe you designed a park for me. That’s really flattering. And kind of weird. Not weird that you did it. But weird for me, y’know? Me Park, complete with Me Statue. 

Asami,

You are the best part of my day. 

Well, thinking of you is the best part of my day. You would be the best part of my day if I had let you come with me. But I didn’t. I’m an idiot. 

Missing you,

- Idiot

Asami, 

I don’t know why I even bother writing. You have so much going for you. You don’t need to hear all my crazy psycho bullshit. Even now it’s hard to breathe. I feel like I’m being watched all the time, something terrible lurking around the corner. I’m not sure I’ll ever get better. Fuck, I can’t breathe. I can’t bre

Asami,

Today I broke my mirror because I couldn’t stand to look at myself.

- Korra

Dear Asami,

I can bend again. And that’s great, I guess. I think things are getting easier. Maybe. I think, also, that I might be going crazy? Sometimes I’ll be fighting, and instead of seeing Zaheer, I’ll see myself, all fucked up and creepy-looking. That sounds so stupid now that I write it, but it’s fucking terrifying. I’m terrified almost all the time. 

Yesterday I panicked. I don’t know why. I just... panicked. I didn’t even see any fucked up shit. I just couldn’t breath all of a sudden. It was like Naga was sitting on my chest, and no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t suck in any air. Is that normal? I don’t think it is. 

My body’s getting stronger, though. I can walk and run and bend. So why the hell don’t I feel any better? There’s this darkness in me that I just can’t shake. Some days I don’t want to get out of bed. I can’t even cry anymore. I miss when I couldn’t walk. Never thought I’d say that, y’know? But at least then my body hurt more and my soul hurt less. 

Sometimes I think about killing myself, if only to get some fucking relief.  And then I think, well, that probably wouldn’t work. My luck? I’d go into the Avatar State (finally) and survive the damn thing. Or go into the Avatar State and die. And I don’t want that, not really. I mean, I want to die. But I don’t want to leave the world without an Avatar. That would be selfish. 

Yours,

- Korra

Dear Asami,

I think things are finally getting better. It’s been a whole week and I haven’t like, hallucinated or anything. I still can’t go into the Avatar State. But I feel better than I have in months. Progress, right?

I’m glad Future Industries is doing so well. You’re incredible, do you know that? I mean, you really are. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. 

I’m thinking about leaving for Republic City, maybe as soon as next month. I really feel like I’m ready for it. I still have a long way to go, but it will be nice to see you again, and Mako and Bolin, and Tenzin and the family. Hell, I even miss Beifong, that grumpy old fuck. 

I miss you most, though. I can’t wait to see you again. I think about you every day.

Yours always,

- Korra

Asami,

Last night I dreamt of kissing you. It was the only good dream I’ve had in two years. Thank you. 

- Korra

‘Sams,

Today I didn’t kill myself. 

- Still Alive in the Frozen Tundra

Asami,

Zaheer is trying to kill me. I know it. I know that isn’t true, but at the same time, it kind of is. It’s hard to explain.

- Korra

P.S. Still seeing creepy-me. She’s trying to kill me too. 

Asami,

I love you. I should have told you. I should have told you when I had the chance, again and again and again. I’ve been stupid ridiculous crazy-go-nuts in love with you for years. 

I’m sorry. 

For everything. 

I’ll miss you. 

Forgive me.

- Korra. 

Korra wrote 156 letters, a reply for each she received. She sent only one. 

--- --- ---

“The end, the end

Things will never go our way

In the end, the end

Things will never go

So take it in, don't hold your breath

The bottom's all I found

We can't get higher than we get

On the long way down”

Robert DeLong, “Long Way Down”

“Here, from her ashes you lay. A broken girl so lost in despondency that you know that even if she does find her way out of this labyrinth in hell, that she will never see, feel, taste, or touch life the same again.”

Amanda Steele, The Cliff

Chapter Text

It was a mild day. The smell of saltwater wafted in on the tenderest caress of breeze. The sound of waves lapping against the pier mixed with the distant cries of sea birds and the ubiquitous thrum of late-morning traffic. 

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, but, I can’t wait for you to leave!” said Bolin, Pabu draped around his broad shoulders.

“How else is she supposed to take that but the wrong way?” Mako asked. 

“I mean, because I’ve never had a pen pal before! I’m gonna write so many letters and, just to get the ball rolling, here.” He rifled in his pocket and produced a pastel green envelope, handing it to Korra with a broad grin. “Spoiler alert: Pabu and I already miss you.”

“Thanks. That’s sweet.” Korra smiled then, and took the letter. 

Asami wondered if anyone else noticed that the smile wasn’t genuine. Korra was still drowning, choking on terror and despair, though she had taken to hiding it under the mask of optimism. 

“Are you sure you don’t want some company in the Southern Water Tribe?” Asami asked, hiding her apprehension behind composure - her own meticulously constructed mask. “I’m happy to come with you.” She hoped that her nonchalance was more convincing than it felt, that it wasn’t obvious that the entirety of her existence hinged upon that one harmless offer. 

Korra’s smile retreated into some dark and lonely place inside of her. “No... I appreciate it, but I’ll only be gone a couple of weeks. A little time alone will be good for me.”

Asami offered no reply. She didn’t trust her voice not to betray her. It took all of her resolve just to breathe through the suffocating weight in her chest. Her pain was an insatiable thing, gnawing hungrily at her heart, her mind, her soul. 

She wanted to cry. She wanted to argue, to change Korra’s mind with some clever turn of phrase. She wanted to scoop her up and kiss her and tell her that there was no way in hell that she was going to let Korra go through this alone. She wanted to throw herself off the wharf and drown. Instead she took all these desires and bundled them up tight, hiding them away. 

Her own grief, when set against that of the Avatar, seemed a small and inconsequential thing. She, who knew Korra better than anyone, knew that young woman’s darkness was beyond ken. 

Even the most brilliant of minds - a mind like Asami’s, that is capable of visualizing the strings of connection between the most obscure of concepts - can only comprehend so much. Every mind, mortal or otherwise, has its limitations. The sun is a billion times bigger than this small blue planet. You can know this intellectually, make calculations with impossibly large numbers - hell, even infinity shows up in mathematics - and you can visualize some of these things. If the world were a marble, you could fit a billion of them into a pro-bending stadium. That is what a billion is, you tell yourself. That is what the sun is like. And that takes you one small step closer to comprehension. But you can’t know this in your heart and soul, not truly. Some things are too big for metaphor. Some concepts entirely beyond understanding. The depth of Korra’s despair was one of those things.

Asami recognized this, and was ashamed for wanting her to stay - for needing to follow. She felt absurdly childish for reacting to Korra’s refusal with anything but staunch and unconditional support. The realization, though, did nothing to stem the river of grief inside.

 That’s another thing about minds - they hold very little sway over hearts. 

--- --- ---

There are 8,765.81 hours in a year. Asami thought of Korra during each of them. Or, at least, that’s how it felt. It was around the year-mark of Korra’s absence (one year, two months, and thirteen days, to be exact) that Asami’s resolve broke. It hurt - and spirits, that hurt ran deep - to hold a flame for someone who was not only worlds away, but silent. Korra was gone in every sense of the word. And Asami was done hurting. 

She still wrote to Korra every few days. Old habits, perhaps, or fierce loyalty to their friendship, or some leagues-deep part of her heart that stoutly refused to let go of that love. 

Other than that, she moved on. 

--- --- ---

In that first year Asami had lost herself in her work. There had been plenty to do. She would wake before the first hint of dawn, meditate, eat breakfast, spar, shower, and then work into the late hours of the night. Six, seven days a week. Every week. 

Future Industries flourished under her ministrations, though she never took the time to enjoy the victories, pushing ever forward toward the next one just over the horizon. 

These days her schedule was more manageable. She worked only five or six days a week, and sometimes finished early enough to catch the last lonely rays of sunlight. 

It had been almost two years since Korra’s departure. Tonraq and Senna would write to Tenzin a few times a year, chronicling the Avatar’s progress, and Tenzin would relay the messages to Asami and Mako, and to Bolin whenever possible. He had even flown down to the Southern Water Tribe to visit. He brought back news that Korra was recovering by leaps and bounds, that not only could she walk, but she could bend. He also brought with him the concern that Korra was still plagued by her demons, and that she was a very long way from well. 

Even after two years, Asami felt a pang of bitterness at the news. She had been ready to drop her entire life - to leave the governance of her company to her board of directors (not nearly as capable then as they were now) - risk everything in order to accompany Korra south. She would have moved heaven and earth had Korra only asked. But she hadn’t. And now the only news she had of the woman she loved came from sources twice removed. 

--- --- ---

Asami was finally confident in her board of directors. Some of them were old hands, relics from her father’s reign. Others were new talent, staunch businessmen and women she had poached off the competition. Now she worked mostly on research and development. It’s not that she wasn’t capable of navigating corporate politics - she was Asami Sato, after all, and there was little she didn’t excel at - but her heart wasn’t in it. Put a wrench in her hand, though, and she was happy as a badgermole in dirt. 

At least, she was happy when she wasn’t thinking of Korra. 

Talikpa Nappatak was a fairly new addition to the company. He had shown up one day wielding a long list of reputable recommendations, and Asami had granted him an internship. It had only taken a few weeks for him to rise through the ranks. 

He was neither short nor tall, but he carried himself in a way that gave the illusion of height. He was lithe, slender as a switch, and moved with a dancer’s grace. He wore his hair shaved on the sides and in a warrior’s wolftail - the end of which brushed the nape of his neck - the only nod to custom in an otherwise contemporary appearance. His finely tailored suits were the grey of the ocean before a storm, his fine silk ties the same bright blue as his eyes, and his shoes were always polished to perfection. His skin was burnt umber, just a shade darker than Korra’s, though none but the most careful observers would notice that. Asami hated that, how Korra was the inescapable yardstick by which she judged the world. 

Talikpa looked to be in his late twenties, his eyes just beginning to crease at the corners from long years of broad smiles. His laugh was rich and rolling, the kind that made people laugh along for the sheer beauty of it. His smile sparkled whitely, sharp canines lending to it a wolfish quality. 

And Talikpa Nappatak was extremely good at what he did. He could predict, almost without fail, when stock prices would be at their lowest, and why. It had led to Future Industries acquiring a controlling share in a great many daughter companies, everything from refineries and quarries, to shipping fleets and retail outlets. It put a lot of coin in a lot of pockets, and funded dozens of projects. He seemed to always know what interesting new brainchild the competition was developing. He also knew who was doing honest business and who was stacking the deck, even before the papers got wind of the corporate intrigue. On more than a few occasions, Asami wondered if Nappatak himself had tipped off the tabloids.

He was so wildly successful that Asami had begun to wonder about the integrity of his methods. And, having wondered, was responsible for investigating. It was for this reason that she scheduled a private interview with him shortly after their weekly board meeting. 

He arrived on time, walking into her office with the calm conviction of a war-seasoned veteran. 

“You wanted to see me?” He asked, bowing respectfully.

“Mr. Nappatak,” said Asami, nodding her head in welcome and gesturing for him to sit. 

“Please. Talikpa,” he said, sitting. 

“Very well. Talikpa,” she began. “Although I am extremely pleased with the quality of the information you provide, I have some questions about your... methods. You must understand. Future Industries is my legacy. Everything that happens here reflects upon me, and, likewise, everything I do reflects upon the company. The last thing that I want is for Future Industries to be dragged through the mud for insider trading or the illegal acquisition of proprietary information.”

“Of course,” he said, and if he was at all offended by Asami’s concern, she could find no trace of it in his sparkling eyes and easy smile. “I would be happy to provide you with documentation of my sources, if that would help.”

“Please,” said Asami.  

He plucked his satchel off the floor, placing it on the desk between them. After a moment of shuffling through a handful of folders, he produced a small stack of papers. He slid them over to the CEO in silence. 

Asami took the offered stack and sheafed through it with calculating eyes. The sources did indeed appear legitimate, but it would take a more thorough investigation to confirm this. She was not prepared to take the documents at face value.

“Do you mind if I keep these?” She asked.

“Not at all,” said Talikpa.

“Excellent. We’re done here. Unless, of course, you have any questions.”

“No ma’am, none that I can think of,” he said. 

“Well then, thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” she said. “I’ll see you at our next board meeting.”

They rose, and she stepped around the desk to shake his hand. His grip was firm, but not uncomfortable, and his smile genuine. She was again surprised that she overtopped the man by an inch or two. There was something about his presence that made her forget that. 

“Until next week,” he responded, and left the office.

Asami spent the next three days investigating Talikpa’s sources. She found nothing amiss. 

--- --- ---

Asami had given herself over to a few flings in the last year, usually with a man or woman from some company Future Industries had contracted. They were available, and they were convenient. She had neither the time nor inclination to scour Republic City’s social scene for potential trysts. 

Regarding these endeavors she had only four rules. 

One: No more than once. These things were to be handled as business arrangements - mutually beneficial rendezvous that had a defined beginning and end. 

Two: Never with someone from Future Industries. That would be - as Korra had once so succinctly stated - shitting where you eat. 

Three: Never at her penthouse. There would be no cuddling, no breakfast, no awkward morning-after conversation. It was much easier to leave than to kick someone out. 

Four: No one of Water Tribe heritage. This last rule was hardly a conscious resolution. It was more of a primal forbearance, some intrinsic instinct to avoid that painful wrenching in her heart brought on by caramel skin and blue eyes. 

Talikpa Nappatak broke three out of four. 

He was an ardent and attentive lover from the first. The experience was almost entirely pleasant. Would have been, had she not thought of Korra immediately after. Korra had a way of doing that, showing up at the most inopportune moments. 

After their first time, Asami had dressed in no particular hurry. She collected her belongings, told him that she would see him at the next meeting, and promised to call before then.

“No you won’t,” said Talikpa, smiling that genuine smile of his. His hands were laced behind his head and he was tangled up to his waist in the sheets. “But that’s okay.”

Asami didn’t think anything of being caught in the lie. She shrugged noncommittally and let herself out into the Republic City night.

--- --- ---

It wasn’t a regular thing. They often went weeks without seeing each other apart from across a boardroom table. They never went on dates, or did anything other than tumble in bed. She didn’t stay the night, and didn’t kiss him afterward. Still, though, the growing level of familiarity was comforting, and she found herself grateful for the ease with which they navigated this casual relationship. He never seemed to expect any more or any less than what she gave him. And she was grateful for that too. 

Things were simple and easy again, as they had not been for a long time. 

That changed one day in early autumn. 

The arrival of Korra’s one and only letter marked the beginning of a new age for Asami. Old wounds tore open, and the pain and anger that she had thought long since vanquished bubbled once more to the surface. Beneath that pain, though, bloomed the first seeds of hope. And hope has a way of getting in a person and taking root. Korra was back, finally, after damn near two-and-a-half years. She was still worlds away, but somehow she was more present now than she had been since her fight with Zaheer. 

It had taken a few days to sort out the mess of emotions so suddenly sprung on her, but once she had, it seemed to her that a veil had been lifted, like she could see clearly for the first time in years.

A greeting, eight declarative statements, and a request - the letter didn’t even cover half a page - but that was all it took. 

She was sitting at her grand mahogany desk - complete with engraved platinum nameplate (A. Sato - CEO, CFO) - reading and rereading the letter when the light on her intercom blinked. The soprano voice of her assistant crackled in the quiet of the room.

“Miss Sato,” said the voice. “Mr. Nappatak is here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment. Shall I send him away?”

“No, send him in,” said Asami. “Thank you, Mitsuko.” Well, no time like the present.

Talikpa swaggered in, grinning with his usual panache. His slender suit was pressed to perfection, his white button-up starched and creaseless. “Asami,” he greeted.

“Talikpa,” she acknowledged, looking up from the letter. She rubbed the coarse paper absently between thumbs and forefingers, trying to absorb the words thereon with her touch while she couldn’t with her eyes.

“I was wondering, would you care to join me this evening? I would much appreciate the company.” She admired the way he talked about their relationship, like he was inviting her out for tea, not to rut recklessly in a tangle of sheets. 

“Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to talk about that,” Asami began. “That particular dalliance is over. Ours is now an entirely professional relationship.” She smiled comfortingly at him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” And from the cast of his eyes and his candid expression, she knew that it was. “It was pleasant while it lasted. And, for what it’s worth, I understand.”

“No,” she said factually. “You don’t. You couldn’t. But that’s okay.” She returned her gaze to the letter in her hands.

“Enjoy your evening, Miss Sato,” he said, making his way fluidly to the door. “I’ll see you next week.”

Not bothering to look up from her quiet reflection, she nodded by way of farewell. 

--- --- ---

Asami carried Korra’s letter with her every day, tucked away in the pocket of her blazer. The ink had rubbed off along the creases from folding and refolding, off-white roads cutting a direct path through a landscape of black. The paper was fabric-soft from countless readings. 

Asami reached into her jacket pocket and fingered the secret treasure. Though outwardly composed, her heart was beating out of her chest, her stomach fluttering in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

Three years. Three long, miserable years. She waited anxiously with the others as the ship docked and the crew hopped off to secure it to the moorings. Her heart leapt into her throat when Naga bounded down the gangplank, followed shortly by Tonraq.

“It's good to have you back in the city. And everyone is excited to see the Avatar again,” said Tenzin, shaking the chief’s hand. 

Tonraq’s face broke into an expression of surprise. “What do you mean? Isn’t Korra already here?”

“No. We thought she was coming with you,” said Tenzin.

“Korra left the South Pole six months ago. She's written me letters. She said she was here in Republic City.” 

Asami didn’t catch the rest of the exchange. It was drowned out by the sound of her carefully reconstructed faith breaking all over again.

--- --- ---

Korra’s absence had long been a knife buried hilt-deep in her chest, and this new, deliberate deception was a cruel and unnecessary twist. Korra was missing, and not only that, she wanted to be missing, actively facilitated that absence with deceit. 

Asami hated herself for the anger and hurt roiling in her chest, hated every bitter tear. She thought she had gotten past this. Hell, she thought, she had spent enough sleepless nights on it that she should be past this. It’s amazing how tenacious feelings can be, how they can latch on with such fervor that no matter how you twist you just can’t seem to shake free of them. 

The letter, which had been her most precious possession for months, lay in pieces on the floor around her. It had been a childish thing, really, tearing it up. She had regretted it instantly. 

This was not the person she wanted to be. She didn’t destroy things. She built them. She created. She was a fixer. Rising to search for adhesive in her penthouse apartment - which now seemed too big, too quiet, too empty - she set about fixing.

Chapter Text

Korra fidgeted nervously in the spacious lobby at Future Industries Tower. She drummed her fingers on the tall counter that separated her from Asami’s assistant (Mitsuka? Mitsaki? One of those pretty Fire Nation names). She picked up a large brass paperweight, rolling it in her hands. It was wrought in the shape of some long-dead guru whose name she had forgotten, sitting in the lotus position, his august belly spilling forth onto his lap. The heft of it was comforting. The tiny molecules of earth in it called out to her senses, and she had to will herself not to bend it in her anxiety. She didn’t think she would be able to recreate the shape.

The sharp trill of the phone startled her, and she dropped the weight with an undignified yelp. It clattered across the marble floor and came to rest under one of the finely upholstered cherrywood chairs that lined the walls. Korra scrambled after it, flailing. She cracked the back of her head on the underside of the chair in the process.

“Miss Sato will see you now, Avatar Korra,” said the secretary, hanging up the earpiece of the candlestick phone.

“Great. Okay. Thanks,” she said, cursing quietly and rubbing her head. Replacing the paperweight on the counter, she grinned sheepishly at the secretary. The young woman pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, unamused.

Korra walked down the long hallway, past the offices of underlings and lesser minds, and stopped in front of a set of imposing double-doors. This, she thought, was probably a bad idea. She took a deep breath, and reached for the brightly polished handles.

--- --- ---

Seeing Asami yesterday - for the first time in three years - had sent Korra’s gut into a fit. It was like the world was pitching beneath her feet, and her stomach was none too pleased about it. She imagined this must be what seasickness felt like, or perhaps what an earthbender felt on an airship. 

Anxiety and exhilaration battled for dominance in her mind. Somehow, Asami had gotten even more beautiful in the intervening years. It ought to be illegal, really, to look so good. 

Lunch was an awkward affair. Asami hadn’t been unkind. In fact, Korra was surprised that things went quite as well as they did. Asami’s delight at seeing her had seemed genuine enough. But, then again, so had her anger. She had been courteous, friendly, but there was something off about her affection. There was an almost imperceptible distance, like between them was a pane of glass so meticulously clean that it was entirely transparent. You wouldn’t even realize it was there until you reached out to touch what lay beyond. 

She had wanted to address it then - this unspoken disquiet between the two of them - but Wu had been kidnapped. It had been a wild day, really, like something out of the movers. 

For all the awkwardness of lunch, fighting alongside Mako and Asami had felt as natural as breathing. Korra thrilled at the experience. This was what she had been missing for three years - tearing down the streets of Republic City in Asami’s satomobile, her friends beside her and a fire within. It had almost been enough to make her forget her disquiet over Asami. Almost. Ultimately, though, the ease with which they fought together only served to throw into sharp relief Asami’s subtle detachment. 

She thought on this as she breached the doorway into Asami’s office. 

The office was huge, this one room bigger than Korra’s childhood home. Tall, imposing bookshelves lined one wall, filled with dense, imposing books. Korra’s eyes skirted over the leather-bound spines. Advanced Data Analysis and Modeling in Chemical Engineering, Integral Calculus and the Modern Engineer, The Evolution of Mechanics: Great Technological Advances of the Hundred-Year-War. Even the titles made Korra’s head hurt.

The colors were blacks and reds, the furniture simple and elegant and probably expensive beyond reckoning. Framed blueprints of the first satomobile hung on the wall behind the desk. In front of that wall was a board full of calculations, numbers and letters and symbols entirely foreign. The whole space was just so... Asami. 

Asami herself sat behind a grand mahogany desk. Her hair was pulled back in a low, off-center ponytail that draped over her left shoulder. She wore a black blazer and slacks, and a blouse the same rich oxblood as the curtains framing the great floor-to-ceiling window that took up much of the far wall. 

The CEO of Future Industries rose when she entered, and crossed the room to give her a warm, albeit far too brief, embrace. Korra’s heart thundered in her ears. Yes, this was definitely a bad idea. She wondered, briefly, if it would be rude to turn and run for the safety of the streets. 

“Hey Korra,” said Asami. “What’s up?”

“I uh... I thought maybe we could talk,” she began.

“...What about?” She could see Asami retreat a little further behind her walls, something in her eyes flash and go dark.  

Korra shuffled her feet. She looked at the ceiling. She chewed her cheek. She rocked from heel to toe, arms clasped behind her back. Asami was looking at her expectantly. Oh, right. She was supposed to say something.

Her mind blanked. She had never been very good with words. Well, she surmised, she’d always had an easier time acting than thinking. So she reached out and grabbed Asami’s hands in her own, rubbed her thumbs against the silk-soft skin on the back of those hands, trying to convey what it was she couldn’t think to say. Asami stiffened but did not pull away. 

Looking into those bright green eyes, she was struck by an impulse and - impulse control being another thing she wasn’t particularly good at - she acted upon it without thinking. She leaned in, hesitantly, to kiss the other woman. 

Asami cast her eyes down and to the side. She pulled away, gently but firmly. Turning her back on the Avatar, she wrapped her arms around herself and was silent. 

Korra stuffed her hands in her pockets, face burning. She looked at Asami’s back, and then down at the floor. “I’m sorry. That... I shouldn’t have...” She stammered.  

“It’s okay,” said Asami. “Well, no, it’s not really.” She sighed and hugged herself tighter. Her shoulders tensed and then released.  “Three years, Korra,” she said softly. 

Korra said nothing. There was nothing to say.  

“I’m sorry,” Asami continued, shifting uncomfortably. She turned back to face the other woman, green eyes sincere but guarded “I know that things were... difficult. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. I think I can understand, at least on some level, why you had to go. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. Things are different now. You can’t just... I don’t know, jump right back into my life. Not like that.” Her voice was rife with hurt and hesitation.

“So... what now?” Korra asked.

“I don’t know,” said Asami.

“Are we...” She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “Are we going to be okay? As friends, I mean?”

“We will be,” said Asami. And Korra believed her. She believed her because Asami sounded sincere. She believed her because it may have killed her otherwise. 

She suddenly felt very silly standing there. What had she been thinking? Coming here like this? Way to go, Korra. She wanted to be anywhere else at the moment. The silence was heavy in the room. She thought she should probably say something, but couldn’t think of what that something was. Her tongue felt thick, entirely too big for her mouth. 

“...Korra?”

“Yeah.” She laughed nervously and pawed a hand through the back of her bob. “Friends is good. I mean, I think that’s great. You’re my best friend. And I don’t want to lose that so yeah. I uh... I should be going, though. I have a meeting... thing. I have a thing with Raiko. I’ll see you around, ‘Sams.” She tried to smile convincingly. She was pretty damn sure she failed. 

Without waiting for a reply, she hurried out of the office, gently shutting the massive doors behind her. 

As she made her way back out onto the street - past a half dozen doors, past the secretary with the pretty Fire Nation name, past the grandeur of the lobby - she was surprised at how calm she felt. Her cheeks were still burning in embarrassment, but other than that she was oddly serene. It was an empty, void sort of feeling. This, then, was her penance. It was a pitiful small penance, all things considered. She had borne greater burdens. Asami had waited three years. She would wait a lifetime if that’s what it took. 

Friends was just fine, she told herself. It was going to have to be. 

--- --- ---

She felt lighter than she had in years. She felt like herself, almost entirely. She had finally confronted her memories of Zaheer, accepted the reality of that trauma, and in doing so found some small measure of peace. 

The satomobile wound its way through the busy city streets. Mako drove. He had insisted quite vehemently upon it. Korra smiled at the memory. Though Korra had gotten worlds better at driving (at least, she thought so), it seemed Asami was still the only one in their ragtag band that was brave enough to ride along when Korra was behind the wheel. 

“How’d you ditch Wu after the meeting with Raiko, anyway?” Korra asked. She was grateful that Mako’s campy little shadow had been absent all day. 

“I pried him off with a crowbar and locked him in a closet at City Hall,” said Mako, earning a laugh from Korra. “He’s really stuck on you, y’know. Can’t stop talking about you.”

“Ew. Barf.” Korra pulled a face. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with the guy.”

Mako shrugged, palming the steering wheel around a turn. “He’s kind of growing on me, actually.”

She looked at him dubiously and snorted her disbelief. The two lapsed into an easy silence.  

It had been a few days since her awkward encounter at Future Industries. Asami seemed to be making a genuine effort to bridge the distance between them. Twice Asami had met her outside City Hall with bento boxes. They had taken lunch in nearby Avatar Korra park and talked pleasantly of inconsequential things. And she had come to dinner on the island, talking over the meal with Pema and the airbender kids, gracefully sidestepping Meelo’s insistent advances. Afterward, she had sought Korra out at the gazebo, bringing with her hot tea and a compassionate ear as Korra spilled her worry into the night. 

Korra was surprised that after three years apart she still found the engineer so easy to confide in. Especially with this confusing... something that was between them. It gave her hope. 

Still, though, she resolutely adhered to what she considered her atonement. She neither expected nor asked for anything more than what Asami was willing to give. She never initiated physical contact, and didn’t seek out Asami’s company, instead letting the other woman come to her. 

She leaned her face against the window, shutting her eyes against the passing city. The miles slipped by. Things were going to be okay. 

“Hey. Earth to Avatar. We’re here,” said Mako, poking her and gesturing out the window at the bustle of the docks. 

They stepped out of the car and Mako hugged her. Then he paused and drew back, resting one hand each of her shoulders. Holding her at arm’s length, he gave her a searching look. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” she lied. “Just been a long day.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, calculating. “Asami?” Shit, Mako. Shit. 

“Wha-?!” Korra laughed nervously. “Pssht! What gave you that idea?” 

“Oh, come on, Korra. Something’s going on between you two. Doesn’t take a detective to see that.”

“That obvious, huh?” She pouted. 

“Painfully. So what gives? Spill it.”

“It’s, uh... it’s complicated.”

“You love her,” he said simply and without hesitation. “Seems like that’s a pretty simple thing.” And Korra was surprised by his insight, was surprised by the forthright certainty of the statement. Who was this person? And what had he done with Mako? 

She inclined her head in the briefest of nods. “...I do. I love her.”

She’d known this for a long time. She’d written it before, more than once, and watched those words blacken and curl in the hearth. Saying it though, that’s the kind of thing that makes it real. You can’t take back a word once it’s said, can’t light fire to it and erase all evidence. Now it was out in the universe, and pregnant with consequence. 

“Are you two, you know, together?”

“No.” She sighed. “And I really fucked any chance of that ever happening. I mean, I just don’t know if I can ever make this right. I... I hurt her bad, Mako. I left. I don’t know if time can fix this. Or words. Or... anything,” she said sadly.

“You did what you had to do,” said Mako, shrugging. “It was hard for all of us. If it makes you feel any better, we’re all pretty pissed at you. Not just Asami.” He smiled. “Jackass.”

“Har-har. You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself.” 

“I am a hit with the ladies,” he drawled. “Great track record there. Seriously, though. Give it some time. Just... be there, y’know? Be present. Asami will come around.”

“You think so?”

“I do. She obviously cares about you. A lot.”

They were silent then, leaning against the side of the satomobile and listening to the sounds of the city. Evening settled sleepily on the horizon. One by one, lights blinked on in the windows of the temple far out across the bay. The view was comfortingly familiar. A lot had changed in three years, but a lot had stayed the same. 

“Thanks, Mako. I needed to hear that,” she said. “You’ve... changed. In a good way.”

“I was just thinking the same about you.”

“I hate your hair, though.” She grinned at him. “Makes you look like Iroh.” She reached up and fussed it for emphasis.

“Yeah,” he said, laughing. “I get that a lot.”

--- --- ---

The service was held on Air Temple Island. It was open to the public, but ultimately a small affair. It was only two days after Kuvira’s attack and Republic City was still nearly empty, downtown a twisted mess of broken buildings and impassable roads.  

Hiroshi Sato had not died a popular man. Still, though, there were a good many people in attendance that Korra didn’t recognize. Old friends, perhaps. Or lifelong business associates. Or estranged relatives, the kind that only come out of the woodwork for funerals and weddings. 

It was truly a gorgeous day. Birds tittered merrily at one another. The wind played through the chimes that adorned the island - a high, tinkling sound. Korra thought it obscene. It should be raining. The world should be weeping - if not for Hiroshi, than for Asami at least. 

Asami’s friends had shown up in force - all the usual suspects, along with the airbenders and acolytes, the Beifongs, Raiko and the visiting dignitaries, Varrick and Zhu-Li - a silent army at her back. She had greeted each with soft words, accepted the whispered condolences with stoicism and grace. She delivered a moving eulogy in a voice that was strong and clear. She spoke of Hiroshi’s genius, of his accomplishments. She spoke of his redemption and sacrifice. She maintained an admirable composure throughout the entirety. 

The interment happened later that afternoon on the Sato estate. It was attended by Mako, Bolin, Tenzin, his family, and the Beifongs. Flowers were placed upon the closed casket. Tenzin recited a brief prayer - some traditional plea that the spirits guide the energy of this soul into the universe. Something like that. Korra only caught parts of it. Afterward, each in attendance dropped handfuls of dirt into the open grave. The earthbenders finished the job, and all that was left of Hiroshi Sato was memory and a freshly turned pile of earth. 

Korra waited apart from the group as they said their last goodbyes, each hugging Asami in turn and voicing their commiserations. She kicked at a tussock of grass, burying her hands deep in her pockets and slumping inelegantly against the trunk of an ancient oak. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest when Asami approached, and she pushed herself off the tree. They stood together, side by side, staring out into the lush green of the garden. 

She wanted to tell Asami that she was proud of her. That she believed in her. That the pain would ebb with time, and that peace and acceptance could be found on the other side. She wanted to tell Asami that this would be the last great tragedy, that she had met her quota for grief in life, and that things would be rainbows and flutterbees from here on out. 

Instead she said, “I’m here,” and that seemed to say it all, and much more besides.  

Asami hadn’t cried at the service. She hadn’t cried at the interment. She cried then. And Korra gathered her close and held her until her eyes ran dry.

--- --- ---

Varrick was uproariously drunk. He stood on a table to toast his own brilliance, tripped on the place settings, and fell with a flourish of windmilling limbs. He would have landed in a heap on the floor had Zhu-Li not caught him. Cradled in her arms like a bride being carried over the threshold, Varrick gave her a jubilant kiss on the cheek and spilled his champagne down the front of her wedding dress. Zhu-Li had never looked so happy.

Korra sat with Kai and Jinora at one of the reception tables. She pushed her food around her plate with chopsticks, thinking on all that had happened. It was hard to believe that only a week ago they had battled Kuvira for the fate of the city.

She watched Asami turn gracefully about the dance floor with Mako. She moved like she was a part of the music itself, like she was born to do just that. Mako moved like he was born to do anything but. He looked absurdly uncomfortable, with one hand on Asami’s waist and the other arm cradled in a sling, stumbling every few steps and stammering apologies to the owners of various feet. Korra smiled and was grateful that it wasn’t her out there. 

Spirits, Asami was beautiful. Her heart did that annoying stutter thing again. It had been doing that a lot these days. Wresting her gaze away from the sight, she returned her attention to the conversation going on around her. 

“I don’t know,” said Jinora. “I think it’s cute.” She had a wistful, far-away look.

“You think everything’s cute,” said Kai with affection. “But I don’t think it’s ever going to happen. I mean, c’mon, she-” he looked up and noticed Korra staring. “Oh hey! Welcome back to the conversation, space cadet.”

Korra blinked at them. She had an uneasy feeling. “...What are we talking about?”

“So you gonna do it or what?” Kai asked, ignoring the question and smirking mischievously. 

“Uh...” said Korra, articulately.

“Ask her out. Asami.” Explained Kai. 

“Rusty fuckbuckets! Does everyone know?”

“Rusty-?”

“Don’t say it, Kai,” grumped Korra, pointing a warning finger at him. “You’re not old enough to swear.” 

Kai said it anyway, a couple of times, testing the way it rolled off his tongue. The little shit. 

“Yes. Everyone knows,” said Jinora, and Korra pouted harder. “You’re not exactly the most subtle person.” The young airbender made an exaggerated lovestruck-puppy face at her. Kai laughed so hard that he nearly fell out of his chair. 

Korra was about to launch into a long and detailed explanation on how, exactly, they could go fuck themselves, how things were complicated - and none of their damn business, besides - when a pair of warm hands slunk onto her shoulders from behind.

“Hey,” said the velvet smooth voice she loved so well. “Want to dance?”

“‘Sams! Wow, hi!  Where did you come from? Uh... dance. I dunno, I’m not really much of a dancer. I uh-”

“Aw, go on Korra!” Said Kai, pushing her out of her chair.

“You’ll have fun,” agreed Jinora, too eagerly. 

Swallowing hard, nerves all shot to hell, she took Asami’s offered hand and made her way toward the dance floor. When she was halfway there, and sure Asami’s attention was elsewhere, she hazarded a glance over her shoulder. Kai was making kissy faces and Jinora batting her eyes theatrically. Oh those two were dead. So dead. 

--- --- ---

It hadn’t been that bad after all, the dancing. 

Asami was a superb teacher, leading her with confidence and style around the crowded dance floor. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, letting her body speak to Asami’s in some secret language all its own. The band began a slow number, and Asami pulled her a little closer. She leaned her head on Asami’s bare shoulder, and found it warm against her cheek. 

“Thank you,” said Asami quietly. “For being patient.”

“Says the woman who waited for three years,” murmured Korra into the warmth of her shoulder.  

“I’m just glad you’re here now. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” And, spirits, she had. She had missed the easy comfort of it, the familiarity, the way Asami’s company felt like home, the way her arms felt like safety. For the first time since returning to Republic City, Korra felt truly at peace - with herself, the world, and the future. 

“So, what happens now?” Asami asked, swaying to the music, her fingers tracing patterns on Korra’s back. 

“I don’t know,” said Korra, smiling, “But won’t it be interesting to find out?”

Chapter Text

That had been rash, she thought, agreeing to go on vacation. She hadn’t been in her right mind; she was sure of it. Perhaps it had been the champagne. But no, that wasn’t it. It had been Korra. She had lost herself in the moment, in the feel of Korra pressed against her on the dance floor. It had lit her up inside, filled her with a longing so intense that her heart had ached with it, and for the evening she had forgotten her fear. But her fear was back now, and with a fury. 

She didn’t know if she could handle this. She was not ready for it. Korra’s return was still too fresh, too raw, and it had stirred up all the old bugaboos - pain and anger and sorrow and that godawful desperate longing. 

She would go, she knew. She had given her word, and she was a woman who kept her word. Perhaps it would be the perfect opportunity to address these worries, to approach Korra about what exactly happened during those three years. That was a good idea, she told herself. It was logical. It was only a conversation, after all. What’s the worst that could happen?

Despite these reassurances, she was filled with a persistent and enduring dread, and Asami did not sleep well in the days leading up to her vacation.

--- --- ---

It took just over a week to get everything ready for their trip. Avatars and CEOs don’t have the luxury of spontaneity, not when there are cities in ruins and military dictatorships to disassemble. They saw little of each other during that time, each devoting long days to planning the reconstruction of both a city and a nation, and when they did see each other it was always in the company of others. 

As the day of their departure grew nearer, the anticipation of the moment grew in intensity, along with a near unshakable anxiety. 

She definitely was not ready for this. 

The evening before their departure she spent in the quiet comfort of her penthouse apartment. It was late - the ghost city dark and still outside - and she had settled on her couch and steeled herself for another sleepless night of racing thoughts. In the background the radio played a slow, jazzy number, the tinny notes of the brass band crescendoing in the otherwise silent apartment. 

It was just after midnight when a knock roused her from her musings. She rose, wondering, and made her way to the door. 

Opal stood in the entryway, dressed in a green blouse that brought out the color of her eyes, a white, calf-length pleated skirt, and a light jacket. 

“Hey,” said Opal.

“Opal, hi.” Asami gave her a questioning look. 

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t know. It’s pretty late...”

“Oh please,” said Opal with a high and tinkling laugh. “We both know you’ll be up anyway, thinking those deep thoughts of yours.”

Well, she had her there. That was precisely what she was going to do. 

Opal and Asami had grown close over the past few years, as close as the distance and her own reticence would allow. Every few months Opal returned to the city to report to Tenzin between deployments, or to work on her training with Jinora. During those visits, she sought Asami out with a determination. Spirits knew Asami did not have the heart during that time to devote to friendship, and Opal’s insistence on bridging that emotional distance had been refreshing when it wasn’t irritating. 

“C’mon, ‘Sami. Let me in and we can talk. Catch up. Like old times. I brought wiiiiiiine,” said Opal, brandishing the bottle at her.

The young airbender often struck people as demure, sweet, even shy. And she was all of that. But she was also fierce and determined. Korra called her an “undercover spitfire.” Sensing Asami’s hesitation, Opal gave her a look that brooked no argument and wagged the bottle of wine for emphasis. Asami sighed, defeated, and stepped back from the door, motioning for her to enter.

They settled on the plush couch, Asami with legs tucked under her, and Opal perched behind her on the back. The young woman began braiding and unbraiding her raven hair. Asami had never had a little sister before, but she guessed that this might be what it felt like.

“So you’re leaving tomorrow,” Opal began. Asami cringed inwardly at the reminder. “And I’m going back to Zaofu next week to help my family. And after that I’m being deployed again in the Earth Kingdom. Earth Republic? United States of Earth?” She laughed. “Whatever we’re calling it. Anyway, I probably won’t be back in Republic City for a few months. I’m gonna miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you too,” said Asami, and she meant it. “You look nice tonight. Hot date?”

“Yeah,” said Opal sounding wistful. “Bo took me out for dinner and a mover. There’s this nice theater near the suburbs that survived the attack. Just reopened yesterday.” Opal slid off the back of the couch and plopped down next to Asami, her skirt splaying out around her. She launched into an account of her evening and Asami listened with interest. It was a pleasant distraction.

“I’m glad you and Bolin patched things up,” said Asami, smiling, when Opal had finished her tale. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Yeah. Me too.”

“His heart is in the right place.”

“It is,” agreed Opal. She thought for a moment, delicate brows pulled together. “Korra’s is too, you know.”

“...I know,” said Asami after a few seconds, and though she believed the words, they did little to quell her anxiety. 

“Knowing a thing and feeling a thing are often not the same,” said Opal sagely. She poked a finger against Asami’s heart. 

Asami swirled the wine in her glass, watched the liquid cling in thin sheets to the crystal before settling. She teetered on a knife-edge between hope and fear, and wasn’t sure which way she would fall. She said nothing.

“I know this has been rough,” Opal continued, quietly. “I’m so sorry about your dad.” She put a small, warm hand over Asami’s. “I’m here for you. Bolin and Mako, too. And Korra’s back, ‘Sami.”

Asami frowned. “I lost her for three years. What if she leaves again?”

“And what if she does?” Asked Opal, giving her hand a squeeze and smiling kindly. 

Asami didn’t say anything because she thought that, ‘Then I would die,’ seemed like a silly thing to say.

“I suppose you’re right,” said Opal in response to Asami’s silence. She sighed theatrically and rose, without explanation, to gather her jacket. “Thanks for the advice, ‘Sami.” She made her way to the door and Asami followed her with a questioning look.

“What do you mean? Where are you going?” 

“I’m gonna go break up with Bo. Yeah, I love him. He makes me happy like you wouldn’t believe. But spirits know that adorable knucklehead will eventually do something to hurt me. I mean, maybe I was lucky this time that he only worked for the dictator that captured and imprisoned my family and leveled the city. Knowing him? I’m sure he could do much worse. I guess I should break it off now before that happens...” Opal trailed off and gave Asami a gaze pregnant with meaning, hands on her hips, looking for all the world like the spitfire she was. She pursed her lips and quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the older woman to reply.

Spirits, it was annoying how insightful she could be. “Okay. I get it.” Asami sighed, shook her head, and smiled sadly. “You’re a smart woman, Opal.” 

“Says the pot to the kettle,” Opal waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be stupid about this, ‘Sami. You’ll regret it later.” She gathered Asami into a warm hug, the strength of which seemed too great for her tiny frame. “It is getting late, though. Try to get some rest tonight, Thinky McGhee.” 

Asami laughed. “Thinky McGhee? That sounds like something Bolin would say.”

Opal shrugged. “That’s where I got it from, actually. That and Smarty McGenius-Head-Face,” she said, smiling. “He has a way with words, that one.”

--- --- ---

The intensity of the portal light waned around them. They didn’t break eye contact even as the vibrant greens and purples of the spirit world sprang into being. A warmth was rising in Asami’s chest. She squeezed the hands clasped in her own, and those were warm too, and solid. She thought that perhaps they were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality, to the familiarity of the physical world that she had left behind, a lifeline of sorts.

“Ready?” Korra asked, giving her a searching look.

“Ready,” said Asami. 

Korra's face broke into that wide, goofy smile of hers, the one Asami loved so well. “All right then! Let’s go on an adventure!” she exclaimed, and she released Asami’s hands and marched off with exaggerated bravado. Breaking into a run, Korra rushed forward into the field, tripped on a squat, round spirit half-hidden in the flowers, and fell heels over head into a tangled heap. “I’m okay!” She declared from her prone position, pointing a finger up at the sky. 

Asami laughed and followed her into this unusual new world. 

--- --- ---

Kiol was not omniscient. In fact, he knew of no such being, spirit or otherwise, that possessed unlimited knowledge. He did, however, know a great many things. It was in his nature to know things. He collected information, not as Wan Shi Tong did - knowledge for the sake of itself - but as humans constructed chainmail, linking all the component parts into a defense. 

Born the half-blood son of The Earth Spirit and some long-forgotten human sire, he was not a powerful spirit. Pit against any of the greater spirits in an outright fight, he would surely lose. And though his sire was mortal, and that lent him certain advantages on the physical plane (mainly, the ability to travel between the two worlds with greater ease), he was not strong there either. He could easily have been vanquished by any bender worth her salt.  

No, Kiol was possessed of very little traditional power. He was charismatic, though, and clever enough to know when to charm and when to run. He was old - old enough to remember when Raava and Vaatu were still two halves of the same whole. In his age he had gathered a good deal of knowledge. And knowledge is itself a powerful thing. 

--- --- ---

They made their way through the rolling fields of purple flowers, which smelled of spice and nectar and other sweet things Asami couldn’t name. Eventually, the flowers were replaced by tall grasses - foxtails and huron blushes - that tickled their elbows as they waded through. This petered off into the edge of a forest, where they stopped for lunch in the shade of towering trees.

Asami marveled at the physics of this world, which seemed to not only have different rules than the material world, but were not inclined to follow those rules with any regularity. It was an intrinsically unsettling experience, though beautiful and breathtaking all the same. Distance seemed to distort in a most unusual way, and Korra admitted that she could sometimes, though not always, influence this. Time seemed to collect in great, swirling pools, or rush thunderously by like falls down a cliff face. Korra explained that though the spirit world had somewhat regular day and night cycles, and some approximation of seasons, she couldn’t predict them and didn’t understand them. 

As they traveled, Korra talked a torrent of adventures, recounting to Asami in great detail some of the tales she had only heard in passing before. Spirits followed them where they roamed, bouncing along behind and about them - or rolling or flying - chattering animatedly at the Avatar and her companion. Their shapes weren’t entirely alien, but they were built in such a way that would have been impossible for biological things, and this interested her. 

After what seemed a lifetime of walking, they came to a large clearing, the center of which was home to the gleaming mirror surface of a small pool. The grass here was tall and lush, and a green so vibrant it seemed impossible. 

The day had been a pleasant one, reflected Asami, from the outside looking in. Korra had been charming and silly, and Asami had gladly laughed along at her capers. Still, though, doubt gnawed persistently within, hungry and wanting. She felt like a bowstring stretched to breaking.

As Korra unpacked their bags, Asami realized that she could no longer bear the unresolved questions that chewed her mind. 

“Korra,” she began softly. “Why didn’t you return sooner?" She paused, and the next few words were hardly a whisper. "I needed you.”

Korra started, and looked up at her. “I know... And I’m sorry. I needed you, too. I don’t know why I didn’t come home.” Korra’s eyes were filled with worry, and they flashed between Asami and her surroundings, never settling on one place for long. 

“Why didn’t you write?”

“I... uh. I did. I wrote to you a lot. I just... I just never sent any of them.”

She wasn’t sure if the confession made her feel better or worse. She was a woman used to being sure, and uncertainty was an uncomfortable place for her to be. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

Korra was chewing the inside of her cheek again, and was unable to hold her gaze. The taut string inside her stretched further. Asami had always been good at reading people; it was a skill that served her well when navigating corporate politics. “There’s something you’re not saying,” she said levelly. 

“No,” Korra said to the ground. “That’s it. I was pretty messed up inside. I don’t know why I did those things and I’m sorry.”

Asami snapped then, her patience spent. “Damn it, Korra. You left me. You left me for three fucking years! You are not going to lie to me, not if you want this - whatever this is - to work out!” Her voice was gaining strength, her anger taking over, her composure cracking. She might have been ashamed of that if there had been any room for such a feeling. 

Korra said nothing and looked at her feet. Asami waited - shoulders drawn up and aching with tension - for the Avatar to reply. When no reply came, she turned on her heel and stalked off in what she hoped was the direction of the Spirit Portal. 

“Wait! Asami!”

“I’m done,” she snapped over her shoulder, not bothering to stop. 

She could hear the pound of Korra’s footsteps as she ran to catch up, and then felt the strength of Korra’s fingers on her wrist. She felt herself being pulled around, and her fury flared white-hot within. It was starting to rain - fat, heavy drops that thumped the ground like marbles dropped from a great height. The sky was gunmetal grey, the clouds twisting and roiling. 

“Let. Go.” The words came out sharp enough to shave with. 

“Asami, I-”

Asami wrenched her wrist free, and made to turn away. 

"What do you want me to say, Asami?” Korra’s words cracked like broken thunder, and the sky rumbled its response. “That I wanted to die? That I wanted to kill myself? That I almost did?!” 

A high, keening wail erupted about them, and if sorrow could be made sound, Asami thought that this might be what it sounded like. Spirits writhed in the grass, which had been hammered flat by the force of the downpour. They clutched desperately at themselves, hid their heads under hands and forepaws. Darkness fell in sheets and the raindrops now felt like hail - tiny and sharp and so cold they tore right through her clothes, her skin, down to her very marrow. 

“That I was ashamed of that and afraid to tell you because I was so fucking ashamed? That my whole world was darkness, and darkness was my world and holy fucking hell how could anyone understand this because I don’t understand it and I sure as hell don’t approve of it!” Korra was yelling now to be heard over the din. “Getting out of bed in the morning seemed impossible, and so somedays I just didn’t, just lay there all day hating myself and hating that I hated myself. And now I know that I hurt you, and that there’s nothing I could say or do to make that right again, and I hate myself for that too. But I couldn’t send those letters, Asami, because I would be dead by the time they arrived!” 

The words spilled out of her in a torrent, and Korra trailed off, heaving and wild-eyed, mouth hanging open. She closed her mouth with a snap. She took a few hesitant steps backward, looking surprised and confused. The rain thundered to the ground. The mournful wails of the spirits split the air about them. They stood there for half a moment - thoroughly drenched and not getting any drier - each staring at the other.

And then Korra looked up at the angry sky, squinting against the onslaught of rain. She dropped to her knees in the mud, closed her eyes - water ran in rivulets down her face -  and took a deep, steadying breath. Then another. Then a third. Slowly the wailing of the spirits turned to whimpers, and they grew quiet and still in the grass. The rain eased, and then ceased. Above them, dark clouds rolled threateningly, but held their silence. The world was cast in greys and blacks, as if all the color had been sucked out of it, but it was no longer violent and raging. 

After a moment, Korra rose. She took three long strides - closing the distance between them - and gathered Asami in a crushing embrace. She pressed her face into Asami’s neck, into the curtains of hair heavy with rain. “I’m here now,” she said with feeling. “And I’m not going anywhere.” And Asami believed her, and returned the embrace. 

They stood like that for a while, silent and still, until the damp and bitter cold caused Asami to shudder. Korra pulled back and smiled sheepishly. “Oh. Here,” she said, and bent the water from their clothes. Asami nearly jumped at the sensation. It was like Korra’s hands were on her, everywhere, all at once. She knew that she was blushing and turned her face away. 

Korra bent the earth nearby into a raised disc, sloughing off the top few layers until there remained a dry pedestal, about a foot and a half off the ground and six feet across. She took Asami’s hand and guided her down, until they were both seated on the earth. Conjuring a small flame in her palm, she held it between the two of them and let Asami warm her hands over the fire.

Slowly the color returned to the world around them. Shafts of sparkling light peeked out between the dark clouds, and spirits began to approach, tentatively. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Korra began, her voice soft and sorrowful. “I... I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

“...It felt a lot like that,” said Asami, gesturing at the world around them, meaning to approximate the darkness that had only recently passed. She saw a shadow flash in Korra’s eyes, and heard a peal of thunder. “Korra, stop,” she said kindly, “Beating yourself up is not going to make it any better.” 

“What will?”

“This,” she said. “Sitting. Talking. Just... this” 

“I think I can do that.” And then, almost as an afterthought, “I’m sorry for raining on you.”

A laugh bubbled up from deep inside, surprising her. She marveled at how easily she forgot that Korra was perhaps the single most powerful being in the universe, how it took such a ludicrous statement to remember that. “The Spirit World probably wasn’t the best venue for this conversation.”

“No, I guess not.”

They sat quietly for a while. Spirits gathered closer on the drying earth, chirping at one another, talking in hushed voices and watching with interest. The world had regained much of its vibrancy and the air was warm and calm. 

After a few minutes, Korra reached out and cupped Asami’s hands between her own. She looked into Asami’s eyes, and - this time - had no trouble holding the gaze. “I love you,” she said with no flourish, no aplomb, just simple honesty in those event-horizon eyes. 

“I love you, too.” said Asami.

And it should have been a bigger moment. The heavens should have split asunder and stars fallen from their homes. The earth should have quaked with the gravity of it, or stopped turning altogether, or exploded into a billion tiny pieces. It seemed the sort of thing that should have stopped time, or at least caused time to pause and go “hmm.”

It was none of those things. It was simple and earnest and needed no fanfare, because it just was. Because, perhaps, it always had been. And that was the most beautiful thing about it. 

--- --- ---

Kiol was a spirit of healthy appetites. In the material world he was fond of fine foods and rich clothing, and all the trappings of prestige. He enjoyed the more carnal pleasures, too - bedding mortal men and women, especially those with not only beauty, but power. He liked, most of all, to pull at the threads of consequence and see what unraveled down the line. That sort of mischief was his greatest pleasure, but sometimes mischief was in short supply, and Kiol was easily bored.

It was during these times that he sought the company of the lesser spirits. He would frolic with them - entertain them with his slapstick antics - and he thoroughly enjoyed the simplicity of it. They were inconsequential things, these spirits, and Kiol felt no need to engage them in anything other than passing fancy. Certainly, they were not players in this, or any, game. The greater spirits - the ones with power enough to be of use to him, the ones who had been around for eons and would be for many more - knew him and loved him not. 

That evening he found himself in a landscape of hard-packed earth, dotted with tough, scrubby grasses and bramblewood plants. The hues were browns and tans and sands, and the light had a reddish quality to it even in night. Kiol had taken the form of a flying lemur, though larger, and with the red-orange color of fox fur. 

He played with a half dozen spirits, chasing them and tagging them and tackling them. Once, he made to throw a large rock at one and dropped it on his foot, to the uproarious delight of all present. He tripped and tumbled, cursed and flailed. He walked around on his forepaws for a bit, before missing a step and falling unceremoniously onto his face. He took every opportunity to shove the other spirits, laughing his rich and rolling laugh when they tumbled to the ground. 

They carried on like this for much of the night. 

A slight shift in the energy of his surroundings - like a ripple from a stone dropped in the far end of a pool - alerted him to the new arrival. He nodded his farewell to the lesser spirits, tripped once more on his tail for effect, and glided off into the red-dark. He couldn’t recall how long he flew, but when he alighted on top of a large boulder, the world was quiet and empty around him. 

A human spirit stood below, encircled by an outcropping of rock. His long, tattered garb rustled in the breeze, his flowing grey mane mimicking the motion. He had a haggard look to him, lean and hungry, though the energy radiating off of him spoke of an inner calm. 

“Zaheer,” Kiol said by way of greeting, dropping down beside the man. He stuck a long, bony lemur finger into his flapping lemur ear and dug distractedly. “Nice of you to show up. I was getting dreadful bored with waiting.” 

--- --- ---

"To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation."

Yann Martel, Life of Pi

Chapter Text

Mornings were always a confusing time for her. Often her body woke readily enough, but her mind liked to take its merry time about it - liked to groan and stretch and scratch a bit before getting up.

This morning was no different. 

She was warm, she knew, and comfortable. She could feel the caress of sunlight on the back of her eyelids. Her legs felt a little tangled up, but that didn’t seem important at the moment. Not a whole lot did, except for maybe the warmth pressed against her front, solid and comforting. She hummed and snuggled closer, pressing her face against it. Something soft and sweet-smelling tickled her nose. What was that smell? Vanilla? Jasmine? Spirits, but it smelled nice. She opened her eyes, slowly, and found her nose buried in a sea of raven locks soft as silk. 

Sleep began to retreat, leaving behind a flurry of realizations and a mounting trepidation. She was in the Spirit World. She was in the Spirit World with Asami. She was in the Spirit World with Asami in a bedroll and curled up around her back and holy son-of-a-whompus-fuck what had happened yesterday?

Korra was now painfully aware their proximity, of their tangled legs, of how her arm was slung over Asami’s side, her hand resting just under the swell of her breasts. A warm, thrumming sensation began to build between her legs and her gut twisted in a way that was not at all unpleasant. 

She began to panic. Think, Korra. Think. She had to clear her mind. She took a few deep breaths, which caused her chest to press up against Asami’s back in a most delightful way. She felt her nipples harden and her face flush and she cursed inwardly and with zeal. That had been a bad idea. Okay, then, so no breathing. She held her breath until her lungs burned and her eyes watered, willing herself to remember. When the pain got to be too great, and she thought her face must be turning blue, she released her breath in a great, heaving whoosh. Asami made a sleep noise - a tiny mewl that was as adorable as it was provocative - and wiggled closer. Korra tried very hard not to die.

She could feel the gentle press of fabric between them. So they were dressed, then. That means they probably hadn’t had sex. Good. Well, not good. She just wanted to remember that when it happened. 

Slowly, reluctantly, memories began to filter into the sleep-fog, shouldering out the confusion and panic. 

They had talked. Well, first she had rained. And then they had talked. They had sat up late into the night and spoke at length about the past three years. Asami had listened intently when Korra stumbled through her explanation of that hell. She had asked about the letters, and Korra had recounted all that she could remember of them. Asami talked of her own struggles - kindly, levelly, and without judgement. And Korra had been able to listen and be present, without spiraling into a fit of guilt. Or raining on anything.

It had been... nice. It had hurt a little, yeah, but overall had been a cathartic experience. It left her feeling drained, though. Empty. Talking was exhausting, she decided. Like going into the Avatar State for extended periods - coming out all ragged and worn, reserves completely spent and nothing left to draw on. Exhausting. 

So that was it. They had talked. And they had held each other. And they had slept. 

Korra was very proud of herself for figuring all of this out, and before breakfast, no less.

--- --- ---

There was an art to shifting, at least to shifting into human shapes. Trying to pass as a loved one, or friend, or even casual associate was a recipe for disaster. It was near impossible to recreate a person’s essence. Something about the eyes, Kiol surmised. The eyes always gave it away. It wasn’t too difficult, though, to shift into an entirely fabricated human, and to pass that off as reality. 

The night was cool, and the air carried with it the promise of cold to come. Kiol was wrapped in a traveling cloak, under which he wore a prison guard uniform, one that he had filched from the home of a young guard. The man hadn’t bothered to lock his windows (not that it would have mattered). Sloppy. 

His chosen form was male, with a craggy, grizzled face that was a two days behind a shave. His eyes were grey, and nearly lost under bushy iron eyebrows. Deep creases lined his face - like scars, like wounds. 

He waited outside a seedy bar in a seedy town about ten miles outside Republic City, leaning up against the rough-hewn walls of the alley, just beyond the cast of the electric street lamp. He absently traced the bundle under his arm with his free hand.

After a few minutes, a man stepped around the corner of the building and into the circle of light. He was neither young nor old, but wore the look of a man who had seen a lifetime of hard years. His eyes might have been a deep, forest green if it weren’t for the harsh lighting. Now they wore the color of suspicion - a hard, glinting black. 

“So yer the guy.” His voice was gruff, scratching, like it was trying to claw its way through a throat full of gravel. 

“I’m the guy,” said Kiol. “A little birdy said this might come in useful to yer... cause. Said you’d pay a pretty penny for it.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Might be you shouldn’t. Might be I don’t much trust you, neither. But guardin’ don’t pay,” he said with a shrug. “You ain’t got to trust me. Just got to pay me.” He offered the package to the other man. “Look for yerself.”

Taking the offering, the hard man popped the top off the cylinder and withdrew the rolled papers from within. Sheafing through them, he narrowed his eyes. His mouth drew into a tight, thin line. He closed one eye, squinting at the papers like it might simplify the designs thereon. It looked like he was in a good deal of pain. “Don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout this science shit,” he said, roughly. “But we got a man what does.” He pressed his tongue into his gums, probing the tobacco there. “Where’dja get this?”

“Dangerous askin’ questions in this line of work, friend.”

The other grunted, and spat a black gob at his feet. “Ain’t yer friend.”

“Ain’t my enemy, neither. If you don’t want it, no skin off my nuts. There’s others got money to buy, and interest.”

“No. I’ll take it.” He scowled and narrowed his eyes at the guard. “But yer gonna be in a world’a hurt if this ain’t what you say it is. Find yerself at the bottom of a deep drink huggin’ a rock. Real quick.” He rummaged in the breast pocket of his tattered coat and produced a stack of yuans. 

Kiol took the bills, made a show of rifling through them. Hefting the weight of the stack in his hands, he brought them close to his face and studied them with dubious iron eyes in the harsh, flickering light. Satisfied, he cut a hard glance at the other man. “Pleasure doin’ business,” he said with a wolfish grin.

The man snorted and spat again - a thick, hocking sound. He tucked the schematics back in the tube, and disappeared without farewell around the corner and into the rowdy bar. 

Kiol walked down the hard-packed dirt road. Buildings rose on either side of him - one, two stories in height - made of the same dark earth as the surrounding terrain. Three out of every four street lamps were dark. He stepped fluidly over a lush sleeping off his bender in a pile of refuse. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew the stack of yuans and chucked it without a second thought into the heap of garbage. 

--- --- ---

It was ungodly hot - the kind of thick, heavy heat one finds in the jungles deep in the interior of the Fire Nation. For the twentieth time Korra tried to force her will on the weather. Think cool thoughts, she told herself. Ice. Snow. The wind howling off the frozen tundra blowing powder so fierce it could sand your skin off. For the twentieth time it failed. 

If it hadn’t been for the oppressive heat, it would have been a perfect morning. Korra smiled at the memory of it, a warmth rising in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the weather.  

Asami had woken slowly, and they lay there for a while, snuggling and talking quietly. When they had risen, Korra had prepared breakfast while Asami washed and reapplied her face. Korra thought it was adorable that Asami put on make-up even in the wilderness of the Spirit World. 

When Korra told her that she had planned for them to visit Iroh today - drink tea, play Pai Sho - Asami’s face had lit up with excitement. In her elation, she had rushed into Korra’s arms and given her an enthusiastic hug - a hug that had somehow turned into a tender but passionate kiss. (Later, neither would be able to recall who had initiated it, and it would be the source of countless spirited debates). The kiss had been brief, heartfelt, and absolutely perfect. When they broke apart, Asami had seemed slightly surprised at herself, and was flushed all the way down to her neck. Korra thought that she wore her blush even better than she wore her make-up. She had laughed and pulled the startled engineer in for another. 

Thinking back, that was probably when this godawful heat had begun to settle. Stupid Spirit World. Stupid weather. 

They had kissed a few more times as they traveled. And Korra was delighted by how natural it felt, how right. The walls behind which Asami had hidden in the weeks since her return had finally come down, and she was once again the playful, snarky, genuine young woman that Korra knew so well. She thought that she would talk herself into exhaustion a thousand nights in a row, if it meant one day like this.

“Can’t you do anything about this heat?” Asami asked, playfully shouldering Korra out of her reverie. 

“Doesn’t work like that,” said Korra, pushing back.  

“Okay, well how does it work?”

“Uh... I’m not really sure, actually. There’s, like, no Avatar handbook for these things. I kinda make this stuff up as I go along.”

Asami snorted. “You would. Well, how long until we get to Iroh’s?”

“Well... Y’see... About that...” Korra slowed to a stop and turned to face the engineer. Asami pursed her perfect red lips and gave the Avatar a warning look. “I... Uh, I’ve never actually found my way to his place before. He uh... Well, he usually finds me.” Asami crossed her arms in front of her chest and shifted her weight onto one foot, hip cocked to the side. “I was hoping we’d run into a spirit I could ask,” Korra continued, hurriedly, “But I haven’t seen any all day.”

“I’m sorry. Let me get this straight. You’re telling me we’ve been walking half the morning, and you’re not even sure we’re going in the right direction?” She sounded irritated, but amusement danced in her eyes.

“Well, yeah. But hey! Think of it as an adventure! Two intrepid young women blazing a path into the great unknown!” Korra pointed at the horizon theatrically. “Spirit World explorers, armed only with the their cunning and their dashing good-looks!” She struck a series of poses vaguely reminiscent of Nuktuk, Hero of the South (Copyright Varrick Global Industries, A.G. 171). 

Asami laughed, relented, and pulled her in for a gentle kiss. Korra hummed happily against her lips. “You’re impossible,” said Asami, “But I love you.”

“Yeah?” Korra smirked. “Well... I guess you’re okay.” 

Asami scoffed, and her eyes narrowed threateningly. A wicked smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “You’re dead.”

Laughing, Korra backed away, holding her hands up in defense. “Just kidding! I love you, too!  Crazy-go-nuts in love with you!” Asami’s smile widened, and she advanced a step, and then another. 

“Oh no,” she said. “You’re not getting off that easy. You’re still dead.”

Korra gave her her best polarbear-puppy eyes, trying to diffuse the mischief behind the other’s smile. When that didn’t work - and it was clear from Asami’s stance that she was going in for a grapple (and probably a bout of unsportsmanlike tickling) - Korra shrugged and grinned. Turning on her heel, she bolted off into the forest. 

“You gotta catch me first!” She called over her shoulder, laughing. 

She thundered through the trees, jumping logs and ducking branches. Green and brown and grey streaked by in a blur. She could hear Asami hot on her heels, hear that she was gaining ground. Spirits, that woman was fast! 

A blinding flash of sunlight struck her peripheral, and she turned toward it. She could see light glinting on a mirror surface just ahead. Ooo! Water! Perfect. 

She burst into the clearing only a few paces ahead of Asami. Sprinting down the gentle slope, she flung her pack to the ground and splashed into the pool up to her knees. It was gloriously cold. She dropped into a stance and turned fluidly, arms reaching out and fingers skimming the surface. Flowing with her motion, a stream of water leapt from the pool and caught Asami square in the face. 

“No bending!” She shouted, slowing to a stop and flicking water out of her eyes with the back of her hand. She shook her head, raven hair sending droplets raining all around her. They caught the late morning light and sent it spinning in all directions, a thousand tiny prisms. Korra watched, grinning. Her heart thundered in her chest. Only Asami could make a water-smack-to-the-mouth look so damn elegant.

“You didn’t say no bending!”

“Those are the rules! Those have always been the rules!”

“What’s the matter, ‘Sams? Can’t handle getting a little wet?” Korra smirked and stuck her tongue out. 

“I can handle it better than you, I’d venture.” She dropped her pack next to Korra’s and made her way to the edge of the pool. 

“Yeah? You gonna splash me? Give it your best shot, smartypants. You can’t even bend.” 

Asami was walking slowly toward her, almost sauntering, the water swirling around her boots making a gentle sloshing sound. Korra shuffled uneasily. She stood poised, feet shoulder width apart, arms at the ready to redirect whatever sneaky maneuver the other was planning. 

“Can’t bend?” Asami had reached her now, was right up on her, and Korra gut twisted nervously. ”I think you’ll find me extremely flexible,” her voice low and sultry and holy fuck! How does she do that? Korra dropped her arms to her sides and blinked stupidly. It was suddenly very, very hot. Hotter than before. Like volcano hot. 

Asami reached out and drew the back of her fingers along Korra’s jawline up to her ear. She paused there for only a moment, before pulling her hand through Korra’s hair. Korra could feel the fingernails dragging along her scalp, could feel the sharp tug when Asami’s hand closed around a fistful of hair on the back of her head. Her knees felt like they were about to give out, and she thought she would probably have fallen if Asami’s other hand wasn’t pressed into the small of her back, nails digging the sensitive skin there. 

The warmth of Asami’s lips banished all other sensation. It was a demanding, forceful kiss, and she melted under the assault. She kissed back, willing and pliant, and arched eagerly against her, snaking her arms around Asami’s waist and pulling her close. She felt Asami’s tongue slip teasingly along her lips, and opened to allow the kiss to deepen. When she felt Asami’s hand move from her lower back to grab her ass, she let out a breathy moan, which quickly changed to a whimper when she felt Asami slip a leg between hers. 

And then Asami broke the kiss, slowly, letting her lips linger long enough for Korra to feel her smile. She withdrew her leg, her hands, and took a small step back. Korra dropped her hands, and stared up at her, wide-eyed, gaping and heaving. Wow. Just... Wow. 

Asami laughed - slow and teasing - and trailed a manicured nail from the dip in Korra’s collarbone, up her neck, bringing it to rest just under her jaw. “You look like a fish,” she said. Korra closed her mouth with a snap. 

“Hnnyah,” said Korra, and then, “Hrrnnmmnuh.”

“What’s the matter, Korra?” Her eyes sparkled roguishly and her voice was soft as sin. She placed a palm firmly against Korra’s chest and gave her a gentle, almost lazy push. Korra fell over backward, landing on her ass with a plop and a splash. “Can’t handle getting a little... wet?”

--- --- ---

They spent the afternoon on the shores of that little pool. Korra pouted and grumped for nearly an hour, grumbling under her breath about cheating and underhanded tactics and unsportsmanlike conduct. Asami laughed each time Korra brought it up, and declared herself the winner, always and forever. Eventually Korra forgave her and conceded the victory, if only so she could eat lunch without having to suffer through any more of Asami’s gloating. 

It was still hot, but not nearly as oppressive as earlier, and they leaned against each other and watched the light reflect off the calm surface of the water. Every half hour or so, Korra would rise and walk the perimeter of the clearing, poking her head into the woods and calling out to any nearby spirits. She wondered where they had all gone. 

It wasn’t until later - when Asami was under her, back pressed against the grass, hands roaming up under the Avatar’s shirt - that Korra realized she didn’t give a flying fuck where the spirits had gone. Privacy was a wonderful thing. 

She could feel Asami rock against the press of her thigh, could hear her quiet breaths hitch every now and again. Her whole body was alight with sensation, every nerve sparking with electricity. Her mind was cloudy with want. She kissed Asami deeply, and pushed her shirt up just a little. Leaning on one elbow for support, she let her other hand ghost along the soft, tender skin of Asami’s side. 

Dear Raava! This was heaven. 

“Avatar Korra,” said a high, adolescent voice. 

Korra broke the kiss but didn’t bother to look up. “Kinda busy here.” She leaned down to trail kisses up Asami’s neck.

“Hi. I’ve always wanted to meet you!” Continued the interloper. 

“BUSY.”

“What brings you to the Spirit World?”

“GO. AWAY.” She shot an angry glare at the spirit - a squat, purple blob-like thing - before returning to her exploration. 

“Korra.” She could feel Asami’s laughter vibrate against her lips. 

“Mmrph?” She moved down to suck at the silk-soft skin just above her collarbone. 

“Korra.”

“Mmhmm?” 

“Korra,” Asami pushed her back gently, laughing. She disengaged from Asami’s neck with an audible plop. “We’re lost in the woods.” 

Korra huffed grumpily and blew the hair out of her face. “...And?”

“And we’ve been looking for a spirit to help us out all day.” She reached up and patted Korra’s cheek affectionately, as one would pat a small child. Korra pouted and looked sideways at the spirit, who was still standing there and watching with interest. Intrusive little fucker. Korra flopped on her back in the grass with an exaggerated groan. 

“Hey there,” Asami greeted, pushing herself up on her elbows, completely nonplussed by the interruption. Korra grumbled and rolled onto her belly, burying her head in her arms. “I’m Asami. Do you think you could help us find Iroh?”

“Sure! He’s only about an hour’s hike that way.” The spirit pointed off beyond the pool with a stubby purple arm. 

“Great,” Korra deadpanned into the crook of her arms. “Thanks. Now go away.”

“You can’t sense him?” Asked the spirit, its high voice turned up in question. “You’re the Avatar. I can sense Iroh from miles away.”

“Hey,” she said indignantly, raising her head to glare. “I’m not very good at this spirity stuff. It’s hard for me, okay? I’m not like Jinora or Za-” She paused, and her eyes grew wide as saucers. “Zaheer! Fuck! He can meditate into the Spirit World!”

Asami looked startled. “I suppose he can,” she said, musing. 

“I’m such an idiot! I can’t believe I forgot that!” Korra was on her feet now, casting her eyes wildly in every direction, like Zaheer could explode from the tree line at any moment. The old, familiar fear began to bubble up inside of her.

“Yeah. I’ve seen him a few times,” said the spirit casually. 

“What does he want?” Asked Asami, delicate brows furrowed in concern. “What does he do here?”

“I dunno. We don’t talk to him. Most of us, at least.” The spirit turned to Korra. “We don’t like that he hurt you, Avatar Korra.”

“Well, that’s nice of you. Thanks,” said Korra, chewing the inside of her cheek and watching the now-ominous trees nervously. After the initial shock of her realization, she began to seek out the inner peace that came with acceptance. She had been getting better at that, but was still a long way from perfect.

“It’s smart, too. Zaheer is dangerous,” said Asami. 

“I saw Kiol talking to him, though.”

“Who?” Asked Asami.

“Kiol. He’s a spirit. He plays with us sometimes. I don’t know much else about him.”

“What does he look like?” Asked Korra, splitting her attention between the conversation and the forest.

“He looks like a lot of things.” The spirit scrunched upward into a more oblong shape, a motion which may or may not have been a shrug. “He looks different every time I see him. He likes to shift. But maybe I’m not the best one to ask? I don’t see him often, only about once every few hundred years.” The spirit walked up to Korra and reached up to pull on the back of her pants. “Hey. Zaheer’s not here right now,” it said, reassuringly. “You’d be able to feel him. Well, maybe you wouldn’t be able to feel him. But I would.”

Korra scowled down at the little purple blob. She heaved a sigh and reluctantly turned to join the conversation in earnest - putting her back to the near edge of the forest - though not without the occasional backward glance. 

“What do you mean by shift?” Asked Asami. Her eyes sparkled with interest. Korra loved when they did that. 

“A lot of spirits can shift. Change shape,” said the spirit. 

“Yeah,” said Korra, scratching at her chin. “I’ve seen it happen.” She thought back on the light spirit who had come to her in the form of a small, white dog. 

“How does that work? It seems like such a... powerful ability.” Asami narrowed her eyes, and her lips thinned with worry. 

“Yes and no. All spirits have a natural shape. And many of us can change shape, but it takes a lot of energy to do and even more to maintain. It’s exhausting, really. I can only shift for a few hours. And then I have to rest a few days.” The spirit’s form melted into that of an elephant-rat, still purple, and then returned to its original shape. “The more different my chosen form is from my given one, well, the more energy it takes. It’s harder.”

“Interesting,” said Asami. 

“Boring,” said Korra, earning herself a punch on the shoulder. She grinned. “C’mon, ‘Sams. Let’s go find Iroh. Maybe he’ll know more about what Zaheer’s been up to.”

They gathered their belongings, shouldered their packs, and followed the spirit to the far end of the clearing. 

Asami’s eyes were focused on some far-away place, like she was looking not at the world, but past it. She worried her lower lip absently, a nervous habit of hers that drove Korra to distraction. It made Korra want to kiss her, and maybe nibble that same lip.

“What’cha thinking, ‘Sams?” She reached out and grabbed Asami’s hand. 

“I was just thinking about Zaheer. I don’t like the idea of him talking to spirits. Who knows what kind of trouble he could start? Making alliances, gathering information. I don’t like it.”

“Yeah. Me neither. It worries me. But I don’t know what to do about that.” She sighed and rolled her shoulders in an attempt to adjust the weight of the pack. “How do you stop someone from meditating into the spirit world, anyway?”

They walked together in silence for a while, hand in hand, following the gently bouncing spirit. 

“Any ideas, genius-lady?” Korra asked after a few minutes. 

“Not at the moment. But it might be worth paying a visit to Zaheer in the material world, since we’re probably not going to be able to track him down here. And maybe learn more about this Kiol. Who knows? It could have been a harmless conversation.”

“I have a feeling it wasn’t,” said Korra. 

Asami sighed. “You’re probably right,” she said. “Things never seem to be simple and harmless.”

“Not for us, no.”

Chapter Text

Iroh snored - like a satomobile engine in full throttle and twice as loud. It was a thick, snorting, gloppy sound. And it was constant. It was the kind of sound that reached inside of you and rumbled your guts along with it. 

Korra was sleeping on her stomach, one arm slung inelegantly over Asami’s middle, the other arm dangling off the side of the bed. She was drooling, just a little - a small, gleaming circle forming on the pillow. Korra could sleep anywhere, through anything. (In the cacophony of the engine room on an airship; in rush hour traffic, the blare of horns and angry curses all around; once at Narook’s, face down on the table in a pile of empty bowls).

They had gotten to Iroh’s just as the sun was setting. Iroh had been charming, and an excellent host. He had fed them, and insisted that they take his bed, refusing to accept no for an answer. (“Please! I insist! I would be remiss as a host, I think, to let you sleep on the ground.”) Iroh himself had slung a cloth hammock in the living area of his two-room abode, and lay, rocking with the force of his snores in the next room over. 

She couldn’t recall drifting off to sleep, but she must have. When she opened her eyes, morning light was filtering in through the cotton curtains. She could hear Iroh’s voice drifting in through the open window, and the animated chatter of spirits. The delicate clink of china and the smell of a cookfire filled the room.

“Hey,” she said, nudging Korra. “Time to get up. Breakfast.”

Korra groaned and buried her face in Asami’s neck. 

“Korra. Off.”

“Mornings are evil,” whined Korra, wrapping herself tighter around Asami. 

“Okay, well at least move so I can get up.”

“No.” Korra rolled full on top of her, and went limp-noodle. She was heavier than should be possible, all wiggly limbs and dead weight. “Avatar noodle,” said Korra, and the smile was evident in her voice.

Asami pushed fruitlessly against the unmoving Avatar. Spirits, that woman was heavy!  She wondered if the Spirit World had variable gravity, or if Korra had developed a new discipline: Mass bending. 

“Korra. Come on!” She laughed “Get off me.”

“Can’t. Dead.”

“Hmmm. Well, that’s nice. Good thing the dead aren’t ticklish.”

The look of terror that flashed across Korra’s face as she tried to scramble out of tickling range was worth a million yuans. The fact that she was nowhere near fast enough to escape was priceless. 

Today was going to be a good day.

--- --- ---

It was early in the morning still. The tropical heat hung in a heavy pall. The air was thick and wet, and tiny beads of moisture collected on every available surface. Asami sat with Iroh, studying the Pai Sho board. It was their forth game of the day, and it looked like she might actually win this one. 

Iroh drank his tea steaming, despite the heat. Korra had chilled hers with waterbending, which had earned her an affronted look and a lecture about the sanctity of hot tea.

“Spirits! This heat is terrible!” Iroh said, fanning himself with his hand.

“Korra’s a little... frustrated.” Asami said, throwing the young woman a scorching smile. Korra glowered at her and mouthed what very well could have been, ‘Fuck you.’

“Ah, I see,” said Iroh. “I suppose that would explain why it’s so hot.”

“And wet,” said Asami, dragging a finger across the thin film of condensation that had collected on the Pai Sho board. 

“Hm,” agreed Iroh, nodding sagely. He reached out and slid the white lotus tile forward one space. 

Asami studied the board with calculating eyes. She cupped her chin in her hand and stroked absently. 

“Seriously, guys! Can we talk about something else?” Korra whined, folding her arms in front of her and slouching grumpily. 

“Okay,” said Asami. “What else is hot and wet?” She moved a fire tile forward, capturing Iroh’s air.

“Tea,” said Iroh.

“Hot springs?” Suggested Asami. 

“Jungles?” Iroh was smiling now, and pulling on his beard. Her earth tile was taken by his water. 

“Avatars.” She said with a wicked smile. She moved her Avatar tile up a space, letting it occupy an area of the board that effectively pinned Iroh’s white lotus. 

“Fuck you both!” Korra threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m going to hang out with Blobby and Green-Jellybean.” (Korra had taken to naming the spirits herself, and if they minded the new monikers, they hadn’t yet mentioned it.) She plopped down at the long table, purposely putting her back to her tormenters. 

Asami and Iroh shared a hearty laugh and continued their game.

“Avatar Aang was much the same way, you know,” began Iroh, smiling warmly at Asami, eyes crinkling in delight. “I remember this one time, Aang had come to the palace for a great feast. Zuko’s wedding, was it? Or the birth of Izumi? No matter. Anyway, we were all seated at the table, Katara and Aang together, with Toph on the other side of him. I was across the table with Sokka. Sokka said something about squishy purple human-things - it must have been Izumi’s birth feast, now that I think on it - and Zuko asked when Katara and Aang were going to be starting a family. Toph leaned over and whispered something into Aang ear. Spirits only know what it was. Knowing her? Filthy. Anyway, he turned red as a fire lily, and keeled over backward!” Iroh laughed, his august belly shaking with the force of it. “Knocked over Katara’s chair, too, and kicked the bottom of the table. Food went everywhere! It took three healers and thirty minutes to bring him back around.” Iroh paused, his eyes focused on some far-away time. “It was a splendid feast,” he said with a smile. 

Asami laughed. “I think you’re channelling Avatar Aang, Korra.”

“No doubt,” said Iroh, slapping his belly with a resounding smack. He slid a wooden piece forward, leaving a slug-trail in the moisture, and raised his eyes from the game. “You know, Korra, I was quite popular with the ladies in my youth. I'd be happy to advise you.”

“No thanks,” grumped Korra over her shoulder. “I think I can handle it.” She slumped forward onto her arms. 

“You’re cute,” said Asami.

“Am not. I’m rugged and intimidating.” She flexed impressively. It was cute. Asami said as much. She moved her Avatar tile once more, and smiled smugly. 

“Victory in three,” said Iroh, raising his eyebrows. “Well played, Miss Sato.”

“Lucky break,” said Asami, rising and stretching. She pressed a fist to her palm and bowed low. “It was a pleasure playing with you.” 

Iroh rose and returned the gesture. “The pleasure was mine.”

They lunched with Iroh that afternoon, and Blobby and Green-Jellybean and Yellow-Squashy-Thing. The meal was punctuated by laughter and smiles and shameless Avatar baiting. Even Korra seemed to be enjoying herself, despite the merciless teasing. 

Afterward, Asami and Korra loaded their packs and said their farewells. It was only as they were turning to leave that Asami remembered.

“Korra, weren’t you going to ask Iroh about Zaheer?”

“Oh yeah! I forgot!” She turned around and motioned to Iroh with an enthusiastic wave. “Hey Iroh! Have you seen a human spirit around? Creepy guy, a real maniac. Goes by Zaheer?”

“Hmmm... Can’t say that I have,” he said, tugging on his beard as he approached. 

“Would you keep an eye out for him? It worries me that he can meditate into the Spirit World,” Korra admitted, her mouth was drawn tight. “I mean, I don’t know what I should do about that.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know either. But I do know that you are fortunate to have a good many people who care for you. Seek their counsel. Together you are wiser than any one of you alone. It is often the case that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

“Thanks, Iroh. I will.” She turned and made to join Asami a few paces off. 

“Oh, and Korra?”

“Yeah?”

“Do something about this heat, won’t you?” 

--- --- ---

She had removed her jacket hours ago, before the morning sun had crested the mountains in the distance. Her undershirt stuck to her unpleasantly, and she plucked at it every now and again. As miserable as Asami felt, Korra seemed to be doing far worse. She had removed her sleeveless top, and carried it instead balled up in her hand. She wore only her bindings and a gleaming sheen of sweat from the waist up. Her hair clung lifelessly to her cheeks, and she would mop her face with her shirt every few minutes and curse exuberantly.

The grass here was thigh high, and the rolling hills were dotted with large, leafy bushes. Korra walked a few paces ahead of her, the late afternoon light glinting off her copper skin. Asami smiled and admired the scenery.

They had just crested a gentle slope when an orange blur sprang up from the grass in front of Korra. “Boo!” It said, and a rich laugh issued forth, but was cut short by a massive blast of air. Korra had cursed, startled, and airbent the figure into a nearby bush. It had all happened so fast that Asami was still a step or two behind when she heard the crash of breaking branches and the crumple of leaves. She drew up beside Korra and watched with interest.

A pair of legs, vaguely human - but covered in fur the red-orange color of a fox - stuck out of the bush at an unusual angle. A swishing fox tail batted the air in agitation just below. The limbs withdrew into the leafy cover, and with a shake (and a belch) the bush ejected its occupant. He tumbled, head over tail, to a stop at their feet. Asami blinked, and tried to make sense of the figure before her. 

From the waist up was a slender male body, more or less. He had sharp, fine features, strangely elegant. His hair reached his chin, a rich chocolate brown, and finely textured. His lower body was covered in coarse orange fur, which stopped at his waist but for a narrow strip that traveled up his middle and ended in a tuft on his chest. He had a fox’s ears instead of human ones and his bright, bushy tail was tipped in the same dark brown as the hair on his head. He was lithe and sinewy, and when he rose and dusted himself off, he moved with fluid grace.

He had a disarming smile, with sharp canines and merrily twinkling eyes. He turned them on Asami, briefly, and she saw that those eyes were the grey-green of fir needles, with chocolate flecks scattered throughout. He laughed then, and it was a thing of beauty. Asami fought a compulsion to laugh with him. 

“Avatar Korra,” he greeted, and his voice was rich and low, and seemed too big for his stature. “I apologize for my entrance. I hadn’t, initially, intended on surprising you, but it was just too great an opportunity to pass by.”

Korra frowned and glowered at the spirit. He kept right on smiling. Before long the tension seeped out of her and she was smiling with him. She broke into a laugh. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry I blew you into a bush.”

“It happens.” he said, shrugging. “It is a joy to finally meet you.” He swept low in a bow.

“Thanks. Uh... Who are you?”

“I have many names. And I have no name.” He said, grinning. “Star-Stealer, Truth-Seeker, Wordsmith. It makes no matter.” He turned to face Asami. “You must be Asami Sato.” Reaching out a pale, delicate hand, he grasped hers and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back of her knuckles. “You are more beautiful than words can convey. Truly, a pleasure.” 

Asami felt something twist inside her, a momentary uncertainty, the beginnings of some realization gnawing on the corners of her mind. It was gone as suddenly as it had arrived, and she found herself returning the fox’s infectious smile, albeit tentatively. She inclined her head in acknowledgement. 

Turning his sparkling eyes on the Avatar, the fox-spirit continued. “Pleasantries aside, I would like to speak to you about a matter of great import. I am concerned, Avatar Korra. There is a storm brewing.”

“What kind of storm?” Asked Korra, interest and worry warring on her face. She looked to the horizon, as if to check for clouds that promised trouble. 

“There is disquiet in the Spirit World. And the material world. Changes are coming. There are some who are displeased with the new Spirit Portal.”

“Really? Uh... Why?”

He shrugged again, slender shoulders brushing the ends of his chocolate hair. “Change is uncomfortable. Change is frightening. The tides are shifting, both in my world and yours, and not everyone is happy about that. Be wary, Avatar.”

He walked a languid circle around them as he talked, tail swishing against his legs. He fluffed Korra’s hair as he passed, and trailed a hand along Asami’s back, fingers lingering just a moment longer than was comfortable. She stiffened, but before she could react he had withdrawn and circled back around to face them. He smiled again, wide and inviting. 

“Wait. What do you mean? What are you getting at?” Asked Korra, brows furrowed in confusion. She was beginning to get frustrated, and Asami couldn’t blame her. Korra didn’t like word games. 

“Just a bit of advice, from one friend to another.” He laced his hands behind his head, and rocked on his heels. “Take care.” Leaning back with a gamesome grin, he flopped on his back in the tall grass, disappearing beneath a sea of green. 

When they approached where he had fallen, they could find no trace of him, or any evidence that he had been there at all. 

--- --- ---

They made camp for the night in a copse of trees that could have been willows, if they hadn’t been shedding a blue, phosphorescent light. The glow seemed to dim and brighten in stripes, giving the illusion of gentle waves flowing down the weeping curtains of leaves. It cast the glade in a dappled light, like the moon reflected off water. A quietly burbling stream ran nearby. The sun had set nearly an hour ago, and stars were beginning to emerge in the darkening sky. 

“So Fox Man was totally weird, right? I mean, he seemed fun and all, but what was all that about a storm?” Korra sighed and rummaged in her pack. “Why can’t the world just let us enjoy our vacation?”

“I don’t know,” said Asami. 

“He seemed to like you a lot, though.” Korra said, shaking out their bedroll and spreading it on the ground. She flashed a grin. “You got yourself a new boyfriend, ‘Sams?”

“No, silly. You beat him to it. Good thing, too. Otherwise I might have run off with him.” Asami rolled her eyes and fought down a subtle discomfort. Maybe she wasn’t used to spirits making unsolicited passes at her, but plenty of people had. It felt the same. 

“Can spirits and humans even... you know...” Korra made a fist and poked dumbly at the hole with the index finger of her other hand. “Do the thing?” 

“There’s precedent for it, in some of the ancient teachings, though the truth of such claims is dubious at best.” Asami frowned. 

“Seriously? Spirit babies?”

“Well, most of the written accounts of spirits and the Spirit World concern themselves only with myth and parable. There are very few texts that have any sort of factual basis, at least, as far as I can tell. According to an old Earth Kingdom scroll, only the eldest and strongest of spirits can produce viable offspring with humans. The vast majority of them are mortal, with perhaps a stronger connection to the spiritual world than their contemporaries, but mortal just the same. The Earth Spirit is said to have taken men to mate every so often, and birthed a few children by them, and some say that Avatar Kyoshi was a distant descendent of one such pairing.” She shrugged. “Again, all of this is speculation.”

“Wow. How do you know so much about this, anyway?” Korra was looking at her with rapt attention. 

“Well, you know, after Harmonic Convergence I became the first civil engineer in history to design a city around the integration of the material and spirit worlds. So I researched everything I could on the subject. I wasn’t about to start such a momentous project without knowing everything there was to know. It’s just something I don’t do. Not ever. And, well, I found it pretty interesting. And then I got to thinking...” She trailed off and looked quickly away. She hadn’t meant to follow that line of thought. Too often she was unable to dictate what came out of her mouth when her mind really got going.  

“What?”

“It’s stupid.” She could feel the tips of her ears flush.

“Miss Sato, you are a lot of things, but stupid has never been one of them.”

“I thought, you know, you’d lost your connection with your past lives, and that I might find something relevant, something that might help to restore that connection. And then you wrote that you couldn’t go into the Avatar State, and, well, I worried. I thought if I could just learn enough, take apart the problem and put it back together, I could, I don’t know, fix it. Somehow. I’m good at that.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Korra placed a gentle palm against Asami’s cheek, urging her to turn her head, and Asami pressed into the touch. She closed her eyes. Her ears were burning now, and she could feel the flush creeping down her cheeks. 

“Well, I spent over three years on it and came up with nothing. I didn’t want to give you false hope.”

“Not everything can be fixed,” said Korra after a moment. She sounded contemplative. 

“No, I suppose not.”

“And that’s okay.”

It didn’t feel okay. It felt like failure. 

“Hey,” she said softly. Asami opened her eyes and found Korra watching her in a kind, reassuring way. Her smile was soft and earnest. She brushed Asami’s cheek with her thumb tenderly. “It’s okay. Maybe I don’t need that connection, y’know?” She moved to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that change isn’t always a bad thing. And yeah, I miss being able to draw on my past lives, but I can get by without that...” She held Asami’s gaze. Asami let herself study those eyes - the way they could strip her bare, delve right into her very core; the way they seemed deeper than should be possible; how the bright cerulean darkened to a midnight blue around the edges. “... So long as I have you.” 

The press of Korra’s lips was gentle, tentative. Asami felt a warmth rise up inside her, a feeling of safety, of home. She placed her arms on Korra’s shoulders and laced her fingers behind her head. Her embarrassment fled almost at once, and she lost herself in the comfort of that kiss. 

She felt Korra’s arms drop, felt them snake around her lower back, pulling her slowly against her. The kiss deepened, and she drank it in, letting her tongue probe and explore. She felt Korra leading her backward, down, and she locked her arms around the back of Korra’s neck, clinging to her for support. Muscles corded under copper skin - bunching and rolling in shoulders and arms - as she lowered them onto the bedroll. 

Korra was tender and hesitant. Her hands roamed slowly, over arms and sides and stomach. “You okay?” She asked, searching Asami’s face for any signs of the worry that had plagued her moments before. Asami just smiled, and pulled her in for another kiss. 

Asami wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, hand mapping out unfamiliar terrain, lips planting soft kisses on throats and shoulders and ears. Her mind had begun to cloud, sensation shouldering out rational thought. It may have been a minute, an hour, two, but at some point she realized, vaguely, that her desire was mounting, and quickly. Her breaths were ragged, fraying at the edges. She found herself writhing under Korra’s plying hands, found herself guiding those hands to chest and ass and hips. A familiar heat was pooling between her thighs and her stomach was tight with anticipation. 

Korra was the ocean, powerful, relentless, hammering away her composure like waves crashing against the stony shore. She was caught in the riptide, and would have been helpless to fight the current even if she had wanted. And fighting this was the last thing she wanted. 

Korra’s hands were everywhere. Strong, insistent, searching. Lips ghosting over the hollow of her neck, Korra murmured a string of desires at her, the words grabbing hold of her senses and setting them afire. 

“I want to know every inch of you.” Korra’s voice was thick with want, low and growling. It made Asami shudder, her entire body spasming with the force of her longing. 

Somehow Korra had shed them of their clothes from the waist up. Asami wasn’t sure how or when that happened. The only things that were clear through the haze of desire was the electric shock of skin pressed against her. How wet she was. That pulsing ache between her legs as she ground desperate and helpless against Korra. The wet heat of Korra grinding back against her, radiating through layers of fabric. 

“I want to know the way you taste. I want to know the way you feel.” She trailed her hands down Korra’s shoulders, down her back. Grabbing her hips, she pulled Korra rough against her. Her teeth caught at her lip, and she bit down. Hard. A fruitless attempt to stifle her whimper. She rolled her head back, closing her eyes against another wave of pleasure.

“I want to know what my name sounds like...” Korra’s mouth was at her ear now, lips brushing against the sensitive skin. She dug her nails into Korra’s sides, hard, and arched her back. “Hnnuh!” Korra’s breath caught in her throat and the exclamation evolved into a breathless moan. “...what my name sounds like when you yell it to the sky.”

Her body moved of its own accord, hands tracing the hard angles of Korra’s back, hips rolling and back bowing off the ground. 

“Clothes,” said a voice that could of been her own, though she had never heard it sound so pleading, so strained. “Off.” She tugged insistently at Korra’s waistband, and Korra raised her hips to accommodate her, kicking the pants into a tangled heap at their feet. Her own shortly followed, yanked off in one fluid motion. 

And then Korra was full against her, legs tangled in her own. The press of her thigh was the entire world. She was vaguely aware of Korra’s hands strong on her waist, of her hips being lifted off the ground. And then everything was slick heat and pressure, molten fire, liquid silk. And oh. Spirits. Yes.

Her entire body spasmed, and she clutched desperately at Korra’s back, fingers digging for purchase in the smooth skin. Universes exploded behind her eyelids, and were born, and then died again. She could hear, as if from someplace far away, the sound of her name, over and over again. “Oh. Fuck yes. Yes, Asami! Holy fuck shit fuck Asamiasamisami. Uhhhgn!” 

And then Asami knew no more. 

A heavy weight settled on her chest, and slowly, reluctantly, her mind began to clear. The black that had begun to creep into her vision retreated. Korra heaved against her, shaking and struggling for breath. “Fuck, ‘Sams,” she said brokenly. 

“Mmmm...” Was all Asami could muster. She ran her hands along Korra’s sides, the muscles there still twitching under her fingertips. She could feel the remnants her own orgasm pulsing slowly through her. It made her toes curl and uncurl. 

Her fingers traveled slowly down, trailing over waist, and coming to rest high on Korra’s thighs. She dug her thumbs into the soft hollow of those hips, and Korra whimpered piteously and raised up, spreading herself wider. Asami’s breath caught in her throat, and she could feel her stomach tighten again. A slow smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Tired?”

Korra propped herself up on an elbow. Her eyes were fierce and hungry. “Ha!” Her wicked smile took hold of the knot in Asami’s core and twisted. “Oh, Miss Sato, you have no idea what you’ve started...”

Perhaps not, she thought, as she pulled the Avatar into a deep kiss. But she was more than eager to find out. 

--- --- ---

Unfamiliar stars twinkled in a sky that was swirling dark purple and midnight blue. Fireflies blinked lazily above and about them. The willows glowed soft and blue in the cool night air. The spirits, it seemed, were content to leave them to their privacy. Asami was grateful for that, though she didn’t believe that even curious interlopers could ruin this moment. This was perfection, distilled down to its essence, potent and pure. 

She lay on her back, the earth soft and springy beneath the bedroll. Korra was draped over her, face buried in her neck. Every so often Korra’s muscles would tremble, and she’d hum and snuggle closer. Korra’s thumb traced a path along her ribs, switchbacking from bottom to top, and then traveling straight down to start over again, thumb catching each rib like rungs on a ladder. Asami’s limbs felt heavy with sleep and satisfaction. 

”That was... Wow. That... Words and stuff,” murmured Korra. She could feel the brush of Korra’s lips just below her ear, and then the warmth of a gentle, lingering kiss. 

“My thoughts exactly.” She smiled. Korra’s arm tightened around her. This was perfect. Korra was perfect. She ran her fingers through chestnut hair, letting her nails drag languidly. Korra shivered and mewled. “That was a long time coming.”

The Avatar snorted and Asami could feel the younger woman smile slowly and deliberately against her neck. “A long time, huh?”

“Korra, don’t you dare,” warned Asami, frowning pointedly. She was suddenly very awake. 

Korra pushed herself up and grinned stupidly down at her, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “I dunno, ‘Sams-”

“I swear to everything that is holy and good, if you finish that thought, this,” she gestured at the two of them, “Is never happening again.”

“-I’d say you came pretty quick.” 

Thus Korra set the precedent for a lifetime of ruining tender moments. 

 “...”

“...”

With a thumbs-up and a smile fit to crack her face.

“...Never. Again.”

--- --- ---

Asami, despite a most sincere desire, failed to uphold her threat. (She failed twice more that same night and once again in the morning.) 

Chapter Text

Asami’s hands were probably Korra’s favorite thing about her, but that was no surprise. Korra had long been of the opinion that hands are the most sensual part of the human body. Hers were always cool to the touch, comfortably so. Korra wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be because she herself ran so hot.

They were not smooth hands, but they weren’t rough either. Those hands built satomobiles, built parks and railways and cities. They knew the heft of a wrench and the pulse of a plasma saw. They could kill a man, Korra knew, just as easily as they could reduce her to a panting, pleading mess. She had a series of small callouses at the base of each finger, but they had been softened by regular use of some absurdly expensive lotion. It smelled of vanilla and spice.

Asami’s nails were pretty and feminine and always perfectly manicured, but they were a little shorter now, and that made Korra smile every time she saw them.

They leaned together against the rail of the ferry and watched the Temple grow larger in the grey evening. It wasn’t raining so much as misting, and the waters of the bay were restless but not violent. As the ferry bumped up against the pier, Asami turned to her and drew her in for kiss.

When they broke apart, Korra smiled warmly at her. Tiny droplets of water were sparkling in her ebony hair and on her eyelashes. She laced her fingers with Asami’s, and found her palm cool and her grip firm.

“C’mon, ‘Sams,” she said, laughing. “We’re late for dinner.”

--- --- ---

They had discussed various ways to disclose their relationship to friends and family. (Korra’s personal favorite had been, “Hey everyone! So we’re boning now.” And Asami had suggested they hold a press conference, clear their throats and pause dramatically at the podium, and then kiss until the catcalls and hoots drowned out the rest of the world). These conversations had been a source of great amusement for the both of them in the last days of their vacation, but eventually they had decided to just act as they normally would and field the questions as they came. It all felt so natural. It only made sense that disclosure should follow naturally as well. 

The temple was teeming with life. They had indeed been late for dinner, and were unsurprised to find the long table already full. The clink of chopsticks and the quiet murmur of conversation died down as they breached the doorway.

They were met with a chorus of exclamations and a long line of hugs as they made their way to their seats. (Hey guys! Welcome back! Asami! Korra! How was you’re trip? We missed you so much! It’s good to see you!). Tenzin and Pema were there, along with all four kids. Mako and Wu sat on one side of them, Varrick and Zhu-Li on the other. Kya and Bumi sat across from each other at one end of the table. 

Bolin and Opal’s absence fell like a rock into her stomach, but Korra found it impossible to dwell too long on it as the well-wishes of her friends washed over her in a warm wave. 

It hadn’t taken long to disclose the new developments in their relationship after all. It had happened naturally, as they had predicted, and without either of them intending it to. It had all been Asami’s fault, Korra reflected later. It was her fault that she looked so goddamn perfect. It was her fault that Korra couldn’t stop staring at her, couldn’t tame the goofy smile that pulled at her cheeks. 

Asami had turned, noticed Korra staring, and had smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to her happily grinning lips. Neither had realized the implications of that action until after it had been done. It just wasn’t something they thought about anymore. Still, though, it had definitely been Asami’s fault.

The table erupted into whoops and catcalls, thunderous applause and the clacking of chopsticks on polished wood.

“Spirits!” Drawled Kya. “It’s about time!”

Korra could feel her face beginning to burn as she swept her eyes about the room, but it was a pleasant feeling. It was a comforting warmth. This was her family, and they were genuinely happy. Nobody seemed surprised. Nobody, that is, except Meelo. 

He gaped at them, wide-eyed. He looked at Korra and moved his mouth as if to form words, though no sound came out. He turned to Asami and pulled his palms down his face and then clutched at his chest theatrically.

“...Beautiful lady,” he began, “How could you? And you!” He turned a challenging gaze on Korra. “I trusted you! You, sir, are a disgrace. I challenge you to a duel for the hand of this fair lady!” 

“Now Meelo, that’s your commanding officer. You know that insubordination is high treason. Punishable by death,” laughed Bumi, thumping the young airbender on the back. 

“C’mon Bumi, don’t be so dramatic,” said Kya, twirling her chopsticks at him. “You’ll scare the poor kid.”

“I fear no man! I laugh in the face of death! And a life without Asami Sato is not a life worth living! En garde, you cad! You scurrilous cur!”  

He slammed the table with a tiny fist, and then palmed a blast of air at the rattling rice bowl. Korra caught the bowl and sent it hurtling back toward him. Ducking, Meelo scrambled under the low table, and the bowl clattered off the wall and rained rice down on all those unfortunate enough to be sitting on that side of the table. 

“No bending at the table!” Pema yelled.

“Benning! More benning at table!” Said Rohan, clapping his hands and bouncing on Pema’s legs. He was getting too big to be doing that, but Pema didn't seem to have the heart to force him back into his own spot.

Army-crawling under the table, Meelo exploded into Korra’s lap, knocking her off her cushion and onto her back. The next few seconds were a whirlwind of flailing limbs and flying food and Korra’s raucous laughter. As soon as it had begun, it was over, with Korra settling down to finish her meal, sitting cross-legged on Meelo’s back as he writhed and wheezed for air, his feet thumping the underside of the table. 

Tenzin had grains of rice stuck to his beard, and some popped off (or were more deeply imbedded) as he tugged on that beard in exasperation. The muscles in his jaw worked furiously.

“That was crazy! We should have recorded it! Next time we’re bringing the camera crew. We’ll call it... Reality Movers! Make a note of that, Zhu-Li.”

Zhu-Li cocked an eyebrow at him, her face an expressionless mask.

“Please.”

She switched eyebrows.

“Please will you make a note of that, oh shining goddess, Moon of my life, most beautiful, talented, wonderful woman who can do that crazy thing with her tongue that-”

“There are children at the table!” Pema’s hands clenched and unclenched against the wood. 

“I would be happy to, dear,” said Zhu-Li smugly, the tiniest hint of a smile playing at her lips. 

Eventually, reluctantly, Meelo ceased his writhing and pressed his face to the floor in defeat. 

“Are you done?” Korra asked.

“Mressir mmdun,” said Meelo to the floor.

“Speak up, soldier.”

“Yes, sir. I’m done.”

“Good. I will forgive your insubordination this once.” Korra said in her best commander-in-chief voice. She raised up and let Meelo squirm out from under her. “Next time it’s the brig.”

He brushed himself off, and glowered at his feet. Then he smiled, sheepishly, and slowly turned his eyes on Korra. “It seems the best man has won.” He gave her an exaggerated salute and held it. Korra laughed. Asami pressed a kiss to the victor’s cheek.

“At ease, soldier.”

“Now ladies,” began Wu. “I’d like to be the first to tell you how happy I am for both of you...” 

“Yes. We’re all happy for you,” said Pema, smiling warmly across the table at them.

“...But if you ever need a little meat in that sandwich-” Continued Wu, wiggling his eyebrows. Mako gave him a hearty smack upside the head.

“CHILDREN!” Yelled Pema, spluttering. 

“Sammich! I want a sammich!” said Rohan.

“Tell us about your vacation! How was the spirit world? Was it romantic? Oh, I bet it was SO romantic! Did you meet Iroh? Did you meet Wan Shi Tong? Were there dragonfly-bunnies and unicorns and sparkles and rainbows? Oo! Oo! Did you meet Koh? Did he steal your face? Of course he didn’t, because you still have your faces but did you meet him? Didyoudidyoudidyoudidyou?” Ikki was vibrating with excitement, wiggling her fingers and bouncing on her cushion.

Mako laughed. “Yeah. Tell us all about it.”

“It was great-” said Korra.

“It was godawful hot-” said Asami at the same time, a smile tugging at her lips. Korra glowered at her. 

Asami laughed and began to recount all their adventures (well, not all of them, thought Korra, a blush warming her cheeks at the memories), and Korra would occasionally interject around a mouthful of food. The group listened and nodded and smiled along with them. Occasionally Jinora or Ikki would let out a wistful sigh, or Wu would open his mouth to comment only to be silenced by a smack on the back of his head. 

Eventually conversation turned to those who had been left behind in the physical world. Each in turn recounted to the women how they had occupied themselves in the weeks since Kuvira’s attack. 

Korra watched Asami talk animatedly, watched her hands as they gestured, listened to her loose and easy laugh. Asami was a great listener. She listened actively, with interest, eyes sparkling and responsive. She asked leading questions, and seemed to hang on every word of the reply. She had always been like that. It was one of the many things about her that made Korra’s heart thrum with longing. It had been Korra’s salvation on long, sleepless nights in years gone by. But seeing her turn that burning intent on the people Korra loved (and the people Korra sort of liked, sometimes), was even more beautiful. This was her family. This was perfection. 

Korra’s heart swelled, and it felt like it was threatening to push out of her ribcage. She blinked a few times to clear the prickling sensation behind her eyes and tried (unsuccessfully) to tame a smile that was so big it made her face ache. She felt sort of embarrassed to be getting so damn sappy over a fucking dinner conversation but she couldn’t help it.  

Eventually, the talk died down and was replaced by the intermittent clicking of utensils on bowls. As the meal was drawing to a close, Korra voiced her concern. 

“Hey I wanted to talk to you guys about something. So you know Zaheer can meditate into the Spirit World, right? Well, apparently he’s been talking to spirits. And, I don’t know, I get this feeling that he’s up to no good. Any ideas on how to stop him?”

“Oh! We hire a guy to stay in the cell with him and poke him with a stick every few minutes. Really mess up his concentration,” suggested Bumi.

“I could invent a machine that does that. Zhu-Li, take that down,” said Varrick, twisting one end of his mustache between thumb and forefinger. 

“I’m pretty sure that counts as sleep deprivation, and I think that’s illegal,” said Kya.

“It is. Cruel and unusual punishment as outlined by the International Laws of Humane Practices, section five, article thirteen, addendum two,” said Mako. The group blinked at him. “What?” He grumped. “It’s my job to know this stuff.”

Wu smiled at him and patted him affectionately on the cheek. 

“It wouldn’t work anyway,” said Tenzin. “I’m pretty sure Zaheer could meditate in a hurricane if he wanted to.” He let out a heavy sigh and kneaded his forehead. “Would that I had a fraction of that spiritual connection.”

“Couldn’t you take his bending, y’know, like Grandpa could?” Ikki asked.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before.”

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” said Jinora. “As I understand it, taking someone’s bending is a dangerous thing to begin with, and even more so if the target is spiritually fit.” 

“You’re probably right, Jinora.” Korra sighed. “When I restore bending, well, it’s... hard to describe. It’s like I reach right into a person’s soul. I can feel their chi pathways, bend the energy there. But it’s also like they can reach into mine. But not in the same way. I don’t know. Shit. I’m not doing a very good job explaining.” 

“I don’t like this idea. Zaheer has a powerful and perilous aura,” said Kya, closing her eyes and letting her hands flow fluidly in front of her. 

“It’s dangerous,” said Tenzin. “I will support you in whatever you choose, Korra, but it is my counsel to wait and watch. I’ll call Raiko and see if we can interrogate Zaheer again, but he hasn’t broken yet and I don’t expect him to.”

“I’m going back to the Southern Water Tribe in a few days,” said Kya. “I’ll get with your father and the White Lotus, see if we can’t get together a task force to gather intel on Red Lotus sleeper cells.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the table. 

“Okay...” Korra sighed. She felt Asami’s hand lace with hers under the table, felt it give a reassuring squeeze. She looked up into Asami’s eyes and saw in them unwavering support. “Okay, so be patient. I think I can do that.”

--- --- ---

They had been three weeks back in Republic City. 

Korra’s day sucked. It sucked thrice over. 

First: Meeting with the Equalist Party lobbyists. They had been scrabbling for a hearing with the Avatar since before Kuvira’s attack, something about them wanting her support for a new flurry of bills working their way through Parliament. Equal pay for benders and nonbenders, especially in the manual labor fields. A mandatory ratio of bender/nonbender employees. 

This all sounded very good to Korra, until they started arguing. 

Angry woman with pinched-up lemon face: I own a small farm outside of the city. I can hire one earthbender for 5,000 yuans to plow my fields in two hours. If this legislation passes, I’ll have to hire nonbenders to do a fraction of the work for the same pay! And it would take days! It would be the end of me! And I’m a nonbender!

Equalist man with a single bushy eyebrow: Yeah? And what about all the nonbender laborers? Their families? They’re starving! Poverty and illiteracy are links in an unbreakable chain! We cannot afford the education to excel in this world, and cannot get the jobs to pay for that education in the labor industry!

This went on for three hours. After the first, Korra had a hard time focusing on anything other than the equalist’s unibrow. The more he talked, the more she watched. It wiggled like a caterpillar trying to crawl off his face. Eventually she told them she would think on all that had been discussed and get back to them in the coming weeks. 

It was early, and she was tired.

Second: This was possibly the most unusual meeting she had ever presided over. It was between real estate moguls, representatives for travel agencies, and a small delegation of burbling spirits. People in the city were starting to get aggravated that the Spirit Portal was still closed to the general public. Spirits were concerned that unregulated human traffic would wreak untold havoc in their world. The people, pointedly, replied that that was precisely what happened to Republic City after Harmonic Convergence, and that turnabout was fair play. The spirits told them exactly where they could stuff that kind of logic. 

The debate quickly deteriorated into a shouting match, which culminated in a yellow, leafy spirit launching itself bodily across the table at a particularly loathsome development investor and wrapping itself around his greasy head. Korra pulled the two apart and rescheduled the meeting for next week. 

It was afternoon, and she was hungry. 

Third: The biweekly Earth Republic status report. Raiko sat in on this one, and Korra allowed him to chair the meeting, contenting herself to sit back and listen. Preliminary elections were still three months away, and things were not looking good. There were rumors of candidates bought and sold with bribery and blood money. Not just one candidate. All of them. And though there had been no armed conflict since the dissolution of Kuvira’s army, individual states were amassing militias and tensions ran high. To top it all off, staunch Kuvira supporters were staging (sometimes violent) protests in every major city. 

Korra ground her teeth and rubbed her temples. She knew that soon enough people would be clamoring for the Avatar to step in. What exactly they expected her to do, she had no clue. But expect it they would.

It was late, and she was hungry and tired. 

By the time the last meeting adjourned, the waning moon had risen high above the city. Tenzin often told her to deal with problems one at a time. That was a lovely sentiment in theory. Might be doable, too, if only those problems would get the fuck into single-file. 

In desperate need of a distraction, she touched down on the street in front of Future Industries Tower, and flicked her glider closed. 

--- --- ---

Kiol sat on the rooftop of Future Industries Tower, dangling his legs over the ledge. To the east the Spirit Portal glowed with a pulsing, ethereal light. This close, he could feel the energy humming in the air. It was a comforting feeling. 

Below him Republic City sprawled, blackened craters gaping like sores on the cityscape. To the southwest Yue Bay was a vast expanse of black. At this altitude the wind gusted fierce and tireless. It ruffled his fur and chilled his arms. He flicked his fox ears in agitation, tail swishing behind him. He watched the tiny blue figure of the Avatar alight at the base of the tower and disappear inside. 

Kiol was ill at ease. He didn’t like this feeling. It was alien, unfamiliar. For eons he had been a simple creature. He spent the vast majority of his time in only two states of being - entertained and bored. He had felt stirrings before, of course, but he avoided those feelings like the pentapox. He could find no use for them. And they could be exploited, which made them liabilities. 

He ought to be elated, he thought. Never before had he been so thoroughly engaged in mischief in the mortal world. 

There were the equalists, now a political party instead of a violent insurrection. But inequality was still rampant, and that had potential. There was the spirit portal right in the middle of a booming metropolis - an accessible and undeniable temptation. Mortals suffered from manifest destiny disorder, he knew. Blank spaces on the map were insufferable to them, and that was a wonderful opportunity to sow discord between the two populations. There was the Earth Republic, which was a mess all by itself. That would certainly be fun to watch. And then there was the forward march of scientific progress: Bi-planes and mecha-tanks and weaponized spirit energy. 

He had his hands in every one of these pies, fingers sticky with the consequence. 

Kiol suffered from no disillusions about the reach of his power. He knew he hadn’t caused any of these developments -  merely influenced them, sped them up or slowed them down or turned their course. He gathered information, shared information - lied or spoke truth as it struck his fancy in the moment - and planted the seeds of his influence. This had always been enough for him in the past. This was his greatest pleasure. 

Yes, the world was hurtling forward at breakneck pace, and there was so much he could do to affect its trajectory. Never before had mischief been this possible on a global scale. This, he thought, should be the greatest decade of his long life. 

What, then, was this twisting in his gut? What was this tightness in his chest? He gnashed his teeth, and shook his head. He would just have to wait it out, this unease. It had always been fleeting in the past. Surely this time would be no different. 

The wind gusted its agreement. 

--- --- ---

Korra propped her glider against the doorframe, and ran her hand along the upholstery of the oxblood couch nestled up against the wall between the bookshelves. Asami rose from the desk and stretched, her shoulders popping. She looked tired. Tired and beautiful. 

“You coming home tonight, ‘Sams?” Home. Spirits it felt good to say that. 

“I’m sorry, Korra. I can’t.” Crossing the room and draping her arms over Korra’s shoulders, she placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. Korra wrinkled that nose and grinned. “We’re scheduled to start construction on the Boulevard and 17th block first thing tomorrow, and there’s still so much I need to do.”

“Another all-nighter, huh?”

“Not the first and not the last, I’m afraid.”

“Mmkay...” Korra sighed. “I think I’ll spend the night at the Temple.” She reached down and gave Asami’s ass a hearty squeeze. Pulling the engineer close she captured her mouth in a kiss, and nibbled on her lip. 

“Someone’s a little frisky,” said Asami, smiling into the kiss. 

“Well yeah. It’s been three days, ‘Sams.”

“Mmmm... And what would you like me to do about that?” She splayed her hands over Korra’s collarbones. 

“Me.” Korra grinned. “Do me about that.” 

“Right here? In my office? At my company? Why, Korra, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were suggesting that I engage in highly questionable activities, ones which have the potential to cause quite the scandal if discovered.” 

“I would never,” breathed Korra, properly offended. She glanced over Asami’s shoulder to check that the curtains were drawn on the window-wall, and then very casually metalbent the lock closed. The click of the mechanism sounded loudly in the quiet room.

Asami raised a delicate brow. 

Korra quirked a lopsided smile. 

And then Asami pushed her against the couch, roughly. She felt the sharp tug of her hair being pulled, her head being forced back. She hissed, and then moaned, when Asami bit the tender skin on her neck. 

Korra made Asami reckless. She knew this and she loved it. She could bend all four elements, but this? This was probably the most intoxicating power she had ever known. 

And Asami made her vulnerable. She knew this too, and she loved it in an entirely different way. Korra was used to being the aggressor. There had been the White Lotus compound and the conquests there. That hadn’t been love, not even close. And there was Mako. She had loved him, but she had never let her guard down. Not truly. She had never given him complete control, and he hadn’t seemed too inclined to take it. 

With Asami, though? Holy Mother of Faces. She could give herself over completely, and Asami seemed more than eager to take the wheel and drive. She had never felt so utterly helpless and so safe at the same time. It was an odd dichotomy. And it was electrifying. 

Pinning one shoulder to the couch with a forceful hand (and fiercely digging nails), Asami slipped her other hand into the waistband of Korra’s pants. Korra felt the tips of her fingers sliding along her folds, and before she could even gasp at that sensation, felt two fingers bury themselves up to the knuckle in the molten wet. 

She sucked in a quick breath, and let it out a long and throaty moan. Asami moaned too, a small, nearly growling sound in the back of her throat. Her emerald eyes were half-lidded and cloudy with lust, and she was biting the inside of her lip. She wasn’t moving her fingers, though. Just holding them there, letting them fill her up, making her ache for more. 

Korra leaned forward to kiss her, but Asami drew back. She cupped Korra’s chin firmly and forced her face to the side. Smiling, she placed a scorching kiss on the juncture of Korra’s neck and shoulder. And then a sharp and searing bite.

Pain shot through Korra like a seismic wave. She could feel it in her nipples, the clench of her stomach, her clit. Holy. Blue. Fuck. She cried out and pushed against the fingers pressed inside her. The fingers that were still not moving. 

Korra, already gasping for breath, rolled her hips. Asami was smiling at her fierce and hungry, and amusement danced in her eyes. 

“C’mon ‘Sams... What do you want me to do, beg?”

“That’s precisely what I want you to do.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. I have a deadline. And right now? My productivity is all shot to hell. The least you can do is beg...” Another bite. Spirits! When did her teeth get so sharp?

“Fuck!” She smacked the couch. “Please... Please Asami,” Korra whined, hands scrabbling against the upholstery. 

“Please what?”

“Please. Fuck. Me.”

“Fuck you how?”

“Hard. Fuck me hard. Do that thing with your fingers.”

“Oh?” She curled her fingers, just a little, just for a moment. That tease. “And what thing would that be?”

“Uhhn! For fuck’s sake, Asami! The thing you do! With the fingers! Please...” She trailed off and threw her head back, whimpering and writhing. 

And so Asami did the thing with her fingers - middle and ring. It was Korra’s favorite thing. 

She didn’t thrust, but instead pulled circles inside of her, the motion filling Korra up, pressing against her everything from the inside out. It always started out small and slow - with fingers rolling a languid track along the slick walls - and built into a reckless, desperate pace. Soon Asami was using elbow and shoulder, pumping against the spasming wet, and the couch knocked the wall with a rhythmic thump-whump-thump. 

All the while the palm of Asami’s hand ground a constant pressure against her clit. Korra was full, overflowing, clutching at Asami’s fingers from the inside, all slick heat and spasming muscles. She felt her muscles tighten - every last one - all the way down to her toes. Her leg locked - the one she had hooked around Asami’s back in a desperate attempt to pull her closer - and she ground the heel of her boot into Asami’s lower back.

The couch banged against the wall. Korra’s entire body shook with every thrust. Books began to fall from the shelves, landing with muffled thuds in the plush pile of the carpet. Asami’s free hand was tangled in her hair, pulling roughly, and Asami’s name was caught in her throat. 

She came, hard and wet. She could feel herself dripping through Asami’s fingers, soaking the seat of her pants. She could feel Asami’s fingers relent, once more moving gently inside of her. Chest heaving and body trembling, she let those fingers guide her slowly back from the precipice.  

An agonizing emptiness overtook her as Asami slipped from within her. It made her whimper with the loss, but as soon as she did she felt Asami’s fingers being forced into her mouth. The taste of herself overwhelmed her senses, the sharp tang as much scent as it was flavor. She sucked hard, whorling her tongue around Asami’s fingers, and was rewarded with a low and throaty gasp from the other woman.

When she broke off, Asami was breathing heavily. She kissed her then, slow and deep. 

“Better?” Asked Asami, and her voice was shaky, unstable. 

“Almost,” said Korra with a smile. She slid her hands up Asami’s thighs, and pushed her skirt up slowly, exposing the creamy expanse of skin and black silk lingerie. Pulling the engineer onto the couch, she situated Asami above her - straddling her lap, hands braced against the wall. She slid down the cushions so that she was directly below Asami and hooked a finger into the black lace and pulled it to the side. Asami’s moan was unrestrained and breathy. 

She pulled Asami down on top of her, and ran her tongue through slick, wet folds. 

--- --- ---

They had been nearly a month back from their vacation, and the days were just as long and hectic as they had been before. They were women used to the burden of obligation, though, and they made it work.

Two or three nights a week Asami would work into the early hours of the morning, and catch an hour or two of sleep on the couch in her office. On those nights Korra would sleep at the Temple, except for once, when she fell asleep curled up with Asami on the couch. Turns out that particular piece of furniture was not designed to sleep two. She had woken with a crick in her neck that had stuck with her the entire day. Asami hadn’t slept at all, and had been absurdly surly and irritable that morning. Korra had to weasel kisses out of her with the promise to bring her breakfast (and lunch, and dinner), and an endless flood of flattery. Even then Asami had been a grumpy prick about the whole thing. Korra had thought it adorable. 

Today had been a good day. Her meetings had all ended early, and she had spent the afternoon training with Tenzin. Asami would be home as soon as she finished up a city reconstruction meeting with Raiko at the Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center (City Hall pro tem, pending the reconstruction of downtown). It wasn’t even dark outside yet.

And they were going on a date. An actual date. Their first. 

Korra checked herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands down the sides of the form-fitting blue dress. In the background the radio played, the distinctive voice of Shiro Shinobi crackling in the apartment. 

"Now for today’s celebrity spotlight! Well, folks, I know there have been a lot of rumors going around about Republics City’s most beautiful bachelorettes! Let’s go ahead and dispel the confusion. Reputable sources confirm that Avatar Korra and Asami Sato were seen locking lips in Fire Lord Zuko Park. Yes, folks, you heard right! Looks like Republic City has a new power couple! Move over, Varrick and Zhu-Li!

"For those of you holding a flame for either of these beautiful ladies, I’d suggest you go ahead and snuff it now. Looks like these two are spoken for! 

"In other celebrity news, Tahno of the Wolfbats (the man we love to hate) was arrested on petty theft char-

"-Wait. Hold on, folks. Looks like we have some breaking news. This just in: There seems to be a disturbance at the Southern Water Tribe Cultural Center. Hold on, hold on now. Our eyes on the ground tell me that it looks to be an attack of some sort. People are fleeing the building. There’s a commotion going on inside. Eye-witnesses report seeing large chunks of boulders flying. Wait. Am I hearing this right? A flash of flame in the window! It’s an all-out bending bonanza!"

Korra grabbed her glider and leapt out the window at full sprint. She could taste bile and fear in the back of her throat. 

Asami. Holy fuck. Asami.