Title: Overnight
Rating: Mostly T with a dash of M for imagery ;]
Notes: Korra finds that she's become an unexpected, overnight guest. [Makorra + Friendship Korrasami]
Inspired by this beautiful sketch by SlackTension and written for the Makorra 100 Themes Challenge! A bit of a longer piece (for me, anyway), fluffiness mixed in with deeper things, to get you all through your weekday~
The setting sun has painted the sky a mesmerizing mix of pinks and purples, highlighted with rays of brilliant golds. Korra can't take her eyes off the sun, gazing at it with squinted eyes as it slowly winks out for the day.
She's propped herself on the soft, supple leather of Pepper's saddle and the Air-Bending siblings are loosely scattered around her—Meelo holds the reins, Jinora quietly meditates, and Ikki hums while she weaves little white flowers into Korra's hair.
"So, how's everyone back home?" asks Korra. The soft gentle movements of little, deft hands are comforting; she closes her eyes.
"Mmmm, Mom and Dad are fine—Dad's helping the President with some business. Kai and Jinora are dating now, Asami is in the paper everyday—" The news shoots from Ikki's mouth like a machine gun; so rapid fire that the details coast over Korra's relaxed mind…except for one.
Korra cracks one eye open, a playful smile spreading on her face. "So. Kai, eh?'
Jinora's lips curl up on the edges but her eyes remain closed and her posture remains relaxed. "Yeah, for about a year now. He's really sweet."
To the sound of Meelo gagging and Ikki sighing, Korra says, "I bet. And he does know that if he hurts you, I'm going to hurl him into the ground so hard, he'll pop out of the other side of the world…right?"
Jinora's lips curl up even more. "Yes, I think he's well aware. My Dad's already informed him."
"Oh good, glad we're clear~"
There's a pleasant moment of silence before Ikki begins again—"Weeeell. Speaking of boyfriends, yours is doing fine."
"…Um...Boyfriends?"
Ikki sighs again; her basket is empty. "Yes, boyfriends. You know, that dreamy firebender guy."
Korra blinks. "Wait, you can't mean—"
"Maaaako, DUH," says Meelo, without turning around. He mutters something under his breath that Korra swears sounds like, 'I thought the Avatar was supposed to be smart.'
"The last time I checked, Mako and I weren't together," says Korra, who is clearly confused. "For a while, now."
"Oh please, Korra. He is totally still in love with you," Ikki smirks knowingly. [Totally, chimes in Meelo.]
"Uh….well….how do you know?" stammers Korra, brushing her hair behind her ear. She's suddenly very self-conscious that she's having a discussion about her ex-boyfriend with a twelve-year old.
"It's so obvious! He hasn't dated anyone since you left, he gets all stuttery whenever your name comes up, and he walks through the park just to stare at your statue." Ikki recites these in a matter-of-fact manner, counting them off with her fingers. [Totally, chimes in Meelo]
"…Seriously, he does that?" Korra is determined not to blush but she feels a flush start to color her cheeks. "When did I get a statue? But more importantly, that probably just means that he just misses me….as a friend. 3 years is a long time, you know."
"I can read it in his aura," says Jinora, with an air of mystic certainty that clearly settles the debate. She shrugs gleefully as she adds, "Plus; I was spiritual projecting once, and I saw that he had a picture of the two of you on the mirror in his apartment."
"Covert black ops undercover work! I didn't know you had it in you," says Meelo, who clearly approves.
…
By the time they reach the city, it's nearly midnight. Both Ikki and Meelo have both fallen asleep; Jinora steers her gentle giant as the glow of the city lights seem to beckon them home.
"Doesn't it feel good to be back?" she asks.
Korra wipes a stray tear from her eyes before she answers. "Yeah. Yeah, it definitely does."
She gazes at the lights for a while, trying to pick out familiar landmarks, but she can't tell in the dark. Have things changed that much since she's been gone? She wonders if her favorite pork bun vendor still hangs out by the docks. If the Arena still does a special turtle-duck half-time show on Tuesdays? Or if there's still an Avatar Special Edition Newspaper on her birthday. 3 years; she wouldn't be surprised if everyone had forgotten she existed—but according to Jinora, some people haven't.
"Hey, Jin," says Korra, her voice a bit hesitant to ask, "Can I ask you for a favor? I know I just got back but there's something that I've got to do first."
Jinora smiles serenely; she totally understands. "Of course," is all she she says before she steers her bison towards the city.
…
As she knocks on the ornate door, Korra winces as she realizes that she smells like she's spent three weeks wallowing in the mud, like a lazy hippo-sloth.
Lovely. But that was also why she was here.
On the fourth knock, the door violently swings open. "Who's there?" shouts the woman who answered, dressed in a sleeping robe, her hair in curlers, but also brandishing a frying pan.
"It's…me," says Korra, who is respectfully trying not to laugh.
Big eyes stare at her face in disbelief. "—Korra? Oh my god, it is you!" cries Asami. She drops the pan to her side and is about to swing her arms around her long lost friend, but she stops herself. "Sorry, Korra, but you smell. Really bad."
"I mean, I know, but it can't be that bad! The Air-Bending kids didn't mention anything," Korra apologizes as she's ushered inside. They were probably all too polite. Except for Meelo who was probably holding his nose everytime her back was turned.
Asami grimaces as she guides the Avatar to the bathroom. "Don't worry, I'll fix everything. When was the last time you had a real bath?"
….
When Asami does something, it's never half-assed and even bath time is a luxurious affair. Korra lies in a huge, claw-footed porcelain tub covered in a dense blanket of bubbles. She can feel all of the dirt and grime loosening from her pores as she soaks in the yuzu scented water; it feels AMAZING.
"Actually, these flowers helped with the smell, quite a bit," Asami remarks as she gently picks them out of Korra's short locks, "They're really fragrant."
Korra groans, sinking into the bubbles a little more. "Ooh, they had such ulterior motives. And they're….so much older now! I can't believe it, they're so grown up."
Asami is quiet for a moment before she chuckles. "Yeah, a few things have changed while you've been away."
Korra sinks even deeper. "I—I'm sorry I left," she says, her voice quiet, "But I had to figure some stuff out. I was living in fear of everything that happened and one day, I just snapped; I had to do something. I had to…I don't know. Find myself."
"Oh Korra, no one's blaming you," says Asami, reassuringly. Her hands drop from Korra's hair so that she can come around to the side of the tub, kneeling on the white, tile floor. "We just missed you, that's all. I kind of figured it was the case from the last letter you wrote. You didn't want any help, while you were out there? I would have came. We all would have."
Korra shakes her head. "I missed you too, I missed everyone. But it was something I had to do alone."
She raises a hand out of the bubbles and Asami entwines her fingers with Korra's, regardless of the soap. "So. Did it work?"
"YES, yes, it did," says Korra, propping her slippery elbows on the edge of the tub. "I got the snot beat out of me plenty of times but it was worth it! You wouldn't believe who I found in the Earth Kingdom."
….
After an hour and a half of much needed catching up (which also included blowdrying, buffing, and moisturizing-for Asami is the Queen of Multitasking), Korra is finally presentable.
It's a good thing that Korra had a spare tank in her bag of possessions; Asami had already thrown everything she had been wearing into the incinerator and there was no way that she would have been able to squeeze into the smaller girl's tops. The once-rough cotton of her Earth Kingdom top is no longer the stiff, inflexible material it first was; it's now soft and comfortable from months of constant wear….and she's gotten really fond of the bright stripe down the middle.
She had to borrow a pair of Asami's pants though, to which Korra is THANKFUL that the other girl owned at least ONE pair that wasn't skintight, and also a pair of black boots, which surprisingly fit. She feels a bit more like herself, now, especially after she wraps a black jacket around her waist.
Asami approaches her tenatively, an address scribed neatly onto the white slip of paper. "Here, I figured you might want this."
"What? Oh. Ohhh," says Korra, who for the second time that night, loses the battle of controlling her cheek color. "Thank you."
"Aww, don't be embarrassed! Isn't that why you came?" Asami winks.
Korra gasps as if she's extremely offended, but her laughter gives her away. As her hands fly to her heart in mock distress, she says, "Gimme some credit! I had to see you first; girls stick together, don't they?"
"Yes. Yes, we do." The Avatar's laughter is contagious and Asami finds herself giggling as well. "Oh Korra, it's so good to see you again."
The girls embrace and when they part, Asami has to wipe a tear from her eye.
…...
This door is plain compared to Asami's and also unlike Asami's, Korra doesn't have to knock. She follows the instructions on the note, groping around the doorframe for a notch cut into the wood—it seems like a funny place to hide a key, but whatever. Maybe the obvious places are the best for these sort of things.
She pulls the key out with a little difficulty and lets herself in; The brass door knob twists with a satisfying click and the door swings open slowly. The room is bathed in the shimmery glow of moonlight and it is empty.
Korra pads into the space slowly—his space—she reminds herself. Also according to Asami's note, he should be getting off work in an hour or so—it'd be best if she just waited inside. Korra feels like an intruder but she can't help her curiosity as she glances around. His apartment is furnished simply, but everything is quality (the unmistakable mark of Asami's accommodating taste). There's a leather couch and a coffee table with a police-issued radio, a dining table that seems more like a desk, really. As she ventures further in, she sees that the apartment is actually a really large studio—the living area is separated from the rest of the space by a gauzy curtain on a wire and the exposed brick walls are decorated here and there with framed sports pages and a medal or two. The design is functional and quite masculine but it's got a sophisticated vibe. Asami's got a knack for this.
Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of light catches Korra's eye—it's the reflection of the moonlight in a mirror. THE mirror. She notices her palms get a bit sticky as she approaches it—but there it is, right next to his bed. Tucked into the frame of the glass is a black and white photo of the two of them, exhausted but jubilant after a bending match—a 17 year old version of herself stares back at her, the goofiest smile ever plastered on her face. Mako, who always seems rather smooth in photographs, has an arm thrown around her shoulders, they've got both thumbs up and are celebrating their win.
Korra can't help but laugh a little, although there's a bit of a sob mixed in. Three years—Three years have passed. Deep down, in her heart and soul, Korra knows how she feels. She's always known how she's felt; there's been no doubt for her. She's known, she's even tried to convince herself otherwise at some points, but her heart has always told her the truth. If this picture is any indication, does his heart perhaps tell him something similar?
"Ah, enough with the speculating," Korra says outloud, breaking the moment. Her tone is as nonchalant as she can manage but she has some difficulty tearing her eyes away from the picture. She decides to wait out the time on the couch but she pauses at the foot of the bed. The sheets are white and the plush pillow-top mattress is covered by a soft-looking, cream duvet. The bed isn't made but the disturbed linen is so inviting—Korra finds herself sitting at the edge of the bed.
Suddenly, it's as if all the exhaustion of the past week catches up with her at once. Her limbs feel heavy—she feels the fatigue all the way down to her bones. When was the last time that you got a decent night's sleep? She asks herself, fighting to keep her eyelids open. Korra realizes that she doesn't know before the bedspread gently coaxes her down, enfolding her in a soft, supporting embrace.
….
Mako stops dead in his tracks when he sees that the door to his apartment is open. Slowly inching closer, it looks like there's no sign of forced entry—he leans his briefcase on the wall and his fist is suddenly sheathed in a blade of scorching fire.
He stays in the shadows as he cautiously creeps inside his apartment and after surveying the space, he is extremely confused—all of his things are exactly where he's left them. This burglar must be really horrible at doing his job…or after something specific. Perhaps he knows about the safe tucked under the floorboards of his bed?
A rush of adrenaline surges through his veins as he instantly turns towards his sleeping area—through the curtains, he can tell that there's a dark form perched at the edge of his mattress. The intruder is still here! Mako takes a deep breath, his eyes furrowed in concentration as he hurtles towards the form, arm cocked back to strike.
Right when he's about to deal the blow, his body seizes up—the flames of his fist have illuminated the intruder's face.
"….Korra?"
Mako lowers his hand and the apartment is bathed in darkness once more. The woman, who seems to be the long-lost Korra, has apparently conked out on his bed. She's definitely not how he remembers; her hair has been cut short and she's wearing unfamiliar clothing, but it is her; he's sure. He'd be able to recognize her anywhere.
Mako takes a step back, his mind reeling from what his eyes are seen but it's extremely clear what's going on here. He's obviously dreaming.
Mako promises himself that he will never buy Oolong tea from that sketchy guy off the street, ever again-This dream feels so amazingly vivid and real, it's ridiculous. To try to reset himself, Mako turns on his heel and strides all the way out of his apartment. He takes a deep breath in as he locks the front door…and then exhales slowly as he unlocks it again. He walks quickly back to the bed—Korra is still there, still sleeping peacefully. She's curled up a little now, and she's folded one arm like a pillow under her head, the other is draped off of the edge.
Mako tries several things in quick succession—slapping himself, pinching his skin, holding his breath until he can't stand it anymore, dunking his head under the icy cold stream of his kitchen faucet; nothing seems to work. With a heavy sigh, he plunks himself down on the edge of the bed, next to her prone body. Lucid Dreaming—he'd been learning about this from a class at work. He rubs his eyes as he tries to remember the material but he is exhausted. The dream is...his self-conscious' way of projecting his wants and desires? Is that how it goes? That doesn't sound right, he thinks tiredly. Actually, it does, answers a little voice in his mind.
Since he's dreaming, he thinks, he might as well go with it.
Maybe he should wake her up. Shake her shoulders until her eyes open, interrogate her over and over about things that haunt him everyday—why did you never write? why did you never visit? why did you leave me behind?
Or, since he's just going with it, maybe he really should just go with it. Kiss her all over until her eyes open, peel her layers off, one by one before he pushes himself into her, over and over again until she gratiously moans his name into his ear. This option seemed a lot more….appealing.
Instead, he sighs. Even if this really is a dream, he feels like he ought to be a bit more respectful—he can save those situations for when they eventually meet in person. And if she really still wants to, of course.
Pushing himself up is a struggle—it's been a long day—but he succeeds after a few moments of trying. Trudging to the foot of the bed, he unlaces her borrowed boots, pulling her heels out, one by one. Gently, he rolls her body just a bit so that he can pull the jacket that's bunched up uncomfortably under her side; she sighs in relief, through her dreams.
Slowly, he lowers himself down on the bed at her side and he's not the least bit surprised when his arms already remember what to do next—one slips itself under her head and the other comes up to brush the hair out of her face.
As his eyelids droop further and further, he mentally salutes his self-conscious on imagining the hairstyle change. With short hair, she's stunning. Breathtakingly, gorgeously, elegantly so.
He's asleep in moments.
….
When Korra wakes, it's dawn. She can tell because of the moisture in the air—the morning dew that flavors it has a particularly sweetness.
She yawns, enjoying the feeling one gets after of a particularly restful sleep, before she nestles her face back into the warm pillow on which it was previously resting…which is not really a pillow. It's a shoulder.
Korra's eyes snap open when she realizes that there are fingers coiled in her hair—she pulls back but when she remembers where she is and who's been holding her tight, all night, she smiles.
Mako. He looks the same as she remembers, mostly, except he's wearing a uniform that she's never seen him wear, and he looks…tired. His cheekbones are a bit more prominent, now that he's older, but the funny fork in his eyebrows is still there. And he still sleeps with his lips slightly parted, breathing softly as he slumbers.
Since Korra's not sure when she'll ever get the chance again—if she'll ever get the chance again, she takes the opportunity to steal a kiss. She kisses his chapped lips softly, sweetly, just once with the slightest of pressures.
But this is enough. Groggy eyes open slowly; his eyes are amber colored in the early morning.
"Good morning, City Boy," says Korra.
With a raspy voice, he says, "…I'm still dreaming."
"Nope, I'm pretty sure that you're awake," Korra answers. The grin on her face is a bit mischievous and she goes on. "What makes you think you're dreaming?"
"You're still here. Real Korra is…I don't know where she is," he says tiredly, his eyes fluttering closed again.
"Nope, I'm pretty sure that I'm right here," she says, running her index finger along the contours of his face. She ends her trail by bopping the tip of his nose.
He swats at her hand before pulling her closer. "Seriously. Lucid dream. But whatever, Dream Korra—let's go back to sleep. I probably have to get up for work in 5 minutes," Mako mumbles, his hands twining into her hair, once more.
Korra giggles as he drifts off to sleep, once more, mumbling things about burglars and oolong tea.