Work Text:
Shit, it’s Friday. If it weren’t for the calendar on his desk, he wouldn’t have known. Days blur together when your nose is buried in paperwork for most of them.
She’s leaving next week.
He dialed her number in record time; he didn’t even have to think it, his finger moved on its own. She picked up on the third ring.
“You free for dinner tonight?”
“Sure. Where?”
Fuck. He hadn’t even thought that far. He blurted out the first place that popped into his head.
“Narook’s.”
The line had spilled onto the sidewalk by the time they got there, which should’ve come as no surprise. Narook’s seaweed noodles were legit. Even Korra said so, and she’s a water tribe native so she knew what she was talking about. Normally it was well worth squeezing into booths and yelling over the chatter of other excited diners, but it was the middle of the summer and the heat was the kind that radiated off the pavement and made your clothes stick to your skin.
When a harried waiter jotted down their order and asked “Is that for here or to go?”, they took one look at each other and knew what the answer was. Ten minutes later, they were jogging to Mako’s place, racing up the stairs before the spilled soup seeped through the paper bag.
“I wish I was giving you a better send-off.” he said once the table had been set, his mismatched dinnerware adorning the dented teak.
He hadn’t even cleaned his apartment, which, to his credit, he always kept neat, but having guests over warranted a different kind of neat. What was he thinking? Serving her food she’s eaten a hundred times in a place she’s been at a hundred times more. He’d been so preoccupied with his cases, he forgot to prepare anything for her.
Korra looked up from the dumpling she was gleefully slathering in soy sauce, a smile playing on her lips. She had told him several times that it doesn’t take more than a meal to keep her happy, but that’s the bare minimum and he always strived to clear that bar. She probably enjoyed their dinner the way it is, but to say that “it’s fine” is to patronize him. Thankfully, she had learned that by now.
“I don’t leave ‘til Monday.” she said in that encouraging nudge-you-in-the-arm tone she uses when she’s trying to get him excited about something. “You can do better this weekend.”
His eyes lit up. “Won’t you be busy?”
“Not at all. I wanted to relax before my big trip.”
“So you’re done packing?”
“Well…no.” The way she averted her gaze told him she hadn’t even started. “But it’s okay, I don’t have a lot of stuff.”
Mako cocked his brow dubiously. He’s all too familiar with her penchant for last-minute packing, but she’s staying in Ba Sing Se for three months– surely that required more planning. But then again, he just threw her this sorry excuse of a dinner so who is he to lecture her about planning?
“Okay. I’ll do better.” he nodded to himself. “What do you want to do this weekend?”
She bit her lip, the corners of her mouth raised in a coy smile.
“You.”
He froze for a second. Did he hear that right?
“Ha ha.” he forced the syllables out, hoping they resembled sarcastic laughter. Her face broke into a huge grin. She was joking. Of course, she was joking.
But that didn’t stop the rush of blood that flooded his cheeks and, shamefully, another part of his anatomy that had him staring at his noodles because he couldn’t look her in the eye. He cleared his throat.
“No, seriously.” he said, stirring the noodles around with his chopsticks. “Carte blanche. Anything you want to eat. Anything you want to do.”
“You.” she said, more insistent this time.
His hand clenched into a fist. Between the two of them, she had the flair for mischief, and admittedly he didn’t always get her jokes but this one…this one was particularly cruel. She probably hadn’t meant for it to be, it’s just that even with years of friendship under their belt, it’s still unfair how easy it is for her. He grieved their so-called puppy love longer than he cared to admit and she’s just pulling grass from its grave for a punchline.
If she were a lesser friend, he would let it go and keep it to himself. But she’s Korra. If he could trust her with his life, he could tell her when her words bothered him.
“Korra–”
He looked up, surprised to see that she had been watching him. It’s usually the other way around, with him watching in awe as she jumped into battle with unbridled ferocity. This woman didn’t blink in the face of death and yet here, in the midst of a dinner so familiar it could only underwhelm, he saw fear in her eyes. Fear, and something else that kept her waiting for his next words even at the risk of them breaking her… hope.
“I-” He was reading way too much into things; he really should stop reading romance novels ironically. “I bought a pai sho board.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s the uhm, foldable kind.” he wanted to smack himself. “We can set it up on the floor if you want. Unless you need to catch the ferry?”
“No, it’s fine.” Was it wishful thinking or was there disappointment in her voice? “We can play a round.”
“Spirits, you’re slow.”
Korra wasn’t one to hide her annoyance, or the boredom that fed into it. She enjoyed friendly competition – they both did – but he wasn’t being a worthy opponent right now.
Portable pai sho sucks . Pai sho is meant to be played sipping hot tea in the park or battling for yuans in the tavern. No in-betweens. This gray area of sitting cross-legged on the living room carpet, awkwardly hunched over a board that lay flat on the floor is about as exciting as the color it’s named after.
“I’m just making sure I make the right move.” he said, finally putting a tile into play.
“Right move.” she rolled her eyes and grabbed her rhododendron tile. “The problem with taking too long, Mako,” she said, blocking one of his almost-harmonies to form one of her own “is that you miss your chances.”
If he cared about this game at all, that would’ve been a devastating oversight on his part. He usually wasn’t this shit of a player, but something else weighed on his mind. He could let it go or he could take a chance.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” she asked, eyes still on the board. She was winning by a huge margin but she was too bored to gloat.
“That thing you wanted to do.” He couldn’t even say it.
“You mean you?” she said because she could.
He nodded, finally finding the courage to look her straight in the eye.
“Do you really want to?”
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she crawled over his board, breaking it in half and sending pieces flying everywhere. She grabbed him by the collar and pressed her lips against his.
He moved out of a long-dormant reflex, pulling her into his lap and kicking the rest of the board away. She moaned softly when he slipped his tongue in her mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck.
He ran his hands from her hips to her thighs, cursing the fabric he felt instead of her skin. He wanted, needed, more of her. He slipped one hand under her shirt, fingers grazing the skin of her lower back. She got the message. She pulled away and grabbed the ends of her shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion.
“Spirits.” he hissed, running his hands up her stomach before palming her breasts through her bindings. She mewled, biting her lip and throwing her head back. He hadn’t let himself think about her this way in so long and now it was all he’d ever think about. Seriously. What even was his name?
He kissed her again, pulling her to his chest so he could flip them over. He wanted her underneath him.
“AH!” she yelped as she landed on the carpet, her face scrunched in pain.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, mortified that he had hurt her.
She reached behind her and retrieved a wooden token, its emblem likely engraved in the base of her spine.
“Fucking white lotus!” she spat, chucking the tile to the ground. It hit the carpet, punctuating her outburst with the softest thud.
They stared at each other – lips pursed and shoulders shaking – and started laughing. He rolled off her, cussing when he fell ass-first on a jagged piece of his now broken pai sho board, which made them laugh harder.
This is ridiculous he thought, both of them staring at the ceiling as they tried to catch their breath. The reality of what they did was setting in. Shit, that was close.
Their teenage romance may have lasted a blink of an eye a decade ago, but the trek from exes to genuine friends still took them years. Now they were at the cusp of throwing all of it away. Good thing they didn’t go too far. Good thing they could still wade back to shore, bury this in sand and pretend it never happened.
He heard a slight rustle as she moved and he turned to his side to face her. Spirits, she had beautiful eyes; blue and bright and honest. He could take one look at them and know exactly what she’s feeling.
She’s feeling up for a swim.
“Bedroom?” she asked.
“Yes.” he said, pleading more than answering. Fuck yes.