The start was a sting operation gone bad.

Korra thought she was done with the flashbacks. That she was back in full Korra mode. And she was. After everything, after dealing with Kuvira and saving the world yet again, Korra felt like her issues were behind her. For good.

So when Mako asked for her help, she said yes. It never occurred to her that the hallucinations would return in the middle of an attack. Someone jumped out at her from a dark alley, but Korra didn't see her attacker, not really. She saw herself again—she'd gone so long without seeing that tortured vision, if took her by surprise. Korra had frozen.

The next thing she knew, Mako was curled on the ground, arms wrapped around his torso, her attacker writhing as his clothes burned. Korra snapped out of it then, leaping into action along with half a dozen others. Fighting back the rest of the Triple Threats they'd ambushed and pulling Mako out of harm's way.

Once they retreated, Korra determined that Mako was mostly okay. Just a few cracked ribs, painful, but not life-threatening. She nearly suggested taking him to the hospital, but if she did that, the healers would force her to sit outside and wait. They would be separated.

One look at Mako's face told her that wasn't happening. Despite the obvious pain he was in, his eyes said he wasn't letting her out of his sight. Not after what had just happened. Korra felt the same way.

So instead, Korra took him back to his apartment. Bolin wasn't home. So Korra was on her own as she helped Mako remove his uniform jacket and undershirt before she got a bowl of water from the kitchen and set to mending his ribs. Korra had to concentrate to keep her hands steady, shushing him every time he tried to ask about what had happened.

Mako had almost been killed because of her.

"Better?" she asked when his face started to relax. At last.

Mako nodded. His eyelids drooped. Gently, Korra prodded his ribs. Satisfied when he didn't wince, she pulled his arm over her shoulders.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get you to bed."

Mako followed her to his room, crashing face first on the mattress. Korra pulled his boots off legs that were hanging over the edge. Spirits, she thought as she shoved him all the way on the bed, Mako is heavier than he looks.

Korra briefly toyed with the idea of heading back to the island, despite the late hour. Pema would worry if she didn't come home.

Healing Mako had left her drained, however. A long time ago, she might have tried to power through it, but her stamina still suffered from the Red Lotus' poisoning. Better to stay here, rather than being out on the street like this. Collapsing on the couch, Korra gave in to her heavy limbs and fell asleep.

# # #

The catalyst was a dream.

The night that she slept without dreams was rare. Sometimes they were Amon and losing her bending. Sometimes they were herself. Sometimes she killed her uncle again. Tonight, she dreamed of Zaheer.

Korra woke with a start, eyes opening to find Mako's startled face inches from her own. Something thick and heavy covered her, a blanket. At least this time, she hadn't been screaming.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he said, stepping back. He still wore the heavy duty pants from his uniform, though he'd found another undershirt. This one considerable more worn that the one he had on earlier. She thought it might be one from his probending days.

"It's okay," Korra replied. She sat up, rubbing at her eyes. "You did me a favor."

"Bad dreams?"

"Yeah."

Sitting next to her like he feared a wrong move would send her running out the door, he asked, "Kuvira?"

Korra took a breath in, letting it slide slowly through her lips. "Zaheer." Her voice still cracked. "I still have…issues sometimes."

"Is that why…" He didn't finish the sentence, but she knew what he was afraid to say. Is that why you froze?

Korra buried her face in her hands. "I am so sorry, Mako. I thought…After Kuvira…"

"Hey, it's okay." His hand rested on her shoulder. Half of it just pressure through the fabric of her shirt, half of it warmth against her cold skin. All of it sending fire dancing through her veins. "You patched me up. Everything's good."

"You almost died," Korra whispered.

The hand on her shoulder tightened. Korra lifted her head to find him watching her, those eyebrows nearly touching. Korra wanted to reach out and run her fingers over the thick black lines until they smoothed out. The room around them felt so cold. That didn't surprise her, she was pretty sure she was sucking all of the heat into her own body.

"You almost died," Mako repeated. The words were layered with pain and fear—not just from tonight—but from every time.

Korra got up. "Tenzin is going to wonder what happened to me. I shouldn't have fallen asleep." She couldn't do this. Not with them like this. Not when she was afraid to even touch him. Just looking at him, just thinking about earlier had adrenaline coursing through her veins again. They were in a good place. Maybe, with a little more time…

"Korra."

His hand closed around hers. When she turned, he was so, so close.

Mako took a breath and then he reached for her, his hand curling around the back of her neck as he pulled her forward. Korra didn't fight it. She didn't want to. Her hand had ripped out of his, mirroring her other hand gripping his shoulders through his thin shirt.

She didn't think as they stumbled towards his bedroom. She didn't pause as they collapsed on his bed, rolling and tangling and kissing like they'd never kissed before.

There was one brief moment of clarity, when Mako pushed her away, saying, "Korra, we shouldn't…"

Korra yielded, sitting back. Mako drew a hissing breath in through his teeth, eyes closing. Even through all the layers of their clothes, she could feel how they fit together perfectly. And more than ever, Korra wanted all those layers gone. With the look he was giving her, she knew it wouldn't take much coaxing to achieve that goal. She wanted to touch him and move against him and kiss him until he begged for her. However, Korra forced herself to be still, shoving her hands into her armpits.

"Do you want to stop?" she asked.

"No."

"Neither do I," she said. And then she reached for the hem of her shirt.

# # #

The worst part was waking up alone.

Korra couldn't believe she had screwed this up.

No, that wasn't right. They'd both had a hand in destroying what they'd built since her return.

After all that time feeling like she was pulling teeth and dealing with all the emotions that had been shoved away from three years, things had finally reached a sort of normalcy with them. He was approaching her for help with his job. He was comfortable helping her when she asked for help, no blushing or stuttering or cool guy act. They were friends again. Finally.

Well, last night had probably wrecked that. Mako was going to dial the awkward up to final championship level.

Korra swung her legs over the edge of the bed, surprised to find that she was sore. Ah well, she should have expected that. She picked up her bindings from where they lay discarded on the floor. Her shirt. Pants. Fur pelt. Where were her boots? There.

Korra pulled her boots on, glancing behind her at the bedside table. No note.

Had she expected one?

Aware of every creaky board in Mako's floor, Korra left the bedroom and headed for the front door.

"Korra?"

Korra whirled. "Mako! You—you're still here."

He stood in the kitchen doorway, a cup of coffee in his hand, dressed for work. She admitted silently that she did like the police uniform, though his normal jacket with its rolled-up sleeves still held its spot as her favorite. Mako disappeared back in the kitchen, coming out with another steaming mug of coffee.

It was a Nuktuk promo mug. Despite the tense atmosphere, Korra smiled.

"It's Bolin's."

Korra shrugged and took the mug, hoping that her face wasn't flaming as hotly as it felt like it was.

Mako sighed, sitting on the couch where it had all started and setting his coffee on the table in front of him.

"We should talk," he said.

"Yeah."

She remembered the last time they'd been like this. Mako sitting on the couch, her standing on the other side of the table. A different couch. A different table. A different time. Neither of them nearly as nice as the ones in front of her. Would this conversation go better than that one had? Korra wasn't sure, but she wanted to try. The last thing she wanted was for them to fall into old patterns again.

Already, she knew one thing she could change.

Korra crossed to the other side of the table, sitting next to Mako. To her utter relief, he did not jump away from her. Staring at the mug of coffee between her hands, she waited.

"Last night…" Mako scrubbed a hand over his face. "Korra, please don't take this the wrong way, but I think last night was a mistake."

"Me too."

"I'm not saying it wasn't—wait, you agree with me?"

Korra nodded, meeting his eyes. He stared at her, then his gaze softened and he took her hand.

"I think you and I have a pattern of rushing into things without thinking," he said. They both laughed at the gross understatement. "We get caught up and we don't…" Mako bit his lip.

"We don't make sure the foundation is strong."

Mako's eyes widened as he heard the words. They were from a conversation with Bolin. The two boys had thought she was napping, a façade she had carried off expertly when she realized they were talking about her. Bolin had grown to be surprisingly perceptive .

Mako let out a long breath. "I'm glad you get it."

He took the mug from her other hand before taking it in his.

"Korra, when we—ended things, I didn't think there was any way we could ever work, but since then, so much has changed. We've changed, and I wonder if maybe we just weren't ready and—" Mako looked away, lowering his voice. "You've become my closest friend, Korra. I couldn't say that before—even as much as I loved you."

Always. The word hangs between them. Three years. Three years of pushing her feelings to the side. Three years of having things that were simply more important. Somehow, though, even though she'd done her best to ignore her feelings, they grew.

"We are better at listening to each other," Korra pointed out. "And working through the difficult issues."

"That's putting it lightly." Face grim, Mako ran a hand through is hair, freeing it just a little. Still serious, but not as uptight. He should stick with that. "This could work. If we don't try to rush it again, that is. If this is what you want, of course."

Korra hooked a finger under his chin, bringing his eyes back to hers. "I do."

Mako blinked, "I—really?"

"Really."

He sighed, his forehead falling to her shoulder. Tears stinging her eyes, Korra leaned into him, her cheek resting against his short hair. She tried not to cringe. Definitely too much hair grease.

"I love you, Korra."

"And I love you," she whispered, without knowing why. It wasn't a secret. Everyone knew. The tabloids had yet to tire of splashing it across their front pages. It felt like a secret though.

"So…" Mako asked. "No more mistakes."

"This is us, Mako. We'll make mistakes, but no more last nights." Korra said. "From now on, I'll do my best to think things through if you will. We do things the right way this time." We make things work this time. She couldn't imagine her life if they didn't.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Not the strained silence—well, not strained like it had been earlier. Korra was acutely aware of how close Mako was. Only the police uniform reminded her that no, kissing him right now was probably a bad idea.

"To be honest, I expected you to storm out the door at some point during this conversation," Mako said. "This apartment hasn't felt official without you slamming the door at least once."

Korra laughed. "If I slam it on my way out, will that do the trick?" She let go of him and reached for her coffee, taking a sip. Since they were being honest, she said, "I didn't expect you to be here, actually."

Mako jerked upright. "What? No, I would never have—" He stopped short, looking down at his uniform. "Well, I do have to leave for work in a few minutes, but I would have at least left a note. I'm not—I don't do that."

"Oh, so there have been other times you could have snuck off with a beautiful woman in your bed?"

Mako blushed. A gorgeous, bright red. "No. I just—I'm not—"

"I know," she said, kissing his cheek. Or that's what it was supposed to be.

As her mouth neared his clean shaven cheek, Mako turned his head, capturing her lips in a chaste kiss. The next kiss wasn't so chaste.

"Korra."

"I know," she said, pulling away from him. "I should go. Come for dinner tonight? You should bring Bolin."

Mako stood with her, straightening his uniform. "Sounds like a plan."

Korra headed for the door, pausing as she reached it. Mako hadn't moved from his spot by the couch.

She grinned. "Be safe today, okay?"

"Okay. You too."

Korra opened the door and then, winking at Mako, she left. The door cracked against the frame behind her. As she started down the stairs, Korra could hear Bolin screeching about robbers and death, while Mako laughed loudly enough to wake the neighbors.

It was all going to be alright.


So...this is probably the closest I will ever get to writing smut. Yeah. But for the story to go where I wanted it to go...Anyways, not my usual story. You'll see soon. Still I got this idea and I couldn't let it go.

Can we just take a moment to talk about Mako and maturity?

People, Mako IS mature! He's a little clueless on the dating game, but he's spent his whole life taking care of his brother, so can you blame him?

Think about, this kid has been on the streets since he was eight. He had a six-year-old- to take care of that entire time. All of that would have fallen on Mako. Oh, Bolin would have helped as best he could, but as we saw in Book 1, Bolin's schemes tended to be a little more far-fetched. Yes, he screwed up in Book 2 with Asami and Korra, but honestly, I can see why he wouldn't want to be like, "Actually, we broke up and now I'm kind of back with Asami" in front of everyone. Should he have waited as long as he did? No.

And don't get me started on Book 1. There is a scene that was meant to be a break-up scene, but it is slightly ambiguous. That isn't Mako's fault. Bryke admits that they were a little two subtle.

In my mind, his biggest mistake was not asking Asami for space. Again, that is understandable. He is hurt. He's frustrated. Asami clearly wants him. He's an idiot, but that doesn't make him unworthy. It just makes him human. And nineteen.

Rant over.

Reviews are appreciated. Now I need to go edit the next chapter.