Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Asami wakes to emptiness in the bed beside her: an emptiness that settles into her heart for a moment before she shakes herself fully awake.

There’s a piece of paper on the pillow, folded unevenly. She slides an arm out of her covers into the cool morning air and catches the note with manicured nails. It’s Korra’s handwriting, ‘L’s hastily looped so that they blend into ‘E’s.

Had an early morning meeting with President Raiko and didn’t want to wake you. Thanks for the sake and the company. x K

Asami rolls to her back and lets her gaze float to the ceiling as she replays her memories from the night before. They’re a little hangover-fuzzy, like her mind this morning, but as she lies there patiently they begin to drift into clarity.

—

After foiling the attempt to kidnap Prince Wu, Mako, Korra, and Asami had gone their separate ways. Asami had been walking the pier later that evening when she came across a familiar figure.

“Korra!” She called out, not wanting to startle her friend. Even with the advance warning, Korra flinched, and Asami saw her fingers tighten around the moss-covered branch like preparing a weapon.

But then she turned and saw her, and her body relaxed. “Hey, Asami!” she called back before hurling the branch far out into the bay. Naga leapt into pursuit with a joyous bark.

By the time Asami reached Korra, the giant polarbear-dog had returned to land, then proceeded to shake all over them. Korra cried out, “Naga, no!”, but Asami was giggling.

“She’s missed you,” she said, stepping forward to rub Naga’s ears. The polarbear-dog lowered her head, tongue lolling.

“I know.” Korra’s reply was short, and Asami winced.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean — ”

“No, I’m sorry.” Korra waved off her apology. “I’m just strung a little tight from this afternoon.”

A breeze whipped along the shoreline and caught her newly-short hair, tousling it. Asami reached over to tuck it back behind her ear without thinking, and she froze like a catdeer in headlights when her fingers brushed Korra’s cheek.

Korra didn’t seem to notice her awkward pause and smiled. “Thanks.”

“I really do like your hair,” Asami repeated, suddenly tongue-tied.

“Yeah. I miss wearing it back, though.” Korra gestured to her wind-blown flyways. Naga whuffed at her and drew a heavy paw through the sand.

“Have you eaten?” It was out before Asami had time to consider the ramifications of her offer (what if Korra just wanted to be alone? What if she didn’t want to see Asami again? What if she had other plans?), and a knot in her chest eased when Korra shook her head ruefully.

“Why, have you?”

“We could get take-out,” Asami said by way of an answer. “You haven’t seen my apartment, have you?”

Dumb question, today was the first time she’d seen Korra in three years. But the Avatar just grinned.

“No, and I’d love to. Can we do Quong’s? I’ve missed Water Tribe cuisine.”

Yet another reference to the murky months she had spent off the grid. Asami held her tongue as mingled hurt and concern began to burn into her chest and schooled her aristocratic features into a smile.

“We can pick some up on the way.”

—

Quong’s paired exquisitely well with the sake chilling in her icebox, and Asami made a mental note to do this more often. Especially with company, she thought, her eyes drifting to Korra’s feet in her lap. The Avatar was stretched back against the arm of her couch, humming a breathy melody as she played with a set of gears she’d found on the side table. Naga had her nose in the container the food had come in and was steadily scooting it across the floor.

Asami looked up to find that Korra’s attention had shifted from the gears to her, and she smiled faintly as their eyes locked. “What?”

“You’ve lost weight,” Korra said bluntly, then made a face and bit her lip. “Sorry, I mean — you don’t look like you’ve been eating a lot. Or sleeping.”

“Why thanks,” Asami replied dryly, then giggled as Korra stammered over a more tactful reply. “No, you’re right. It’s been…a rough couple of months. The last year, really.”

Korra made a sympathetic noise. “Do you…want to talk about it, or anything?”

Asami met her gaze and offered a soft smile. “Maybe another time, but thanks. I’m just enjoying being with you right now.”

Korra mirrored her smile a little shyly. “Me too.” She took a sip from her sake before raising it towards Asami. “To more girls’ nights.”

“Hear, hear.” Asami clinked their glasses together gently.

“And no more skipping meals, okay?” Korra said once they had drunk. “Or pulling all-nighters.”

Asami rolled her eyes teasingly. “Yes, Officer Bei-Fong.” Korra made an “I’m watching you” gesture, and the two girls lapsed into giggles that built steadily into side-aching, silent-gasping laughter.

—

Half a bottle of sake later, Korra was tipsy enough that Asami convinced her to stay the night. Korra’s knees were tucked to her chest, and Asami leaned back against them. “I don’t want you getting lost on your way home or something.”

“Fine,” Korra sighed, her fingers tangled in Asami’s hair as she attempted to weave the thick strands into a braid. “But I get the couch.”

“You’re the guest, silly — I’m not making you sleep on the couch.” Asami tried to shake her head, but Korra made a frustrated noise as a chunk of hair was pulled from her grasp. “Sorry.”

“You’re the sleep-deprived one. I can tell by your make-up.”

Asami’s fingers went to her face. “My make-up?”

“The powder, under your eyes. To cover up your shadows.”

Her hands fluttered back to her lap. “I didn’t know you’d been studying my face so intently.”

“I’m very observant,” Korra replied seriously. Asami felt a faint tug as Korra pulled her braid tight. “There.”

Asami reached back to feel it. It wasn’t bad, especially for someone who’d consumed as much alcohol as Korra had. “How about we share my bed? It’s big enough, and then neither of us have to sleep on the couch.”

“Sounds good to me.” Korra patted her lazily on the top of her head.

—

Back in the present, Asami lets her eyes drift closed. For the first time in many, many mornings, her tension headaches are gone. She feels calm. And her pillow smells like Korra.

Chapter Text

The grandfather clock in her living room has just chimed noon when Asami’s telephone rings.

“The Avatar is here to see you, Miss Sato,” the bellboy from downstairs informs her. Asami has a brief mental image of him on the other end of the line: young, scrawny, dark hair scruffy.

“Thank you, Xian. You can send her up.”

She’s waiting by the door when Korra comes up through the elevator, arms laden with paper bags. Asami rushes to help her with them.

“What are these?” She asks, trying to glance into one while simultaneously closing the door with her hip.

“I had some time this morning, so I thought I’d run by the supermarket and get you some food.” Korra sets her bags onto the kitchen island and begins to unpack them. “Considering you’ve been living on takeout for weeks and your fridge is basically empty.”

Asami pauses, blinking, her mind whirring to catch up with the whirlwind that is Korra. “You…bought me food?”

“Yup!” Korra plunks a bag of bright-red apples onto the counter and moves to the fridge to put away a stack of mystery deli containers.

There’s a knot forming in Asami’s stomach and she doesn’t really know why. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Korra freezes with one hand in the fridge and her eyes flip wide. “Oh spirits, I overstepped, didn’t I? Is this weird? I didn’t mean for it to be weird.” She closes the icebox and crosses the kitchen so she and Asami are close enough to reach out and touch each other. “Is…Is this okay?”

Asami swallows past the tightness in her throat — why on earth is she suddenly so tense? — and forces a smile. “It’s fine. It’s actually very sweet of you.”

Korra’s eyebrows draw together. She’s not convinced. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

She chokes on a strangled laugh and swipes at her cheeks, surprised when her fingers come away moist. “Yeah, I don’t know what’s up with that.”

Korra reaches out, her hand hovering in the space between them for a beat before the rough pads of her thumb brushes the skin beneath Asami’s eyes. “Is everything okay?” Her touch is gentle, soothing, but Asami cannot reply. Korra seems to realize this and gives her shoulders a soft squeeze. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower and I’ll finish putting the groceries away.”

Asami nods and flees to the bathroom. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding her breath until the door closes behind her, and she leans against it with a long, shaky exhale.

As hot water beats down on her bare shoulders, she closes her eyes and tries to sort through the tangle of emotions in her chest. The dominant feeling is a sense of being overwhelmed, but by what? By Korra? She flashes back to dinner the other night, when they’d cuddled on the couch and she’d caught Korra up on all the Republic City gossip she’d missed over the last three years. There is nothing about Korra that’s overwhelming. If anything, she is a balm on Asami’s frayed nerves. Even via letters, she has been one of the brightest lights in Asami’s life as she pages through years of outdated infrastructure and wrestles with budgets until the sun begins to peek over the horizon.

She showers until the water runs cold and then takes her time before going back to face the world. She dresses herself in sweatpants and ties her hair back in a rough ponytail. Before leaving the bathroom, Asami pauses in front of the mirror and meets her own gaze. Her eyes are tinged pink, her cheeks flushed from the hot shower.

She reenters the kitchen and sniffs the air. It smells like something’s baking. “Korra?” She calls out.

“Right here!” Korra pokes her head out of the pantry, and Asami can’t help but grin. “What?”

“Your outfit.” She giggles. Korra looks down at herself with a blush.

“Hey, you’re the one who owns a plaid apron that says “Kiss the Cook,” she counters. “I just use whatever resources I have available.”

Asami just shakes her head. Korra’s eyes soften. “Are you feeling better?”

It’s Asami’s turn to blush now. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about that.” She traces her finger in lazy spirals across the marble counter. “I guess I realized that I’m not really used to people doing things for me, you know? Even since before my father betrayed me, I’ve kind of been on my own — I mean, I’ve had you and Mako and Bolin, but then Mako and Bolin needed a place to stay and I moved out to give them some space, and then you disappeared, and it was just me again.” Her eyes are burning with tears again, and she dashes them away in frustration. Her gaze stays on the countertop. She doesn’t know if she can look at Korra while she’s saying these things. “I think part of me feels like I’m not worth it, you know? Like if I’m not strong enough to take care of things on my own, then I’m a failure.”

Asami jumps when she feels Korra’s arms around her, but she soon buries her face in Korra’s hair. The younger girl smells like flour and some combination of spices that Asami can’t place, and her arms are firm around Asami’s waist.

“I’m here now,” Korra mumbles, her voice coming from somewhere in the vicinity of Asami’s neck. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Asami just holds her tighter, tears squeezing through her closed eyes. They stay like that for a dozen breaths, breathing in each others’ scents and trying to communicate by touch what they cannot in words. I’m here, you left me, I’m sorry, I’ll never leave you again.

Korra takes a shaky inhale and slowly disentangles herself from Asami. There are teardrops glistening on Korra’s lashes as well, like tiny stars. Asami has only a moment to appreciate the color of her eyes before Korra’s lips touch hers in a tentative kiss.

Kissing Korra isn’t at all like kissing Mako, which often seemed to end in blood and apologies. Her lips are soft and gentle, like she’s easing her way into something bigger that neither of them can really name, and Asami’s hand floats up to cup the back of her head.

It is a chaste kiss, cautious and delicate, and when they pull back Asami is surprised to see Korra’s cheeks aflame. “Was — Was that okay?”

“Absolutely,” Asami whispers, briefly touching the pad of her index finger to Korra’s lips to quell her anxiety. She feels still and sure-footed, like everything is finally right in the world.

Korra’s cheeks flush darker, and she ducks back into the pantry. “I’m, uh, baking scones if you want to help.”

“Blueberry?” Asami asks calmly, like they haven’t just shared their first kiss moments before.

“Uh huh.”

“Let me get out the milk.”

Chapter Text

The days pass quickly, with Korra and Asami often spending them apart. Korra discusses security in long meetings with President Raiko and Lin, and Asami is relearning how to decipher “Varrick-speak,” but somewhere in between they manage to grab moments together. Picnics on the edge of the bay, bison rides around Air Temple Island, long rides past the city limits in Asami’s prized Satomobile. They get meals with Mako and Bolin, now that the four of them are together again, and often Varrick tags along. The scattered genius is still as infuriating as ever, but he’s lost a certain spark that Asami is used to seeing in him, like Zhu Li took it with her. She can only imagine how difficult it is to lose someone you’ve relied on for so long, and the thought makes her reach beneath their restaurant table and hold Korra’s hand tightly.

They haven’t told anyone about them yet, largely because they don’t really know what “them” entails. In their group outings, Bolin is as oblivious as always, and most of his focus is centered around ways to win Opal back. Most meetings involve talking him out of crazy schemes involving sky-writing and various felonies, though they miss the "guerilla picnic" plan and have to spend their next session consoling him. Mako watches their relationship suspiciously at first, arching a dramatic eyebrow and making passive aggressive comments, but after a little while he seems to realize that they don’t hate him, and he settles in. It’s nice to have the gang back, even if Asami does feel a little guilty that she’s keeping things from the boys.

She brings it up one afternoon in her apartment. Korra has been on a baking frenzy lately, and Asami just stands out of the way with the fire extinguisher, even though Korra’s a Waterbender and has actually proven to be quite a competent cook. There’s a batch of cookies in the oven, and the two girls are kissing against the sink. Asami’s elbow keeps turning on the faucet; it's awkward and silly and makes them giggle.

“What is this?” Asami asks in the space between kisses.

Korra’s lips move to the base of her neck. “What’s what?”

Asami doesn’t need to be a genius to know that they’re both distracted. She reluctantly nudges Korra away until she can focus.

“This. Us.”

Korra’s gaze flits up to meet hers. “I thought it didn’t matter what we called it.”

“It doesn’t, not really. I guess I’ve just been thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” Korra takes a step back, and Asami sees fear flash across her eyes. She reaches out quickly to touch her.

“Calm down, not about this.” She gestures to the two of them. “Well, not really. More about what we want to tell other people.”

Korra’s shoulders loosen again. “Oh. Okay.” The oven timer dings. Neither of them move to get it.

Asami laces their fingers together. “You know you’re really important to me, right?”

“Me too.” Korra squeezes her hand and smiles. She looks so happy it’s impossible not to smile back. Asami doesn’t fight it.

“I’d like other people to know that, too. So I can tell people how proud I am of you and not have to hold anything back.” She rubs her thumb gently over Korra’s knuckles. “So I can…kiss you in public.” She’s blushing, and when she looks up she finds that Korra is too. “So I can hold your hand when we get lunch with the boys and not have to do it under the table.”

Korra huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that was a little sad, wasn’t it?” She steps forward and touches their foreheads together. Asami closes her eyes and breathes in cloves, flour, and a hint of polarbear-dog.

“I’d…like you to be my girlfriend,” Korra continues, her breath warm on Asami’s lips. Asami can’t resist stealing a kiss.

“That’s a yes, in case you were wondering,” she teases once they’ve broken for air. The oven timer dings again, more loudly, and Korra yelps as the smell of burning fills the air. The cookies are crispy and charred black, and Korra pouts as she inspects the tray.

“Darn it. I was looking forward to these.”

Asami comes up behind her and wraps her arms around her waist. “We can make another batch,” she murmurs in her ear. Korra hums in agreement and turns her head for another kiss.

—

“Does this mean we have to tell Mako?”

Asami is carding her fingers lazily through Korra’s hair, and she stops. “Um,” she says eloquently.

Korra snorts. She's leaning back against Asami’s chest, and Asami can feel the reverberations when she talks. “Yeah, I know. It’s gonna be awkward.”

“‘Awkward’ is an understatement,” Asami sighs.

There’s a quiet pause. Asami begins to weave tiny braids into Korra’s hair like she’s seen at Water Tribe formal events. She thinks Korra’s fallen asleep, but the other girl speaks up again.

“Bolin should be okay with it. And I feel like Varrick won’t care.”

“We’re telling Varrick?” Asami makes a face.

Korra shrugs against her. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want. I want to do whatever makes you comfortable.”

“You’re right, he probably won’t care. He’s pretty self-absorbed.”

“Another understatement,” Korra says. Asami smiles down at her.

“Are you planning to tell Tenzin?”

It’s Korra’s turn to freeze. Asami can feel it where their bodies touch. “Is it weird that I’m more worried about telling him than my parents?”

Asami makes a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. “Tenzin and Pema love you no matter what, Korra. Not to mention the kids.”

“I knowwww.” Korra puffs out her cheeks in annoyance. “It’s just weird, especially since they know you, and they know we both dated Mako.”

“I feel like one day we should thank Mako,” Asami muses, half to herself. She feels Korra’s laughter.

“I know I’m not the queen of tact, but I feel like there are better ways to come out to him.”

“Probably.” Asami’s fingers finish their tiny braids and move down to massage Korra’s shoulders. Korra’s eyes slide closed and she moans happily, a sound that sends blood straight to Asami’s cheeks.

“We could tell them at lunch tomorrow, after sparring,” Asami says, mostly to distract herself from the scandalous thoughts curling in the corners of her mind.

“I’d be okay with that.” Korra blindly reaches for her fingers and grasps them briefly. “Would you want to come over for dinner at Air Temple Island afterwards?”

“Sure. We can just…make a day of it, I guess.”

“It’s better to get it out of the way,” Korra says, though Asami can see the way her eyes have tightened. She’s anxious, and Asami knows the feeling. It’s going to be an interesting day.

—

They’re in the middle of their sparring match, both breathing hard, when Korra goes down.

Asami doesn’t realize she’s injured at first and starts to go in for the kill when she sees the tight set of her girlfriend’s face. “Korra!” She nearly falls herself in her haste to get to Korra’s side.

Korra has struggled to a seated position by now, jaw clenched. “Ow.”

“Where does it hurt?” Asami’s hands are fluttering in the air like confused butterflies.

Korra gestures vaguely in the general direction of her feet. “Left ankle.”

Today she’s wearing cut-off workout pants, baring her ankles, and Asami traces cool fingers down the calf in question until she reaches the ankle joint. Growing up, her father had her take first aid classes in tandem with self-defense, and she takes a brief moment to send a grateful thought his way before refocusing on Korra.

“I think you just sprained it,” she says after concluding her gentle examination. “It’s not broken, anyway.”

“Thank goodness,” Korra breathes, and immediately tries to stand on it. Asami is ready to catch her as she crumples.

“You’re a dork,” Asami informs her as she pants in pain. “I hope you know that.”

“Ow,” Korra repeats.

“Does the office have a telephone? Or crutches?”

“They have crutches. Bolin had to use them once.”

Asami helps her limp over to a bench and takes off at a jog towards the gym’s main office.

—

“Korra! Asami!” Bolin greets them like he hasn’t seen them in years, and the girls grin. He’s halfway to them when he freezes mid-step, arms still posed like he’s running. “Whoa, what happened?”

“What?” Mako demands, pushing past his brother. His face falls when he sees Korra’s crutches and newly-wrapped ankle. “Korra, are you okay?”

“Asami beat me up,” Korra pulls a face, and Bolin gasps in shock.

“What? Asami!” He scolds her, then stops when he seems to realize that both Korra and Asami are laughing. “Oh. A joke, I gotcha.”

“It’s just sprained, I should be back on it in a day or so,” Korra reassures them. “We were sparring and I lost my footing.”

“Let me help you.” Mako steps forward as she hobbles towards the restaurant door, but Asami is closer, and she already has her hand on Korra’s upper back.

“I’ve got it,” she says with a smile, stomach fluttering with anxiety as Mako’s face falls into what could almost be a pout. Oh boy.

This will be fun.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure your ankle is all right?”

Korra is going to stab Mako through the hand with her fork if he asks her one more time. Instead she rolls her eyes and makes sure to exhale audibly. “Yes, Mako, just like the first ten times you asked.”

To his credit, Mako looks somewhat abashed. He’s such a big softie, Korra thinks fondly. She hopes that he finds someone too one day.

As if on cue, Asami’s calf brushes against hers under the table, and she has to drop her gaze to her lap to keep from blushing. It’s so, so hard, sitting right next to her, feeling her warmth and hearing her breath but not being able to touch her. Thank spirits they’re going public soon, she thinks as she watches Asami begin to fix her ponytail, inky strands cascading around her face like the velvet curtains lining the walls of her family’s mansion.

She doesn’t realize she’s staring until Bolin distracts her by waving around his fork like a baton. “So, I have another plan to win Opal back!” He announces proudly. “It involves Pabu and several hoops of fire, and somehow I’m going to need to find a platypus-bear…”

Mako groans and Asami laughs, but Korra’s too busy swallowing back the panic that’s beginning to coat her throat and dry her mouth. She clears her throat, but chickens out and reaches for her water glass as everyone turns to look at her.

The bread arrives then, and there’s a moment of easy silence as the four of them pass the basket around. She’s reaching for her second slice of rye when she feels Asami’s foot touch hers again, more pointedly this time, and she looks up to see calm reassurance in her girlfriend’s eyes. So she puts down the bread, fidgets with her crutches for a moment, and takes a deep breath.

“Guys,” she starts, pausing to get Bolin and Mako’s attention. Bolin is slathering his bread with so much butter that it nauseates her for a second. “There’s…something we want to tell you.”

“What’s going on?” Mako’s eyebrows immediately snap together, and she knows that he’s fearing the worst. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Korra tells him, and he leans back with arms folded tightly. Asami finds her hand under the table and gives it a quick squeeze, then makes to pull away, but Korra laces their fingers together and brings their hands into view. “Asami and I…we’re together.”

There’s an awkward pause. Korra’s about to wonder if she’s going to have to kiss Asami in front of these dimwits for them to get it when Bolin makes a soft noise of confusion.

“Wait,” he says, setting down the butter knife. “Sorry, but I’m a little confused here.” He points at them with both hands. “You both dated Mako.”

Korra colors, but Asami nods for both of them.

Bolin quirks an eyebrow. “And you’re…dating each other now?”

The two girls exchange a quick glance. Asami is beginning to grin awkwardly, and Korra lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, we are.”

“Well, wow!” Bolin’s grinning too now. “I guess that explains why it didn’t work out with you, huh bro?”

Discomfort coils in Korra’s stomach. Asami or not, Mako was an important part of her life, and she doesn’t want him to feel like he messed things up. “Wait, no, it’s not like that — ”

There’s a scraping sound as Mako pushes his chair out from the table and stalks off without a word. Korra reaches after him, face tightening in despair, and nearly trips over both her crutches and Asami, who is also trying to get up to go after him. Bolin holds out a hand to both of them.

“No, I’ll go talk to him. See if I can work my brotherly magic.”

He tosses his napkin into his chair and jogs off in the direction that Mako went, leaving Korra and Asami alone at a table set for four.

Asami clears her throat. “Well that could have gone better.”

Korra is quiet, her gaze on her lap as her vision begins to swim with tears. Asami seems to catch sight of them and is quick to reach for her hands.

“Hey, look at me, babe.”

The unexpected term of endearment is enough to catch Korra’s attention, and she meets Asami’s eyes. “Sorry,” she sniffles. “I’m being dumb.”

“Nonsense.” Asami leans up against her, pressing their shoulders together comfortingly. “Mako’s the one being dumb.”

“I mean, I knew it would be awkward, but I didn’t think he’d walk out,” Korra says crossly, her hurt already bleeding into frustration.

Asami pulls her sleeves over her hands and dabs gently at Korra’s cheeks. “If he’s a real friend, he’ll get over himself and be happy for us.”

Korra shivers. “I hate this. I hate feeling like I have to apologize for being happy.”

“You don’t,” Asami says, and leans in for a kiss. Her lips are soft and careful, and Korra responds in kind.

“Whoa, sorry!” Bolin announces, and they separate reluctantly. “I guess you guys really are together, then, huh?”

Korra blinks, her fingers clenching in her lap as she realizes Bolin is alone. “Where’s Mako?”

Bolin shifts his weight. “He, uh, left.”

“What?” Asami’s reply cuts through the air like a whip, and Bolin actually flinches.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I tried to talk him down, but he wouldn’t listen. Please don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, eyes flicking nervously between Asami’s sharply furrowed brows and Korra’s drying tears.

“It’s not your fault,” Korra says before Asami can snap at him, and Bolin sinks back into his seat with a relieved sigh.

“Let’s go home, Korra,” Asami says curtly.

“I’ll stay and eat with Bolin, I want to hear about how he’s doing,” she replies, but she brushes Asami’s wrist with soft fingers. “You can go ahead though. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Fine.” Asami is short, but Korra knows it’s not with her, and she leans in for a quick kiss before Asami lays a pile of yuans on the table — enough to cover all of their lunches, Korra notices with a flicker of gratitude — and leaves.