#chasseurseul

“Sorry,” she says, reaching out almost absentmindedly for Asami’s hand. “I didn’t mean to abandon you. I just – I just needed some air.”

“You didn’t abandon me,” Asami promises, though she can’t deny the ice-cold pang of hurt that had pounded down her spine when she awoke to find herself alone. The first moments of lucidity after dreaming are always the hardest, she had to remind herself, and Korra is easy to track down, at least for her. “I was just worried.”

Korra’s smile is half-lit by the sunrise as she plays with their interlaced fingers. “Don’t worry about me,” she says, and Asami thinks it’s mostly out of habit at this point. Korra knows she will always worry about her. “I just have a lot on my mind. Watching the sunrise – it helps clear it.”

“Well,” Asami says, hopping up onto the balcony railing in front of Korra, “my room does have the best view.”

Korra blinks at her sudden appearance, then smiles even more genuinely. Asami swears she can hear her own pulse rate pick up. “Thank you,” she says softly, cupping her free hand over their tangled ones and looking down. “And – I don’t want you to think I regret anything,” she adds, her face going somber as she looks back up at her. “Because I don’t. Regret it. I mean us. I don’t regret us.”

A giggle bubbles out of her on its own. “I don’t regret us, either,” she says, half-teasingly, and squeezes Korra’s hand. “Last night was nice.”

Korra smiles, and the sight of it sends warmth seeping back into Asami’s bones. “It was really nice,” she agrees. “Does this count as our first date, then?”

Asami laughs, tilting her head to look out at the sun bleeding spirals of light over Republic City. “I can think of worse first dates,” she muses, and Korra nudges her leg. She shoots her a smile. “If you want to be, then it is.”

Korra lifts one hand to touch her cheek. “I do,” she says quietly, her voice reassuring and gentle and so very different from the loudmouthed hot-headed teenage Avatar that she had met all those years ago. Korra is older now, changed, and different. She is war-weary and tired and struggling with the weight of the world, and still, Asami knows her. She’s the same fireworks-and-sparks girl she was when she first came to Republic City, except now, it’s like the sunrise has bled into her as well, blunting her sharp edges, making her warmer and less heated.

Now, she has short hair and maybe a more tired smile, but the way Korra looks at her is no different. She’s fire and sunlight and inspiring, and Asami brings her free hand up to press Korra’s against her cheek, smiling at her as she does.