A/N: Written for harmoniccconvergence over on tumblr as part of Avatar Secret Santa! Happy Holidays :)
A/N2: This was written a while before the finale, so it's kind of AU...but like, middle-aged Makorra. Also their children being super sassy teenagers. Just bear with me here. (Plus, you know Mako and Korra would be the kind of parents to cheer their kids on super loudly at sporting events. Please.)

not there for the noise

You're supposed to roll your hips in time,
You're supposed to see your age rewind
You're supposed to pull me like the sun
Pulls the earth

~If You Didn't See Me, Dale Earnhardt Jr Jr.

They're probably too old for this.

Not that that stops Korra from sucking in a breath as the stadium lights dim, a lone spotlight flickering on over the probending ring. A cheer goes up as the platforms rumble to life, carrying their players toward the center, ready for combat. Korra sits on the edge of her seat, waiting.

She spots her daughter's slick ponytail sticking up over the edge of her helmet. Natsuko's level gaze—oblivious to the hollering crowd—is Mako's, but the self-assured roll of her shoulders as she sets foot in the ring is all Korra.

"Knock 'em out!" shouts Korra, even though she knows there's no way Natsuko will be able to distinguish her voice from the countless others that are either singing praise or jeering.

Korra sneaks a glance toward her son, Nilak, sitting on her right. At thirteen, he's entered an impressive "too cool to care about anything" phase, evident from his slack posture and folded arms. But Korra knows her son well enough to see past the practiced air of indifference. His shoulders are tense, his whole body on the alert. He wants his sister's team to win just as much as their whole family does.

The bell rings, signaling the start of the match. Korra cranes as far forward as she can, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"Relax," murmurs Mako, from her left. He reaches over to squeeze Korra's knee gently. "She's going to do fine."

His composure doesn't last for long. Two minutes in and insults are flying from Korra's end just as much as rock disks are whizzing by in the ring below. "Come on, ref!" she complains; meanwhile, Mako is half-out of his seat, directing, "Take out the left side, Natsuko! The left side!"

"Mom, Dad," hisses Nilak. "You're making a scene."

"Deal with it," retorts Korra, choosing to overlook the judgmental glare she gets from a woman sitting in the row in front of them. She nudges Nilak in the ribs. "Come on, cheer for your sister."

"I am." Nilak grits his teeth. "Just in my head."

"I can't hear you," sings Korra, before an errant earth disk nearly clips Natsuko's ear and has Korra screaming, "That was an intended head shot! Foul!"

The first round ends with Natsuko's team pushed back into Zone 3. As the next round starts, Korra watches her daughter fix her gear, unconcerned with the glowing blue characters that indicate the other team is up by one.

"Does she remind you of someone?" she teases, leaning in close to Mako.

"Hm," grunts Mako, intently focused on the events folding below.

"Let's hope she inherited the Hat Trick gene from you, too," observes Korra as Arrluk, the team's waterbender, topples off the backside of the ring, hitting the water below with a messy splash.

Natsuko and her remaining teammate, Harshul, put up a good fight. Their dogged determination keeps them in Zone 2 for the rest of the match, but the Ba Sing Se Badgermoles' waterbender refuses to be pushed back like the rest of her teammates, and, when time is called, stands firmly in Zone 1 of the Fire Ferrets' side.

Korra bites the inside of her cheek. "They really need a knockout now," she says, reaching for Mako and Nilak's hands as the final round begins.

Mako's rough palm slides against hers, fingers tangling naturally after years of practice.

Nilak, on the other hand, stares at his mother's outstretched hand skeptically.

"Come on, Nilak," Korra says impatiently, wiggling her fingers. "For good luck."

Nilak exhales heavily, and Korra makes a mental note to have Mako talk to his son about this stick-in-the-mud attitude. Grudgingly, Nilak slips his hand into hers, and Korra bites back a smile when she feels how sweaty his palms are.

Together, the three of them turn their attention back to the ring, where Natsuko's black ponytail cuts through the air as she twists and turns, jabbing sharply and following up with sweeping kicks. Nilak crushes Korra's hand when Natsuko gets caught mid-leap, sent all the way back to Zone 3.

"You can get this back," Mako says fiercely. "Just take them one at a time, Natsuko."

And somehow, across the bodies between them and the field, Natsuko must hear, because Korra watches her daughter settle into the stance that usually precedes one of her game-changing moves. It always fascinates her, seeing Natsuko transition from a self-contained center of energy into a spinning inferno, blazing with all the energy of her sixteen years.

The Badgermoles' waterbender is the first to fall back. Natsuko backflips away from a fire-punch before retaliating with one of her own, making quick work of both earthbender and firebender. Korra breathes a sigh of relief as Natsuko advances back into Zone 2; with more room to maneuver, she knows that Natsuko will be nearly unstoppable.

And, indeed, her daughter roars to life. Anyone who has followed Natsuko's progress in the papers knows her unofficial title, "Knockout Natsuko," and Natsuko lends credence to it now, bobbing and weaving, unrelenting punch after punch, while Korra flashes back to loud giggles and evening sparring matches, her daughter's tiny chest heaving with exertion, all the bandages and massages that have taken them to this point—Natsuko, blasting her way through smoke and fire and into the hearts of Republic City's populace. Blasting her way to—

"And the Fire Ferrets are your new champions!" thunders the announcer. Korra's hand has gone numb from the combined pressure of Nilak and Mako's grips, but she surges to her feet anyways, pulling them up with her.

"Yes!" shouts Nilak. "Yes, yes, yes!"

"She did it," announces Korra, breathless, wrapping her arms around Nilak and Mako in the midst of the applause that echoes from every corner of the arena. Nilak is laughing into her shoulder, clutching the back of her shirt tightly, and Mako presses a kiss to her forehead, smiling.

"Told you she'd do fine."

o.O.o

The pathway leading back to the mainland is clogged with reporters and fans clamoring for autographs. Korra watches Natsuko deal with all the attention. Having changed back into her red tunic, the mandarin collar done up neatly, Natsuko handles the press's questions and little children's requests with ease, nodding gracefully and smiling attentively.

However, the act fades away as she turns and sees her family. In a flash, Natsuko is running toward them, launching herself into Mako's arms.

"Did you see me, Dad?" she says. "It was like a move straight out of one of your old playbooks."

"It was," Mako agrees, spinning her in a circle before setting her down on the ground. "Oof," he says, making a point of rubbing his lower back. "You're getting a little too big for this, now."

"Or you're getting too old," teases Natsuko, bouncing up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. She turns to Nilak. "So, how'd I do?"

Nilak shrugs, staring out to the side, in the direction of the water. "You were okay."

"Liar." Natsuko swoops forward, hooking an elbow around Nilak's neck and rubbing his head.

"Okay, okay!" splutters Nilak, trying to swat Natsuko's hands away. "You were really cool."

"Better," accepts Natsuko, setting Nilak free, but not before she pinches his cheek, smirking.

"Leave your brother alone, Natsuko," laughs Korra, holding her arms open wide. "Come here."

Natsuko is every bit a summer child, from the molten amber of her eyes to the caramel of her skin, and her body is still emanating the warm flush of victory as she burrows into Korra's arms. Korra runs her fingers through Natsuko's tangled black hair, closing her eyes as the scent of sweat and smoke dredges up memories of being seventeen and on the cusp of everything the world has to offer.

"The team wants to celebrate," Natsuko says as she pulls back, her arms still wrapped loosely around Korra's waist.

"Where?"

"Downtown."

"Can we go, too?" blurts Nilak, before he remembers that he isn't supposed to care and returns to his usually close-lipped expression.

Over Natsuko's shoulder, Korra exchanges a look with Mako, who shrugs. Why not?

"Count us in," she tells her daughter, all the while winking at Nilak, who tries not to look too excited.

o.O.o

They end up at a cheery restaurant with a cozy dance floor and a bar. Arrluk and Natsuko shoot each other conspiring looks while Harshul disappears to the bathroom, so Korra takes it upon herself to keep an eye on the two kids, sliding onto the stool next to Natsuko.

"Mom," Natsuko says, sounding slightly exasperated when Korra intercepts her drink.

"Sorry, kiddo," Korra says, bringing Natsuko's order to her own mouth instead, "but I gotta make sure you didn't wheedle old Gopan here into slipping you some alcohol."

The old man in question turns around from the glass he's polishing, wrinkling his nose at her. "You don't visit me for years, and the minute you come back, you're slinging accusations."

Korra laughs, holding up her drink in greeting. "Thank goodness. I wasn't completely sure it was you. That would have been awkward."

Gopan scratches the side of head, drawing attention to his snow-white hair. "Turned sixty-three a few months ago," he declares proudly.

"And you're still taking care of this old place?" teases Korra, leaning forward and resting her chin on one hand. "You need a break."

"I tried to get my son to take over," sighs Gopan. "But, alas, not every child is so eager to follow in their parent's footsteps. I certainly wish my son had her enthusiasm," he says, nodding toward Natsuko.

"Technically Mom was only a probender for a few months, tops," says Natsuko. She squints at Gopan. "So you and my mom know each other? Does Dad know you, too?"

"Yeah," Korra answers. "This was one of our old haunts, back in the day."

"Like, probending days? Or after-saving-the-world days?"

"Both," says Korra, and there's a flood of stories on her tongue, drunken bets and the old jazz song and that one time with the spirit vines, but tonight isn't about her. It's about the three kids listening: Harshul, dark-browed and broad-shouldered, Arrluk with his wolftails and bright blue eyes, and Natsuko, her little torch, the proof that fire can pass from one hand to another without dimming. So Korra sets the drink—which has passed inspection—down on the counter, pats Natsuko's head and instructs, "Try not to get too wild," and goes to find Mako.

Her husband and her son are poring over a menu in the next room over. Korra runs a hand over Mako's shoulder, squeezing; he tilts his head back to look at her, one thick black eyebrow arching.

"Nilak wants to order the octopus," he says.

Korra fakes a gag before slapping a wad of yuans on the table. "Just kidding. Order whatever you want, okay?"

Nilak looks at the cash, his blue-eyed gaze uncertain. "Um, sure, Mom, but what are you going to eat?"

"Pick something out for me," says Korra as a new song starts playing overhead. "As for you," she tugs Mako out of his seat, "Let's dance, City Boy."

o.O.o

There are several other couples milling about on the wooden flooring, and Korra keeps an eye on Natsuko and her friends as Mako takes the lead, guiding them in a slow circle.

"You need to shave," she murmurs, running her fingers over the side of his chin as she rises on her tiptoes to speak into his ear.

Mako leans down, his stubble rubbing against her cheek as he rumbles, "Haven't had the time, what with keeping up with our crazy kids."

"Nilak's pai sho tournament is next week," says Korra. "Think he's gonna sweep?"

Mako raises an arm, twirling her outwards before spinning her back into his arms. "Hopefully not. You know how he likes a challenge."

"True," laughs Korra. "He's got a lot more patience than I had at that age, that's for sure."

"Only when it comes to pai sho."

"Only when it comes to pai sho," agrees Korra, thinking of the shouting match that ended in a cracked birdbath the other day and how Nilak had withdrawn, sullen, to his room to puzzle out strategy with tiles that didn't talk back. The incident had made her think of the ancient airbending gates she'd demolished when she'd first arrived in Republic City, and she smiles self-deprecatingly at the memory, resting her head against Mako's chest. "We have a pai sho prodigy and the youngest probender to hold a record for most single-handed knockouts," she says out loud, as if she can't quite believe it.

Mako hums in agreement. "You did good."

"We did good," corrects Korra, pulling him in for a kiss.

He tastes like green tea and honeyed cough drops (a remnant of the cold he caught a week ago), like dusky Republic City nights and streetlights flickering on with a warm, gentle glow. He tastes like some of the best years of her life.

Korra can't help slightly rolling her hips, grinning wickedly, and Mako pulls back. "Not in front of the kids, Korra," he admonishes, lips twitching in amusement, and Korra rolls her eyes but obliges, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck.

"Happy nineteenth anniversary, Mako," she says, timing her swaying to the beat of his heart instead of the music playing softly overhead.

"Happy nineteenth anniversary, Korra," Mako echoes, squeezing her tightly.

o.O.o

"Gross."

Natsuko turns to find her younger brother sitting on the stool beside her, arms crossed and chin tucked in close to his chest. "What are you brooding about now?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Mom and Dad are being mushy right in the middle of the dance floor," complains Nilak, brows drawing together over his deep blue eyes.

Natsuko follows his gaze to where their parents are swaying slowly, completely disregarding the rhythm of the song. Korra has her head thrown back in laughter, and Mako is watching her as if the sound is his favorite tune, a soft smile curving over his face as he dips her and she winds her arms around his neck and through his hair to support herself. Not for the first time, Natsuko wonders what they were like at eighteen, or twenty, or twenty-four, but then she just grins because—they were probably like this.

"I don't know," she says, throwing an arm over her brother and resting her head on his shoulder. "I think it's nice."