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Mako never takes off his shirt.
Well, correction, Wu never sees Mako take off his shirt. Presumably he changes clothes at some point in the day otherwise he would smell like dirty laundry and not like campfire smoke and sandalwood soap. (Wu does not sniff his bodyguard, that would be weird. He definitely does not and has never shrugged on one of Mako's jackets, buried his nose in the lapel and inhaled deeply. Of course not. That would be, as previously mentioned, deeply weird and very unkingly of him.)
And it's not like Wu has spent the last three years sitting around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mako without a shirt on. (This is a lie. Wu has definitely sat around hoping for just that. He's just also done other things with his time as well. Like get smoothies with Mako and drag Mako to the zoo and read the newspaper with Mako and meet Mako's charming grandmother, and find himself irrevocably entangled in Mako's life and unable to conceive of a world without him.) He's just observed, in a purely neutral observational capacity, that even after 3 years of cohabitation, he's never caught sight of Mako any less than fully dressed. The closest to disheveled Mako ever seems to get is rolling his sleeves up.
Once Wu spotted Mako in the torn tank top and loose trousers he uses as pajamas. Wu has never felt more kinship towards the maidens who always seem to be teetering on the verge of a swoon in his novels.
It's become something of a personal challenge, catching Mako anything less than perfectly pressed and tidy. Now that the Mako isn't his bodyguard and they're instead maybe-kind-of-sort-of-Varrick's-wedding-was-definitely-a-date-right? a Thing it's both easier and somehow more difficult. Wu delights in ruffling Mako's usually pristine appearance. Running his hands through Mako's silky dark hair, pomade crackling under his fingers, teasing Mako into undoing at least a couple buttons around his collar, poking at him until he stops turning up to dates in full uniform. (This is how Wu discovers the tragic state of Mako's wardrobe - a problem to be remedied at a later date.)
They're taking things slow, this new, non-professional relationship of theirs. (Although, Wu ponders, they always were smudging the line between the personal and professional, their lives being as entangled as they were.) But now they're slower, softer, more tentative with each other, as if they know that pushing this new maybe-Thing too far too fast might break it. Before it didn't matter how they sniped and jabbed and dragged at each other because there wasn't as much on the line.
Which is all to say Mako is back in his own apartment, has been a perfect gentleman every time they've seen each other since the battle for Republic City, and Wu has confined himself to tiny baby steps in Project Disheveled Mako.
But today, today Wu is going to see the Ultimate Casual Mako. Because Korra has declared today a Beach Day and absolutely forbidden work, work clothes, and work conversations. Mako, Wu, Bolin, Korra, and Asami all pile onto the ferry out to Air Temple Island, Korra snatching Asami's portfolio out of her hands and refusing to give it back until Asami ruefully agrees to put off her correspondence for another day. Everyone is dressed in lightweight summer wear, Asami wrapped in a colorful sundress over her swimsuit, Bolin and Korra sporting matching absurd sun hats. Even Mako has conceded to the weather and is wearing short sleeves. Wu went on a special shopping trip just for this outing, purchasing a whole new outfit in honor of the occasion.
Opal greets them on the dock, already decked out in a yellow bikini loosely covered by a light orange robe, two picnic baskets courtesy of Pema by her feet. Bolin races up to her immediately, picking her up off her feet and spinning her in a circle. The pack of them spill out onto the beach, laughing and chattering. Wu drifts to the back of the group and walk shoulder to shoulder with Mako. The other man reaches out and snags Wu's hand with his own, tangling their fingers together.
Wu ducks his head to hide his blush.
Once they hit the beach, Korra and Bolin shuck their top layers to reveal their swimsuits and go charging for the water. Asami and Opal trail behind them, dropping off the picnic baskets and umbrellas before heading after their partners into the ocean.
Mako, solid, steady Mako, lingers on the shore, setting up umbrellas and spreading out towels. Wu hovers beside him, holding whatever items Mako passes him and handing back whatever Mako asks for until they've set up a shady little haven tucked high up on the beach. Their resting spot complete, Mako, hands braced on his hips, nods in satisfaction.
"Well look at us, making a nice little nook over here," Wu cheers, "step one, build a relaxation spot, step two, rebuild the Earth Kingdom!"
Wu's joke is silly and awkward and he cringes the moment it's out of his mouth but Mako looks at him with one of those rare, soft looks, and smiles. "I have every faith in you."
Wu melts a little at the praise, digging a toe into the sand. "You ready to hit the surf, buddy?" he says, cheeks warm.
Mako glances away, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "You go ahead, I'll stay up here."
Wu shrugs, settles on a towel, and starts arranging the contents of his Beach Bag (a large woven thing specially purchased for the occasion) around himself for maximum relaxation. Snacks? In easy reach. Novel? Nearby, ready for settling in and reading, possibly out loud if he comes across a scene too absurd not to share with Mako. Magazine? Ready and waiting to be flipped through.
"What are you doing?" Mako, that silly, silly man, asks.
Wu looks up at him, shading his eyes, and smiles, taking in the sight of Mako in a loose-fitting short-sleeved shirt and brand new swim trunks (Operation Fix Mako'd wardrobe is a work in progress but it is working). He's barefoot and windruffled. His arm is out of its sling, although he's still holding it a little awkwardly, tucked close to his body like he's afraid it will hurt if he bumps into anything. A lattice of scar tissue traces its way from his fingertips to mid-bicep. He's squinting in the sun and scowling a little without meaning to and for a moment Wu's heart is full of nothing but how beautiful he is and how glad Wu is that he's here with them on this beach.
"Darling, I came here to spend time with you and spend time together I shall. So unless you suddenly object to my company, I'll be staying right here, where you are for the foreseeable future," he says in his haughtiest, most Hou-Ting voice.
Mako bites back a smile and drops down to sit beside him on the blanket.
...
Wu can't be sure but he thinks they stay like that for several hours. The others pop in and out, mostly to grab snacks or drinks, or, in Opal's case, ask Wu his opinion on the novel he's currently reading bits of to Mako. And every time they ask Mako if he wants to come swim with them. And every time he says no.
Wu watches, puzzled, as, once again, Mako gently turns down a suggestion that he take a dip with the others. Korra doesn't seem bothered by his refusal, not like Bolin, who had begged and wheedled his way through Mako's 'no' until Wu was fairly certain Mako was refusing on principle alone. She just shrugs good-naturedly and moves on but Wu can't stop wondering about it now.
But he also knows that the minute he starts asking prying questions Mako will shut down, so he takes a different approach.
"You know," he says, setting his book aside, "I never learned to swim."
"What?" Mako asks, bewildered.
Wu shakes his head, "Never. Not the done thing apparently."
"So, what, it's considered good manners to drown in polite society?" Mako snarks.
Wu shrugs, "I think the thought process was that we're Earth Kingdom nobility. Emphasis on the 'earth'. It would be undignified to flail around in the water."
Mako mutters something that sounds distinctly like 'fucking monarchies' but Eu is gracious enough to ignore it. "So," he concludes, "in addition to not wanted to spend a second without your company, dear Mako -" Mako snorts at that "-I am also avoiding direct contact with the water due to my delicate constitution and complete lack of aquatic survival skills."
Mako shakes his head, "Come to Asami's with me sometime. I'll teach you to swim. We'll use her pool."
Well there goes the 'maybe Mako doesn't know how to swim' theory.
"You swim?" Wu asks, trying to sound innocent.
Mako makes a vaguely affirmative noise, "Mom taught me when I was little. Took me to the beach over there," he gestures vaguely towards the city on the other side of the water. "I taught Bolin in a pond in one of the parks when he was a little older."
Wu can't help but imagine it: two ragged boys, one more ragged than the other (Mako, of course, because Mako would walk through fire for Bolin, never mind wearing tattered clothes and flailing around in a pond.) trying to guide the other through the motions of swimming in a too-shallow park pond. It makes his heart hurt.
Mako clears his throat, he's not looking at Wu, instead staring intently at the ocean where Asami and Opal are up on Korra and Bolin's shoulders, trying to shove each other into the surf. "It's not because I can't swim."
"What?" Wu says when he can't think of anything better to say.
"Why I'm not out there with them." Mako grimaces and, perhaps unconsciously, tucks his scarred arm closer to his body.
He catches Wu watching the motion and says, a little impatiently, "It's not because of my arm, either."
'What then?' Wu wants to know but doesn't say because Mako is skittish as a stray pygmy puma sometimes. Go too loud too fast and you'll startle him away. Instead he just stays quiet, waits for Mako to speak.
"I don't want Bolin to see my scars," he finally says, oh so quietly. Wu's eyes immediately dart toward Mako's arm. Mako catches the motion and shakes his head. He glances down the beach, sees the others still wholly wrapped up in their game, and quickly, as if he's trying to outrace his own doubts, lifts the hem of his shirt.
The first thing Wu notices is a starburst of red, raised skin, little branching lines trailing away from the point of impact like roots from a tree. A lightning scar, just like the ones twisting their way up his arm. It must have been nasty to blister the skin badly enough to scar. It sits on Mako's lower abdomen, over his left hip, like someone was aiming for his heart and missed.
And that's not the only one. Silvery lines crop up here and there like marks on a cutting board. Places where the sharp edge of a knife caught Mako at just the wrong time. Some are long, but most are short. None have healed cleanly.
Wu catches sight of a blurry smear of color over Mako's ribs, halfway obscured by the lightning scar.
"Tattoo," Mako says, voice carefully neutral, "Zolt burned it off of me when I left the gang."
Wu sucks in a breath, catching his lower lip between his teeth. He wants to cry. He wants to scream at the image of young Mako, small and defiant, telling a gang leader they're done. He's heard the story of them leaving the gang from Bolin, but he's also heard the part Mako told him later, when the other man admitted "that wasn't all of it, that was just the part Bolin saw."
He can't stop thinking of young Mako, brash, defiant, waiting until Bolin was sound asleep in their new home with their new pet before going back to the den of vipers they'd spent the last few years surviving in. He thinks of young Mako facing down a lightning bender bigger, stronger, and older than he is, and holding his ground.
"I didn't know how to redirect lightning," Mako says, dropping the hem of his shirt back over the scar, eyes still fixed on the sea, where their friends frolic like children. "I still don't. All I knew was how to get out of the way."
'And how to survive,' Wu thinks.
"Bolin doesn't know," Wu guesses.
"No, he doesn't," Mako confirms, "I was going to tell him, but..."
'But he'd blame himself,' 'But it meant admitting there were things Mako never told him about what their time in the gang really meant, what Mako had really had to do,' 'But it meant admitting he was breakable to the one person who thought he was invincible.'
Wu reaches a tentative hand over, and when Mako opens his own, slides their fingers together so their tangled digits sit right over the old wound. Wu can feel it a little, through the thin shirt, the ridges of raised tissue, the difference between it and the unmarked skin around it.
"So the shirt stays on," Mako finally says into the quiet, "and Bolin doesn't have to know."
Doesn't have to know the price his brother paid to buy them their freedom. Wu's heart, already aching, burns for this wonderful, taciturn, antisocial man who loves with all he has and never asks for anything in return. Never expects anything in return.
Well, Wu will just have to surprise him.
"Thank you for trusting me with this," he says, uncharacteristically solemn, dropping all royal pretense in the face of Mako's vulnerability.
Mako squeezes their tangled fingers, brings Wu's hand up to his mouth, kisses the back of it. "Thank you for listening."
And Wu wants to tell him how extraordinary he is, how rare and special and precious. But he can sense that an outpouring of affection would bring Mako's walls up in an instant. So he says nothing of the sort, just smiles a sad little smile full of affection and says, "always, my darling."
And together they watch the waves.