Most people assume Asami has soft hands. They look at her, at those perfect waves of ebony hair, at those stunning jade eyes, at that unblemished cream skin, the lithe, curvy figure, and they assume someone who looks like that must have soft hands. A lady's hands. And if Asami were anyone else, they would be right. She has long, slender fingers and a steady grip that easily manage fine details. But people often forget she's an engineer. Her hands work with tools and machines, covered in grease. Either that or she's at her desk, drawing up schematics, hands smudged with graphite. They're rough with calluses and little cuts, pale scars you wouldn't notice unless she let you examine them.
Only Korra's allowed to see her hands that closely. She can trace her fingertips over all those secret scars. She knows them by heart. Only Korra can scowl at the new blisters and burns and insist on healing them. That doesn't mean Asami complies easily. But there's something peaceful about watching Korra, so calm and focused, something mesmerizing in the way she moves her hand to bend water around hers. She loves Korra's hands.
And Korra loves Asami's hands. They're proof that Asami can create things, fix things, make the world a better place. They're part of who she is, evidence of her intelligence, creativity, and passion. They have history. Hers is a story of accidents, loss, and betrayal, but also of love, hope, and triumph.
When their hands touch, the world fades into the background. Everything feels lighter, easier. Because Korra has rough hands too.
A/N: I was watching YouTube videos of a lady who builds stuff (the "Darbin Orvar" channel - it's pretty cool and you should check her out!) and started thinking about how relaxing and immersive it is to watch people work with their hands. Then I started thinking about hands. And this happened.