This may or may not be finished. But it was written for lulz. :D I also have more ideas that, maybe, I'll try to shove into the next chapter...all at once. :I Hopefully. We'll see.
xxx
In a drearier part of Republic City - where trash wasn't picked up at seven o'clock, on the dot, every Monday - a rather curvy figure glanced up and down the dirty street, before ducking into a dilapidated building. Anyone would have known the young woman's name, and her title, had they seen her face to face. However, any of her friends or family would be amiss as to why she was in the slums, let alone why she looked so agonizingly serious.
As the Avatar ascended the stairs, her steps careful and planned as if she knew where the weak boards lay, she ignored the stank of stale piss and rat-spider droppings. Her nose wrinkled and she tugged the dark scarf she wore - presumably for anonymity's sake - up over her nose and mouth. Even after so many trips, the stench still bothered. Finally, reaching the landing, she wandered down the hall, walking quietly. Through the paper-thin walls, marital problems, drug deals, and underhanded plots peppered the corridor with a muddled cacophony of ne'er-do-well-ing.
A4, A5, A9. Here. She stopped and knocked, crossing her arms as she patiently waited as the floorboards creaked beneath her shifting weight. Thirty seconds, a minute, a minute and a half. Agitation began to quirk her lips just as a deep voice replied, on the other side of the door, "Who is it?"
"It's me."
"Me, who?"
"No games." Snarled the young woman. The door cracked a peek and she pushed her way through, passed the man who towered over her. She wandered further into the apartment, eyebrows furrowing into a 'v' as the occupant closed the door behind her. The furniture was moved from their designated dips in the carpet; dust had been cleaned off all the surfaces; even a scent of strawberry-lemon hung in the air. Turning, the young woman caught the man's bashful expression, "Did you get bored?"
"I was stuck here all day, what else was I supposed to do?" The man bristled, fists clenched as rage flickered in his light blue eyes.
"Read a book, expand my mind. I certainly don't want my poor brain turning to mush in your hands." Her blue eyes traveled up and down the man, her nose wrinkling, "Or maybe not. The sort of drivel you'd choose would rot my brain faster than no stimulation at all."
"Why're you acting like such a dick? It's not like I chose this!" The man snarled, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he motioned to himself with a savage sweep of the arm, "It's not like I just suddenly decided we should switch bodies!"
"Spirits know I have no ability to do such a thing. You are - or were - the Avatar," The woman growled, a dark look pinching her face, "So the fault lies with you. Whatever happened to us is the result of yourr ignorance or your ties to the Spirit World."
"Why is everything always my fault?" Korra - in Amon's body - cried out, hands moving wildly. Her body - in which Amon resided - tensed, ready to react to any aggressive action. Korra conveyed exasperation more than anything else, "The oppression of non-benders, blame the Avatar. Daddy lost his bending to the prior Avatar, blame the current one! A freakin' fly-gnat dies; Oh, it's the Avatar's fault, flay her alive! The former Equalist leader and the Avatar switch bodies? It's all her fault, obviously!"
Korra let out an enraged half-roar, fingers flexing as she stormed away from Amon, toward the kitchen. Amon listened to her stomps as she padded across the linoleum, in his feet, and simply stood still in the living room. A sour expression curled over his face - well, Korra's face - as he stared at the spot where his body had once been. It was unsettling, watching the expressions Korra could contort his features into and seeing how her animated body language transferred into his physical being. A grown man shouldn't make those sort of faces or act like that. It was a ding in his pride. Then again, it wasn't as if he was going painfully out of his way to act like the bratty teenager Korra tended to be in private.
Granted, Amon felt a little swell of guilt in his chest over upsetting his companion in turmoil. Or maybe he was just awkwardly realizing - yet again - that he was hauling a sizeable set of assets around. Letting out a snort, Amon shook the thought from his head, before it took root, and trudged toward the kitchen.
xxx
In the kitchen, the table was laden with whatever Korra could manage to put together from the scant ingredients in the pantry. Most of everything was canned or sealed in a plastic bag, so nothing would taste as good as her mother's cooking. Nervous energy gave Korra the need to do something, however. She had slaved over the food for hours, cursing Amon for becoming a renowned terrorist. She couldn't switch bodies with Mako or Bolin or creepy Tahno? It had to be Amon? A man who's face was so well known, and whose crimes had be answered for should he be caught?
Korra just wanted to punch something. Anything. In fact, a wall in Amon's bedroom had a few nice, new dents in it for that sole whim. She doubted he'd notice, though. The apartment was a sty, the building should've been condemned. Then again, Amon was master of observation. He'd probably note it and yell at her for it.
She hunched her humongous shoulders and pouted as she removed a kettle of tea from the burner. Turning, Korra almost dropped the teapot, seeing herself - well, Amon - sitting at the small table behind her. With only two chairs, a multitude of scratches, and a book stabilizing a leg, the table was nothing more than a place to eat. It wasn't like Tenzin's dining table; it wasn't warm or inviting or where things of importance were discussed.
Amon sat stick-straight, watching her with a cocked eyebrow and an impassive expression.
She would never get over how different her body looked with his personality attached to it. It almost reminded her of Lin.
"While the desire may be great, Avatar, please don't fatten me up."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Korra tried to keep the frost from her tone, but failed.
"Women naturally hold more fat than men. The price for aesthetic curves, it seems," Off-handed and blunt, he didn't even notice her tone. Korra wasn't sure if the man even realized hew as being offensive. Or was she simply being overly sensitive? This particular scenario wasn't really in the lesson plans she grew up with. She was at a total loss, which agitated her. "However, being of a more mature generation, I'd kindly appreciate my health being kept up."
"All this food isn't for me."
Amon cocked an eyebrow, as if to say 'What?'
"You said you were coming back. My body gets hungry, so I feed it," Korra set down a plate she had fixed in front of Amon and gently set the hot teapot onto a coaster, "You know, us fat women need food."
Amon's gaze flickered from Korra, to the food, and back to Korra. His eyebrows quirked into a 'v', trying to make sense of the nicety that he didn't even earn. This time, he caught Korra's frosty tone and the trigger word. 'Fat'. Spirits be damned, had he really made that sort of mistake? Women didn't condone the three-lettered 'F' word.
"When I said not to fatten my body up, I did not-"
"Whatever. Just eat." Her terse words and her sharp turn away as she fixed her own plate made a prickle of guilt shoot through Amon.
Pursing his lips - nay, Korra's lips - Amon glared at the broad back that was once his before turning to his food. Tactically, he decided it was better to give in now than to fight with the pride-wounded Korra.
xxx
"Are you going to stay?"
The question made Amon pause in the apartment doorway. He glanced over his shoulder at his body, with is hunched shoulders and a half-blush clawing at his cheeks. Had they been in their rightful bodies, he may have found the reaction somewhat endearing. Instead, he fought down his own disgust while trying to keep his tone light and curious, "What?"
"It's lonely here." Korra wouldn't meet his eyes as a pout tugged at her borrowed lips. She tugged at the hem of her shirt, feeling embarrassed and ashamed, "I don't know how you could stand to be alone."
"Typically, I'm not a homebody. I had things to do, as you know." Amon pointed out, arms crossed over the ample chest he sported. With a pinched expression, he attempted to figure out the best way to alleviate this situation. Perhaps they could learn more about each other's private personalities if they spent time together. But, truly, he just wanted to get back to Air Bender island and go to bed. The day had been taxing and stressful and tomorrow was bound to be the same, "I'm exhausted, Korra, and if I mus-"
Korra turned her gaze to him and he faltered. Such a kicked puppy-cat expression, so pitiful and pathetic. He almost forget he was looking at his own face.
His mouth snapped shut, eyes finding somewhere else to look. One night wouldn't hurt, right? As long as that sorry expression left his rightful face.
"-if I must pretend to be you, perhaps I should be more open to interaction." He finished, though those weren't his originally chosen words. Amon braved glancing back at Korra, nearly flinching as a broad grin crossed over her - his - face.
Relief dotted across his features and his eyes seemed to be brighten from Korra's emotions, "Thank you, Amon!"
"You're welcome." He replied, softly, before finding his gruff edge again, "Now stop making my face look like that."
"Like what?"
"Like a stupid lovestruck teenage girl. It's disgusting to see my face contorted with such expressions." He wrinkled his nose as the words oozed out with distaste.
"What!" She nearly roared, shoulders tensing and fists clenched. Amon paid her no mind as he headed deeper into his apartment, wondering what Korra might've nosed through in his absence. He couldn't help the amused grin that curled at his - no, her - lips. Behind him, Korra sputtered outraged insults as she followed him around the small apartment.
xxx
I know, I know, ANOTHER fanfiction? REALLY, RYUKI?
;n; sorry.