Disclaimer: I do hereby disclaim all rights and responsibilities for the characters in this collection. Kudos to Bryke, indeed.
Word Count: 2,230
Author's Notes: 4/7/13. Still having too much fun.
Gifted To: miilehlo
That one night
Korra was Tahno's knight in shining armor.
… or when Tahno spilled his coffee. (Part II)
"Fuck," he repeated. Hot! Fucking—hot!
"Holy—yikes, Tahno! What the hell are you doing over there?"
Tahno sent a scathing glare toward his intern; the last person he needed assistance from was his assistant. "No concern of yours," he muttered moodily under his breath.
"Look at you," Korra commented with a sigh, leaning down to examine his ruined shirt.
"What the—" he exclaimed, swatting away her hand from the lapel of his shirt. "How the hell did you move so—?
"Figures," she interrupted, rocking back onto her heels. "Only you could spill your coffee out of a to-go cup."
Funny, he glared. That might have been something he might have normally said about her, "Yeah, well," he grumbled, futilely trying to dab at the stains with a stray napkin. "They sure as hell don't make 'em like the used to."
"What?" Korra laughed. "The shirts? Or coffee cups?"
He considered this, shrewdly eyeing the brown splotches seeping into the threads. "Both."
"Whatever," she smirked, crossing her arms and watching him attempt a fool's task. "You should write a scathing letter, demanding that they bring back the glory products from the olden' times of your youth."
Tahno scowled. He wasn't that old.
"Yes, I'll be sure to do that, what with all the copious free time I have at my disposal."
"Well, I hope you have enough free time to buy another shirt, because that one is beyond all hope. And of all the days, too."
"It's fine," he snapped, digging deeper with the napkin.
Korra didn't look so sure. "Fine enough for that meeting you have with Tenzin in twenty minutes?"
"What meet—oh, fuck."
"That's what I thought," Korra sighed in exasperation. "That's what I called over to you for in the first place, to remind you that you're meeting with my godfather and his associate to go over your conference notes because, of course, you'd never remember yourself."
"Fuck," Tahno spat, staring down at the taut fabric beneath his fingertips. He couldn't meet with his supervisor looking like this! "Of all the days—"
"Already said so."
He rounded on her, eyes fierce. "Not helping, intern."
"Well, what am I supposed to do? Don't you have any spare shirts laying around somewhere? Your car, maybe?"
"Why the hell would I pack extra clothes for work?"
"I don't know—for clumsy shit like this!"
"I am not clumsy!"
"Tell that to your shirt!"
Tahno's scowl deepened; he was only wasting time. His hands ran through the waves in his hair, clutching them tightly in an effort to curtail the full-out rage he could feel blooming. He rose quickly, pacing the floor behind his desk. "I mean, it'd be one thing if it were just Tenzin," he mumbled to himself, thinking out loud. "But he's bringing the department head with him—"
"Wait. Who's the department head?"
His grimace turned rueful. "Well, technically, it's this guy who studies paralysis, but... He's under investigation for some sketchy business with the physical therapy department, and the interim just happens to be his brother."
"Who's his—"
"Tarrlok," Tahno groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "The creepy guy with the rats."
"Tarrlok?" she exclaimed. "From the blood lab?"
"He got a promotion this semester, and he's already started making changes in the department," he said shortly, digging even deeper into the drying splotches. "Ridiculous changes. Stupid, asinine, illogical changes."
"You've never gotten along?" she guessed.
"He's always had it out for me," he defended. Or accused. He couldn't be sure which.
"Well, what are you going to do?" Korra asked nervously, beginning to understand the urgency of the situation. "That guy is so—so particular! And he's such a stickler for professionalism, too! He's gonna take one look at your shirt and flat-out deny your conference proposal without ever looking at what you've written, because he's not gonna want a slob representing the—"
"I know!" he snapped. "Believe me, I know. I got it. Dammit," he growled, nearly tearing the napkin to shreds as it uselessly slid over the completely dry fabric. "I'm fucked."
"Wait! Ow," Korra suddenly exclaimed, ramming her hip into the corner of the wood in her rush to make it to the other side of the desk. "Hold on—I've got it!"
"What? You've got another men's dress shirt stowed away somewhere in that backpack—"
Before he could process what she was doing, Korra was up against him, colliding into his chest from the force of her momentum, and as he stumbled back, his hands immediately reached out to steady her, lest they both fall. Still a little thrown off-guard, Tahno glowered down at the girl in his arms and accused, "Your clumsiness is fucking conta—"
Tahno's words promptly disappeared, however, for Korra—once steady—had lifted her hands to his collar, and wrenched it apart.
"What the—what the hell are you doing?" Tahno hissed, immediately shooting a glance to the lobby down the hall. In an unusual stroke of luck, he'd left the blinds closed this afternoon. "Seriously," he insisted, grabbing her hands away from the remains of his shirt; she'd already torn off three buttons when she'd ripped it open. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"You can't wear this," Korra reminded him, before making quick work of undoing the buttons near his waist; she didn't even seem to notice that his fingers were still wrapped around her wrists. He watched in shocked fascination as her fingers traveled lower, brushing along his stomach as she finished the job. He hoped she didn't notice how hard he'd swallowed.
"Right," Tahno said slowly, watching as she fumbled with the final button. She ducked her head down to take a closer look, and Tahno used the opportunity to regain his composure. He lifted his head to the ceiling and took a deep, normalizing breath. "So what," he sniped, still focusing on the ceiling, and not on the activity at his hips. His fingers wouldn't let go. "You propose I greet Tarrlok in a beater?"
"Nope," Korra said simply, quickly rising. Tahno reflexively glanced down, coming face-to-face with his intern, where he was met with a pointed look. She shook her wrists free, and as his hands floated down to his sides, she eased her fingers under the fabric at his shoulders and slipped the ruined shirt down to his elbows, revealing the beater that he'd previously mentioned. That, at least, had been safe from the caffeine invasion—thanks to its being black—but he didn't really see how she thought that was going to be of any use, beyond pretending to be impervious to coffee stains or—
"Whoah," he resisted, leaning back away from her proximity. "What are you—?"
"Well, it's not exactly like you're helping!" she snapped, gesturing down to where he stood mostly-stiff while she was trying to free his arms from his long sleeves.
This seemed like the perfect time for a snarky comment—you know, I can't say that this is how I would have imagined you undressing me—but the words felt stuck in his throat.
"I hope you don't make Asami work this hard, goddamn."
Tahno's scowl returned, full-fledged, just as she tore the other cuff of his sleeve from his wrist, leaving him significantly less-dressed than when he'd first entered the lab two hours ago. She crumpled the shirt into a pitiful ball of fabric and tossed it in the trash beneath the desk. "Hey!" he protested. "That was—whoah, hey."
Korra reached down to the hem of her horrendous, oversized red hoodie, and pulled.
"Whoah, no, what—wait, what—"
"Quick," she urged him breathlessly, ponytail askew from the ferocious removal of her sweatshirt. He looked at her like she was crazy. "C'mon," she snapped impatiently. "Put it on."
Oh, hell no! "Absolutely not," he ground out, with more anger than the situation probably warranted. "There is no way in hell—"
"This isn't really the time to be worrying about a fashion statement, Tahno!"
"That is actually precisely why we are worrying and—wait, where the hell is your shirt?"
"I'm wearing one!"
"You call that a shirt?"
"I call it a beater, thank you. Just like you do," she argued, roughly shoving the hoodie into his stomach. Tahno's eyes flew across the sight before him, taking in the small ridges of the white fabric, the low-sweeping slope of the neckline, the barest traces of a bra peeking out from beneath the straps—black—and swallowed.
"What happened to the t-shirts?" he asked dryly, pushing the sweatshirt back. Granted, he'd only seen one—t-shirt! One t-shirt!—but it was far more preferable to the despicable garment currently in his hands; and besides, she should have been supporting her new school, and it was about time somebody told her to buy some frickin' blue.
"You know the drill," she quipped, and then boldly gave him a wink. "Fewer layers."
Tahno was speechless, but Korra didn't stay long for victory; she used his moment of loss to secure the bundle in his arms and flee to the other side of the room, where she immediately picked up her coat and scooped up the remainder of the day's paperwork.
"Do not tell me that's for that vapid moron's benefit!"
"Well, it's not exactly for Asami's."
"Wait," he called, as soon as he was able to resume normal functioning. His brain was about to shut down from overload. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"Tarrlok's not supposed to know that I'm into biology. I chose you instead, remember?" she told him with a sigh. Her dark shoulders disappeared beneath a black winter coat. "I've got to get out of here before they arrive, which will be any minute now, so put on the damn hoodie!"
"You think this is more professional than a coffee-stained dress shirt?" he demanded, holding it at arms' length. "The atrocious undergrad sweatshirt of my supervisor's goddaughter? Tell me—in what part of your brain did this make sense to you?"
"Look," Korra marched over to him, now fully packed. She looked him straight in the eye, even though her gaze should have been level with his collarbone. He couldn't help but notice—at least, from what he could tell—that it didn't seem to make a speck of difference to her that his arms were exposed, or that the definition of his chest was clear, plain for all to see— "Tenzin is observant, but he's not gonna call you out on anything in front of somebody else; Tarrlok probably doesn't remember shit about your undergrad experience, and although he's not gonna be a huge fan of your attire, it'll probably be a hell of a lot better than any of your other options. And in a matter of moments, they're both going to be walking through that door! You have a completely ruined dress shirt in the trash bin, and you have a perfectly good sweatshirt in your hands—well, okay, it's mostly clean—so, really, it's up to you, but either way, I'm outta here."
"Wait!—you can't just—"
"Good luck, Professor Tight-Pants!" she whisper-called as she slipped out through the door, leaving him sort of-shirtless in his own lab. "I'll text you later to check-in!"
Tahno watched the door close, looked down to the loathsome red sweatshirt in his hands, and scowled.
"Well done, Tahno," Tenzin complimented, as soon as Tarrlok was out of earshot. He'd needed to step out to make a call, so it was anyone's guess for how long it would take. "Even Tarrlok is impressed in spite of himself."
Involuntarily, Tahno released a sigh of relief. "Will it meet the approval requirements?"
"Easily," Tenzin assured him. "However, there is one more detail I would like to discuss with you."
Unease reigned. "Yes?" Tahno asked steadily.
"Forgive me if I'm mistaken," he began, and then his eyes dropped in a subtle glance toward the red hooded sweatshirt Tahno wore. "But I could have sworn you attended a public school near the swamps."
"That's correct, sir."
"Ah," Tenzin said slowly, while Tahno internally cursed the day he even requested an intern in the first place. "Yes. Yes, I thought so. You see, it's interesting because I couldn't help but notice your attire; I know that my goddaughter attended that very university. She's very proud of her alma mater."
"I'm sure she is," he agreed, not entirely able to keep out a hint of bitterness. Tenzin's eyes turned amused, and Tahno felt more like a fool than ever. To Tahno's surprise, Tenzin looked meaningfully toward the wadded-up shirt in the trash; he smiled good-naturedly, lips quirking with understanding, but that did not make Tahno feel any better.
"Do I want to know?" he asked warily.
Tahno shook his head slowly; he told himself that his swallow wasn't a gulp.
"No, sir."
End Note: But seriously, I'm having way too much fun. If you want to request some more "let's put Tahno and Korra in really uncomfortable and awkward situations with too much unresolved sexual tension" prompts, then please feel free to leave them in a review! The more, the merrier. ;)
