anon prompt: Definitely that Free! AU :D (MakoHaru esc? ^^)

I wrote this in response to the anon request submitted on my tumblr (elementalavatars) and really hope I did this AU justice. I kind of struggled to find the right level of balance between the Mako/Korra dynamic and Makoto/Haru dynamic since they're so different. I tried to integrate them in a way that still felt like Makorra but also had MakoHaru hints to it. Hopefully it came across alright! And if you aren't into Free!, it basically just reads as a High School AU, haha.

Mako traces his hands over the water in his tub, vaguely amused by the simple way the water ripples under his fingers. He slips deeper into the tub's warm embrace, the water distorting the image of his black and gold jammers, letting the water cover his chin and nose.

Five more minutes. Five more minutes of blissful peace and quiet, just soaking in the comforting warmth of his tub, feeling the water's gentle hold on him—

"Mako, I'm coming in!" Her voice breaks through his peace and quiet as she slides the bathroom door open mid-sentence. He must have miscounted his five minutes (that, or she's early, which is equally unfortunate).

"Jesus, Korra, what if I was naked." It's not that she doesn't frequently burst in on him (she does), but he's genuinely surprised by her presence as usually he can hear her walking around downstairs or trying to wrench his front door open. He slides up, fully sitting in his tub, as she stalks over, one hand clutching a fluffy towel, the other outstretched and waiting for his own to slide into place. He glances at the smaller hand above him before sighing and letting her half-pull him up and out of the tub. She holds onto his hand for a few seconds too long, before a flush creeps across her cheeks and she lets go, rubbing her hand against the back of her neck. Her following laugh and smile come across as slightly strained. He notices (he hates it), but doesn't comment before she continues.

"Calm down, Mr. Modesty, it's not like I haven't seen it all before." She laughs again, the sound still strained, as she wraps the towel around his head. He supposes she's right; they've been best friends since they were little (he can't even remember exactly how they met) and swimming together at the same local club for almost as long, leading to a few awkward locker-room mix ups or accidental morning bath invasions (which was part of why Mako had started wearing his jammers in the bath in the first place), but still. He wasn't the awkward, gawky boy with a voice that constantly broke itself in half and she wasn't the little girl who was constantly missing a tooth and a little pudgy with a round face. (No, she's made of lean, defined muscles after years of swimming backstroke, and powerful legs that send her bursting from the wall when she kicks; she practically pulses with energy, with blue eyes like the water he loves so much, skin that looks like it's still warm from the sun, and curves that frequently haunt his dreams because it's impossible not to notice how she's changed.)

"Right, because walking in on me naked now is absolutely no different than when I was seven." He mumbles under the towel as she leaves him in the bathroom. He can hear her making her way around his kitchen, sighing at the thought of her attempting to make him food again. She may be Republic City's best backstroke swimmer, but she's a terrible cook.

"We're going to be late if you don't hurry!"

"Since when do you care about being on time to school?"

"Just get dressed, water boy."

He smiles at the childhood nickname despite himself (so what if he went through a kind of obsessive stage, rambling about feeling the water and what not, everyone's embarrassing as a kid) and enters his room

:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::

Lunch on the roof has become their swim club's "thing," so to speak. Asami and Bolin banter back and forth over the upcoming race, Iroh and Jinora discuss their English exam from last period, while Mako picks at his lunch, focus lost. Korra had said she'd only be a minute, but she's been gone nearly ten at this point.

"Do you guys know where Korra went?"

"I think I heard her say something about the art room? You could check there." Asami's voice is sweetly attentive, despite her focus on batting Bolin's hands away from her bento. She smiles up at him briefly, chopsticks in hand as she readjusts the red glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose.

He stands without a word, brushing off his uniform pants before he crosses to the roof door, pulling it closed behind him quietly. He shouldn't be this bothered by her temporary disappearance, but… Something has been slowly shifting between them, something he knows they both recognize, and it's driving them apart when it should…it should…

He leans against the door momentarily, head falling back as he sighs. It should be bringing them together, the little voice in his head nags. Most of the time, their relationship is exactly as it should be—Korra pesters him, he gripes at her, but they are always, without question, by the other's side. Recently, though, they've been bickering more than normal, and there's a straining, aching element overriding their natural push-and-pull dynamic.

He makes his way down the halls of their school, rounding the corner when he catches her voice followed by another's. The door to the art room is half open, allowing her conversation with whoever she's with to escape into the quiet hall.

"—you're an amazing swimmer and you're gorgeous. We'd make a great couple."

Mako swallows the lump that has appeared without warning in his throat. Oh. This is a confession.

Oh shit.

"I'm really flattered, Hasook, but I'm just not interested. Like I said before, I don't feel that way about you."

"Come on, just give me a chance, I'm a nice guy—"

"I told you I'm not interested."

The pressure in his chest disappears. He's glad she isn't interested in a self-obsessed jerk like Hasook. She deserves someone who appreciates her talent and looks, sure, but sees her as more than just Republic City High's gorgeous backstroke swimmer. Someone who recognizes how strong she is, how she loves to throw herself headfirst into everything, and knows when to stand back and watch her, when to follow her lead, and when to tug at her arm and stop her from doing something completely stupid. Someone who gets that she's better at videogames than most guys and can lose to her with at least a little grace even when she gloats about her millionth Mario Kart win. Someone who loves her unwavering fearlessness and confidence, but will pull her close in the middle of the night when she wakes from nightmares of faceless hands pulling her under the water she loves, paralyzing her with their touch, just like he does when she thrashes about on the futon next to his bed, clutching at his battered undershirt when he slides under thin sheets beside her.

The little voice whispers in his ear again—If you feel that strongly about who she's with, why aren't you with her?—and his justification for his inaction (she's my best friend, what if we don't work, what if we ruin everything between us, I don't want to lose her) feels weaker each time he runs through it in his head.

Why haven't you told her you love her?

He hears footsteps in the room and the half-open door pulls open fully before he can scramble away and pretend he wasn't listening in on their conversation. Korra's steady, fast-paced walk pauses when she sees him, her frozen gaze softening slightly but not by much. There it is again, that something pushing them apart.

"What are you doing here, Mako?"

Wait, why is she angry with him? He didn't do anything; it was Hasook who was badgering her.

"Hey, why are you mad at me?"

"Mako, not now."

"I know Hasook's a jerk, but don't take it out on me."

The scowl on her face deepens before she pushes forward, ignoring his presence, letting him follow behind as the hall fills with students returning to their classes.

"Korra—"

He rushes forward, tugs on her shoulder, but she wrenches away, annoyance distorting her features.

"Mako, go away. I've already dealt with one oblivious idiot today and don't feel like dealing with another, so you're just going to have to wait until tomorrow for your turn."

His hand drops from her shoulder and he stands dumbstruck in the entryway to their classroom, his classmates edging around him in annoyance. He watches her back as she crosses the classroom, wolftails swinging angrily as she collapses into her seat with a heavy sigh.

It should be bringing them together, the little voice in his head nags again as he enters his classroom and takes his seat behind her.

Right.

:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::~:::

Diving into the freshly filled pool is more than just a relief, it is pure heaven after the day he's had.

After the confession incident, Korra had ignored him for the rest of the day, hardly looking at him as she handed the stack of papers back to him, dismissing his attempts at distracting her when he poked at the back of her neck with the eraser of his pencil.

She'd brushed past him on her way to practice, quickly finding Asami in the hall and pushing forward. By the time he'd reached the men's locker room and changed, she was already swimming laps in the pool, Jinora timing her carefully.

So when he dives into the lane next to hers, he tries to forget about their fight, let the water ease the day's stress out of him as he pushes forward, his front crawl perfectly executed. Usually swimming would help him unwind, but his mind won't stop running through the mess of feelings he's been avoiding and he's overly conscious of every time he and Korra pass each other in the pool. By the end of practice, he feels exhausted and winded instead of re-energized like he usually does, lazily pushing through the water which feels more and more like molasses with each stroke.

He hears Bolin shout out to him—something about getting dinner with Iroh and Jinora—and Asami grumbles about cram school, waving gently as she turns to leave. Korra's still going, still swimming, still avoiding him; it's a good thing he's as stubborn as she is, pulling himself out of the pool to sit at the edge, waiting for her next lap to end.

He loves watching her swim, the way she turns in the water at the end of the lane, the way she reaches out and cuts through the water with her powerful stroke. For a second, he forgets that she's mad at him for reasons he's only starting to understand—he hasn't really been oblivious, like she said earlier, he just hasn't acted on any of the hints she dropped in the past. She'd been sending him clues for months as to the extent of her feelings and he'd noticed, noticed the lingering stares and the moments when she held on to his hand a little too long, but he had been just as reluctant to come clean about the change in their relationship as she had, letting himself dwell in a state of complacency instead of acting.

Which, really, is just stupid, given that he feels the same way about her. He can't count the number of times he'd thought about kissing that perfect mouth that drives him insane with teasing words or pulling her close on normal occasions, not just when she has a nightmare.

She comes to a stop at the end of the lane, clearly attempting to avoid his gaze. She pants at the end of her lap, holding herself in place in the pool as she rests one elbow and forearm on the pool's edge, facing his legs, staring intently at the golden line running down his thigh.

"Your times were horrible today."

She's right, his times had been horrible, but he couldn't care less about them at the moment.

"I'm an idiot," he says, and her eyes catch his accidentally before she looks away again, opting to watch the butterfly flitting above the water's surface a few feet away from them. He wants to say more, but he isn't exactly good with words, never has been, and he finds them getting stuck in his throat as her eyes reflect the waning sun playing off the brilliant blue of the pool.

"That's true." She still won't look at him.

"I haven't been—I mean, I wasn't intentionally—look, you drive me crazy, Korra. You make dumb decisions, rush headfirst into everything, we're constantly fighting, and you can't cook to save your life, but you're my best friend and I can't imagine not having you in my life."

She smiles slightly at that, but her eyes still avoid his. She bites at her lip and he isn't quite sure how to interpret the look of careful consideration that crosses her face.

"What does that mean, though? You're my best friend too, but is that it for us? Just friends?"

"I don't want it to be. Without you, it's…well…everything's meaningless without you."

She meets his gaze then, her blue eyes wide, a beaming smile making its way across her face.

"You're so embarrassing sometimes."

He smiles back, standing, and holds out his hand to pull her from the pool. She takes it without hesitation, hoisting herself out of the pool with his help. Her hand is cool against his and he doesn't let go right away.

"So are we—"

Her lips are cool against his and taste slightly of chlorine when they cut off his words. He wraps his arms around her in return, wondering why he didn't just kiss her the second he realized he wanted to be more than best friends, because as much as he loves the feeling of water around him when sits in his tub or swims in the pool, nothing compares to when her arms wrap around his neck and she deepens their kiss, dripping water on his skin.