disclaimer: disclaimed.
dedication: to tumblr for being inspiring at the worst freaking times.
notes2: no, I am not kidding.
notes3: I just really fucking love Azula, okay.

title: mugshot
summary: Azula and Asami are a bad combination for most of everyone's sanity. — Mako, Zuko, Azula/Asami.






Mako stumbled out of the training room, white in the face. He was shaking slightly, breathing gone all funny, eyes wide and horrified. He'd snarled his scarf around his hands like an old lady clutching at her pearls; with his hair mussed up, he carried a generally disturbed demeanor.

It was not a pretty sight.

Zuko eyed him, suddenly worried.

There were not many things could rattle Mako to this degree.

"What did my sister do now?" the Firelord sighed.

Mako couldn't even speak. He wordless jabbed the air in the direction of the training room, sharp and jerky and inexpressibly horrified.

Frankly, he looked like he was about to cry.

Well, Zuko thought, that couldn't be very good.

Zuko steeled himself for the very worst. He was moving towards the training room when the door swung inwards, and Zuko's worst fears (though he had no idea that he'd had such fears even until that moment) were realized.

General Azula ambled out, arm slung loosely around Asami Sato's waist. They were both hood-eyed and smiling lazily, clothing a mess even as Asami's fingers curled around Azula's hip. There was something very possessive in the gesture and they were—there was no other word for it—cuddling.

Oh Spirits, why?

Zuko did not know how to deal with this.

"…Hello, Azula."

"Zuzu. Do you want something?"

"Uh. Nope. Nothing at all. Carry on," Zuko managed to squeak out. He did not know how to deal with this. Apparently squeaking at his younger sister was his best bet at survival.

"Mhmmm," Azula sighed into Asami's throat. "Well, we've got things to do—"

"Like each other," Asami broke in, lips pulling up into a smirk. She dipped her head down and bit at Azula's ear.

(Zuko and Mako looked anywhere but each other to keep from screaming in sheer horror.)

"Like each other," Azula parroted. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their discomfort. "So if you'll excuse us. We'll be in my bedroom."

Zuko stared pointedly at the ceiling as he nodded. "Yep. Go right ahead. I'll tell Mother you're—"

"Busy, I'm sure. Thanks, Zuzu."

The two women waved boredly as they departed, far more absorbed in each other. Asami paused just as they were about to turn the corner, to flutter her eyelashes at them innocently. "Oh, Mako, you should probably head to the healers. You're all red."

Mako choked.

The giggling echoed long after Azula and Asami had disappeared.

Mako and Zuko slid to the floor, world too upturned to stay standing straight.

"I thought we were gonna die," Mako said. "I really thought we were gonna die. I thought she was gonna fry us. Or skin us. How are we alive?"

Zuko nodded. "I don't know."

Neither said anything for a moment.

"…What do we do now?" Mako asked.

Zuko very nearly whimpered. "Damage control. Maybe the Avatar—"

"She's just going to encourage it," Mako grumbled. "We're not living through this, are we."

"Probably not."

"Damn it."