Korrasami month 2015

Asami rubbed at her temples, trying to banish the headache. If she had to deal with one more condescending sleazebag today she was probably going to scream. The possession of a Y chromosome was not in fact integral to the process of running a company, but it’d be a cold day in hell before any of the idiots she had to work with would accept that. She wasn’t sure if they knew she could hear the comments they made under their breath or not. She wasn’t sure which she’d prefer. She knew she’d quite like a drink, but apparently that wasn’t the done thing for a respectable woman to do in the middle of the working day. Her father had got through a decanter a week in meetings alone, but perish the thought she have as much as a sip to get her through the day.

“Miss Sato?”
Asami dragged herself back into the present. The secretary was hovering at the door, arms full of yet more paperwork. She waved the woman in.
“Have you ever heard of an establishment called the called the White Kite, Jin?”
The woman froze in the act of setting down the sheets.
“Why do you ask?”
“Something that absolute wanker said on his way to the door. It is a local establishment then?”
“Yes, Miss Sato. Only it’s not the sort of place a respectable lady like yourself should think of visiting.”
“Respectable ladies sit at home and knit socks, Jin, I run a company and an engineering company at that. I don’t generally count as respectable.”
“Even still, miss. It isn’t a place for respectable folk.”

Asami leaned back in her chair, studying the woman.
“Jin, I do wish you’d explain a little more fully.”
The woman looked torn.
“It’s not...” she swallowed. “It’s a place for those ladies, like the ones you hired for the welding floor? That sort of folk?”
“It’s a welders’ pub?” Asami asked, nonplussed. Jin was nearly sweating from the effort of trying to convey such delicate information to her employer.
“No, miss. You know why those ladies were looking for work, why they didn’t have any references? All...unmarried...and such?”
The penny dropped with a loud clang.
“There’s a place like that in the city?” Asami asked, in a tone of surprise that might just have passed for shock.
“Oh yes, miss. There’s all sorts in this wretched city.”
“So it would seem.” Asami said thoughtfully.

It wasn’t like she could just go down to the shop floor and ask. That would be entirely too simple. Thankfully Asami had other means at her disposal.

“So good to see you again,” Asami smiled as Mako took a seat, unbuttoning his jacket as he did so. It was rather severe, even for a detective, but it suited him better than a constable’s uniform.
“It’s been far too long.”
“Mako...this isn’t...”
“This is two old friends meeting for lunch,” he said, and Asami breathed a sigh of relief. Their breakup had been less than amicable, and at least a part of her had feared that Mako would think they were having a third shot at things. They ordered, making small talk, until Mako said, quite politely, “So what was it you needed?”
He chuckled as Asami gaped like a fish. “it’s quite alright, Asami. Any excuse to meet with friends is a welcome one. Hopefully the next will be purely for pleasure rather than business?”
“Of course,” Asami promised. She chose her words carefully. “There are rumours reaching me from the shop floor and I wanted to run them by someone trustworthy and discrete before they got out of hand.”
“Well we seem to be rather short on those. Will I do?”
“I think so.” Asami smiled. “Mako, what do you know of an establishment known as the White Kite?”

Mako stared at her, a slightly uncomfortable scrutiny that made Asami want to look away. It was Mako who broke eye contact first.
“I know the place.”
He took a sip of water, mulling it all over. “There are some who would call it a den of iniquity, vice and sin and demand that I storm it this very evening with a dozen of my most unforgiving officers and haul off anyone I found within to the cells. I’ve seen dens of iniquity, however. The place is licensed, orderly, causes no trouble and pays no money to any triad. They hurt no one. The law they allegedly,” he stressed the word, “break, is one without a victim. There are ten thousand things in this city I would tackle before I even thought to make an issue of the Kite and its patrons. Asami, I’d advise you to simply turn a blind eye and deaf ear, though that is of course up to your own conscience.”
There was something in his smile that suggested he hadn’t bought her pretext at all. 

It took Asami a few days to work up the courage. Three times she almost made it to the door. Once she’d nearly grasped the handle, but every time she’d turned back. Not tonight. She squared her shoulders in the foggy gloom, wrenched open the door, and walked in. She stopped dead. Whatever she’d been expecting, whatever this place had done to gain its infamous reputation, she hadn’t expected this. It was just so...normal.

Asami saw polished wood and gleaming brass fittings, bottles on racks and hand pumps. She forced herself to walk forward through what was, for the time of day, a moderate crowd. Not one person gave her a second glance but she still itched to pull her hat over her face, to turn and run. She made it to the bar before her knees folded, sitting down on a high stool. The barman was facing away, cleaning up something on the back bar For all the rumour he was very respectfully dressed; crisp, well fitted white shirt, (very well fitted, Asami thought, admiring how it accentuated rather than flaunted his well-muscled back) and suspenders, though his hair was rather long for a man, pulled back into a short wolftail. Asami swallowed, apparently loud enough for him to hear. He turned, revealing a black tie at his throat. Only it wasn’t a barman. It wasn’t a ‘he’ at all.
“Hi there,” she gave Asami a crooked grin. “What can I get for you?”
Asami just stared. The barwoman, it seemed ridiculous to call her a barmaid, just smiled more broadly, leaning against the bar. Asami couldn’t help notice the shift, and the corresponding flex of her biceps against the shirt. “First time? It’s ok. Just breathe, and if you do get overwhelmed and run out screaming please just try not to break anything on the way.”
“uh...I...drink?” Asami managed, and immediately wanted to crawl in a hole, but the barwoman just smiled.
“Sure. What’ll it be? We’ve got quite a range...”
“Whiskey.” At least that was a question Asami could handle. The woman nodded. “Single malt, if you’ve...”
Asami followed the woman’s gaze to an entire shelf of whiskeys. Oh yes. Den of iniquity be damned, she was going to like this place.
“Do you like it smoky?”
Asami nodded. The woman sized up the bottles, reached for one, reconsidered and fetched another down.
“Sixteen years old, and as smoky as hell’s chimney. Ice?”
“No, thank you.”
The woman poured a very generous measure of the amber liquid, and then a second for herself. Asami decided not to question it. She accepted the glass, taking a sniff. It smelled divine. 
“How much do I owe?”
“You don’t.”
Asami’s brow creased. “But...”
The woman waved her objections away. “First one is free. On account of the sheer brass balls it takes to walk through those doors,” she indicated them quite unnecessarily, “without knowing what’s on the other side.”
“I think I like this policy.” Asami held up her glass and the barwoman clinked her glass against it.
“My name’s Korra. Welcome to the White Kite, miss...?”
“Call me Asami.”
The crooked grin was back.
“Very nice to meet you, Asami.”

With the first drink slowly warming her veins Asami felt confident enough to swivel and survey the other customers. It still just looked normal. There more women in the bar than might be normal, and the ratios of the little groups did not fit the norm, but that was all. It was almost disappointingly decent.  Korra seemed amused by all this. Or maybe she just smiled a lot.

Another member of staff joined Korra behind the bar as the crowd began to build, chatting easily with the customers. Her hair, tied back in a ponytail, was grey, but for that and a few lines she could have been thirty. The pair had clearly worked with each other for quite some time, and Asami found herself wondering if they were just that, a pair, despite the age difference. Up until Korra made a joke about the other woman, Kya, working so slowly that she was behaving more like her grandmother than her aunt, and took a retaliatory but good natured thwack from a coiled tea towel for the remark. Some trick of fate made Korra turn Asami’s way, still laughing, and catch her eye, and Asami felt her smile broadening. The knot in her stomach was easing by the moment. Or at least it was, until she turned her head slightly and saw the figure that had entered the bar. Her stomach did not just knot. It dropped. She knew that scarred face. The whole city did. The chief of police had entered the building and was making a line straight for the bar.

Asami scanned around the room but she couldn’t see an exit, nowhere to hide. Her first night, her first stinking night, and she was going to be caught. She tried to come up with some excuse but nothing was coming to mind. She saw Korra look her way and frown, evidently spotting her distress but not the danger at hand. Lin Beifong reached the bar, not three feet from Asami, and reached across, seizing Kya’s tie. Asami braced herself as Kya leaned over...and kissed her. Asami gaped.
“Evening, Chief,” Korra nodded. “Do you mind not scaring the shit out of the new punters, if you’d be so kind?”
Lin glanced sideways. She didn’t look surprised in the slightest to see Asami, still white faced, clutching her glass so tightly she was in danger of shattering it.
“Leave me some fun, kid,” she said. “Usual.” Her face softened. “And one for miss seen-a-ghost over there.”
Kya got the drinks, pouring for herself and Korra as well. Korra crossed over to Asami, gently removing the glass from her grip with surprisingly soft hands.
“You’re ok here,” she promised. “We can be ourselves here, without fear.”
“Big promise.”
There was a glint in Korra’s eye.
“I’ve kept it so far.”
And then she was called back up the bar to toast with Kya and Lin.

It was a over a week before Asami returned to the Kite. A week full of thoughts of sapphire eyes and an easy smile. She thought of the welders and sent out a memo to the foremen of certain shifts, chosen after careful review of the personal files, telling them to announce that, given the current workload, Future Industries would be taking on more staff and that there would be a reward for every referral that ended in a hiring. Asami was slightly too pleased by the look on Jin’s face as she tried to explain that this would certainly end up with more of those ‘unmarried’ types arriving at the factory.

The memory of Korra’s grin was nothing to the real thing when Asami pushed through the door that evening.

Her visits started getting more and more frequent, the snatches of conversation growing longer. Korra would sling her towel over her shoulder, leaning on the gleaming bar, and they’d talk until Kya interrupted to remind Korra that there were other customers at the bar waiting to be served.  

One night she came in to find music playing, and couples dancing together in a way they wouldn’t have dreamt of trying in any other establishment. Asami stopped to enjoy the sight, and then Kya shoved Korra into her. Korra barely caught her before she hit the floor. It took a moment for Korra to set her back on her feet, stammering apologies and blushing adorably, her usual cocky swagger very, very absent.
“Tell you what,” Asami smiled. “I’ll forgive you, for a dance.”
“That seems only fair.”
Asami was only too happy to let Korra to take her by the arm. “I should warn you, I’ve got two left feet.”

She really didn’t. Asami could have danced with Korra all night, in that slightly chaotic tangle of people, finding herself entirely too close to the woman, paying entirely too much attention to how she moved. Her hips moved far more than was decent but in this company who was going to complain? Every step they took was indecent. Every moment. So they might as well enjoy it, until Korra was called away because Kya was getting swamped at the bar.   

Asami stayed until the bar was empty, talking as Korra and Kya tided up. She didn’t miss the glance that passed between the two, the slight reddening of Korra’s cheeks. She came up to Asami’s stool.
“You know, we’re closed down here. But, um, if you fancied another drink...I’ve got a bottle upstairs.”
Asami looked up into big, blue, nervous eyes, and managed to nod.

Their first kiss was in Korra’s cluttered kitchen and it tasted of whiskey. It was soft and slow and gentle, and when Asami stepped back she hit the chair with the back of her knee and folded down onto it.
“Easy there,” Korra laughed.
“Your fault, making my head spin,” Asami pretended to grumble, and reached up to grab Korra’s tie, pulling her back within her reach.

It was only when Kya went thumping up the stairs past the flat that they broke apart again. Asami checked her watch and was shocked to see how late it had gotten.
“I should go.”
If Korra was disappointed by that she didn’t show it. She walked her down to the door, giving her directions to the taxi rank.
“I’d walk with you, but...”
She didn’t need to say it. She knew the risks in just coming to a place like this. She didn’t need to make it any worse. “I’ll see you soon?”
Asami kissed her.
“Of course.”

It was growing increasingly hard for Asami to not dropkick Jin out of her office. Apparently there had been more complaints about that group of welders. Namely that the group was growing in size, and that one had kneed another worker in the testicles for getting handsy in the factory bar after work. Asami had been idly wondering how to give them a raise for, albeit accidentally, pointing her in the direction of the bar and Korra, and the new accusations were pushing those thoughts beyond idle. The man in question had already been sacked. The foreman of the shift, the culprit’s uncle, had tried to defend his nephew but Asami had just stared at him until his excuses died in the back of his throat, told him to spread the word that such actions would not be tolerated, and sent him away with his tail firmly between his legs.

When Asami arrived at the bar that night things were a little different. For one thing much of the furniture had been overturned. Korra was sat on one of the chairs that was still the right way up with a rather large whiskey in front of her and a small knot of women around her. Her tie was gone, hair messed up, and she was holding a damp towel to a swelling lip. She looked up as Asami entered and the momentary concern in her eyes was immediately replaced with joy.
“Asami!”
“What happened?” Asami glanced round, seeing the glitter of broken glass on the floor, and blood on Korra’s knuckles.
“My fault,” said one of the young women sat by Korra, and Asami tried not to feel too jealous of how close she was to Korra. “My father...Well...”
“Was an ass,” another supplied. “Same old, same old. Like he didn’t cut Mei off two years ago when he caught us.”
“He cut you off?”
“And threw me out of the house until I promised I’d ‘got over this nonsense’” Mei grimaced. “Then he told my old boss about what a ‘deviant’ I was and there goes that job, and the rest of the girls too. Thankfully Future Industries was expanding on we’d all be up the crapper.”
Asami tried not to meet Korra’s eyes. The grin was threatening to split her lip further. Mei continued. “Honestly, I half think Sato’s onto us. I’m surprised she isn’t printing recruitment posters in rainbow colours!”
One of her companions looked less convinced.
“You really think she does anything with the day to day? Probably just sits up in her office and does...what do rich people even do? I doubt she even knows we exist.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Korra said lightly, not looking away from Asami’s reddening face.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” Asami whispered as the crowd went up to the bar. Korra raised one eyebrow.
“Given my both my occupation and orientation, why exactly would you think I’d be one for outing people?”
Asami had to admit that she had a point. Korra stood up a little gingerly, one hand going to her ribs.
“Ladies, gentlemen, valued guests and people who just snuck in to use the lavatories,” there was a little snigger from the patrons. “It would seem Mr Fen has done a good job of clearing our dance floor. I suggest we use it.” She turned to Asami, bowing low. “Miss Sato, might I have this dance?”
Asami stared at her, at the offered hand with its bloody knuckles, wondering if Korra had gone mad. But then, she reasoned, when the whole world was against you, maybe you should take any opportunity to dance. She took it. And a few hours later that hand led her once more up the stairs to Korra’s flat. But it was Asami who led the way, not into the kitchen, but into Korra’s bedroom.

Asami had waited for this moment for longer than she would care to admit. She’d never imagined it taking place in quite this setting, this slightly small room, with its errant socks on the floor, or with a woman quite like Korra. She was glad she hadn’t. It made it all the better. Still she hesitated, afraid she’d gone too far, too fast, until Korra (with her customary crooked grin) pulled her shirt off over her head without bothering to unbutton it. And Asami just stared, because while she’d seen, ogled, the muscles through Korra’s shirt she hadn’t quite been expecting the tattoos. She looked from the intricate inking around Korra’s bicep and back up to those big blue eyes.
“Full of surprises, aren’t you?”
The grin widened.
“Oh, just you wait and see.”

And Asami did see. She saw late into the night, until her hands hurt from gripping the sheets.

Asami groaned as the light woke her, streaming through a gap in the curtains, and nuzzled into Korra’s side. Korra, still half asleep, pressed a kiss on her temple for her efforts. It took quite some time for Korra to wake fully, understandable given her exertion the night before. Finally though she sat up with a grunt, the sheets pooling around her waist. Asami took in the expanse of bare back, the muscles, the beautiful pattern drawn there that had been rather marred by her nails the previous evening, but Korra had bent down to kiss her again before her could apologise.
“Breakfast?”

Korra found a spare blanket, throwing it over her shoulders like a shawl as she headed to the kitchen. Asami tried to get comfy but the bed felt all too big and empty. She got to her feet, pulling on the first piece of clothing, in this case Korra’s shirt, that she could find and followed her out.

Korra was standing at the stove frying something, the blanket just about covering her as Asami approached and wrapped her arms around her, resting her chin on Korra’s shoulder.

There were a lot of things they didn’t know then. They didn’t known that, on meeting Korra’s parents, particularly after discovering who exactly they were, Asami would become so tongue-tied that she would introduce herself as ‘Salami Shako’. They didn’t know that an attempt at meeting Hiroshi Sato would result in Korra facing a considerable fine from Republic City Prison that Asami had been only too happy to pay, considering that she had been only a few seconds of doing the exact same thing. And they didn’t know that, half a lifetime away, they’d get to finally, finally get the legal backing to the vows they’d exchanged fifty years before under the perpetual sun of a Southern summer. All they knew then, in that moment in a too-small kitchen, was that the world felt right.