A/n: I needed fun, flirty, sassy Tahno again, so this was born. Timeline-wise, I'd place this before "When Extremes Meet", I guess? Their outfits are from here: senbo-sencho. tumblr post/ 24822027667, and the idea for instrument-playing comes from Aicosu's most recent Tahorra livestream, the recording of which I watched yesterday. (They are really good Tahorra cosplayers, like whoa.)
Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this, so I hope you enjoy reading! Don't hesitate to leave me feedback!
After their combat training session ends that day, an idea comes to him. It feels right because they've been spending an increasing amount of time together and she's tenacious and beautiful and he's weirdly attracted to her unsophisticated manner. And since his new philosophy is about extracting as much from life as is possible, he goes ahead with it.
Korra blinks comically quick at him, eyelashes aflutter. "Huh?" she says articulately, the word falling clumsily from her mouth and thudding into the grass in the park, where they come after almost every session.
He just piques an eyebrow at her. "Need further details on what a date is, Avatar?" For her Southern Water Tribe sensibilities, a date could be a penguin seal hunt, for all he knows. In the city though, the word "date" conjures things like softly lit dining halls and the smell of perfume.
Her hands hang uselessly at her sides as she stares at him with googly eyes and the slight sheen of sweat on her brow. Somewhere in the distance a gull squawks. He keeps his hand on his hip, waiting for her answer. He takes a step closer. "Look, Avatar. It's not a hard question. You say yes or you say no, and you believe that I'm asking you from the bottom of my—" - he smirks - "—heart."
He hears her breath catch.
He slinks up to her - toe-to-toe - and looks down the length of her nose. "Say yes, Avatar," he half-commands-half-begs, voice silken, "make my day."
A moment's pause. Then, suddenly her fist is coming up and she's coughing into it. A blush spreads across her cheeks and he knows that this is in the bag. He grins at her quiet but petulant "I know what a date is, pretty boy."
"Saturday at eight," he clips at the end of her sentence, making sure his voice is sultry. "I'll come for you."
Her mouth twitches. He can tell she's fighting her smile. "Okay, Tahno."
He whirls in place then, starting across the grass. Before he gets five paces though, he calls over his shoulder, "Can't wait, Korra."
He doesn't have to be looking to know her cheeks are ablaze and her smile is grudging. (He stops himself from turning to look because she is undoubtedly beautiful. The both of them can't be looking lovestruck, now.)
This is probably old school, but he doesn't like leaving things up to chance, least of all wardrobe compatibility. They should look like a couple on their date, shouldn't they?
Chin pillowed in his palm, he picks through silks and lace and linen while a designer hovers attentively over his shoulder. "This would make a good inner layer," she says helpfully, gesturing at a square of soft cotton.
He nods. Then his slim fingers land on a particularly beautiful bolt of silk, ice blue bleeding into royal blue. "This," he orders. "It'll bring out her eyes."
The dress is ready a day later. He mails it to her in a plain brown package with a note attached: Not with your boots, please. With her temper, she might just wear the ratty old things to spite him. He smiles at the thought.
The breeze off of the bay takes a lot of cologne off of him, but he figures this is okay. He walks across the planks and up the hillside, just wanting to see her.
When he reaches the house, he's surprised at the commotion in the courtyard. Three raucous children are jumping and running all over the place - Jinora, Ikki and Meelo, if he remembers correctly from her stories - and a very pregnant woman is waving her arms. Pema? "Hello, Tahno!" she calls, as if he's family.
He puts up a pale hand in greeting. "Hello."
Pema whips out a camera. Click. He only handles the flash well because of prior experience with the media. He's never dealt with this on a date before...
"Is this him is this him?" asks the girl of about seven, bending the air at her feet so that she can peer at him closer.
He looks back. "Hello, Ikki," he says, raising an eyebrow.
Ikki's eyes blink a little wider. "He knows my name!" she exclaims right at him.
His eyes roam. A little farther back on the cobblestones the other girl airbender, Jinora, stands with a book in her hands, looking up from it to him, back and forth, roughly every two seconds. Her mouth seems to gape before long. What exactly is she reading?
There's a tug at his pants. The boy, Meelo, is picking his nose with the fingers of his other hand. "Your hair's shinier than Korra's," he states. As if to prove Meelo's point, another camera flash bounces off of him.
"Stop, all of you," Korra's voice cuts through all the chatter.
Not noticing Meelo's snotty hands on his expensive pants, he turns to take her in.
From bottom-to-top: low-heeled sandals that she still wobbles in, a column of aquamarine fading into navy, loose brown curls that slightly obscure golden earrings, and finally a pair of glossy lips twisted into a frown.
She is... wow.
"You clean up nice," he says to her, hoping he doesn't sound too stricken. As soon as she gets close, three more flashes pop.
Korra's eyes dart from his collar to her camera-wielding surrogate mother. "Pema! Please, no more."
Pema is unfazed. She flicks her wrist to indicate that they move closer together. "Hold hands!"
He grabs her hand quick and finds his footing again. "Come now, Korra," he breathes in her ear, "let's play nice for once." Another flash.
Korra's cheeks flame again, though she's smiling for the camera. "I liked you better with your hair saggy and your clothes rumpled," she takes a shot at him.
"We'll see whose clothes get rumpled tonight," he murmurs back, thumb drawing circles over her skin.
Her decision to wear heels pays off the second she stomps his foot.
Their waiters push their chairs in, hand them menus and evaporate. Korra's eyes dart from one thing to the next. He looks at her looking.
"This place might just be nicer than city hall," she comments, eyes lighting from the miniature cherry blossom branch at their table to the glittering chandelier sunken into the ceiling.
"It is," he states plainly, to which she - surprisingly - smiles.
A waiter returns and tips wine into their glasses. After a nod from Tahno, he disappears again.
"Are there noodles on this menu?" Korra asks him, flipping pages. Her earrings catch the candlelight.
When he doesn't reply except to laugh, she looks up from her menu and at the wineglass. She lifts it up in between her calloused fingers. "Why is this a quarter full?"
Wrist arched elegantly, Tahno takes a refined sip from his glass and rolls his eyes. "Honestly, Avatar." In her wobbly two-inch sandals and her glittery, backless dress she's still so utterly her. He simultaneously can't stand it and adores it. The conflict makes him want to press her up against one of the columns of the restaurant and kiss her so hard she complains.
Instead, he settles for twining his fingers with hers on the tabletop. "You look phenomenal," he says.
Her hand twitches beneath his. "You look pretty good, too," she compliments him back, clumsily but honestly.
He smiles. He's only wearing the formal garb for nobles of the Northern Water Tribe, tailored to a perfect fit. He leans toward her.
"Let me guess— you know?" she grins. That grin makes him think she has similar thoughts about conflict and kissing and columns.
His eyes narrow at her in delight. "That I do."
He doesn't pretend not to enjoy the impressed look she gives him as he climbs the steps in the centre of the restaurant. "You can play the piano?" she asks.
By way of answer, he flares out the tails of his coat, takes a seat at the bench, and gives her a knowing smile.
"You prick," she mutters at him, hands on her hips.
He begins to play. It's jazzy, slow and well-suited to the atmosphere of the restaurant, the few other patrons' heads whirling to take in the pianist. His posture at the piano is perfect, back straight, one foot hovering over the pedals and fingers strong and springy. This skill is one that has stayed with him.
When the song ends, Korra shakily strides over to him and sits down. She bumps him down the bench, but he'd much rather share in lieu of getting up. "My turn," she orders.
He's surprised. "You play?"
"Sure," she says. Then her fingers strike the keys.
He scoffs, puts a hand to his forehead. "Heart and Soul". It's campy and elementary, but at least it's a duet. He starts on the plinking melody as they begin to draw stares again. The stares are accompanied by grins.
"You would know this one, Avatar," he intones from next to her.
She shrugs and her gown glitters. A smile is playing at her lips. She slouches over the keys, but turns to look at him now. "You're loving it," she teases.
He smoulders back at her. "I like almost everything about you," he smirks.
Her fingers dart over the keys as she returns a look, eyes flashing.
His invitation in for tea really is an invitation in for tea. His apartment is spotless once again and he has nothing to hide, so he unbuttons his coat and heads into the kitchen to boil water while she idles by his few framed photos. But by the time the kettle whistles and he hands her a cup, it seems that she just can't stand it anymore.
"Get over here," she growls, slamming her tea down and spilling his own as her hands shoot out and grab him by the collar. Her kisses are crushing and hot, teeth pulling and tongue flicking out. It really is so typical that she couldn't wait another tension-filled half hour, that she has gotten tea all over his furniture, that as she wraps her legs around his waist she is tearing her beautiful dress.
But as she forces him toward the floor, he finds that he enjoys it more and more, the lack of sophistication she brings.