A/N: This is a slowburn story with mature themes and eventual smut. I'll make sure to include warnings when the time comes.
***
"Asami, Mako, get in here!" A gruff-sounding Lin called from her office across the newsroom.
Asami was sitting at her desk sipping black coffee and reviewing a list of leads for her next story. Upon hearing her name, she put her notes aside and headed to Lin's office.
Mako strode over from his desk in the photography section and met Asami at the doorway. A sign on it read: Lin Beifong, Editor-in-Chief, The National Adventurer, though the door had been swung ajar in anticipation of their arrival.
Mako nodded good morning to Asami and gestured with his hand for her to proceed—ladies first. Nodding thanks, she entered.
"Good morning, Chief," Asami said.
"Hey Chief, how's it going?" Mako followed.
"Too early to tell – still working on my first cup of coffee. Ask me again halfway through my second," said Lin. She was seated at her desk with her arms folded at her chest, her face scrunched up as if she was thinking real hard about something.
Mako scratched the back of his head with a pencil he kept behind his ear. "You called?"
"Indeed. I have an assignment, a big one, cover potential if done with care."
The two young journalists straightened up, their interests piqued.
Lin pulled out a newspaper clipping from a manila folder and placed it atop her desk. Asami and Mako leaned in at the same time to study the piece and bumped heads before retracting back, rubbing the spot where they collided. This time, Asami offered up her hand in a chivalric gesture for Mako to take first look. It didn't go unnoticed by Lin, who crooked a half-smile.
When Mako was done, Asami had her turn. The clipping was a story from The Ocean City Gazette, a semi-regional newspaper in Southern California. The headline read: "Former swim champ sails around the world solo." The article was in the sports section and featured a black and white picture of a young woman atop her boat, staring broodily into the middle distance.
She found herself gazing at the picture awhile, studying the person in it, wondering what could be going on in her mind. She recognized the young woman, knew the story. Korra had risen to titanic fame as a teen Olympic gold medalist – a swimmer who had, still in her delicate youth, risen and fallen hard and fast, crashing and sinking though quickly forgotten. Four years later, turns out Korra's story wasn't over.
Asami's guts flurried at the thought of covering this potentially career-defining piece. She was twenty-three, fresh out of UC Berkeley's journalism MA program, and ravenous for a good story. It had distressed her father that she would lower herself so thoroughly to pursue a career in journalism, and at a liberal non-Ivy League school no less. But Asami could only be true to herself and follow her heart. To her, journalism was a noble profession, and so she took pride in her work, even if she had to work her way up to the more serious stories.
This one, though... Asami remembered secretly rooting for Korra on TV to win the gold medal years ago, and being so excited when she did. She blushed at the memory of it. It was a bit irrational, she realized in retrospect -- to root that hard for someone she didn't know – but nonetheless, she chalked it up to her affinity for admiring strong women.
Lin interrupted Asami's drifting thoughts: "It's a profile piece on Korra. Who is she now? What's her story? She was world-famous as a teen, disappears, and then shows up almost four years later in the C section of a Southern California hippie town newspaper."
"So what's the assignment, exactly, Chief?" Mako chimed in.
"The story is," said Lin, "Follow Korra around for a few weeks and get the scoop on her life. I want a rich, enthralling, salt-water smelling story of a young woman who gained and lost it all before she was old enough to drink. And I want to know what she found on that sea ride around the globe."
It was 1993. Newspapers and travel magazines were thriving and funding for longform pieces abundant, usually...
Lin continued: "Now, normally, I would send the both of yous out there – Asami writing, and Mako on photo. But funding is a little tight, especially since it's a longer piece. So that means I can only send one person to cover the story. Which of you wants it?"
Mako and Asami fidgeted and Asami's chest tightened. She knew this type of story would be right up Mako's alley, though he was a shit writer.
"I'd be honored to take on the story, Beifong – I mean Chief Beifong, Ma'am," Mako said. "I used to swim in high school, and of course I recognize Korra."
Lin raised an eyebrow and turned toward Asami. "And you?"
Asami nodded. "Of course, Chief. I'd love to take it. It'd be a really meaningful assignment." She didn't have any other accolades to add, except that she grew up with an Olympic-sized swimming pool in her house, a fact she'd rather kept to herself.
Lin rubbed her chin and looked from Mako to Asami, Asami to Mako. They were both hardworking and talented, Mako coming from nothing and having to work extra hard to be something, and Asami constantly battling her father's shadow and the fact that she's a woman in a man's world in this day and age. Even so, it had diddly squat to do with her talent and potential for a page turner.
Lin angled the photo of her wife*, Kya, on her desk toward her, a habit when she had to make hard decisions.
"Mako," said Lin.
Mako perked up. "Yeah?"
Asami nearly deflated where she stood.
Lin continued: "Show Asami how to use the SLR – I'm sending her."
Asami's eyes lit up and she wanted to lunge across Lin's desk and hug her, but she remembered Mako and held in her excitement as best she could.
Mako's face turned red, flustered. "Got it, Chief. Although, I told you I was a swimmer, right?"
"You did. But I need someone who can establish a good rapport with Korra too, get her to open up. Mako, you're not exactly the friendliest. Also, you take beautiful photos, but this one needs a strong writer. And that's Asami's domain."
"Got it," Mako seethed. He crossed his arms and pouted a little.
Lin rolled her eyes. "Don't worry Kid, I got something special for you too."
Asami patted Mako's shoulder affectionately. He squeezed her hand gently and smiled at Asami.
Meantime, Lin came around her desk and handed Asami the manila folder. "Get to work. She already knows you're coming. You'll leave as soon as you're ready – and you better be ready soon. Mako, set her up with an SLR from the photog department."
Asami nodded: "Thank you Chief, so much. You won't be sorry."
"That's right, I won't be." Lin closed the door behind Mako and Asami as they left.
"Congrats on the assignment," Mako said in his best, most sincere voice.
"Thanks, no hard feelings?"
"None." Mako smiled and led Asami to the photo department and past the dark room to the equipment area where she would check out a camera for her trip.
*
Later that night, Asami offered to treat Mako to a drink at the local dive bar, though Mako insisted on paying when the bartender said, "What's a man doing letting a woman pay for him? Especially one so beautiful?" It was the nineties after all.
"Put it on my tab," Mako said.
Asami protested: "Hey, wait, I said I'd treat you, remember?"
"But we're celebrating you," he replied weakly.
Asami decided not to pursue the matter further, but she also knew Mako was living on a shoestring budget in a dingy apartment that smelled like an old ashtray.
"Hey, why don't you give me some pointers about photojournalism?" Asami knew how to use the single lens reflex camera and at least a few of the lenses but she had to admit the way Mako manipulated natural light was genius.
Like a savant, Mako talked shop, a continuation from their earlier conversation about when to use which lens, which f-stop works best under what lighting conditions, how to get an extreme closeup and capture depth of field. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about what he loved made Asami smile. It was partially why, she supposed, she had hooked up with him after covering an assignment or two or three together. Seeing him in his element with his sleeves rolled up exposing his wonderful forearms had turned her on.
But they hadn't been intimate in a few months, and though she enjoyed Mako's company and friendship, there was something missing between them.
Asami's thoughts drifted to her assignment – there was so much to do. She needed to research and pack and pick out sea-friendly outfits, which likely meant she'd be wearing her usually long messy ponytail, white loose-fitted blouse, and jeans. Maybe instead of stylish boots, she'd get sailor shoes, ooh and a little bandana to tie around the neck. Definitely no jackets with shoulder pads, though – that was for her stories in the City.
What was wrong with her? Now she was fantasizing about outfits. But she couldn't help herself – the more she thought about the assignment, the more nervous she got. First she needed to establish a rapport with Korra; then she needed to come off as anything but a fool.
"Earth to Asami. Yoo-hoo." Mako waved an arm in front of her face.
"Sorry I was thinking about my story," Asami said.
"Of course, that makes sense. It's a big deal! That's why we're celebrating."
"Um, hey, about that... I think I'm gonna head home and get a start on my research."
Mako looked disappointed but perked up again. "I can already see you've caught the bug; I also know once that happens, there's no stopping you."
"You know me so well," Asami nudged his leg, which gave Mako the wrong signal.
He blushed and reach his hand toward Asami's knee. "Soooo, do you wanna come over to my place tonight? Maybe I can help you with your research or whatever else."
Asami, being a beautiful young woman, was experienced in the fragility of men and cursed herself silently. She bit her lip, avoiding eye contact.
"You know we're friends, right? And colleagues."
Mako recoiled. He got the hint. "Yeah, of course. Especially the first part."
"Good. I just – I have a lot to do – I wanna stay focused and get an early start in the morning."
Mako nodded and Asami got up to go. She dug through her purse and pulled out a twenty, placed it on the bar. "Take my money, or else."
He relented and saluted her. "Aye aye, Cap'n. Or should I say – soon-to-be first mate?"
Asami chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so, huh?"
She left Mako there alone with the bartender.
"One more," Mako said, motioning to his empty glass.
The bartender poured him a stiff one and wiped the counter. "Tough break, Kid. Shoulda paid."
Mako knew it didn't work like that with Asami, never did. But what was the use of explaining this to the bartender?
***
A/N: *Same sex marriage wasn't legal in the US at the time. Lin just didn't need a sheet of paper to tell her who her wife was, although the option would've been nice.
Thanks for reading. If you're digging this fic, I'd love it if you'd let me know. (^-^)