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Business clothes.
That’s what Korra asked for.
Business-y clothes, y’know… the classy stuff you like to wear, to be more precise. Asami pinched her brow and sighed as she made her way back to their shared chamber. She wasn’t sure what irked her more: the fact that she had to personally escort the woman who murdered her father through the entirety of the Earth Nation or the fact that she now had to dress her, too.
Of course, she didn’t hold any of this against Korra. She understood the machinations behind this whole Earth Kingdom tour, even if she didn’t necessarily agree with the politics. It was just the cruel irony of the situation, of her life, really, that pricked her skin.
Asami paused a moment as she opened her dresser. Fingers to lips, a plan was forming. As much as she wanted to get this pre-press makeover done as quickly as possible, this could be a good opportunity to mess with Kuvira’s head. Just a little, anyway.
Asami thumbed through several shades of maroon blouses, biting back a wicked grin. Was it childish to be so eager to get petty revenge? Especially when it came in the form of a hideous gift blouse from a business associate? She wasn’t sure. But, with an armful of the most clashing pieces she could find on short order, she couldn’t find it within herself to care.
__
Mako readjusted his stance awkwardly, anxious to avoid eye-contact with Kuvira who remained silent in her containment suit. Neither spoke, each looking out the windows of the docked airship, wishing they were someplace else. Eventually, soft footfalls broke the tension. Mako started as Kuvira kept her eyes on the glass.
Asami crested the stairs to the upper deck and trotted toward them, unusually perky for their current mission. She glanced at Kuvira, who had yet to turn her head, then turned her attention to Mako.
“Hey, detective. Sorry to break up this... lively conversation,” she smirked.
Mako raised a brow, relaxing his stance. “ Ha-ha . I was starting to get worried you got lost in your closet.”
He glanced down at the unusually large pile of clothes on her arm. “You know you’re just dressing Kuvira, not an entire battalion, right?”
Asami rolled her eyes. “How many times did I dress you when we dated? You should be used to this by now.”
At that, Mako blushed a bit, coughing into his hand. “Do you really want to disclose that… sensitive information… in front of the, erm, captive.”
Before Asami could respond, Kuvira turned to face them.
“You two were an item?” she asked incredulously.
“That’s classified--”
Asami gently squeezed Mako’s stiffened shoulder, “Relax, Mako. It’s not like your love life isn’t all over the gossip columns anyway.”
Mako turned to her, exasperated, “I don’t even have a love life to report.”
From above, Kuvira sniffed pointedly. “Tragic.”
Before Mako could retort, Asami quickly placed a hand on his chest. “Why don’t you go stand watch so Kuvira and I can get this whole thing over with?”
He kept his eyes on Kuvira who was, at this point, looking casually ahead as if nothing had happened. His lips pursed as if he had something he wanted to add, but he thought better of it and turned away.
“Call if you need me.”
Asami hummed the affirmative as she watched him disappear down the stairway. As awkward as he was, he was the only partition between her and… that woman. The notion that she was truly alone with Kuvira had just begun dawning on her when she was startled from her reverie.
“You could’ve done better than him.”
Asami’s back stiffened. She wheeled about, now face-to-face with a still-nonplussed Kuvira. Of all the… How can she even have an opinion? We knew each other for all of a week in Zaofu. She poised herself to speak, but stopped short. No. Don’t let her have this.
She glared up at Kuvira, who was now gazing at her intently, as if genuinely waiting for a response. Asami paid her no mind, tossing the clothes unceremoniously onto the nearest bench with a thump. She set to work unlocking the containment suit, eyes trained on the complicated puzzle of locks.
“You’ve got a meeting with the press in half an hour. Korra and Wu thought it best that you be dressed accordingly. For public image. I’m here to help you with that.”
“And here I thought I looked charming in this suit,” Kuvira deadpanned.
Asami heard the click of the suit opening and paused, hands on the latch. “Don’t try anything-- I’ve got my glove and Mako on guard.”
Their eyes met and Kuvira held her gaze a beat before nodding. Asami gingerly pulled the latch, hinging the suit’s front casing out and open. Kuvira, whose form had been pressed snugly within, relaxed forward, breathing deeply. Her long hair fell from her shoulders about her jaw, framing her face in a strangely delicate way.
Asami was surprised at how different she looked from her pictures in the papers. Rid of all that armor and ornament, she resembled her younger self. The one Asami knew in Zaofu, albeit briefly. The one who danced nimbly in the gym, escorted them through meteor gardens… knocked at her door.
Asami blinked. No. That was a long time ago.
“Ahem.”
To her chagrin, Asami had been gazing for longer than a moment, and Kuvira was all too aware, given the glint in her eyes. The two stood in silence as Asami’s mind whirred in overtime.
“Taking measurements, or may I step down?”
Asami shook her head dumbly, then thought better of it. “Erm. No. Yes. Step down.”
Kuvira gathered herself silently, easily, pulling her limbs up and out like a flower in bloom. Even in her tattered prison garb, she moved with her old grace.
She stepped out of her metal trappings and into Asami’s space, arms loose at her sides. Asami tensed, unsure of whether she wanted to step back from this uncomfortably close stand-off, or whether she should assert herself. She leaned toward the latter, squaring her shoulders and closing her fists.
“Now, then. I wasn’t sure what your measurements would be, so I opted for layers. We can hide any extra folds with them.”
Kuvira simply nodded, awaiting further instruction.
“First, we’ll need to get you out of these…” Asami gestured vaguely to Kuvira’s loose green robes.
Kuvira stood still, eyeing Asami suspiciously. “Now?”
For the first time, Asami felt like she was taking back control. She smiled sarcastically. “Yes. I’m not about to leave a war criminal unattended.”
Kuvira frowned, huffing in annoyance. She twitched her hands, cracking her knuckles, before undoing the buttons of her top. Slowly, she made her way down until the her top robe opened loosely at her front. Leaning back gently, she shrugged her shoulders, letting the garment drape down and off her back, rolling it neatly in her hands.
As she continued the process with her other clothes, Asami wondered absently why she was enjoying this so much. Her eyes followed the dip of a now exposed clavicle, and the deep cuts of Kuvira’s abdominals tightening as she moved.
Revenge, she thought. Purely revenge. Asami coughed lightly into her wrist, now very much aware of how alone they were.
Kuvira blinked impassively, shucking her pants down. “So. Do you always date people you do business with?”
Asami glared at her, though her cheeks flushed slightly. “You’re in no position to judge, all things considered.”
Kuvira finished her meticulous unbuttoning and rose, slowly. “Are you referring to Bataar...”
She stood, at last, clad only in her underbindings. “Or us...?”
Asami looked on, dumbfounded and reddening. Though now retired from active duty for over a month, Kuvira’s figure still cut an impressive silhouette. Asami only glanced for a moment, but it was all Kuvira needed.
“Should I strip the rest?” she asked blithely.
Asami, now fully red, swivelled on her heels toward the bench, her lips pursed. “You should be quiet. ”
Asami hurriedly grabbed the pile of clothes she’d set down and tossed the pants over her shoulder to Kuvira. “Put these on.”
Kuvira huffed and dutifully slid into a pair of loose maroon slacks. She cocked her head up in an effort to continue their conversation, only to have a pair of bright pink socks and an obscenely red undershirt unceremoniously thrown her way. She caught them quickly, her fighting reflexes still sharp, but grunted in annoyance all the same.
She noted the cabbage pattern dotting the trim of her socks with a scowl, but slipped each piece on regardless, keeping tabs on Asami out of the corner of her eye. Asami now circled her stiffly, back arched and arms intertwined awkwardly behind her.
“Arms up,” Asami ordered brusquely. She now stood behind Kuvira, holding up a white ruffled blouse.
Kuvira raised her arms into a T position, patiently looking forward as Asami pulled her arms through the sleeves of the blouse.
Asami swivelled in front of her, pulling the blouse up and around her form, cinching it carefully and keeping her eyes trained studiously on its pearl buttons as she worked her way up Kuvira’s chest.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Kuvira sniffed, looking on as Asami worked. “But I look like a pirate.”
Asami smiled, holding out a vest for Kuvira to step into. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…”
She pulled the vest lapels up and around Kuvira’s form, cinching them a little too tightly. “...that was the intention.”
Kuvira narrowed her eyes. “Bitch.”
Asami curled her fingers through the loops in Kuvira’s slacks and yanked upward, pulling them painfully tight. “Hm. Looks like these are too loose. We’ll have to use a belt.”
Kuvira huffed angrily, but said nothing, opting instead to loosen her vest.
Asami rummaged through one of the larger pockets in her jodhpurs and pulled out a large, oddly ornate belt. She unwound it carefully before looking back up to Kuvira. “Arms out again, please.”
Kuvira hesitated, but complied. Asami looped it through her maroon slacks slowly, intent on dragging out the embarrassment. “It makes the perfect accessory, doesn’t it?”
At once, Kuvira’s warm hands clasped her wrists. “What--?”
She met Kuvira’s blistering gaze and felt for the first time that Kuvira was truly unguarded.
“Do you really love the Avatar?”
Asami flushed, her hands still clasped on the belt buckle. “We’re deeply .... in love.”
Kuvira pulled on Asami’s wrists, gently, not moving another muscle in her body. Her jaw tight and her eyes shining, boring into Asami’s. “Deeply?”
Asami drew her shoulders together, but her wrists remained entangled in Kuvira’s strong hands.
“...Deeply,” she said, more under her breath, feeling herself being tugged even closer into Kuvira’s broad chest. The two were almost nose to nose. She could feel Kuvira’s warm breath on her cheek…
CRASH!
A playful “My bad!” rung out from the rafters as glass shards rained down on the two.
They pulled apart quickly, raising their arms to shield themselves, but there was no need. A bubble of air swirled about them and buffeted the rest of the glass. In a flash, Korra slid onto the deck, bouncing toward them.
“You guys alright? I dunno what you pay your window cleaners but it must be good -- I swear I didn’t see it this time,” Korra said, whipping her glider out to whisk the shards into a corner.
Asami smiled weakly, patting the dust off of her jacket. “It’s fine. We’re fine, Korra.”
Korra swept Asami up in a hug, kissing her cheek loudly. “Good.”
She blinked as she finally took stock of Kuvira. She tried (and failed) to suppress a laugh. “Er, Kuvira. You look… better.”
Kuvira simply raised a brow in response as Mako came rushing up the stairs.
“I heard a crash! What happened--”
Asami opened her mouth to answer but Korra cut in, embarrassed: “No time to explain, we’ve got to get going.”
She turned to Asami. “You can do her hair and stuff on site, right?”
Asami smiled lightly. “I could do it with my eyes closed.”
“Great!” Korra grabbed Asami’s hand and pulled her forward, fast walking to the stairs. “Mako, you get Kuvira secured for the trip. I need Asami with me for our briefing with Wu.”
Asami caught Kuvira’s glance over Korra’s shoulder before turning away and down the stairs, leaving Mako alone with Kuvira.
The two stood awkwardly, surrounded by glass shards and the occasional bird song piping in from the now open ceiling.
Mako coughed. “Um. You look…”
Kuvira sighed. “Don’t start.”