A/n this idea just sort of formed itself. I really wanted to see Iroh kick someone's ass for hurting his love. I WAS thinking of a certain chapter in Dark (the Harry Styles fanfiction my friends made me read) while writing this, so you MIGHT (emphasis on might because I doubt it) find some similarities if you've read that story. I assure you I'm not trying to copy the author of Dark.
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Asami opened the door quietly, hoping beyond hope that Iroh hadn't stayed up for her. If he saw the bruise that currently adorned her face, he would flip. Hopefully he was already in bed, asleep. Then she could cover it with makeup, although he'd still eventually find out about it. Her arms were another matter, but she could easily cover those with sleeves. She just had to hide them until she could get back at the man who did it herself.
All hope was lost, though, as soon as she stepped through the door.
"'Sami? Where have you-" Iroh began. He stopped when he saw the purple mark on his wife's face. He was sitting on the couch, book in hand, obviously waiting for her. She cringed when his words ceased and glanced up at him, made worse by the fact that he'd used his nickname for her. His usually warm amber eyes were hard and cold, and his mouth was set in a hard line. She smiled weakly, trying half-heartedly to distract him from the bruise.
"I got held up at the factory. You didn't have to wait up for me." She giggled lightly, but it was obvious her efforts were in vain. Iroh still wore his stern expression as he stood and quickly covered the ground between them. He took both her hands in his and looked into her eyes.
"How did that happen?" He asked, glancing quickly at the bruise. Asami tried to laugh it off.
"I spaced out and hit myself with a wrench. It's nothing, really..." She tried to assure him. Her eyes drifted to her feet and she refused to meet his gaze.
"Don't lie to me, Asami. Who did this to you?" Iroh asked, anger slowly building in his voice. She sighed. So much for that...
"Shen showed up at the factory, after everyone else was gone. I avoided most of his hits, but he got one lucky shot. Then one of the workers came in to get something and he left before I could return the favor." She said all this as if saying "I tripped and fell on a rock. It's no big deal."
Iroh, however, was not taking this quite so lightly. "Shen? Asami, he could have killed you!" He yelled. Asami rolled her eyes.
"I can take care of myself, Iroh." she assured him. Iroh took a deep breath and gripped his hair so tightly she thought he might rip it out. He groaned in frustration and looked up at the ceiling before bringing his eyes back to the woman in front of him.
"Against a street thug, maybe, but this guy's a professional fighter!"
"So am I!" she countered. He clenched his eyes shut and took a deep breath.
"But he's bigger than you. A LOT bigger than you, and as much as you don't like to admit it, he's more skilled than you. When are you going to learn that you're not invincible!"
That was the last straw. Asami's temper flared, and she threw her arms I'm in frustration. "I know that! It isn't as if I attacked him!"
Her sleeves slid down a bit, and Iroh caught a fleeting glance of purple. His own arms shot out to grip them, and she could barely cover her wince. He rolled her sleeves up, revealing a trail of purple marks, and his eyes flashed briefly from anger to hurt, followed by an intense hatred. But this time his anger wasn't directed at the green-eyed woman he'd sworn to love and protect.
"No..." He muttered, "it isn't..."
Now it was Asami's turn to be worried.
"Iroh..."
Iroh pushed past her towards the door. Asami caught his arm.
"Iroh where are you going?" She asked, although she already knew the answer. Her husband looked back at her, his eyes filled with rage.
"I'm going to teach a punk a lesson," he growled, pulling his arm free and disappearing out the door before she could stop him. She heard the loud roar of an engine coming to life (she'd get him later for taking her car) and the skid of tires on the street.
Asami wasn't sure what to do. There was no way she could go after him without backup, as no matter how strong she was, she couldn't break up a fight between two grown men twice as strong as her. Besides, Iroh was a firebender, and even though it wasn't exactly honorable to fight a non-bender like Shen with bending in this particular situation, he didn't seem to care about honor at the moment.
With a deep sigh, she reached for the phone. It rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
"Hello?" Mako's voice came over slightly garbled.
"Mako, Shen showed up at the factory today and attacked me."
"Oh, no. Are you alright?" He asked. Asami waved a hand, forgetting that no one could see her.
"I'm fine, but he left bruises and Iroh saw them."
There was a silence that lasted a full five seconds before Mako spoke again.
"Alright, how long ago did he leave?"
"About two minutes ago."
Asami had a feeling Mako nodded before answering. "Okay, I'll be at the mansion in five."
Those were the longest five minutes of her life. She waited outside, and ran to Mako as soon as his motorcycle came into view. Together they sped towards the run-down bar that was Iroh's likeliest destination.
"Maybe we shouldn't stop him," Mako called over his shoulder, "I mean, Shen is a pretty bad guy. Maybe we should let Iroh teach him a lesson."
"Aren't you a cop?" Asami asked. Mako shook his head.
"I'm off-duty. And besides, it's technically self-defense, if you turn your head and squint a little. He's defending you from Shen."
A moment of silence passed between them, the sounds of the city taking over.
"It isn't Shen I'm worried about," She finally said, "I don't want my husband becoming a murderer."
The rest of the ride was in silence.
-
Iroh knew the moment he saw the bruise on her face where it came from. It was fair sized, covering her left cheek and probably easily covered, and it didn't seem to be very deep, but that wasn't the point. The point was, that bastard had touched his angel. His grimy hand had made contact with her face, and if that wasn't bad enough he caused her pain, no matter how slight. But then he saw the bruises on her arms, and his vision went red. Her beautiful faire skin turned purple, her wince as he touched her. It was the most terrible sight he had ever seen. Shen had done that. Shen caused her that pain. And there was no way in the Fog of Lost Souls that he was getting away with it.
"Evening, General," Shen called as he lifted his whiskey to his lips. But before he could take a sip, Iroh knocked it out of his hand and shoved him against the bar. He faked a pout.
"Awe, now that's a waste of a perfectly good drink. Shame." He said with a deep, throaty chuckle.
Iroh was not amused.
"You know why I'm here," He snarled. Shen only chuckled once more.
"'Course I do. You're here to repay me for the beauty work I did on your girl. Shame I couldn't help her more. Man, I'll bet it just killed you seein' her hurt, even tiny little bruises like that. Probably put you through misery almost equal to what I felt when you got me discharged from the United Forces."
Iroh's anger only grew. "After what you did, you deserved to be discharged."
Shen's cool demeanor began to melt. He shoved his former superior off of him and swung a right hook that missed. Iroh grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him against the nearest wall as hard as he could with his left hand, his right igniting in blue fire to match his anger. Shen's amused demeanor returned briefly.
"What's the matter? Can't beat me without your bending?"
Slowly, Iroh extinguished his fist before slamming it into the other man's jaw. For a brief moment he caught the bartender's concerned expression. He bent Shen's arm behind his back and shoved him out the back door.
-
If Asami ran for the door any faster, she'd've been moving at the speed of light. The bar doors flew open for the second time that night as the woman went straight for the bartender, her firebending friend not far behind. She didn't even need to ask if Iroh was there: the scuffle coming from out back told her enough. She rushed to the back door and found Iroh straddling the man, knuckles bloody, beating him to a pulp. Shen didn't look like he could take much more.
Mako didn't need any instruction: he went straight to work pulling the general off his opponent. Iroh refused to go without a fight. He struggled as if his life depended on it, even landing a few punches, until Mako managed to turn him around to face his wife. Asami grabbed him by the chin and made him look at her. His face was a little bloody and scratched, but it wasn't too bad. A relieved expression spread across her face and she hugged him fiercely, ignoring the pain as pressure was applied to her bruised arms. He winced, but wrapped his own arms around her.
"I'm so glad you're alright. Don't ever do that again!" she scolded. His arms tightened around her and he scoffed.
"Like I'm gonna stand idly by while some scum hurts my wife."
Asami only tightened her own arms as a few tears slipped down.
"Ahem" Mako cleared his throat, drawing their attention towards him.
"I hate to interrupt, but what do you intend to do about him?" He asked. The couple shrugged it off.
"Report him. Claim self-defense. You're a cop, what does the law say about this situation?" Iroh asked. Mako glanced down at the blood pulp of a man, then back to his friends.
"Well, the law would say you're both in the wrong. But knowing this guy, he would be too scared to report anything, knowing that he'd be going down with you for that," he gestured to the bruise on Asami's face, "so I'd say the best option is to pretend none of this ever happened."
That was good enough for everyone, so they all headed off to their respective vehicles.
"You aren't hurt too bad, are you?" Asami asked. Iroh chuckled.
"'Sami, I'm fine. A little bruised around the ribs perhaps, but nothing irreversible."
Asami smiled. "Good," she said, shoving him lightly and then smacking him hard upside the head. "That's for taking my car."