Chapter Text
Sweat drips from Lin’s brow and splatters across the ground.
The sun’s still high in the sky, even though it’s nearing late afternoon. Lin’s never gotten used to the long, hot summers of the Fire Nation – she doubts she ever will.
In front of her, the canvas sack swings half-heartedly, beaten and split in places, spilling thin trickles of sand onto the too-hot flagstones.
Lin barely even notices the burning sensation on her feet, nor the vivid bloodstains smeared across her knuckles. Even if she did, she wouldn’t particularly care.
Rearing back with one arm, Lin lets her fist slam into the sack with a dull thump.
“Bumi, are you kidding me?” Kya says in a hushed whisper, clearly not wanting to bring the theatre-nerd-fuelled wrath of Uncle Zuko down on her head. To be fair, though, he’s so absorbed in the play that Lin thinks Kya couldn’t get his attention even if she wanted to.
Bumi smiles cheerfully at her. “You got up to get more fire flakes. Technically, your seat was up for the taking. Finders keepers, and all that. Just go sit in my old seat.”
Kya looks like she’s just barely restraining herself from pouring her newly-acquired fire flakes down the back of her brother’s shirt. “But I can’t see over that guy’s head! His stupid topknot is too tall.”
“Yeah, neither can I. That’s why I stole your seat.”
Kya huffs. Lin only just keeps herself from snorting at her pouty expression. Despite being a whole sixteen years old, Kya still hasn’t grown out of her tendency to dramatically sulk over every minor inconvenience. “Fine,” Kya says, narrowing her eyes at Bumi.
When Kya marches towards her, Lin expects her to sit down in Bumi’s old seat, which is next to Lin’s. (Honestly, Lin’s a little grateful that he moved; his wild mane of hair kept tickling her cheek. Also, he kept trying to steal her snacks.)
What Lin doesn’t expect, however, is for Kya to plop herself down in Lin’s lap. Lin, having just enough time to yank her food off her lap before Kya sits on them, lets out a startled yelp. In the row in front of them, a snotty-looking Fire Nation man turns around and loudly shushes her.
Lin barely even notices, though, because she’s silently panicking over the warm weight of Kya in her lap. Despite almost being a whole head taller than Lin, she’s incredibly light; Lin could probably carry her around on her shoulders with minimal effort (and, wow, isn’t that a thought.) Despite that, though, she feels unbearably heavy right now, like lead sinking into her skin and pressing her down into the soft padding of her chair. Kya’s smell threatens to overload her brain – it’s a mixture of spicy sharpness, probably from the fire flakes she’d been eating by the gallon earlier, and that crisp, almost sea-salty smell that Lin associates with sun-warmed ocean and fleeting breezes and Kya. Soft strands of brown hair fall across Lin’s shoulder and arm like a waterfall, and Kya’s cheek is resting against Lin’s temple. Every molecule in her body is hyper-focused on each tiny point of contact.
Lin’s completely frozen in her seat, not daring to move in case Kya interprets it as discomfort. (And, sure, Lin is uncomfortable, but not in the way Kya would expect.)
She’s not even breathing.
Kya’s muffling a laugh behind her hand – Lin has no clue if it’s as a result of the play or something one of her brothers has said, though, because she’s staring straight ahead, ears ringing with the sudden rush of blood to her head. She wonders if Kya has noticed the blush undoubtably staining her cheeks.
There’s a soft squeeze to her elbow, and Lin manages to clear her head of its horny teenage fog enough to sum up the courage to turn her head. It takes a truly alarming amount of willpower to meet Kya’s gaze, but Lin’s nothing if not stubborn.
Kya’s looking down at her, and, wow, her face is really close. Lin has to force herself to take a breath.
“You okay with this?” Kya asks quietly, and somehow that makes Lin’s heart beat faster. Her heartrate has surely reached a medically unsafe speed at this point.
The fact that Kya cares about her enough to ask shouldn’t affect Lin as much as it does.
“Yup,” Lin manages, her voice cracking halfway through. Her lips are so dry. Lin clears her throat, tries again. “Yup. It’s fine.”
Kya smiles (she’s still so close to Lin’s face) and, with one more squeeze to Lin’s arm, turns back to watch the rest of the play. Lin doesn’t even bother to stop her from snagging a handful of Lin’s fire gummies – food stealing runs in the family, apparently.
If someone held a sword to Lin’s throat and demanded that she explain what happened during the play after that… well, let’s just say that she wouldn’t be making it home for dinner that night.
The chain rattles violently as the sack ricochets backwards. This time, Lin lashes out with a spinning kick, the rough canvas grating against the bare sole of her foot. The force of the blow sends her stumbling back, and Lin swears under her breath. Sloppy.
Gritting her teeth, Lin lands another blow.
Lin huddles deeper into her mountain of blankets and wishes desperately that her teeth would stop chattering.
Spirits, what she wouldn’t give to be a firebender right now.
She’s not even sure why she agreed to join Katara and Sokka on their trip to the South Pole. The two of them were here to discuss bloodbending regulations in Republic City with waterbending masters in the South. After Kya had decided to come with them, Aang had claimed that he was taking Tenzin and Bumi on a ‘boys trip’ (Lin had been too afraid to ask what that involved.)
When Katara had extended the invitation to come with them to Lin, she’d immediately accepted - definitely because it meant time away from Su. No other reason.
(Okay, maybe that was a lie.)
Kya had spent most of the trip talking about a healing class she had been invited to co-lead, waving her hands around in the way she always did when she got passionate about something. Lin had zoned out for most of her rambling, simply taking in her excited expression and the way her hair ruffled in the breeze.
Yup. There were no ulterior reasons for Lin wanting to go. None at all.
The Southern Water Tribes were a huge culture shock for someone like Lin, who had grown up in the bustling streets and metal skyscrapers of Republic City. The air here was fresh in that cold, sharp way that stung the back of her throat every time she inhaled, and she would’ve gotten lost in the vast, sprawling layout of the city if not for Kya’s constant grip on her sleeve.
And that was the other thing – it was freezing. Lin could safely say she was stronger than the average girl her age, sure, but she felt like she was going to collapse under the weight of her thick winter coat.
“What is this thing made of – lead?” she’d asked Sokka.
“Nope, just the skin of the children-eating ten-ton sharks that live under the ice,” he’d said cheerfully, and then strolled away with a parting shout of, “Watch your step, Linny!”
Lin had glanced nervously over at Kya. “He’s kidding, right?”
Kya hadn’t said a word, just tugged on Lin’s sleeve and started dragging her towards one of the huts.
It had been almost twelve hours and Lin still hadn’t figured out if Sokka was kidding or not.
Now, Lin’s swaddling herself in a truly ridiculous amount of furs in an attempt to not freeze to death. Even though the warmth produced by the sun was next to nothing this far south, Lin’s surprised at how much of a difference its absence makes.
It’s late enough that the fire in her and Kya’s hut had started to burn down, but Lin is too cold to get up and stoke it. Instead, she grits her teeth and burritos herself further into the blankets. She’s a Beifong. She can tough out one cold night.
On the other side of the room, there’s a faint rustling noise, like Kya’s shifting around under the covers. It’s really, really not helping Lin’s plan to Pretend Her Crush Isn’t Sleeping Less Than Ten Feet Away From Her.
“Okay, get in.”
Lin will deny to the day she dies that she lets out a squeak at the unexpected sound of Kya’s voice. Then, once she’s recovered from the shock of Kya suddenly speaking, way too loud in the snow-muffled quiet of their room, the meaning of her words sink in, and Lin’s eyes go wide.
“Uh, what?” she says, her voice a little raspy from disuse, and she rolls over to face Kya in the dark. Surely she misheard.
“Spirits, I can hear your teeth chattering from all the way over here,” Kya says. She sounds like she’s torn between fond amusement and exhaustion. “C’mon, get in. I don’t bite.”
“Um.” Now that her eyes have adjusted, Lin can see the faint outline of Kya lifting her blankets up, leaving enough of a gap for Lin’s body. “Isn’t that kinda… weird?”
Even though it’s dark, Lin can tell Kya’s rolling her eyes. “Well, it is now that you’re making it weird.” When Lin doesn’t move, she sighs exaggeratedly and says, “Hurry up, I’m letting all the warmth out.”
Kya’s insouciance is enough to kick Lin into action. Rolling over sluggishly so her feet touch the ground, Lin reluctantly extracts herself from her cocoon of furs. Every single one of her inhibitions go flying out the window at the feeling of cold air hitting her bare skin, and, despite her previous hang-ups, she practically sprints to Kya’s bed. She scooches under the covers with inhuman speed, not even bothering to be self-conscious because it’s fucking freezing and Lin would like to be warm, thank you very much.
And warm she is. The second Lin can actually feel her toes again, her nervousness immediately comes flooding back, but this time it’s about twenty times worse. Kya’s right there – facing away from Lin now, sure, but still. Right there.
Kya snorts softly. “See? That wasn’t so hard.” She rolls onto her side just enough to grin at Lin, teeth gleaming oddly in the faint light of the fire. The slope of her nose and cheekbones are outlined in soft red-gold. “Fair warning, though: I’m a cuddler.”
Oh boy, does Kya live up to that statement.
Lin wakes up to Kya wrapped around her like an octopus. Her body is a burning-hot line against Lin’s side, and her head is a heavy weight against her breast, and suddenly Lin is way, way too warm, and she can’t breathe, she can’t fucking breathe.
Kicking out with her legs, Lin manages to dislodge the heavy furs enough to make her escape. She roughly jostles Kya away from her, shoves her feet halfway into her boots, and storms out the door.
It’s snowing outside, and Lin doesn’t even have a coat on. She doesn’t notice.
Lin shoves the memory out of her head with a snarl. She doesn’t like to think about that day, doesn’t like to remember the way Kya hadn’t quite been able to meet her gaze for the rest of their time in the South, doesn’t like thinking about how her and Kya’s relationship hadn’t been the same since, even after two years – Kya’s a little less touchy-feely now, a little more restrained, and Lin… Well. Lin’s as untouchable as she’s always been.
They never talked about that morning. Lin can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if they did.
As soon as the thought enters her mind, Lin can’t help the shout of anger that wells up in her throat, because shut the fuck up, Beifong; stop wishing for things you can’t fucking have.
She punches the bag again and takes sick, gleeful joy in the way the skin of her knuckle splits open.
When Lin steps into the courtyard, she’s greeted by the sight Kya and Tenzin exchanging blows. They’re nothing more than blurs of blue and orange as they fight, all graceful swirls and high, weightless leaps. It’s entrancing, enchanting; Lin can hardly bring herself to look away.
Of course, the effect is somewhat ruined by Kya’s barrage of rather creative curses.
“Fuck you, Tenzin, you toadlicking piece of shit! You-”
A blast of air slams into Kya’s chest, sending her stumbling backwards. She barely even misses a beat. “-absolute lemur balls for brains, small-dicked-”
Lin leans over to Bumi, who’s watching on with one hand slapped over his mouth. She can’t tell if it’s out of amusement or concern for his siblings. (Actually, it’s Bumi. It’s definitely the former.).
“What’s going on?” she asks out of the corner of her mouth.
“Tenzin put a cockroach in Kya’s soup,” he replies, eyes dancing. “Well, it was a dead one. And technically it was me that put it in there. But this is such quality entertainment that I can’t bring myself to tell them!”
“Mhmm,” Lin says, barely even listening – not that she usually listens to half of what comes out of Bumi’s mouth.
The thing is, Lin knows she should be fixated on Tenzin and his bare chest – she’s thirteen, after all, and everyone knows that all the girls her age have crushes on guys - but she’s not. Instead, all she can focus on is Kya: the flush on her cheeks, the sweaty sheen of her collarbones, the way her biceps flex as she water-whips Tenzin across the back of the head. Lin can’t take her eyes off her.
The realisation hits Lin like a sledgehammer.
“Oh, fuck,” she says aloud.
The memories are coming in flashes now, short and violent, bursting like flashbangs against the front of Lin’s skull.
“Kya!” Lin calls, pushing open the door. “Katara said- Oh.”
Kya stands before her in nothing but her underthings. “Oh, hey, Lin. Didn’t know you were on the island,” she says, completely unbothered, and reaches across her bed to grab a loose tunic.
Lin stands there, completely frozen, her vision filled with soft-looking skin and toned muscle, before she whirls around and slams the door-
-Kya grabs her hand as they enter the bustling marketplace. “Don’t want to lose you!” she calls over the hubbub. “In this crowd, I might never find you again!”
“So your solution is to hold my hand?” Lin replies, schooling her expression into nonchalance amidst her internal panicking.
“Well, I could put you on a leash,” Kya says, winking, and Lin fucking chokes-
-she leans against Kya’s shoulder, enjoying the warm of her body in the cool evening air. It’s never particularly cold in Republic City, especially not at this time of year, but Lin will happily take the excuse to cuddle up to Kya.
“I think I want to go travelling someday,” Kya says, resting her head against the top of Lin’s.
Lin just hums in acknowledgement, because she always knew Kya would leave-
“-and then I told him to shove him and his stupid betrothal necklace up his ass. I mean, that might’ve been a bit harsh, but c’mon. If he was too stupid to figure out I’m a whole-ass lesbian from the everything about me, then he deserved to get yelled at.”
Lin snorts, then makes a contemplative noise. “You should make your own betrothal necklace. Y’know, so dumb, sexist guys stop bothering you.”
Kya blindly flails around until she finds Lin’s shoulder, then swats it gently. Neither of them are sober enough to bother sitting up; they’ve mutually agreed that lying on their backs on Kya’s bedroom floor is the clear best course of action. “You’re a genius, Linny,” she says, and Lin screws up her face at the nickname.
They lie there in silence for a beat, cheap sake still weighing down their tongues and making their minds all happy-heavy, before Kya pipes up again. “This is nice. We should spend more time together. Just you and me, Lin. You’n’me.” She giggles, slurring the words together.
“You and me,” Lin says, rolling the words around in her mouth. She likes the weight of the words on her tongue, likes the way they sound. Likes the way they sound coming from Kya even more.
“You and me,” Kya agrees, and Lin’s stupid heart swells in her chest.
A tear splashes into one of the open cuts on Lin’s knuckles. It burns.
“Fuck,” she hisses. She wants to hit something, wants to make something hurt, but the punching bag is barely more than a few scraps of fabric and a pile of sand at this point. “Fucking shit,” she repeats, and this time it’s bordering on a shout.
“Fucking hell, kid, watch the language.”
Lin whirls around – as if she doesn’t already know who it is. It’s not often that she’s too distracted to notice anyone approaching her through seismic sense.
Toph stands at the entrance to the workout room, both eyebrows raised almost to her hairline. She’s wearing her usual relaxing-at-home outfit, but with a decidedly Ember Island-y twist: a pair of loose red trousers and a sleeveless wrap top. Both parts of her outfit look like they’ve been stolen from other people – which, y’know, knowing Toph, wouldn’t be all that surprising.
“Spirits, you did a number on this place,” Toph says, and is that a hint of admiration in her voice?
Lin doesn’t say anything, just stares straight ahead, chest heaving with exertion.
Toph huffs and leans casually against the doorframe, very clearly saying that she doesn’t plan on going anywhere despite Lin’s blatantly obvious desire to be left alone. “Kid, just tell her.”
Lin still doesn’t turn around, but tension sits heavily on the line of her shoulders. “What are you on about, Chief?” she says, voice strained.
“Don’t beat around the bush with me, Lin. I can literally feel how much your heartrate picks up when you’re around her. Either you’re terrified of her, and you’re not Tenzin, so I’m guessing it’s not that, or you’re madly in love with her.”
Lin’s fists clench at her sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Toph snorts. “Oh, trust me, I do. Tell. Her.”
With that, she turns curtly on her heel and, in typical Toph fashion, stomps out of the gym.
Lin stands in the middle of the room, completely alone, for a long time.
---
Kya has always loved early mornings. They were one of the few things she alone shared with her father – even at the ripe old age of 22, Bumi was still rarely seen before noon, and Tenzin preferred to spend his mornings in solitude. (He always said he was meditating; Kya was pretty sure he spent the time jacking off.)
She’d risen with the dawn for as far back as she could remember. When she was a kid, she’d always gone into her parent’s room and climbed into their bed. Every single morning, without fail, Katara would grumble at her to go back to bed, and Aang, who was always unnaturally chipper in the mornings, would laugh and scoop up Kya, making her giggle and shriek. He’d press a kiss to his wife’s forehead, making Katara smile sleepily, and then he and Kya would hang out in one of the island’s many gardens until the rest of the family woke up. He would point out all the funny-looking clouds for the sole purpose of making Kya laugh, and sometimes he’d tell stories about his travels as a child. “You know, Uncle Zuko likes to get up early, too,” he’d said once. “Firebenders rise with the sun; did you know that?”
Kya had shaken her head, eyes wide with curiosity, and asked, “Do I rise with the sun?”
Aang had smiled and ruffled Kya’s hair, making her pout playfully. “No, little one. You just like to make the most of your time and see everything there is to see.”
(Looking back, now nineteen years old and already feeling the Air Nomadic need to explore the world tugging at her gut, Kya thought her dad had been right on the money with that one.)
That was how their routine had started.
Most mornings, she and Aang could be found sitting together in the gardens of Air Temple Island, either meditating, running through waterbending stances or making idle chatter, or, on one memorable occasion, seeing if Aang’s firebending could be used to create fireworks.
(It couldn’t. However, what it could do was wake up the entire island at five in the morning.
“You’re as bad as your Uncle Sokka,” Katara had said to Kya as she’d frogmarched her and a suitably-chastened Aang back into the house. Kya had chosen to take that as a compliment.)
Today, Kya doesn’t really expect Aang to join her; judging by the muffled shouts of laughter and Sokka’s loud, raucous singing she’d heard before she’d fallen asleep, the adults had been up playing some kind of drinking game for most of the night, and no doubt her father, a notorious lightweight, is sleeping off his hangover.
The sand is pleasantly cool against her bare feet as she steps down onto the beach, bleached white by sky’s awkward transition between sun and moon, when the light isn’t quite silver but not golden, either.
(It’s strange, being awake by herself at this time of the day. It’s always made Kya feel alone – not lonely, just alone, like she’s the only person left in the entire world. That sensation of solitude is an oddly heady one, makes her feel powerful and strong, because it creates the illusion that there’s no one left to tie her down, to hold her back, to wrap her in chains made of guilt and love and responsibility, she’s free she’s free shesfree.
Kya can’t help but feel a little bit scared at how good that feeling feels. Not yet, she whispers to that part of her brain, and digs her toes into the wet sand, letting the sensation ground her, drag her back down to earth. Not yet. Just hang on a little longer.)
Kya’s not sure how long she stands there, the waves lapping gently at her ankles and sand squelching beneath her toes, before there’s a presence at her elbow. She doesn’t bother turning to see who it is.
Her and her mystery companion stand there in silence for Spirits-knows how long, then: “Mind if I join you?”
The voice is quiet, a little deep, a little rough, but unmistakeably feminine. Lin, Kya thinks, and can’t quite explain the feeling that wells up inside of her at the realisation.
“Of course not,” she says, and the smile that comes to her lips is easy. When she turns her head, she’s greeted by the sight of her friend outlined in gold. Her strong jaw and the soft, plush give of her lower lip are streaked with the morning sunlight, like Agni has dragged a paint-smeared finger across them, as if to taunt Kya. Look at what you can’t have. Look how beautiful she is.
“If you’re here to meditate, I can go,” Lin says. She turns away from the sunrise and meets Kya’s gaze, and she looks a little unsure. It’s an odd sight; Lin is… not confident, exactly, but always so steady, so sure of herself. Kya wants to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder, maybe cup her cheek and feel that soft skin for herself. Lin doesn’t do touching, she has to remind herself, and settles for a warm smile instead. And friends don’t touch each other like that, anyway. Stop making it weird.
Because the thing is, Kya loves their dynamic: loves the way she can make Lin laugh, loves how Lin responds to her stupid quips with a fond roll of her eyes, loves the way they balance each other out.
(And sure, it could be better, because Kya could be holding her hand instead of just punching her arm, could be waking her up in the mornings with slow, soft kisses instead of a poke to the ribs, but it’s fine.)
And the thing is: she doesn’t want to make things weird by accidentally taking her affection a step too far, because she’s terrified of messing up what they have. She’s learnt to mask her feelings for Lin with dumb jokes that make Lin blush, with punches to the shoulder and, once she got tall enough, headlocks, because they just scream platonic.
(Once, a couple of years ago, Kya made things weird between her and Lin. She knows not to do it again.)
Kya swings her gaze back to the horizon. Now, the sky is a soft orange, clumsily laced through with pink, looking for all the world like a child trying their hand at finger-painting for the first time. It’s a sweet, innocent thing, and it sends a spark of youthful recklessness skittering down Kya’s spine. “Nah, I’m not really feeling meditation this morning,” she says, and turns back to look at Lin with a brow quirked in silent challenge. “How does a swim sound?”
---
“See, this is why I hate getting in the water with you.”
Kya cackles from where she’s drifting on her back in the cool ocean. “Maybe I would stop if you stopped being such a baby and got in deeper than your knees; did you ever consider that?”
With a lazy flick of her wrist, she sends another wave of water at Lin’s face, then laughs again as Lin splutters and swears. “Kya, it’s freezing.”
“Dude, what are you on about? It’s warm.”
Lin huffs and folds her arms across her chest. (Dragging her eyes away from her cleavage takes a truly embarrassing amount of effort.) “Well, you spent half of your childhood in the South Pole, so forgive me for not believing you.”
“Awww, big, tough earthbender’s afraid of a little chilly water?” Kya croons, and that’s always how it’s been, hasn’t it? Kya taunting and teasing, pushing all of Lin’s buttons until she takes the bait.
“Spirits, you’re the worst,” Lin grumbles, snorting under her breath, but she doesn’t duck her head fast enough to hide the smile quirking the corners of her lips. “Fine.”
Making her very best attempt at stomping while knee-deep in the water (Is the tendency to stomp everywhere a hereditary Beifong trait? Kya muses), Lin splashes out towards her. A laugh bubbles out of her at a particularly creative expletive from Lin. “Man, you Beifongs really aren’t suited for the water, huh?” she says.
The shadow falling across her signals Lin’s arrival. “Shut up,” she grumbles, but Kya can tell she’s grinning.
Kya shifts upright so her feet are resting on the sandy seafloor. Lin’s half-floating, half-standing beside her. Sea-soaked strands of black hair cling to her neck and shoulders, and the strong, rhythmic flex of her biceps as she paddles is oddly hypnotising. Her eyes look teal in the sunrise, Kya notes with delight, and adds that fact to her ever-growing list of all the sweet little things about Lin that she’s noticed over the years.
There’s a droplet of water clinging to one of Lin’s eyelashes. In her mind’s eye, Kya leans over and smooths her eye closed with her thumb, wiping away the tiny speck of seawater, and then presses a gentle kiss to her eyelid, to the elegant jut of her cheekbone, to her-
“Stop staring at me, weirdo,” Lin says, and raises a hand to splash water in Kya’s face. It’s nowhere near as effective as Kya’s waterbending, but it does the trick; Kya shakes herself out of her daydream and manages a smile.
“I- Wait.” Before Lin can pull away, Kya darts out a hand, lightning-fast, and grabs Lin’s wrist, tugging it closer to her face for inspection. “Tui and La. What did you do to your hand?”
For a split second, Lin’s face constricts in what looks like embarrassment, but then she shrugs. “Got a bit carried away in the gym last night,” is all she says.
“A bit? You think?” Kya says wryly. “Spirits, that must hurt like a bitch in this saltwater.”
Lin shrugs again. “I’ve felt worse.”
“You say that like it’s meant to make me feel better.” Kya tugs at Lin’s arm until she shifts closer. “Give me your other hand.”
Reluctantly, Lin lifts it out of the water, and, yup, it’s just as bad as the other. Kya has to bite back a sigh.
Please stop hurting yourself. I hate seeing you in pain. I hate it, I hate it so much, Lin, you have no idea.
With the hand that isn’t still clutching Lin’s wrist (she hasn’t let go yet, because she doesn’t trust Lin not to book it as soon as she does), Kya pulls a little globule of water out of the sea and places it over the knuckles of Lin’s right hand. Lin hisses sharply.
“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for not getting healed earlier,” Kya says snarkily. “If you had, I wouldn’t have to use saltwater on an open wound, would I?”
“It’s not even that bad,” Lin grumbles. She clearly knows complaining is lost cause, though, because that’s about as much of a fight as she puts up.
Once she’s satisfied, Kya shifts the water to Lin’s other hand. The silence is a comfortable one: just the quiet lapping of the waves and the occasional sharp inhale from Lin. It’s nice. Intimate.
Kya’s so focused on her work that she doesn’t even realise how close they’ve gotten until she looks up. Lin’s face is inches from her own; she can make out every little droplet of sea-spray on her face, every fleck of gold in her eyes, every shift of the blue glow playing across her features.
You could just tilt your head a bit and kiss her, her brain screams. You could do it. She’s so close.
Kya sucks in a breath and propels herself backwards, letting the now-dull water splash back into the ocean. “Um,” she says, and she’s happy to find that her voice doesn’t shake. “You’re- It’s done.”
Lin shakes out her hands, testing the newly-healed skin, and then turns one of those rare smiles on Kya. It’s fucking beautiful.
“Thanks,” she says softly. Then, she just has to ruin it by adding: “Not that I really needed it, but okay.”
Kya raises a hand, sending a wave of water crashing over Lin’s head. “Fuck you, dude,” she says around a laugh.
“You’re such a dick,” Lin grumbles, rolling her eyes affectionately. She raises her arms to wring the water out of her hair, and, like a moth to flame, Kya’s eyes are helplessly drawn to the muscles shifting under her pale skin. “You’re lucky I like you, Kya.”
Kya laughs, carefree and loud, and the sound echoes through the quiet morning. Nervous energy still swirls through her veins from their close proximity, making her limbs feel weak and trembly and filling her heart with wild boldness. “Aww, you like me?”
As soon as the words pass her lips, she freezes.
You like me?
There was a weight there, something a little more substantial than just simple teasing, and she knows Lin heard it, because she’s frozen, too.
You like me?
They stand there in the water, staring at each other.
You like me?
Lin opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. When she speaks, her voice is a little hoarse. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “I do.”
You like me?
I do.
---
Lin doesn’t make impulse decisions. She thinks things through, she considers all the possible outcomes, she picks the smartest option. It’s what she does. It doesn’t matter if she wants something: what matters is the greater good. Her feelings don’t matter, never have, probably never will.
Just this once, though, Lin lets herself want.
I want to tell her I like her, her brain says.
Okay, Lin replies, and does, and now Kya’s staring at her with the softest, sweetest, most shocked look on her face Lin’s ever seen, and Lin wants with the desperate thirst of someone who hasn’t drank in a week and has just tasted the purest, clearest spring water.
I want to kiss her, her brain says.
Okay, Lin replies.
Lin kisses her.
For one terrifying moment, Kya’s stock-still, and then she melts, turns to liquid under Lin’s hesitant hands. She lets out the softest gasp against Lin’s mouth, salt-stained lips parting, and she’s so lovely.
Kya’s skin is burning hot in contrast to the water. Lin feels like she shouldn’t be allowed to rest her hands at the curve of her waist – almost retracts them, but then Kya lets out a happy hum at the gentle touch, and, well, how could Lin resist that?
Kya’s body is solid and real. Not a sea spirit, Lin thinks deliriously as Kya’s tongue brushes her lower lip. Definitely not a sea spirit.
Long fingers tangle into the hairs at the nape of Lin’s neck and tug gently, prompting her to pull back a little. Her lips tingle in the cool breeze, and she stares at Kya’s smiling face, a little shell-shocked.
“So, you like me, huh?” Kya asks mischievously.
Lin narrows her eyes. There’s a strong possibility she might be the first person to die from blushing too hard. “What gave you that impression?” she says sarcastically.
Kya throws her head back and laughs, and Lin’s heart flip-flops in her chest.
(In the back of her mind, she’s acutely aware that she’s still holding onto Kya’s waist. She can’t bring herself to let go, though. Now that she’s got her, she doesn’t know that she can ever let go.)
“Duuude,” Kya groans suddenly, dropping her head onto Lin’s chest. “Are you saying you could’ve been kissing me like that for ages? Spirits, talk about wasted time.”
Lin’s not sure whether to blush or roll her eyes. “I-”
“Better start making up for lost time, then, huh?” Kya says, raising her head so she can wiggle her eyebrows ridiculously at Lin. She puckers her lips and taps them pointedly with her index finger.
“Agni, you’re the worst,” Lin says affectionately, and kisses her again.