Summary: Wasting time at a magazine stand outside of City Hall, Korra stumbles upon a "Boys of Pro-Bending" charity calendar which may or may not feature a certain teammate. If Tenzin doesn't relinquish the yuans to buy it, she may have to kill him. Makorra. Book One.
"This is what you came for
Lightning strikes every time she moves
And everybody's watching her
But she's looking at you…"
- Calvin Harris
[. Flavor of the Month .]
At first, it caught her eye because it seemed out of place. Nestled between grayscale equipment catalogues, strategy guides and athlete interviews, this taller, expensively colored item demanded attention. Then she noticed the cover; a portrait of a half naked, unnaturally glossy man with his fist raised to attack, a sly smirk on his full lips and eyes colored in emerald. The only text visible above the rack was the word "BOYS" in a glittery, gold font; ostentatiously loud amongst all other headlines.
For reasons she didn't understand at first, Korra found it offensive. She had left City Hall with Tenzin's two yuan bribe in her pocket just to pick up the stats from last night's quarter final, as her pacing and groaning was apparently a distraction to him. Now, on top of the backlash from quitting Tarrlok's task force, she was forced to deal with this oiled behemoth metaphorically sweating all over her favorite magazines.
It was disgusting and disorganized and ridiculous and so many other adjectives that she didn't have the energy to come up with.
Not bothering to hide her grimace, she pinched it out of the rack like a soiled handkerchief, intent on returning it to the stand owner where it could be stored out of sight along with the rest of the salacious materials.
She was almost at the register when it hit her and she froze mid step.
That guy on the cover...the one who looked like a snowsuit stuffed with meat...she was almost certain she had water punched him in the face before.
Though there was perhaps an unhealthy number of people who could claim such interaction, this one stuck out because of his size and bright irises. Eventually, she recognized him as the earthbending Captain of the Golden Temple Tiger-Dillos.
It was enough to warrant a more thorough examination.
"THE 42ND ANNUAL BOYS OF PRO-BENDING CALENDAR" read the full title.
It wasn't a sports magazine nor was it fantasy fodder.
It was both.
"You gonna buy that, missy? Only twenty five yuans!" Her eyes whipped up the meet the stand owner's. He was waggling his thick, black brows, as if he knew exactly what the purchase would be used for.
Korra felt her cheeks grow hot. More from annoyance than anything.
"No! No. Definitely not." She tossed the item onto the counter, eager to get it off her hands like a sparking, equalist glove. "That shouldn't be just laying around the sports section. What if a kid saw it?"
The stand owner's amusement dissolved into confusion. "This? It's just a calendar. All the pro-bending hot shots do it every year to support the kid's shelter in the Flats. I sell thousands of 'em the first week they come out."
"Well, they're inappropriate!" she hissed and he instantly switched on the defensive.
"No they're not. This calendar is a proud, Republic tradition. But I suppose someone fresh off the boat wouldn't know that."
To her expanded fury, Korra felt the blush spread to her ears. She hated being reminded that her upbringing wasn't anywhere close to the definition of normal. Three months she had lived in the City since leaving the South Pole compound and she still barely had a grasp on what passed for standards. She made a mental note:
Male athletes willingly exposing skin on the street equals okay.
Hungry polarbear-dogs roaming those same streets? Not so much.
Eventually, if only in response to that menacing, twitching eye she sometimes got when about to blow, he relented and dragged the calendar beneath the counter. "Whatever. It's my last copy anyway. I'm sure someone will ask for it."
"Good." Proud of her good deed that day, she spun around with the intention of returning to City Hall to complete her scheduled parroting of "no comment" to the press. Only two steps were taken when a thought occurred to her; a painful though undeniably enticing thought.
"You said all the teams participate?"
Amused smirk snapping back into place, the owner nodded. As if she were an especially stubborn fish that finally accepted the bait. "Always. Assuming there's men of age on the team. It'd be kind of a jerk move not to, seeing as it's for charity."
Korra nodded. A jerk move indeed. She knew plenty of jerks from the pro-bending community.
Still, she had to ask. She wouldn't be able to focus unless she did. "Are the, umm, Fire Ferrets featured?"
"Probably. One of them at least. Those three boys were quite popular."
"Which element?"
"Ah, well for such detailed information, you'll have to buy to find out."
Korra's eyes narrowed. "Seriously? Can't you just answer the question? I'm sure you've stared at it enough."
"Hey, this here stack of paper," he teasingly used it to fan himself; the cover earthbender rippling in the false breeze "is a rare collector's item. In fact, I think the price just shot up from twenty five yuans to thirty."
"Oh, come on!"
"Your call, missy."
"Tenzin!" He promptly dropped his stack of paperwork as the Avatar leapt into the third floor, office window. Though he understood that doors and stairs and dealing with the potential, lingering paparazzi could be considered difficult, giving the last Airbending Master in the world a heart attack was one of the many consequences she often overlooked. "I need twenty eight more yuans."
Tenzin took a deep breath, trying especially hard to suppress a groan. The patience concept had still not only failed to sink in, it somehow gained buoyancy.
"Dare I ask what for?"
"What does it matter? You have it, don't you? I'll pay you back."
They both knew that was a lie. Or at least an impossible hope.
"No Korra, I don't have twenty eight yuans on my person. You'll have to ask someone else."
"Sure you do! You offered to pay for all the damages I caused to the city when I first arrived and I bet that cost a lot more."
"The funds to forgive your vigilantism were provided by the White Lotus, who you know are supported by volunteers and donations. There is no secret Avatar account overflowing with gold, as I explained last week when you were looking for thirty thousand for the championship pot."
"But it's ONLY twenty-eight this time. Please!"
"You want those yuans, you will have to earn them elsewhere."
It took her less than a minute to list and then discard all other options within City Hall. Councilman Tarrlok was still willing to provide her with anything she ever wanted, but at some obscene price including her dignity as tax. In the midst of researching how to sell the satomobile he had gifted her - a satomobile is worth at least twenty-eight yuans, right? - she realized she was late for a strategy planning dinner with the boys.
"Hi Korra!" Bolin yelled as soon as she opened the lower trap door to their attic apartment and she automatically smiled as the warm, spiced air wafted over her.
"You're late," was Mako's choice greeting, amber eyes narrowed as she climbed the final step. They were sitting around the low table that was half covered in diagrams of pro-bending formations and half draped with a patched, red tablecloth on which rested bowls of tofu, vegetables and rice long since grown cold.
"Sorry. Council stuff went long. But you could have started without me." She took a seat crossed legged at the head of the table, careful to place herself just a few inches closer to the earthbending brother since the other was still glaring daggers.
"No, we couldn't. We're a team," he said, as if that explained everything. He then nodded toward Bolin which was apparently the signal that he could snatch up his chopsticks and start shoveling food into his mouth as fast as humanly possible.
They ate in silence. Mainly because the most chatty of the bunch wasn't sparing a breath between bites. Korra picked at her food, unable to keep from noticing how Mako added style and deliberation to everything he did. In complete contrast to his brother, he took his time eating, purposefully selecting a portion from each food group before bringing it to his lips. He chewed carefully, his long, white throat bobbing as he swallowed and a barely discernible pleasure softened his eyes. It showed how appreciative and proud he was of the food he had not only cooked, but fought to provide every, individual grain and stock. He ate every meal like he expected it to be their last. As it very well could be.
There was something undeniably beautiful about it all and Korra felt herself growing warmer. So much so that she dropped her utensils in order to shimmy off her parka, tossing it onto the couch despite Mako's obvious disapproval. As she pulled at her collar, the calendar began burning in her mind again.
Perhaps she could get her answer without having to buy it.
"So," she began with attempted nonchalance as she stabbed a cube of tofu. "Did either of you see that Boys of Pro Bending Calendar thing?"
Bolin choked. Mako briefly stopped chewing but otherwise did not react.
Only after the rice had passed into his lungs did the younger brother begin to chuckle. "Funny you should ask…"
"Drop it, Bo." Those amber eyes, previously so peaceful, were now flashing with warning. Bolin was probably the only person in the world who wouldn't be intimidated by them.
"Come on, Mako. You should be proud! Plus, we could use the extra money."
"What? What's going on." Korra tried to lean in between their staring contest but couldn't get far enough without fully crawling onto the tabletop. "Tell me!"
"Oh, Mako is in the calendar alright. It apparently sold out in minutes. And his month was soooo popular that the photographer ask to come back and do a series on him for actual money this time. Like, a lot of money. I mean, it's a no brainer right?"
"I did that degrading shoot because I had no choice. I'm not volunteering to go through it all again."
"Psht," Bolin rolled his head towards Korra and held a flat hand up to his mouth to create a sidebar. "You'd think I was asking him to dress up like a flying-squirrel lemur and do a live tap dance. All they did was stop by one of our practices. We hardly noticed the camera."
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here. And I noticed."
Sidebar abandoned, he addressed his brother in earnest. "Well, you should get over it! Half the money could go to the shelter on top of the calendar proceeds - the Spirits know that we owe them - and it'd still be more than we've ever had our hands on! I could buy something luxurious like-like socks without holes! You're being incredibly selfish, you know."
Mako visibly bristled, fingers clenching into the table cloth. Being called selfish after everything he had done to get them there was an especially low blow. "I got us the championship pot money like I said I would, didn't I? I'm done. We don't need anything more so drop it. And Korra," he met her eyes and she could practically feel the radiating anger on the skin of her cheeks. "I'm asking as a friend, please don't look at that stupid calendar. Okay? I like knowing that at least one person in this city hasn't seen it."
Shocked by his uncharacteristic passion, she could only nod. "Okay. Sure. I-I promise."
With that, Mako stood up, grabbed his jacket and scarf from their designated hooks and left, slamming the door on his way out.
"Ug. Such a drama queen." Bolin finished his rice by bringing the bowl up to his lips and shoveling it with his fingers, manners abandoned now that his boss-brother wasn't there to judge. "I mean, it really wasn't that big a deal. I'd have done it in a heartbeat."
"Why didn't you?" Korra couldn't help but ask as she began to mirror his shoveling technique. Mako's departure released the tension for all those in the attic and she was suddenly aware that she was starving.
"Oh there's some silly age rule for legal reasons. Have to be at least eighteen, so Mako was the only option when they invited the Fire Ferrets. No one in that calendar can legitimately be called a 'boy' anymore, but it's a trademark." His bowl empty and knowing that his brother would need to cool off for at least another hour, Bolin reached to claim the half-finished portion opposite. "Anyway, the calendar is both a tradition and a publicity thing. Any team that dares to opt out rarely makes it past qualifiers cause the fans have it out for them. So, look out next year, ladies, cause Bolin in coming to awe ya! I hope I get June. I've always felt like a June."
"What month did Mako get?"
"Huh? Oh. August of course."
"Why of course?"
"Well, because," Bolin pinned her with a salacious smile, eyebrows wiggling. It was the exact look the newsstand owner had given her, as if he knew exactly what spurred such curiosity. "August is the hottest month. Obviously."
"Right. Obviously." Korra had to take another big bite of rice to keep from chewing her lip.
That was supposed to be the end of it. She had the information she wanted. So Mako was in the calendar. He had done it for the good of the team. It probably explained how he had been able to find a sponsor so easily. After all, people like the Satos didn't invest in anything that wasn't clearly in high demand.
"Hey," the request had formed in her throat before she could stop it. "Do you happen to have twenty eight yuans I can borrow? I swear I'll pay you back."
It had taken many minutes of digging between couch cushions and under floor boards, but she finally had enough.
"Thirty yuans!" Korra slammed the collection of coins and crumpled bills onto the counter just as he was closing down the stand.
Alas, the owner was frowning.
"Sorry, kid. I told you they were popular. I sold out. Everybody is sold out!"
Korra felt her heart sink. It was like the time she had gone ice fishing with her dad and, in her eagerness to peer down the hole, she had dropped her shaved-ice-cone into the abyss; a treat gone forever.
Except this time, instead of crying, she punched a hole in the ground.
As soon as she returned to the island, Korra began practicing her airbending forms, even though she still had yet to create the smallest gust. Tonight wasn't any different. She was especially irritable and could not concentrate.
Pulled by the sound of the radio, it was quickly decided that training could wait and she headed towards the outpost housing the late shift of White Lotus sentinels. They were listening to the last five minutes of that night's quarter final. This game would determine who the Fire Ferrets played next and it couldn't hurt to become familiar with their moves.
One of the firebending sentries, Ryu, automatically drew a chair for her when she opened the door. They were accustomed to her joining ever since Tenzin had retracted his ban on the sport, and it was becoming a sort of team bonding tradition. Korra had never been comfortable not having at least a minor relationship with the many men and women who were sworn to die for her.
She was offered a glass of bubbling lychee juice from Lysandra, an earthbender, as well as a brief summary of the game so far. Korra accepted both eagerly.
The teams seemed equivalently matched, first two rounds going up to the buzzer with equal points to each. In the third round, however, the Red Sands Rabaroos took initiative in the final seconds, all three switching to offensive and focused on pushing the opposition's firebender off the platform. It was just enough to earn them one point extra for the full game's win.
"Yes! Pay up, boys!" Lysandra jeered, clapping one open hand up. With groans of exaggerated annoyance, the other three sentries slapped a few crumpled bills into her palm. Korra smirked beneath the rim of her glass, knowing that those same yuans had made the rounds of the group several times. The White Lotus members were too lofty to seriously gamble. The money served more as easily divisible and recyclable bragging rights.
"And they thought the only all-female team wouldn't make it this far," explained Lysandra, looking for solidarity as she happily pocketed the money. Of course, Korra was the perfect person to share in her false outrage.
"Seriously? Have you not seen my moves?"
The poor guys exchanged glances so terrified that the women could barely contain their laughter. No one on the island had any doubt that they could be taken down by Korra or any equally determined and trained person, regardless of gender. Still, it was always fun to tease and eventually the entire group was trading sparks, bent splashes of lychee juice and tripping each other up by moving the ground under their feet.
"Speaking of chauvinism," the yet again victorious Lysandra said after she helped her colleagues off the floor. "We got you a present!"
Before she could protest, it was thrust into her hands. That same green-eyed, meat bag dumbly grinning at her in all his over-muscled glory.
The 42nd Annual Boys of Pro Bending Calendar.
Korra gulped.
She had promised, after all. She had stated in no uncertain terms that she wouldn't look. And even though she had already attempted to break said promise by borrowing the money from Bolin, that had all been hypothetical. She hadn't yet been on the precipice, staring into the void of no return, the betrayal heavy between tense fingers.
"I am so sick of looking at that thing." Ryu rolled his eyes as he peered over her shoulder. "My wife and my mother and my brother have it hanging in their kitchens."
"At least the committee splurged for a proper photographer and color inks this year," defended Mischo as he tapped at the cover boy's green eyes. "I mean look at the lighting. And did you see the summer candids? They captured these perfect moments of real life athleticism being pushed to the brink. It's art!"
Another one of the male guards, Jerush, scoffed. "Yeah. I'm the sure the Republic National Museum is putting together an exhibition as we speak."
"It is art, though," Korra found herself agreeing. Even though she hadn't even opened it yet. A blush spilled onto her cheeks as soon as the words left her mouth, but she stood her ground. "I just mean, umm, isn't anything that provokes an emotional response considered art? Isn't it enough that one person finds it mesmerizing or frightening or maybe, even" she almost choked on the word "beautiful? Can't that be enough to make it worthy and-and important?"
Again, the guards exchanged looks, shocked by her commanding fervor. It was moments like these that she was reminded of the divide between them. She wasn't their friend. She wasn't even their acquaintance. For all intents and purposes, she was their boss. To some, maybe even a God. A young, inexperienced one at that, whom they could never quit.
"I'm sorry." She shook her head to clear it. "Thank you all. This is...it is a very thoughtful gift."
"Yes, well," Ryu coughed awkwardly into his fist, "the Order purchased a bunch to support the fundraiser. We know your team was involved. We just thought-"
"I know. I get it. Again, thank you." After making extra effort to have eye contact and smile at each individual, Korra excused herself. It was late and she had meditation lessons at dawn followed by pro-bending practice.
In the privacy of her room, the decision was settled the second the door slid closed. She nearly broke a nail in her hastiness to rip through the calendar's seal. This wasn't about 'respecting my privacy' or 'going against your Captain's authority', all of which he would surely accuse her. He had already relinquished such privileges when he agreed to participate in the first place.
Besides, she didn't intend for him to ever find out. So it was a moot point.
Before daring to open it, she placed it her nightstand and prepared for bed, more to give her conscience a chance to interfere than anything.
Alas, considering the late hour, it had probably fallen asleep.
As she loosened the wolftail beads from her hair, she couldn't help but imagine someone else's hands brushing across her shoulders when it cascaded free. When she reached underneath the fabric of her shirt to loosen her bindings, she swore her fingers felt warmer than usual and she took extra, lingering care to complete the once rudimentary task.
By the time she was ready to shimmy below the sheets, her entire skin had adopted some sort of electricity. Besides noting its strangeness, she didn't give the sensation any more thought as the calendar slid onto her lap.
Like ripping off a bandage, she flipped it open, relief flooding through her now that it was over. No turning back.
The first image, January, almost ruined everything.
The captain of the Wolfbats, who she had often seen preening to the camera on practically every magazine cover, was lying on a polarbear-dog skin rug in front of a fireplace wearing a rose behind his ear and practically nothing else. Alone in her room, she didn't bother to suppress the automatic shudder of disgust.
It made her want to burn the whole thing just to see that picture die, but she pressed on. Luckily, that was the worst of it. With what little she knew about the Wolfbats, she guessed he probably hadn't given the photographer a choice in setting. The next few images were very tasteful and beautifully captured, just as Mischo had described. Most weren't even staged. They used the same, familiar backdrop of the arena's gym. For each image, probably because of the ink cost, only one or two out of five colors were used to highlight key elements: blue, red, gold, green and blue. Korra found herself actually entertained, a lazy grin on her lips as she flipped through Spring. For March, the Buzzard Wasps earthbender had over twenty, dirty-crusted disks raised into the air at once, his wild expression a clear endorphin rush. For June, the waterbender from the Mo Ce Mongoose Lizards was perfectly framed in mid-kick from a low angle, a stream of water parallel to his leg which spanned the entire page.
It was their form, their prowess that was the intended focus of the series. Not the athlete's bodies. Korra found herself wishing that there were enough women in the league to create their own calendar. She bet she'd look pretty awesome sailing through the air, her notoriously deadly water whip in the midst of decapitating one of the straw dummies they used as targets, her eyes alone colored in a specially mixed azure.
She had practically forgotten why she had been so intimidated by the thing, when she flipped the page into August.
Instantly, the electricity was back, surging down into her toes until they curled into the sheets.
To her surprise, he was the only one so far who wasn't in the midst of a signature action. Instead, the artist had chosen an image of him on the bench. Korra knew his routine well by now. This photo must have been taken after his run but before the weight lifting, since his hair stood at unintentional angles with sweat but the protective pads were still piled neatly beside him, ready for when his teammates joined and started throwing everything they had at him. He wore only his training pants, tied at the waist with the usual sash, inked in red to mark his element. She supposed both brothers probably used to dress for maximum mobility before they had let a girl join their practices, enforcing modesty.
She wished that they had asked first. She wouldn't have minded practicing in just her bindings on especially hot days. Not that there were many of those left.
More than his body, at first she was riveted by his pose. He had been caught in a rare, unguarded moment just as he finalized wrapping one wrist and hand in protective bandages. His teeth gleamed white from where they were biting in to tighten the roll, brow furrowed in concentration, inked-gold eyes bright and focused on the task as if he were performing surgery.
She had seen him do this exact thing at least twenty times and had felt nothing but annoyance that he was taking so long.
"You have to do it properly. Tightly. Or it'll do more harm than good. Here." She remembered him grabbing her wrist, unraveling the apparently shoddy work and redoing it himself. Back then, even with good intentions, the unnecessary manhandling had sparked a flare of rage. Tonight, she chastised herself for not savoring it.
Something about this picture managed to capture a sensuality to the pre production of bending, drawing focus to his mouth and determined features. It was no surprise that it had been one of the most popular. Despite the lack of action that was present in all the others.
She stared at it for a long time, gleaning details in the high quality print she had never noticed or never been revealed in all their weeks together. Like the beauty mark on his left pectoral. Or the jagged, diagonal scar splashed across his lean but still prominent abdominals. How his blunt nails were square and neat.
With every minute that passed, she felt her legs get more restless, knees rubbing together for any sense of friction.
Eventually, with a huff of frustration, she tossed the calendar to the end of the bed and shimmied under the covers, punching at the pillow beneath her head in a vain attempt at getting comfortable.
This was ridiculous. Really. Not only was he a teammate, perhaps a friend by the longest stretch of the definition, but he had a girlfriend. A beautiful, elegant, rich girlfriend whose generosity allowed them to continue the hang out, practice and compete in the first place. Beyond that even, she was the Avatar. She had enough things to worry about, to stress about, than a guy.
A damn beautiful guy.
A guy who she would wager money wasn't always so cool-under-fire. She bet, if given the chance, she could break him. Easy.
When she closed her eyes, praying for the sweet relief of sleep as Tenzin was sure to drag her out of bed shortly, all she saw was August.
The hottest of months.
Her fingers slid into the waistband of her pants practically of their own volition. That tingling electricity had transformed to lightning between her legs, demanding attention. Soon, she had to burry her face into her pillow to muffle an involuntary gasp, knowing that the guards made regular treks outside the paper-thin window.
She had never attempted anything like this before, never had a strong enough urge to risk it with all the prying eyes. But she supposed it was inevitable to try once you hit a certain age and had the right inspiration. The calendar was soon kicked off the foot of the bed, which was fine. She didn't need it anymore. In this act, the fundamentals were easy enough to grasp and imagination was key. She approached with the same determination to succeed as always, knowing that something had to happen if there was to be any hope of concentrating in the morning.
Either she'd find relief tonight or die, blazing, in the search.
He must have seen it on her face the minute she walked into the arena's gym, for he immediately sighed.
"You saw it, didn't you?"
Apparently, the hour of "meditation" practice used to suppress her blush instinct was for naught. She let her shoulders slump in surrender and the red coloring claimed its expansive territory. "Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Some guards bought me the calendar as a present and I couldn't just-"
"Don't worry. I shouldn't have asked you not to. I mean, it's everywhere." He shook his head while continuing to wrap up his wrists. The action that had once been part of their everyday, as notable as a sip of water, had since acquired a new gravity. "It's just so embarrassing."
"Why?" Korra asked with genuine wonder as she took a seat next to him on the bench and started to strap on her shin pads. "It's an amazing photo! Worked well enough for me."
He paused and looked over at her. "What do you mean worked? Worked how?"
Korra quickly formulated a redirection. She may have made peace with her actions, knowing that it was all part of being a human teenager, that didn't mean she wouldn't simply die if he ever gleaned a hint. "I-I just meant that- that that photographer has a good eye. Maybe you should let her do that series Bolin was talking about, huh?"
"No way!" Mako vehemently shook his head, terror causing him to fumble and drop the original inquiry. "You may be used to that kind of attention but, believe it or not, no one glanced at us twice before we became pro benders. I just want to play the game and collect the winnings. I can't wait for all this tournament publicity stuff to die. I don't know how you've managed to stay sane with those cameras constantly in your face."
Korra shrugged. "Well, the sanity part is up for debate. But seriously, when you grow up with people watching and judging all the time, it becomes a sort of background noise. You just have to buck up, block it out, and live your life. Cause other things are more important, ya know?"
"So that's your official, wise, old Avatar advice? 'Get used to it'?"
"Hey, who are you calling old?" She punched him on the shoulder in mock offense and he smiled. How she loved it when he smiled. If he only knew how disarming it was. More so than any of his flame throws. "I just meant that the camera flashes can blind most people. And it's good that you haven't lost sight of what's really important. It's..." beautiful, was what she wanted to say. Instead she used "Commendable."
Mako nodded as he finished wrapping the wrist, tightening it with his teeth as was still habit. "Thank you, " he said eventually, still not meeting her eyes as he experimentally flexed his fingers. "You saying that...it helps."
"No problem. And who knows," she punched him again, knowing it was the only physical contact he wouldn't question. "Maybe next year, with a little Avatar influence-"
"You mean threats?"
"I mean, whatever. Don't interrupt. Maybe next year they'll be a GIRLS of bending calendar. And I'll be on the cover! Maybe I'll even pull a January. Whatever will sell more copies, considering it's for a good cause."
He laughed but there was an tenseness about it. As if he were realizing what such a "January" pose would entail or, more specifically, not entail. When his next breath came out staggered, Korra allowed herself a proud smirk. Perhaps she wasn't the only one haunted by what-ifs.
The two sat in silence for a minute longer, Korra adjusting her knee pads and Mako uselessly retying the sash at his hips.
"Well. Umm. Let's do it! I mean-let's start. The practice," he leapt to his feet, obviously eager to get going if not get away from her. "You can begin with the westward targets for now. You need to work on your aim from three zones back."
"Wait, you haven't done your weights yet?" she chastised while strapping the pads to her torso, securing them with her blue sash. "Weren't we supposed to start roundabouts, like, five minutes ago?
"Yeah, sorry. I'm a little off schedule because Asami took me out to dinner late last night. I'll do a speed-circuit. Once Bolin comes down you can do some one on one."
It was lucky he already had his back to her, because Korra had smoke coming out of her nostrils. It was one thing if this new girlfriend stepped upon their few social gatherings, but practices were supposed to - had always been - sacred.
She was about to yell this at him, questioning his role as Captain and probably inciting a far-from-productive screaming match, when Bolin appeared in all his bed-headed glory.
"Heads up, Avatar!" He tossed an earth disc in her direction before he even had his helmet on and she had no choice but to put up an immediate defense.
After thirty minutes of throwing jabs, Mako joined with his full, protective gear strapped on and soon it was just another morning of hard core practice, practice, practice until perfect. Fire punches, water whips and earth disks flew without pause, filling the gym with a mud-tinged steam that made it difficult to breathe. Though, in all honesty, it wasn't just the exercise stealing air from her lungs.
"Keep aware!" Mako yelled after a disk grazed her shoulder, a mere inch from dislocating it. She bristled at the needless reprimand. Did he think she was blind?
"Switch to scenario 412! Earth, first and center, offensive. Water, right guard, zone three."
They shifted formations, using the painted lines on the floor as reference to the actual platform zone spacing. Bolin concentrated on hitting his net targets at the far end of the gym while Mako faced them and threw fire blasts. Korra's job was to hang back and try to block the attacks aimed at the point maker. Though this position had always been tiresome for her, as she did indeed have trouble hitting a moving target from such a distance, today was especially harsh.
Mako was, for lack of a better term, on fire. He had thrown three kicks, successfully hitting his brother in the thigh and torso and pushing him back a zone before Korra even had a chance to bend her stream out of the reservoir.
"You're lagging, Korra!" he yelled, twirling to easily avoid her second attempt. "Pick it up!"
Rather than curse, she saved her breath and followed the instruction, determined to prove he wasn't such a hot shot after all. She kept on her toes, feigning a right hand hook while aiming a second stream at his legs. It was a hit, but barely. Far from enough to actually trip him as had been the goal. He knew her too well, she realized. Just from studying her body, he could tell which direction she would throw practically before she herself decided. Annoying, yes. But also incredibly impressive.
"Is that all you got?" he taunted, daring to throw her a wink. It made her blood boil in more ways than one.
Even at a distance, she could see the droplets of sweat streaking down his face and again the August image flashed in her mind. She knew that the full gear, suit and helmet must get especially uncomfortable for firebenders, whose blood tended to run hot. She wished he would yell for a pause and just peel off cotton layer, if only to practice more comfortably. The way they used to back when that picture was taken.
She wished he'd offer to let her do the same. Or better yet, do it for her.
She wished he'd do many things to her. She bet, like now, he wouldn't need any instruction, learning just through watching and waiting for signs.
The movement of his fist didn't register until after the blast connected with her chest. In a blink, she was on her back, struggling to get air into her lungs.
"Korra!" Both brothers threw off their helmets and ran to her side, but Mako was there first, unhooking her head gear with trembling fingers so that she could suck in as much oxygen as possible without the visor in the way. "I'm sorry! Why didn't you dodge? Never mind. Are you okay? I'm so sorry."
First aid training kicking in, he automatically pressed his palms to his ears to stabilize her neck. As he searched her pupils for signs of trauma, he leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her lips. It was too much. So much so, that she legitimately feared her Avatar energy would lead her to spontaneously combust.
"I...I'm fine," she wheezed, frantically slapping his hands away. Bolin was kneeling on the opposite side, biting on his knuckles. When she tried to sit up, she made it about three inches off the floor before the obvious bruising on her stomach forced her down again and she was seized by a fit of wracking coughs.
Mako sighed. "No you're not. There was about three hundred pounds of force behind that hit. You need a healer."
'But-"
"But nothing! For the love of-" without bothering asking for the permission she'd surely reject, Mako threaded one arm under her knees, the other behind her back and stood. The movement was absolutely fluid, as if her solid body weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. The display of strength made everything so much worse. When she squirmed in protest, he only held on tighter and gritted his teeth. "Don't you dare fight me on this. I'm your Captain. Listen or you're off the team."
There was no choice after that. She honestly wouldn't have put it past him to forfeit the tournament for both the sake of her health and just to assert his authority.
After all...They were a team.
Thus, she allowed herself to slump boneless into his arms, head resting against his chest. If only because she had to. If only because his warmth acted as a sedative against the pain.
She knew she'd recover in an hour or two. After all, she'd experienced much worse during her Avatar training. The only, permanent result of the hit was a realization:
Mako wasn't her friend. He'd never be just a friend ever again. This wasn't a passing crush that could be physically teased away.
He wasn't just August; a hot summer fling. There in his arms, she realized that he was the whole, damn century to her.
Before they moved on to the next tournament level, she vowed that something would change between them. She'd make it change. Otherwise, these feelings may very well end up getting her killed.
Author's Note: I recently watched all four Books of LoK back to back and was immediately inspired to write again. Especially the Makorra beginnings. I feel as though I understand the characters better and have not only accepted but am starting to appreciate Korrasami. Though Makorra will remain my OTP. Their sexy disfunction is too fun to explore.
In summary, I hope you were entertained. Reviews make me smile.