Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: Legend of Korra.


Damage

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"You know, you're something else!"

Spoken through tight lips, with a harsh tone, the words linger, a punch to the gut, stirring tension in the surroundings. The air is thick, muggy as the couple circles each other, clothes sticking to their bodies.

"Amon is alive, Mako! And he's wreaking havoc all over Republic City," Korra screams, sweat beading at her temples and between her shoulders, sliding down her spine as she shakes her head. "I'm the Avatar - it's my job to stop him, protect people from him and you want me to have to deal with you too?" She juts her chin out, points a finger at him angrily. "This is not the time to be selfish."

"Not the time?" Mako explodes, hands flying around. "It's never the time. You always have something else to do with somebody else." Korra opens her mouth to cut him off, defend herself but he continues, unwrapping the scarf hanging loosely around his neck and throwing it down on the tattered chair beside him. "Even when everyone thought Amon was dead, when it wasn't Tarrlok or the Equalists, it was Tenzin or General Iroh, or..." He fumbles, fists clenched. "Or Tahno!"

Korra gasps, pouts, her bottom lip jutting out. Mako ignores her, sighing as he rakes a hand through his thick black hair. "What about me?" he asks desperately.

"What about you?" Korra counters. "You think you're so much more important than those other people?" She crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing. "Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're not." She swallows harshly before adding, "Not to me."

"You're wrong," he replies defiantly, golden eyes blazing with anger and frustration...and desire.

"Hmph!" She lifts her head high, challenging him to defy her, prove his statement. She can't see how - she's the Avatar and keeping the world in balance is her job. But she waits expectantly, not even remembering how they got here, throwing cruel words at each other and curious as to what his response will be.

A hint of smirk flits across his features, his mouth pulling up in a crooked smile for a fraction of a second and her breath hitches, eyes widen. Then his lips come crashing down on hers, hard and demanding as he wraps an arm around her waist, pulls her into him and runs a hand through her wild hair. She mumbles against his mouth as she tries to push him away, catch her breath. He moves his lips down to her neck, leaving a trail of warm kisses on her jaw and she groans, recapturing his mouth with hers. Slowly, she closes her eyes, feels her heart drop down to her stomach.

When he pulls away suddenly, turns his back to her and walks away, realization hits her - while she does damage to his ego, he does damage to her heart.