It is way too hot here. And frankly, Korra finds it kind of absurd that she and Asami have wound up back at the Misty Palms Oasis. Finding a way out of the desert had been a pain and after all that genius work Asami had pulled off to keep them alive, they had to end up back here of all places.

And seriously, it is just oppressively warm—her Water Tribe blood just isn't cut out for this choking dry heat. To further prove her point, the ice in her juice was already beginning to melt despite having been served just minutes ago. She glances over to Asami: her friend is just sitting calm and cool and collected, running a finger down the side of her glass, cutting a smooth, clear line through the condensation.

Asami looks up and meets her eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just overheating a little.”

Korra shifts uncomfortably in her seat. She just hopes to Raava that she doesn’t smell. What if her pits stink? The shirt she’s wearing is sleeveless, which is great because again, it’s really hot … but what if Asami thinks she has BO? Asami never smells anything but good because she’s just always perfect (though sometimes, you can detect faint traces of gasoline and metal in her clothes, but Korra thinks that’s sort of badass).

“Hey, ladies, this seat taken?” A deep voice booms above them.

They both look up. A muscley man with a ridiculously pruned goatee and creepy smile stands over their table. Though he'd addressed both of them, he's very clearly interested only in Asami. At least judging from the way he's borderline leering at her.

“Can I get you a drink, beautiful?” Korra wants to sock this guy in his big dumb face. First, Asami already has a drink in front of her, thank you very much, and second, just ew, because she’s way out of your league, buddy.

Asami just smiles sweetly. “I already have one, thanks. My girlfriend here got it for me.” Korra nearly jumps when Asami loops an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.

The man doesn’t leave, just looks at the two of them a bit dumbfounded, which, she doesn’t really blame him, because just what in the flameo is going on right now?

Asami doesn’t move her arm. “My girlfriend,” she says slowly. “The Avatar.”

His eyes shift over to Korra. It must be her cue to glower or grunt or display some sort of possessive machismo posturing. So, she scowls intensely, trying to channel Mako’s grumpiest face (there are a lot of them and it takes her a while to settle on one).

“Al … right.” The man turns around and leaves.

Asami's grip on her shoulder relaxes. Korra does her best not to look disappointed

“Sorry about that—” Asami starts.

“You two are just so fricking cute!”

She and Asami both jump in their seats, startled. Now what?

This time it’s two people: Bolin’s weird Nuktuk fans from the other day.

“Nuktuk just has the coolest friends!” the man shouts, about two decibels too loudly.

The woman (Lily? Was that her name?) makes a strange cooing sound. “The Avatar and the Industrialist, wow. They should make a mover about you guys!”

Korra looks over to Asami who just coolly takes her hand in hers, weaving their fingers together. What? What. Was. Happening? Korra really isn’t sure why they're playing along with these two, but prays that Asami doesn’t notice how sweaty her hand is.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you to say,” Asami says, eyes twinkling. “Don’t you think so, babe?”

“Um, what?” She feels Asami’s hand tighten around hers before letting go. The loss of contact snaps her out of it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, that’s—thanks?”

The two weirdos continue to stand there fawning at them, so Korra tries her best to give them a smile. Right now, she could bet on her life that it probably looks more like a painful grimace. She’s never been good at faking stuff like this. And apparently, their new best friends are apparently too starstruck or dumb to tell the difference because they will just not leave.

“So dreamy! What do you two do for fun? What’s your ideal date like? Living in Republic City must be so, so exciting and romantic,” the man (Macau, was it?) gushes.

Asami leans forward and props her elbows on the table. “Oh, lots of things. Korra is just so thoughtful, sometimes she takes me out for ice cream sandwiches—you know, the fun ones that come in those fish-shaped waffles. Other times, we go on casual dates, just walking around the botanical gardens … holding hands, of course.”

Korra just stares at her, stupefied. Has Asami given this a lot of thought, or …? Maybe these are the kinds of dates she and Mako used to go on? Though, honestly, Korra just can’t imagine Mako eating ice cream, much less fun ice cream—something about that image just seems so wrong, like Lin Beifong enjoying a carousel ride. Or Tenzin playing hopscotch.

“And she takes me to this great lookout point near the bay because of how much I love the water,” Asami continues. “Did you know she gives me piggyback rides, too? I mean, look at how strong her arms are!”

Asami punctuates that last lie with a gentle squeeze around her bare bicep. Korra nearly squeaks in surprise. Yeah, wow, it is way too hot out here in the desert. That must be why her face feels so warm.

And she’s at a loss for words because, like, what is she even supposed to say to that? She’s always been crap at taking compliments. Also, what is up with people and her muscles today? First, Mako’s grandma and now Asami?

Before she knows it, she’s playing nervously with her own hair, tugging each ponytail on either side of her face again and again like she used to when she was a kid. Korra looks up to see Lily doing the same thing with her twin braids, mirroring her nervous tic with a dopey expression on her face.

Korra freezes. Now might be a good time to adopt a cuter nervous habit, like Asami’s cool hair flip or Mako’s trademark brooding brow pinch.

“Aw, well, we’ll leave you two love turtleducks to your date,” Macau says. Korra sighs in relief. “Tell Nuktuk we said hi!”

Once they’re out of sight, Asami laughs a little and turns to Korra. “Sorry about that. Bolin or Mako are usually my fake boyfriends whenever some weirdo tries to hit on me. So, thanks.”

“Um, no problem?” If Korra didn’t smell before, she definitely smelled now because she was sweating through her clothes.

Asami shrugs. “Sorry if that got weird. Bolin’s usually better at improvising and doing the whole macho thing. I’m not as good at making stuff up.”

“Oh,” is all she can manage to say. Korra wants to kick herself.

Still a nervous wreck, she looks over to Asami and—was she overheating, too? Because Korra swears she could have seen her turn red just now.

--

Even though it’s only been a few days, Asami is so glad to have Korra back in the city. Things are crazy, of course, what with the Earth Empire mess and Prince Wu nearly getting kidnapped, but in the few moments of downtime they’re able share, the dynamic between them feels so natural and easy, almost as if Korra had never left all those years ago.

Today’s one of those rare, quiet days, so when the Avatar suggests that they put their responsibilities on hold and spend some time downtown away from everyone else, Asami immediately and enthusiastically agrees.

Right now, they’re soaking in the spring sun as they enjoy a leisurely walk around Republic City’s impressively large botanical gardens, snacking on the koi-shaped waffles filled with red bean and ice cream that Korra had insisted on buying. So far, the day has been quite a treat and Asami can’t remember the last time she felt so content and so at ease.

“Good?”

She looks up to find bright blue eyes twinkling at her. Mid-bite, Asami brushes off a crumb from the side of her mouth.

“Mm,” she hums, nodding.

Korra smiles, satisfied. “Good.”

The flowers are in full bloom: tiny, delicate white blossoms, yellow-petaled trumpets with fuzzy red stamen, pretty little bells that are blue like Korra’s eyes. Looking at her now, Asami can sense something different about her friend. Other than the sharp-looking hair cut, of course. Throughout the day, the 21-year-old Avatar has been exuding a mature kind of calm, her demeanor displaying a quiet, steady strength.

“Hello, there.”

One of the gardeners approaches them, a young, handsome man wearing a slightly dirtied khaki jumpsuit. With the confidence typical of men his age, he flashes her a flirtatious smile, his brown eyes earnest and sweet. Asami says a polite hello.

“I get off work in an hour and you’re so beautiful that I was wondering …”

“Sorry, buddy,” Korra cuts in roughly. “She’s with me.”

A second later and Korra’s taken Asami’s hand and looped it under arm. Strange, Asami often did have the habit of taking her dates by the arm, but she’s never had it done for her before.

Korra is puffing up her chest and it’s a gesture both endearing and comical since she’s a good head shorter than the man she’s attempting to deflect. After a few uncomfortable seconds, the gardener mumbles an awkward apology and scurries off. Well, that was easy.

“Thanks for that,” she tells her, a little grateful. Asami notices Korra hasn’t released her arm. In fact, she’s placed a hand over hers, keeping it firmly in place.

“No problem,” she says, grinning. That goofy, adorable, lop-sided grin.

They continue walking. “I don’t know what the deal is lately. It’s been nonstop, even Wu … I thought dressing down and putting my hair up like this …” Asami says, motioning to her ponytail. It’s a little embarrassing, but her nervousness compels her to blather on and on and she can’t find a good reason to stop.

“… you know, all professional-like and boring. I thought it’d cut down on that kind of attention, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”

“I like your hair like that. It isn’t boring,” Korra tells her. “I mean, I liked how it was before, too! But pulled back, I can see more of your face or whatever.”

“Thanks,” Asami manages to say.

Still linked arm-in-arm, she privately hopes Korra doesn’t notice how warm she is. They make their way through the rest of the expansive gardens, passing under canopies of crawling ivy, weaving between lush green spirit vines, lingering in groves of lemon trees, sometimes pausing to touch a rose or two. When the sun begins to set, Korra announces that she’d like to see Yue Bay.

The sky is steeped in rich orange light by the time they reach the docks. The air smells of saltwater and drying seaweed, and fisherman have begun to bring their boats in for the night, looping rope fast around the iron dock cleats.

They pass by a little dinghy being pulled in by three young women. One of the sailors, tall and tattooed with a handsome brown face and close-cropped hair, calls out to them.

“Hey, you! Blue eyes!”

Korra looks around confusedly before pointing a finger to her own chest.

“Yeah, you! What’s your name? Why don’t you let me take you out for a pint, eh? What d’ya say?”

Korra just laughs goodnaturedly. “I’m good! Spoken for!” she shouts back, taking Asami by the hand.

“Aw,” the woman groans. “No luck. Well, come back if you change your mind!”

Asami bites down a shiver when she feels Korra’s thumb stroke lightly over her knuckles.

“Man, this haircut,” Korra says, hand still grasped firmly in hers. “People don’t really recognize me. It’s kind of nice.”

It takes all of Asami’s willpower not to reach over and play with said hair. The soft, brown locks are shining—almost glowing, really—under the warm rays of setting sun. Asami really, really wants to touch it, but since Korra’s conveniently seemed to forgotten that they’re still holding hands, she decides not to push her luck.

“Hey,” Korra says abruptly, jarring Asami from her thoughts. She squats down close to the ground, legs bent. “Get on.”

“Huh?”

“Um, just,” Korra sputters awkwardly. “Oh, here.”

She isn’t quite sure how, but Korra somehow manages to trip her from where she was standing, making her tumble messily over and onto her own crouched body—

And, with an embarrassingly loud yelp, Asami suddenly finds herself affixed to Korra’s back like a crazed monkey, arms draped over shoulders and clinging tight, her legs wrapped around her midsection, thighs gripped on either side by the Avatar’s very strong and very capable arms …

A piggyback ride, that’s what it’s called, that’s what’s happening right now. And Asami is frantic and excited all at once because she’s still not sure what’s going on except that Korra is running at full speed up a hill or cliff and very much giving her a piggyback ride that’s edging on terrifying because Asami is still a good deal taller than Korra and how exactly is she balancing her weight and proportions?

Then, just like that, they come to a stop and Korra lowers herself, gingerly letting her down. They’re both out of breath and laughing and that’s when Asami notices that they’re someplace very high up, the sparkling ocean far below them. This is a nice view: they’re standing at the perfect spot (a weathered wooden sign indicates they’re at La’s lookout point) at the perfect time, because now, the sun is almost done setting, leaving behind a breathtaking tapestry of color over the horizon.

When Korra joins her near the cliff’s edge, she takes her by the hand and Asami’s breath hitches a little. There isn’t anyone else around. They’re alone. So, why is Korra holding her hand exactly?

“Is there anything else you want to do today?” Korra asks, her voice soft and a bit shaky (is she nervous?).

Asami isn’t really sure what she means. “What’s that?”

“Um, well, years ago, the stuff you said you’d do on an ideal date …” Korra bites her lip and taps her foot at an anxious rhythm. “At Misty Palms? Like, was that really what you consider an ideal date? Because if there’re other things you want to do instead, we could—“

Finally, finally understanding, Asami smiles widely and tips Korra’s chin up with her hand. The Avatar is having a very hard time making eye contact and Asami can’t help but find it totally adorable.

“So, this was a date?”

Korra blushes. Hard. Bright red.

“Um, well, if you, uh—“ she stammers.

Time to throw caution to the wind and take the lead if the Master of the Four Elements was going to just stand there and blush like an anxious little dragonfly bunny.

“You know,” Asami says slyly, “Normally, I don’t kiss on the first date, but since you were so sneaky and I didn’t even know we were on one …”

As her words taper off, Asami tips Korra’s face farther up until they’re a whisper apart. Then, she bends down and gently draws their lips together. She can feel Korra smiling as they kiss—the tiniest, sweetest little movement.

When they pull apart, Korra whispers, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Asami breathes.

“… Do you really like my hair?”

Laughing, she winds her arms over Korra’s shoulders and sinks her fingers through the messy, soft locks, stroking them back until she reaches the downy soft hair on the nape of her neck.

“Hell yeah,” she says, winking. “It’s the snazziest.”