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Asami has a secret.
It’s one she’s carried since she was five years old, though in truth it didn’t become furtive until her shy teen years, when she discovered shame and how cruel kids of that age can be. Years later and though she’s much bolder now, doesn’t take shit from anyone, the memories still bring a mortified blush to her cheeks.
“Asami…” Korra’s sleepy voice from the bed sets her heart racing. “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Just couldn’t sleep, thought I’d get some work done,” Asami lies from Korra’s desk, tilting her laptop screen from Korra’s line of sight. “It’s fine. Go back to sleep.”
“Mmm, no,” Korra mumbles. “Stay up with you, if you’re up.”
It’s not often that Asami resents her girlfriend for being sweet. This is one of those rare times. Just five more minutes. She just needs five more minutes. But Korra is slowly rolling towards the edge of the bed.
Asami knows - from days when she’s actually up late doing work - that Korra will shuffle over to hug her from behind, press sleepy kisses to her cheek and neck, and then settle into the armchair next to the desk to wait for her to come back to bed. Maybe she’ll make gentle conversation, if she wakes up enough: not enough to distract Asami from her task, but enough to provide the warm glow of company.
Except Asami isn’t doing work - Asami is engaging in her secret hobby.
Asami is bidding on a stamp.
It had been easy enough to hide the hobby from Korra when they were dating more casually, but they’re spending more and more time together these days - nights spent apart are rarer than those shared - and she’s having to try harder to keep Korra from finding out about her passion for stamp collecting.
“No, Korra, it’s fine. Really. I’m working on a classified project, I can’t if you’re sitting behind me. I’ll be back in bed soon, I promise.”
“Never normally bothers you,” Korra complains weakly, already sinking back into the pillows.
Asami’s shoulders sag in relief, and then straighten again when she refreshes firestampcentral.fn to see that ‘stampmanmorris’ has upped his bid. She considers him her nemesis; this is the only stamp auction site she uses that shares the bidders’ usernames, but she often recognises his sneaky strategies on CabbageBay and other common spots.
Her fingers fly to her keyboard to type in her next offer, a little higher than she thinks her rival will anticipate. Her pointer is poised over the enter button, waiting for the very last second…
“Fuck!” she hisses, slamming her laptop shut. She’s been outbid.
“Everything okay, baby?” Asami’s anger at losing fades into something melty at that. Korra only ever uses pet names when she’s half asleep, stuck in the soft place just past wakefulness.
“Everything’s fine,” she says, a blush rising on her cheeks at the thought of using the endearment back. It’s impossible how Korra makes her feel more comfortable than she’s ever been and yet like a nervous school girl all at once. Maybe that’s why she’s so loath to just tell Korra about her hobby. It’s been three months since they’ve been official, longer since they started seeing each other, and she still wants so badly for Korra to think she’s cool. “Just ran into a hitch. I can talk to the engineering team about it tomorrow. I'll come back to bed now.”
“Mm, good. Missed you.”
Asami finds she can’t hold onto the disappointment of her lost auction, not when Korra’s waiting for her.
“We agreed on a thousand yuan,” Asami argues down the phone a few weeks later. Her coffee cup slams so hard onto the table that the dark liquid surface splashes over the edge onto the granite of her kitchen island.
“Yes, Ms. Sato, but you see, someone has come back to me with a better offer.” The tinny, smarmy voice in her ear stoke’s her early morning annoyance.
“How much more are you trying to get out of me?” she asks, too tired to put up more of a fight. Normally she wouldn’t let herself be pushed around like this, but it’s so rare for any of the 248AG Ren Hirose Collection to come on the market, and Asami has a soft spot for them. They were her introduction into philately, after all.
“Twelve-fifty,” the dealer comes back at once with his new price. Asami pinches the cartilage of her nose. It’s well above market price, but less than she’s willing to pay. It’s hard to put a price on sentimentality.
“Fine. I’ll have it wired over today. But don’t think you’ll extort me so easily again,” she snaps, hanging up the phone and taking a relieving sip of strong, bitter coffee.
“Asami, is everything okay?” Korra asks and Asami spins around to see her in the doorway in sleep sweats and an old band tee. “Who was that?”
“No one,” says Asami, automatically. “I mean. Just business stuff. Nothing you need to worry about. Hey, do you want to go to the beach today?”
Korra’s eyes light up, successfully distracted. “Only always!”
Bigger purchases Asami makes in person, where she’s able to verify the veracity of a seller’s claim before she hands over her money. Always in a public place, of course - safety first. Today she’s meeting a man in Republic City Park by the Pai Sho tables.
“Everything as expected, Ms. Sato?”
Her appraisal of the album finished, she looks back at the man across the game table from her. It’s in excellent condition, as promised, the stamps hinged rather than fully mounted, though that can be attributed to the age of the near-complete album. Of the few missing items from the collection, she’s certain she has several in her stockbook of ‘yet to be organised’ stamps, and the others - well, part of what she loves about collecting so much is the chase.
“Yes, thank you.” She hands over an envelope of cash. He flicks a thumb through the notes. “If you’d like to count it, I won’t be offended.”
“It’s nothing personal. You know what some people in this community are like.”
“Of course.”
Once he’s happy that he’s been given the promised amount, Asami slips the album into the rigid, cushioned compartment of her briefcase designed for laptop storage and bids him goodbye as he leaves. She has some time left on her lunch break, so she takes out the travel set of Pai Sho tiles that she keeps on her always and sets up a game to play against herself.
“What was that about? With the envelope of cash?”
Asami is startled to see her girlfriend settle into the seat opposite her. Her hot, sweaty girlfriend in running shorts and a sports bra, who apparently just saw her transaction and is now looking very concerned.
“Oh, just a quick lunch meeting!” Asami says, proud at the ease in her tone. “You know, business things.”
She’s confident that her athlete girlfriend is not in fact knowledgeable about business things, and hopeful that will mean she will buy that passing over envelopes full of cash in the middle of a park is par for the course. That hope doesn’t quite bear fruit though, not with Korra’s doubtful look.
“If you say so,” Korra says, frowning. “I better get back to my run, I’ve got to make it to physio for half two. You’re sure everything’s good with you?”
“I’m great, Korra. Really. And all the better for seeing you all…” She gestures up and down.
“You like me sweaty, huh?” Korra asks. “I think you’d like it less if I were to hug you. I probably reek.”
Asami thinks of her silk shirt, then the fact she has to go back to work, and then the change of clothes she keeps in her office. She slips around the table and perches on Korra’s lap, pressing their bodies together as she draws her in for a kiss. “Mm, you smell pretty good to me.”
“We’re so going to end up in some tabloid if we keep this up, Asami.” Korra makes no attempt to pull out of Asami’s embrace though, wrapping strong arms tightly around her middle.
“I’ll set my lawyers on them, it’ll be fine,” Asami says, refusing to bow down to the forces that won’t let her make out with her girlfriend in peace. She kisses Korra again, more briefly, and then stands. “But you said you need to go.”
Korra sighs. “I do. We’re on for dinner tomorrow right?”
“Yes, Kwong’s at eight.”
“Great,” Korra says, pushing to her feet and bouncing on her toes a little. “And you’re definitely all good?”
“ Yes, Korra.” Asami’s reply is forceful. “Now go run. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Korra!” Asami says, surprised and slightly alarmed to find her girlfriend at her door that evening. Her minds’ eye flashes to the piles of stockbooks and albums laid out in her room so that she can turn all the pages and prevent sticking. Korra cannot see that. She laughs nervously. “What are you doing here?”
She wedges her body into the doorway, blocking Korra’s entrance.
“Can I come in?” Korra asks, looking confused at Asami’s behaviour.
“It’s not really a good time.”
A crease forms between Korra’s brows as she takes in Asami’s comfy loungewear, her bare face and tied up hair. Asami fiddles with the arm of her glasses. She knows it must be obvious to look at her that she has no evening plans.
“Why?”
“I’m, uh, trying to get some work done so I can be sure I’ll finish up at the office on time for our date tomorrow.”
“I won’t be long, I promise.” Korra touches her upper arm where it’s propped against the door jamb. “I just need to talk to you. It’s been weighing on me for a while, and I can’t keep pretending like everything’s normal…”
Asami’s heart sinks, landing heavily in her stomach like a weight dropped in water. Surely, Korra isn’t…? She can’t be dumping her, they’re so good. Aren’t they good?
Alarm rises in her chest, cutting her breath short.
“Oh, spirits, no!” Korra half-yells, as Asami’s eyes start to burn. She must’ve read Asami’s fallen, panicked expression. “I don’t want to break up! Nothing like that! I - really like you. A lot.”
“Why would you phrase it like that!?” Asami curls her fists in the lapels of Korra’s jacket, and brings their foreheads together, laughing a little hysterically as her heart slowly regains its regular rhythm. “Never scare me like that again.”
“Promise,” Korra says, stealing a kiss. “No more ambiguous statements that could be mistaken for me trying to end things."
“Good.” Asami steps back, shaking her head. “Well, there’s my heart attack for the evening.”
Actually, it was her second - the first was when she opened the door to Korra, knowing how exposed her secret was in her bedroom. She supposes it’ll be okay for Korra to come in; she’s pretty sure her bedroom door is closed. Asami laces their fingers together and leads her inside. “What did you want to talk about?”
Korra sits, and tugs her down onto the sofa next to her. Asami places her hand over Korra’s when it lands on her thigh, tracing a soothing thumb over the top of it, noting Korra’s agitation.
“I guess I'll just say it... Asami, is someone blackmailing you?”
Asami blinks, confused. “What?”
“You’ve been acting all weird and evasive lately - the late nights on secret projects, the phone calls… earlier with the money in the park?” Korra combs her free hand back through her own hair, and it falls back around her face messily. “And everytime I ask if everything’s okay, you just tell me it’s some business thing, and like, I may not be a businesswoman but I’m not stupid, Asami. I know something’s up.”
“I’m not being blackmailed,” Asami assures her, a little pit of guilt forming in her stomach. She hadn’t meant to worry Korra. “I promise, I’m completely fine.”
“Then what’s going on?” Korra’s eyes shouldn’t be allowed to be that big or that blue. Asami could happily drown in them, dissolve right into nothing. They’re pools of concern now, tugging insistently at her heartstrings. “Please, Asami, I’ve been so worried. I just need to know that you’re safe.”
Well, that’s it for her secret. It’s been a good run, but Asami can’t resist Korra’s sincere distress, how much she cares. Hopefully Korra won’t mind finding out her ass-kicking, motorbike-riding girlfriend is a closet geek.
Asami sighs, leading Korra to her bedroom. Hand on the handle, she relishes the final moments of her cool-girl image. She pushes it open, and gestures for Korra to go in ahead of her.
“I don’t get it,” Korra says after a moment. “Stamps? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“I collect them,” Asami admits solemnly, moving to stand behind her girlfriend, trying not to wince as she thumbs a little roughly through one of the albums laid out on her desk. “That’s what I’m doing when I’m on my laptop late. Bidding on auctions - the biggest site is based in the Fire Nation, so there’s a time difference - and then on the phone the other week, and the park this afternoon. Buying stamps. I’m a philatelist.”
“A fatalist?”
“Phi-la-tel-ist,” Asami enunciates. “It’s a fancy word for someone who collects stamps.”
“Like you.”
“Like me,” Asami says miserably.
Korra’s smiling at her, looking both fond and incredulous. “Why’d you sound so sad about it? And why’s it a secret?”
“It’s just… I mean, it’s not exactly cool, is it? My other hobbies are - and like, I know when we started dating, you were really into my racing and martial arts stuff, the fact I’m involved in the local music scene, all that. I didn’t want to ruin that impression.”
Korra bursts out laughing, which Asami takes slight offence to; she’s putting her ego on the line, here.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry,” she says when she notices Asami’s expression, laying her palm flat on Asami’s cheek, thumb tapping lightly against the pout of her lower lip. “It’s just - you think I didn’t know you’re a bit geeky? You carry a Pai Sho set around with you and you spent an hour of our last date explaining to me how the nozzles at the gas station know when to stop pumping.”
“That’s - that’s different.” That was fluid dynamics. Fluid dynamics is cool. She feels her cheeks go pink. “I used to get teased for this a lot when I was a kid, is all.”
“I’m sorry you went through that.” Korra is sympathetic. “This is something you’ve been doing for a while, then? How’d you get into it?”
She goes to sit on the sofa across from Asami’s bed, pulling Asami down after her onto her knee, arms wrapped firmly around her waist. Asami loops hers around Korra’s neck for balance.
“My mom.” She smiles at the memory. “She was kind of a casual collector, but I, uh, got my inability to do anything by halves from my dad. You know Ren Hirose?”
“The children’s author?”
“Yeah,” Asami says. “I was really obsessed with her when I was little. They released a commemorative set of stamps honouring her work when I was four or five, so my mom bought them for me. That’s when the collecting began… then she died and it was a way to feel close to her.”
“That’s sweet.” Korra presses a kiss to Asami’s temple. “Thanks for telling me.” She holds her for a moment more, and then shoves at Asami’s hips, pushing her off her lap. “Now get off, I want to look at your stamps some more.”
Asami stands with a huffed laugh and a pout, going to sit on the edge of her bed instead. She watches Korra as she flips through the first of the stack of stockbooks resting on the other couch cushion.
Raising a hand to her lips, she touches the irrepressible smile there. Korra knows her secret, and hadn’t even made fun of her a little bit - at least, not for this hobby. Her travel Pai Sho set hadn’t come out entirely unscathed. Korra was looking through her collection with genuine interest, stopping to read the notes Asami likes to slip in with her stamps to give context. A deep well of feeling sits in her chest, but it’s light, effervescent and golden.
“I think you should share an embarrassing secret too,” Asami says, mostly because she needs a distraction from her own force of emotion. “So that we’ll be even.”
“I don’t think it’s embarrassing that you collect stamps.”
“And yet I’m embarrassed. Or I was.” Asami pouts. “Please? I’ll feel better.”
Korra sighs. “I don’t know that I have any embarrassing secrets. I’m kind of an open book. I embarrass myself like… every day. In front of you, usually. And besides, my parents told you enough!”
“It doesn’t count if you’re a toddler, Korra! There must be something that you’ve held back from telling me about. An old hobby or something. Even if it’s something you don’t do anymore.”
There’s silence as Korra stops to think. “Well… I used to compete in rhythmic gymnastics while I was at college.”
A slow smile creeps onto Asami’s face. She’s not super familiar with rhythmic gymnastics but… “With the ribbons and the hula hoops and stuff?”
“Yep.”
Korra, sporty and brash and tomboyish, prancing around a mat with ribbons on sticks. This she has to see. “Please tell me there are videos.”
“There’s a few.” Korra holds her hand out for Asami’s phone, opening YueTube when she passes it over. She types something and then returns it to Asami, going back to sit on the sofa.
A few minutes later, Asami tosses her phone down next to her on the sheets with a huff.
“That was absolutely not the same, nor was it at all embarrassing.” She misjudged rhythmic gymnastics, and from Korra’s smug face it seems her girlfriend had known she’d be admiring. “That was you competing at national level in a very impressive sport where you show off how flexible you are, all made up in a tiny outfit. That was cool and sexy. I collect stamps.”
“Maybe I think the fact that you collect stamps is cool and sexy!” Asami looks doubtfully at Korra as she reclines on the couch across from her, flipping through an album of Asami’s greatest secret. “I’m serious! I think everything about you is cool and sexy, so that’s stamps too now.”
Asami looks at gorgeous, understanding, flexible Korra, whom she is almost definitely in love with.
“Come here,” she tells her, her tone leaving no question as to her intent.
When Korra saunters over, coming to a stop in front of her, Asami tugs her down onto the bed on top of her, finding her lips in what has to be the most erotic kiss of Asami’s life. Korra’s weight is pressing her into the mattress, Korra’s teeth are just barely nipping her lip every so often, Korra’s tongue is hot and demanding in her mouth.
Korra thinks it’s cool that Asami collects stamps. She thinks it’s sexy .
It’s almost easy to forget about the CabbageBay auction ending at the strike of the hour. It’s for a rare misprint of a special stamp issued for the 224AG Four Nation’s Games. It would complete her set. She almost doesn’t care.
When Asami’s phone alarm pings urgently - the alert that gives a fifteen minute warning for the end of bidding - she only tenses for a moment before giving herself back over to the kiss, to Korra. But Korra is pulling away from her, and Asami grumbles in confusion at the loss of contact.
“You know,” Korra says, standing and stretching in a way that makes her tank top ride up, revealing her subtly sculpted stomach. She’s not even tensing, Asami thinks, her mouth going dry. She just looks like that. “I suddenly find myself not in the mood for sex.”
“What?” Asami asks, trying not to look as dismayed as she feels.
Korra winks at her- or tries to. It’s more of a slow, mangled blink. Asami's stomach flips with fondness. “Your phone going off just took me right out of the mood. I mean, I’ll warm up again I’m sure. Might take me… ten minutes until I’m into it again?”
Asami sees what Korra’s doing, and can’t help her ecstatic grin. “Fifteen,” she says.
“Yeah, so I’m thinking it will definitely be fifteen minutes until I want to have sex with you,” Korra continues, taking the correction in stride. “You might want to find something else to do in the meantime.”
Asami pushes off the bed to grab her girlfriend in a quick, searing kiss.
“I love you so much,” Asami gasps into Korra’s mouth, too caught up in her excitement to realise it’s her first time saying it, before rushing to her desk, hurriedly accessing her bookmarks for the auction on all three of the computers set up there.
Normally these auctions pass in the blink of an eye, a blur of tactical-if-aggressive bidding and page-refreshing, but now it’s dragging . There’s still nine whole minutes left, and Korra is lying just meters away in Asami’s bed, body taut as she props herself up on an elbow and leans over to mess with the wireless speaker on the bedside table until something with a heady, sublime beat starts spilling from it. She can’t help the way her eyes are dragged over from her screens. Korra is very distracting.
Six minutes.
Apparently time still speeds when she’s staring at Korra.
“Screw it,” Asami says to her computers, plugging in an obscene bid that nobody will top and pressing send. It’s probably triple what the stamp is worth, but Korra is priceless.
“Oh thank fuck,” Korra says as Asami straddles her atop the mattress, the curve of her neck revealed as she leans back to look at her girlfriend. Asami kisses it. “I genuinely think I might have died if I had to wait another five minutes. I, um, love you too, by the way.”
“I- oh! I said that.” Asami blinks, and then notices Korra’s faltering smile. “I meant it, definitely. I just maybe planned to tell you in a slightly more romantic setting. Sorry.”
“Make it up to me,” Korra demands, her joyful wide-eyed gaze slightly undermining her coy smirk. “Show me just how much you mean it.”
It’s a challenge Asami is happy to rise to. She will never get used to the sounds Korra makes while she explores her body with her mouth. She’s so sensitive, shuddering under the lathe of Asami’s tongue, the scrape of her teeth. She’s tracking a path down Korra’s chest now, pushing down the thin material of her top as it encumbers her.
“Wait, wait -” Korra says, before Asami can fully commit her attention to the newly revealed skin. Asami lifts her chin immediately in concern. “Did you win the auction?”
Just then, one of the computers gives out a celebratory little chime.
“That was a yes.” Asami relishes the surge of triumph for only a second before moving back down her girlfriend’s body and saying something she never thought she would. Especially not in bed. “Hey, Korra? Let’s stop talking about stamps.”