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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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More of Avatrice and their dog? Or whatever soft, everyday life stuff you wanna write most tbh.

[baby korra! also, there were a bunch of prompts (all of which i loved!) that asked for some more about ava & disability, so that's in here too!]

'okay, i know you're here because we genuinely need groceries and i refuse to stick to a list.' beatrice suppresses a smile but nods anyway — soft and gorgeous this morning, in sweatshorts and an oversized t-shirt with the sleeves cuffed a few times, pristine sneakers, because it's hot outside, a little cap on backward. sometimes you don't want to wear shorts if you're in your chair, but today is too warm, even on the water, to want to wear pants. you admit that you like your arms, still, maybe even more, in tanks, so, in your opinion, you're gonna be the hottest couple in the whole foods. you take a moment to sigh, happily, and then get back on track with your mission. 'but you can't help me and korra at all.'

'i know,' she says, unfazed and understanding. 'i'll just be right behind you monitoring your questionable deviations from the list. despite that, i don't have to come in at all if you don't want.'

'no, that's fine. it'll be good to practice with you there in case we need to slow down.'

'okay, my love.'

she turns the car's ignition off and then gets out, comes around to the passenger side and gets your chair situated for you by your door. it makes you ache, a little, because this is your fucking life; you've hurt for so, so long, and now this beautiful person you love so deeply has to care for you in ways that you hate, in ways that you have been terrified of since you were seven and woke up alone and unable to move and unable to grieve, or see the stars or the sea. but — bea holds your hands just like your physical therapist had shown you, a transfer that keeps you safe and doesn't put a particular amount of strain on beatrice either. and all she does, after you make sure you're situated comfortably, is kiss the top of your head, almost absentmindedly, and then hands you your reusable tote bags.

'thanks, bea.'

she just hums, waves a hand to say of course, to say i don't mind, to say i am thinking of you always with love; this isn't any different, to say you're the most incredible person i've ever known. you know these things because she tells you all the time, and she shows you all the time; you've gone over it again and again in therapy, too, beatrice sitting patiently on the couch next to you and holding your hand while you sort through your messy feelings around mobility and pain that have, honestly, never seemed messy or complicated for her: she loves you, and that's the beginning and end of it.

you tug on her shirt, just for a moment; she smells so good, like her cologne and your laundry detergent and your lavender lotion and, always, a little like the ocean. she puts a gentle hand to the back of your head and lets you rest, your ear against her ribcage.

'if all goes well, which it will,' she says, moving back a little and looking clearly into your eyes; you love her, 'we can get brunch after? korra will probably be tired but we could do some neutrality training? if you're not feeling great, we can pick something up too. i could use a nap, honestly.'

'you slept until 10 am.'

'i can always sleep more,' she says, and you have to laugh.

you get korra out of the van, easy with its automatic doors and her happy little expression. she has her service dog in training DO NOT PET, I'M WORKING vest on — already getting a little small on her constantly growing body — and when you tell her it's time to work, she obediently sits at your right side in a perfect, small heel. you give her a piece of kibble — her breakfast this morning, because anything more interesting than kibble makes her kind of lose it and doesn't help with neutrality, which is funny more than anything, but counterproductive.

'well, i'll take the stairs,' bea says, 'so you can handle the elevator on your own with korra. meet you at the south entrance.'

it's kind of tactical, and you want to laugh, but she's already striding off purposefully and you shrug at korra, with her too-big paws and the wagging white tip of her tail. 'let's go,' you say, and, although she's on a short lead, made especially for handlers in chairs, she doesn't pull or sniff, just trots right at the right wheel, and automatically sits while you wait for the elevator. 'good girl, korra,' you praise and feed her another piece of kibble, much to her calm delight.

the elevator is new and big, so it's easy, and beatrice is patiently waiting by the south entrance with a cart for you, as promised, on her phone — probably looking up highlights from some tennis match she didn't get to catch this morning; she nods very seriously, which makes you smile. she looks up and sees you and then waits for you to situate the small cart in front of you, like you'd practiced in occupational therapy too, using the front of the chair to push the cart pretty effectively.

korra seems a little nervous about the cart, mostly because it's new and you're still a big clumsy with it, but you feed her a lot of kibble and reluctantly get all the produce beatrice had put on your list, but your also joyfully add chocolate covered dates and a bottle of champagne that the store had so nicely left right by strawberries. you look back at bea, who rolls her eyes, but she doesn't move to stop you, just walks silently and patiently, comfortable without any urgency, her hands in her pockets and her bangs messy beneath her backwards cap, her freckles spread down her arms now. you've used the chair enough by this point that you have calluses on your hands and your arms don't get tired or sore if you're just doing tasks, especially if the space is relatively accessible.

one day, korra will be bigger and way more coordinated, but you still practice with her getting a box of quinoa — beatrice's addition to the list, unfortunately — and bringing it to you, which she does pretty well: she drops it twice but happily completes her task, and you almost cry when you pet her soft, small head and offer her more praise and a few pieces of kibble. she ignores everyone, even when they try to talk to her. bea sends everyone withering glares when they do so, which is funnier to you than it really should be.

but for now, korra follows you attentively and, other than a few things you have to ask bea to get you from high on the shelves — which, if you came by yourself, wouldn't be hard to ask an employee or someone else in the same aisle; it loosens something in your chest, the ease with which you will be able to move through the world, even on your most limited days — everything goes off without a hitch.

you get everything on your list — mostly boring — and then add everything fun you want; bea eats all of her snacks too, especially if she takes an edible, and you know she'll pout eventually if you don't get chocolate and popcorn. korra heels attentively as you pay, and you think that, very soon, she won't need her lead at all in places she goes often. you work with your trainer all the time but it fills you with a sense of pride that you get to work with her so much, that she's so smart and good and loves you, clearly and deeply.

you pay and the clerk happily loads your bags into your cart for you. it's — it's not bad. it's not easy, but it's also not impossible, and bea gives you a goofy high five when you get outside.

'that was amazing, ava.'

'it was — it was amazing, wasn't it?'

she's so excited she's vibrating slightly, you think, even though she had really kept her cool in the store. her smile is so big and she put her sunglasses on but you can tell her eyes flash with joy anyway. 'it was. do you want me to take the stairs, or can i take the elevator with you?'

'come with us, of course.'

she squeezes your shoulder and then lets you press the button, lets you push the cart, lets you get situated with korra before she steps on as well. she asks if you want any help with putting the groceries into the trunk, and you're sure you could do it yourself, but she's here and proud of you and — 'can you, like, do a few bicep curls with each bag? that would be so helpful.'

she laughs, bright, and rolls her eyes, but she does appease you anyway, taking two of your tote bags in her hands and then lifting them a few times.

'ugh, perfect.'

'you're so ridiculous,' she says, even though she clearly lets you ogle as she loads the trunk.

'you got plans for after brunch?'

she hums, considering. 'maybe getting up to something with my very sexy girlfriend.'

'getting up to something?'

she shrugs. 'whatever you want.'

'oh, i want to fully fuck.'

she grins, leans down to cup your face in her palms and kisses you fully on the mouth, way too dirty for a whole foods parking lot, but you are not complaining.

'do we need brunch? we could order in.'

'i'm not opposed to that,' she says, nonchalant but you know she's probably horny already. 'do you want to drive?'

'i — yeah, if that's okay?'

'i wouldn't have asked if it wasn't,' she says, like it's a fact. and it is.

she just waits in the passenger seat, on her phone again, while you get korra situated and then put down the electric ramp. a minivan isn't the sexiest car — beatrice has a sleek, fast volvo hybrid that you're a little jealous of sometimes — but you learned how to drive and then had to learn how to drive again with hand controls. for as frustrating as it can be, some days, to have to learn so many different ways to do things, it's a life, and you can learn and practice and now, you get your chair into the car without any issue and transfer to the driver's seat easily. beatrice smiles at you, looking up from her phone where she is, indeed, checking tennis results.

you drive home while you bicker about what to order for brunch, and beatrice puts the groceries away while you get the chair out from the van and situate korra with a frozen lick mat, so she won't bother you. you wheel to your bedroom, a master beatrice had fully remodeled so it was on the first floor, without any frustration — i get to fix every small detail that bothers me, she had said, and genuinely meant, and, plus, you had gotten to watch her help your contractor blow out a wall and then put up shelves eventually.

when you get to the threshold, you gulp because beatrice is lounging on your bed in just a pair of pale blue boxers, a dark, wet patch between her legs. 'hi darling,' she says, and it's hard to scramble in your chair but you manage well enough, let her help you transfer quickly into bed, and the she hands you the soft wedge you'd bought a few months ago to help lift your hips. you nod once you're settled and tug her toward you; you kiss her chest and she kisses down your stomach and then settles between your legs.

and like, maybe things are different, maybe things suck a little, because you're in pain and there's a lot of thought that goes into tasks, but you come three times before you have to tug her up toward you and she kisses you, beautiful, with your taste on her tongue.

she rides your fingers and comes with her hand firmly on your throat, then flops down next to you with a sigh. 'our brunch has probably been outside for a while.'

you laugh. 'i can go check.'

'great,' she says, 'i'll move in... a while.'

you kiss her, laughing, and then brush her hair out of her eyes, scratch once, tenderly, along the shaved sides, tug fondly on an earlobe with one small stud. 'thank you, for today, my love.'

she touches your cheek tenderly. 'it's the same to me as any day. you ruin my grocery list and then i get to make love to you. can't complain.'

'i can,' you say, and her brows pinch in worry for a moment before you kiss the crease. 'i only came three times.'

she laughs, relieved. 'we have all afternoon. i can remedy that.'

you sigh. 'a pretty good life, huh?'

'oh, ava,' she says, 'yes. beyond my wildest dreams.'

#wn #avatrice #avatrice fic #i will be DYING on this HILL that ava's life fucking rocks even with limited mobility #korra the best service puppy #goey here's r+ training u will enjoy lol #butch bea 🥺🫡

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