Tailoring
There had always been a sense of not-quite-right-ness stirring at the back of Asami's mind.
It was a quiet feeling. Easy enough for her to ignore. There was no one specific thing she could point to, to explain her ill-ease. Just general vague sensations she'd felt her entire life, ever since she was little. It was stuff like the way she hated how she was forced into a dress every time there was some big party of press function- it wasn't that she disliked dresses, it was simply that she also liked the suits her dad wore and wanted one to wear one like it, at least once. It was how people would giggle at her when she visited the factories, saying how cute she was, but refuse to answer any of her questions when she asked about how the technology worked. It was how, in high school, she'd sometimes feel distinctly uncomfortable getting changed in the girl's locker-room before gym.
When she found these places of resistance, she pushed back against it. She wasn't one to let other people tell her what she could and could not do. She wore dresses and make-up, and wore them like weapons, or armour- but she found other weapons, too. She didn't let people brush her aside in mathematics and science. She practiced and studied and became good at it. She learned how to weld and build, until she felt just as comfortable in oil-stained overalls as she did in heels. She didn't just build cars; she drove them, too, and took thrills from the race that she couldn't find anywhere else. And then, just because she could, she took self-defence classes. She learned how to aim for the eyes and throw a man three times her own weight to the floor.
She had always known that one day, she would inherit Future Industries. When the day came, far, far sooner than she had ever expected, she at least felt halfway prepared. She would do this. She would succeed where her father had failed.
And when she had started recognising the feeling she got around Korra- the way her eyes lingered a little too long on her biceps, how touching her made her feel light and fluttery, how she would pour over a single e-mail from her for hours, agonising over every word of the reply, trying to make it perfect- she thought she had finally started to understand the rest of it, too. Girls were not supposed to like other girls, but she did. Same way she liked science and economics and martial arts. She liked girls, and she liked Korra.
But even after she'd accepted all of that- even after she'd kissed Korra, and held her in her arms, and been certain it was real- that stirring feeling didn't go away. Not entirely. And she decided she wasn't going to put up with it anymore. Not if she didn't have to.
So she began researching. Google searches. Trips to the library. Tentative talks with some of the people in the various queer charities and programs Future Industries had begun supporting.
Finally, she found something that might fit.
She was still nervous. Restless. When she ordered her first binder on line her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, as if she had just survived a fight to the death. She felt a little more comfortable getting the wig and the new outfits. Hair and clothing was familiar ground.
Nonetheless, she couldn't suppress the strange feeling, the day it all arrived and it was finally time to try it on. Anxiousness, but also eagerness. Expectation tempered by fear. Joy balanced by uncertainty.
First, she took off her bra. Laid it neatly pack in its spot in the drawer, and pulled the binder on in its place. It was tight, and the unusual constriction around her chest made it momentarily hard to breath. She grew accustomed to it fairly quickly, however. It wasn't that different to a sports bra, really. She admired the way it altered her curves, changed them slightly, made her already lithe body even lither.
She slid her new clothes on next. She hadn't gotten a suit; she wanted something more casual, and besides, after everything, she didn't admire her father's clothes as she had when she was a girl. She didn't want to risk looking into the mirror, and seeing him instead of her mother. So instead she had purchased a pair of black slacks with a fine red shirt, one with gold trim at the cuffs. It was smart and professional, yet not overly casual. Wu had helped her pick them out, while they had discussed potential birthday presents for Mako. They didn't fit quite as nicely as any of her other outfits- she would need to get them tailored- but they still looked nice on her frame.
She pulled her usual, long black hair into a tight bun; it fit cosily into the wig. She adjusted it onto her head, until she was certain it would not slip off. It was black, though perhaps a few shades off her natural tone. It was amazingly detailed and realistic. The hair hung just belong her ears, handsomely dishevelled. She went to the mirror, staring at the familiar, but unfamiliar face that stared back at her. She smiled.
It was time to take a walk around the house, get a feel for it all.
It didn't feel particularly different, to be honest. But it still felt… nice. Right.
She was just settling into the couch in the living room, pulling over her laptop, and see if she might get some work done, when there was the rattle of keys at the door and Korra dragged herself in. "Home early!" she bellowed. "Tenzin had this unexpected meeting come up, so meditation was cut sh- oh." She stopped when she saw the stranger sitting on the couch. She cast her eyes around the room, checking to see if there was anyone else present. There wasn't. While she remained polite, one of her hands still curled into a fist- she had become understandably wary of random people showing up in her home, after so many various kidnapping and assassination attempt. "Hi. Um. Who're you?"
Asami stared at her girlfriend, face turning red. She opened her mouth, trying to find something to say. What came out was, "Uh. Hey!"
Korra's eyes went wide with recognition. She dropped her bag on the floor. The door swung shut behind her. "Asami?" she said.
She managed a sheepish smile.
Korra picked her way across the room with uncharacteristic hesitance, and came to sit on couch besides her. Sami slid her laptop back onto the coffee table, and looked at Korra, trying to ignore the strange lump that had formed in her throat. She tried to read the expression on Korra's face. It wasn't… unhappy. Or angry. Maybe confused, but-
"So," Korra said. "This is… new."
"Yeah," Asami agreed.
Korra smiled; not just with her mouth, but with her eyes, too. "New can be nice."
Asami bit her bottom lip. "Really?"
"Yeah. You look good. Hot. It suits you."
Korra leaned in, her lips brushing against hers. Asami didn't hesitate; she leaned into the embrace, feeling the familiar, safe warmth of Korra's lips and face and hands against her. Relief was burning in her chest, as were tears in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.
It wasn't a long kiss; they settled back down onto the couch not long later, cuddling quietly. Asami felt her girlfriend's muscular arms around her shoulders, and considered what to say next.
Korra was the one to speak first. "How long…?"
"This is the first time I, well. Actually put on the clothes. But I've been thinking about it for… a while, to be honest."
Korra looked at her, her blue eyes solemn and serious. "Why did you wait? Were you afraid that I'd-"
"No!" Asami said. "Well, not you, specifically! Just- you know. Everyone. Including me. I wasn't sure…"
She trailed off, but Korra must have understood, because she simply nodded.
There was a thoughtful silence, long but not uncomfortable, when Korra asked. "So…do you want me to use he/him, or…?"
Asami considered this. She- or he, perhaps- had been thinking about that a lot, privately. "Sometimes? I'd like to try it. See how it , this isn't a… constant, thing, I don't think. I still enjoy being a woman. I still enjoy wearing dresses, and putting on make-up-"
"Having the most perfect hair of any mortal who's ever existed," Korra teased.
Asami shoved against her playfully, and said, "Your words, not mine!"
But it was true. And Korra seemed to get it. Perhaps not the gender thing, specifically, but if there was anyone in the world who could understand wanting to be someone other than who you were supposed to be, even for just a little while, it would be her.
"I love you," Asami said, quietly.
"Me too," said Korra. "Whoever you want to be."
And then, about twenty seconds of cuddling later, she/ asked, "So, when you're dressed like this… should I call you Sammy? Sam Sam? Sammy-Sammy?"
"Don't you dare, Avatar!"
oOoOoOo
Author's Note: This is a birthday gift I wrote for my friend LadyRavenEye, though I hope you all enjoyed it as well.