Chapter Text
The bed-sharing arrangement sticks for a whole week. It’s weird (but not suspicious at all to Catra’s mind, evidently) that neither of them are in any particular rush to solve the problem at hand.
The problem being the bills, obviously. Catra wouldn’t classify what they’re doing — the bed sharing — as an issue, per se. A liability maybe, but— whatever.
Falling asleep bundled up under Adora’s sheets every night and waking to beams of dawn on her face and the presence of warm, strong arms wrapped around her torso, her friend nosing into the skin at the back of her neck, grumbling and groggy and all Adora, should be the farthest thing from a problem she’s ever experienced.
If not for the fact she’s falling more hopelessly in love with Adora every night. The way she feels against her. The way she curls around Catra in her sleep like it’s her job to make her feel protected. The way she’ll sometimes reach a hand out across the mattress, tragically, unconsciously, to maintain contact in some way during the rare moments that their bodies are distant. The way she talks even, though most of its intelligible nonsense, while her eyes are still heavy and she’s drifting in and out of dreams and Catra’s trying not to startle her awake by laughing too loud. As she watches, fond and aching.
Melong blinks at her from the bottom of the bed when Catra wakes five, five wonderful days into this arrangement, and all Catra can mouth in response is ‘shut up.’
He might have a point though.
It’s late afternoon on a Saturday when a text lights up her phone. Catra’s in the apartment alone; Adora’s at work, but Melog’s curled up over her toes and she’s streaming a movie on the laptop perched on her knees so she can survive the emptiness for a few hours longer. A blanket cocooned around her body and the pink of twilight touching the sky outside the windows.
She glances at the screen, wincing when the light is too bright on her eyes. The sun’s dropped significantly since she’d last looked at it, and the damn thing never adjusts on its own properly — but it’s a different culprit for her eyes squinting when she acknowledges the message waiting for her.
Today, 5:09 PM.
Scorpia: hey what time are you getting here?
Catra blinks at it for a moment before she types a cautious reply.
Today, 5:10 PM.
Catra: adora told you she couldn’t make it right?
Scorpia: yeah
she said she had a late shift
do you want us to meet you at the bus stop?
Catra: i don’t need babying you know
Scorpia: at the rink then?
entrapta wants me to tell you she got us snacks
:)
Catra: sure
i missed the first bus though so i might be a little late
Scorpia: no worries! see you there :D
Catra’s already scrambling to leave. (Melog glares at her when she bolts upright, but she can apologise for that later.)
“Hey,” she greets, a little breathy, as she approaches where Entrapta and Scorpia are sat at a bench already getting their skates on. Her hands shoved in her pockets to keep them warm and a scarf looped around her neck.
“Hey, wildcat” Scorpia beams at her, glancing up from neatly tying the laces in place.
Entrapta pushes something pink and fuzzy out toward her, “I got us cotton candy.”
“Uh, thanks, I can see that.” Catra takes a pinch, if only to be polite — super sugary foods have always been more of an Adora thing, but it’s nice, Entrapta’s being nice, she acknowledges. Then, apprehensive, Catra glances around, “where’s everybody else?”
“This is everybody,” Entrapta informs her, taking a giant bite out of the cloud of diabetes she’s holding on a stick.
Catra sends a look to Scorpia, assuming she’s the orchestrator of this cozy, little social event. She shuffles on her feet, one eyebrow raising a little. “You didn’t invite Glimmer and Bow?”
“Uh,” Scorpia actually looks bashful, bending to readjust the laces that are inarguably fine, “look, I love those two, they’re great, but they’ve always kinda felt more like Adora’s friends, you know?”
Catra frowns, not because she doesn’t agree with that statement, but because, “you invited me?” and she can’t contemplate the maths of that.
Scorpia looks up again, tilting her head a little. “Well, yeah, why wouldn’t we?”
Catra pauses, she’s worried her eyes are misting over. And then she shrugs. All casually, like it’s not a big deal at all. “Uh,” she clears her throat, “so, where do I go to get skates?”
Scorpia, it turns out, and despite looking like she should have the grace of a rhinoceros on the ice, is actually good at this. Entrapta is a little bit clumsy with it, but she’s not close to falling over every five seconds like Catra is.
“God, I thought this was gonna be like dancing, why is this so—,” she sucks in a gasp as her foot slips and goes in a direction she doesn’t want it too. Scorpia laughs softly at her, nothing unkind about it, as she glides backwards, the asshole, holding onto Catra’s hands to help her balance.
“Stop trying to fight it so much, go with it, let the skates do the work.”
Catra groans halfheartedly, “if I don’t fight it I’m gonna end up on the floor.”
Entrapta circles them, pointing to a nearby child that’s gripping onto the handles one of those upright penguins used like training wheels. You know, for kids. “We could get you one of those if you liked?”
Catra snorts, Scorpia laughs, and Entrapta’s face lights up when she notices she’s made a joke.
“Aren’t cats supposed to be good at balancing?” Scorpia mocks lightly.
“Yeah,” Catra agrees. “On the ground, this is—” a foot slips out from under her again, her knee nearly hits the ice before Scorpia tugs her, easily, back upwards. “Ugh, it’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”
“Never?” Entrapta frowns.
Catra shrugs, and says, like it’s all the explanation needed. “Weaver.”
They don’t press, and she’s grateful for it — her and Adora’s childhood is no secret, but it’s not exactly something she’s comfortable talking about unless she has to either.
It goes quiet between them for a few minutes, not awkwardly so, thank god. There’s christmas music coming from a speaker somewhere. Entrapta keeps circling and Catra thinks it’s making her dizzy, but then her attention’s back on her friend that's guiding her, as she begins to talk.
“My moms used to take me ice skating all the time. Hockey players.” Scorpia explains affectionately. “But sometimes they liked to play around with the lighter skates too and dance around on the ice together a bit, the bulky boots don’t really work the same.”
Catra gives a half smile. “You’re lucky, it must be nice to actually be any good at the stuff you like to do.”
“I guess.” Scorpia lifts her shoulders for a beat. “Skating is more their thing though, I’m still figuring out mine, and I’m sure I’ll be clumsy at it when I start. But that’s the beauty of being a beginner. Sometimes you just have to accept you’re gonna suck at things, and take it from there.” Scorpia smiles, and Catra’s certain there’s a flash of something disloyal, but strangely, still kind behind her eyes.
Catra narrows her eyes at her. “What are you—?”
And then Scorpia lets go of her.
All over again, she feels like a fawn on new legs, and she’s absolutely, definitely not going to move her feet off the ground — tempting gravity seems antagonistic given that she’s now alone, unbalanced, but the momentum they’d maintained carries her over the ice for a short distance. Before she glides, kinda awkwardly, to a stop.
She glowers at the taller girl who’s now beaming at her, traitorously now out of reach. “Scorpia! Get back here!”
“Come on wildcat, I was barely doing anything that last lap,” she encourages. “You got this.”
Catra glares, her tail swishing behind her. “This is inhumane.”
But, after a moment, she carefully, carefully, pushes off. Just a test. It’s obvious Scorpia’s deserted her, and she’s at least got to venture toward the edge of the rink on her own unless she wants to be stranded here for hours in some futile test of stubbornness.
Her torso collides with the railing when she reaches it, the layers of clothing help to pad the impact and she lets out an ‘oof’. But she hadn’t fallen, she hadn’t even wobbled this time.
“See, I told you, you could do it!” Scorpia slides much more gracefully up beside her, grinning.
Catra tries not to send the expression back, but there’s something blooming in her chest that feels like pride, and it’s making it very difficult not to.
She feels lighter, probably more so than she has in a long time, probably more so than ever. She’d be skipping if she weren’t so tired now.
It’s late, the sky is pitchblack outside and the grass framing the sidewalk is starting to frost over. It’s pretty, she thinks.
They’d wandered around town after, the three of them, her friends, weaving through the evening market stalls and pausing every time Scorpia went wide eyed at something. They’d not had dinner, technically, but Entrapta hadn’t been lying about the snacks, and her pockets seemed to have an endless supply that she’d thrust into Catra’s hands when her stomach started to rumble.
Adora’s shoes are by the entrance when she steps through the front door of their apartment, but the house is quiet, dark, which suggests her flatmate’s already in bed. Adora’s always had the sleep schedule of a grandma.
She peels her coat off, ticking her shoes soundlessly next to Adora’s before she walks down the hallway and into the bedroom that is temporarily theirs.
Melog’s curled up in Adora’s arms. Both of them have their eyes closed as she observes, a shiver already building at the back of her neck from the cold that’s still lurking through the building like a fiend.
But there’s finally enough in their collective accounts now, they’re out of the red again, which means tomorrow a call will be made, the bills will be settled. And Catra will reluctantly withdraw back to her own bedroom.
She doesn’t change into her pjs, clothes are warmer. But she does noiselessly dig out one of Adora’s sweaters from her drawers, feeling dwarfed inside it after she’s tugged it over her head, before sheltering under the comforter with the rest of them.
Adora’s hand reaching out languidly towards her suggests she’d been at least half aware of Catra’s presence the moment she’d entered the room. Her friend mumbles something that sounds like her name, before letting out a content sigh, and Melog trills lazily in agreement.
“Hey, dummy,” Catra chuckles quietly.
Adora’s reply is all drowsy. “Did you have a nice day?”
Catra watches; Adora’s eyes don’t even open, not so much as a flicker as she talks. She’s not even sure if this will have solidified into a memory by the morning, or if it’ll just drift away. “Yeah.”
“‘s good.” Adora breaths, and by the way she goes silent after, Catra assumes she’s fallen oh so easily back to sleep again.
Melog purrs, rolling their head to stare dolefully at her.
I know, buddy, she thinks, something deep within her ribcage turning heavy as she scritches behind his ear. I’m gonna miss this too.
Catra rouses and discovers her body far too tangled in Adora’s.
Her friend’s sleeping face is inches from her own as Catra’s eyes flutter open. There’s an arm draped over the dip of her hip bone, it’s not holding, just resting their lazily — but both the sweater and the t-shirt underneath have hiked up Catra’s torso and it’s a few inches of hyper alert, bare skin right now.
She deciphers, by the way Adora’s chest is still rising, slow and steady, that it was probably a decision she’d made while submerged deep in a rem cycle. Unconsciousness is cruel, Catra decides then.
But it’s not where most of her awareness is flooding to.
Because.
Adora’s thigh?
Is tucked in between both of hers right now.
And she knows if Adora wakes up and finds them like this with Catra wide eyed and breathless, that no alibi on the planet is going to save her.
She pulls away, carefully, slowly, like she’s untangling wires for a bomb defusal. Just as tactfully debating the fact that crawling back in and pressing her body closer to Adora is not the sensible decision right now, as much as her morning brain might like it to be.
Adora just lets out this soft, little hum as the only indication she’s registered the warmth pulling away. And then Catra’s withdrawing to the hallway, to the kitchen, to busy herself with packing lunch.
She lets out a shaky breath once she's on the safe side of Adora’s bedroom door.
Her ears spin then towards the sound of clinking under the lowest branches of the christmas tree. Melog’s up, evidently, and by the sounds of it, content to be swatting at an ornament he must have pulled down last night. But he doesn’t materialise to try to steal her lunch meats so she’s not gonna scold him for it.
She should have done this last night. Adora always does, forever the organised one, but it keeps her hands busy until she catches the muffled sounds of Adora waking.
It’s not choreographed, she tries to argue with herself, but she’s back in her own bedroom by the time Adora’s out of hers and heading towards the bathroom.
She fumbles out of the clothes she’d slept in because she should probably, definitely do that.
Then, when she’s done, she stares at the closed door for a minute like a pathetic thing with her hands flexing at her sides. There's a goddamn annoying blush that won’t leave her face alone. Likely, a palm full of cold water would help, but there’s an Adora standing between her and the bathroom right now.
She checks her phone. She has maybe ten minutes until she inarguably needs to be out the door. Adora, she knows, has about five. (They’re disasters, okay, they know that). Maybe she can just wait it out, stay in here, leave as soon as she hears the front door rattle the wall as it shuts behind her.
God this is so fucking stupid. She grumbles to herself, before taking the leap and exiting her room.
Adora has a sandwich jammed in her mouth, rummaging hurriedly through the clutter in the kitchen, under the couch cushions, through coat pockets for something.
“What did you lose this time, you dumbass?” She says it like throwing enough insults out into the world will kill off this crush that’s growing like a weed in her chest. It’s a wasted attempt. Because she’s aware Adora knows she uses them as affectionately as pet names.
“My keys,” Adora frets. “I have to go and I can’t friggin find them.”
Catra blinks, tilting her head. Perhaps…?
Her feet carry her towards the tree and the cat that’s lurking in the shadows underneath, something metallic sticking out from underneath the fur of his belly as he glares at her.
“Sorry, Melog, I’m gonna have to confiscate those.” She reaches out for it, swapping the keychain with something just as sparkly that had been hanging on the tree. He seems satisfied with the trade.
She approaches Adora, now fumbling through the bowl near the entrance where they’re normally kept, or are supposed to be, if Adora ever actually remembered to do that.
Catra dangles them like a lure in the air over Adora’s head. Her friend lets out a relieved sigh, stepping forward and reaching up for them.
“God, thank you, I really thought I was gonna be late.”
Catra rolls her eyes, “yeah, because that really would have been the end of the world.”
“What would I do without you, honestly,” Adora says, and then she’s, uh, getting closer.
And here’s the thing; a hug might have made her heart stumble a little, a kiss on the cheek would have definitely had her flushing red, but it would have been forgivable.
But Adora’s — and it’s barely for half a second, and Catra’s counting because it’s the same length as her inaudible squeak — suddenly kissing her. Like this is normal for them, like they do it all the time, like it’s the most casual goodbye in the world.
And then she says, “I’ll see you later!” before disappearing out the door.
Catra stares at said door for an unhealthy amount of time, wondering how long it’s gonna take for Adora to click that she just did that.
She’s not actually sure if it takes hours, or if Adora just doesn’t have a chance to message until her lunch break, but her phone lights up while Catra’s in the break room brewing her fourth coffee of the day. It’s the holidays, alright, she deserves it.
Today, 12:58 PM.
Adora: Hey, Catra
She feels her heart thumping in her ribcage as she stares at the text. It’s unsettling in that way formality often is from a person who shouldn't be using it. Adora’s only like this when she’s unsure. When she feels like there’s something she should be apologizing for.
She texts back, after her heart calms down enough to let her focus.
Today, 12:59 PM.
Catra: hi
Adora: So
Can we talk about what happened
Catra: how bout we don’t
Adora I’m really sorry if it made you uncomfortable
I didn’t mean to do that
I have no fucking clue why I did
It just kinda happened
Catra: okay...
Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she tries to settle the palpitations in her chest.
Today, 01:00 PM.
Catra: but did you want it to happen?
Today, 01:00 PM (Adora is calling).
It startles Catra enough that she’s suddenly yelping, throwing the phone across the room where it lands with an unfortunate thump on the opposite wall before clattering to the floor. A co-worker scowls at her. She pays them no mind as she retrieves the device and dashes out of the building. She’d rather randoms on the highstreet overhear than anyone who’s gonna potentially tease her about this later.
She accepts the call once she’s outside, hands shaking. “Hi,”
“Hey,” Adora replies with just the same level of fluster in her voice.
Catra clears her throat. “Uh, so…?”
It seems to take Adora a moment to realise it’s a prompt, “right, um, right,” she’s stuttering, she does that when she’s nervous, Catra knows. “Were you... were you wearing my sweater last night?”
Catra’s ears pin back, since when was she supposed to be the one on trial here? “What has that got to do with anything?” Probably a lot, but she’s not gonna admit that.
“Were you?” Adora repeats.
Catra grumbles, and slowly admits, “...maybe.”
Adora’s silent on the other side of the line for an uncomfortably long time, Catra starts to worry the call’s disconnected, before, “I called up the electricity guys.” Adora begins. “We should be all set, you can go back to sleeping in your own bedroom now.”
“Oh,” Catra feels like she’s been doused in cold water, like a candle that’s been left outside on a rainy day. But she’s not gonna let the passersby on the sidewalk see her eyes well up.
They’ve broken. She tried so hard and it’s not ever her fault but they’ve broken anyway.
“I mean,” Adora continues, her voice unbearably soft now. “Only if you wanted to. I don’t mind if you’d rather… stay. It’s been, uh, it’s been kinda nice.” And then, she recites, like she hasn’t gotten her point across yet. “You could stay.”
Catra counts her heartbeat as it echoes in her ears, her jaw loose as she tries to form a coherent response, eyes blinking rapidly.
Because it’s easy, she settles on a breathy, “yeah, okay.”
“Yeah?”
She nods, rubs a sleeve over her eyes, hiccuping quietly as she confirms. “Yeah.”
And she can practically feel Adora beaming through the phone.
“Oh my god,” Catra hears Bow say, soft, looking up from where she’s sketching on the couch to find him doe eyed as he fawns over whatever he’s looking at, but it’s suspicious, she notes, because he seems to be looking right at her. “You wear glasses?” He sounds smitten.
Catra glowers.
“Please leave my girlfriend alone,” Adora inputs as she shepherds their guests into the living room, with almost exactly the same tone in her voice that Bow had held. She’s trying to be stern, but the development still won’t come out of her mouth as anything but fond. Rightfully.
Catra snaps her sketchbook closed, tucking it under the bottom of the couch in case someone feels like browsing. They’re still shitty, and that’s okay, but she doesn’t want anyone to see just yet.
She moves then to help Adora set up the picnic rug that she’d dug out of a closet over the cheap carpet.
“We’re eating on the floor? Glimmer asks, not impolite, a bit amused, probably.
Bow cocks an eyebrow, glancing around the room. “Uh, what happened to your dining table?”
“Oh, you know,” Adora shrugs, setting the plates out, “we just figured we didn’t really need it.”
Glimmer shakes her head heatlessly, “sure, scrap your table right before you invite everyone over for christmas dinner, great plan.” But she releases the bag of contributions they’d brought into the center of the rug. Settling down to assist.
Catra hears Melog mewl then, turning her head to find him stretching as he paces out from underneath the tree. Bow instantly releases a soft gasp of, “kitty!” at the sight of him. The feline returns the sentiment in a trill as he approaches, forehead butting into shin.
Good, that’ll keep Bow occupied, she smirks.
The doorbell rings, Catra’s on her feet in an instant, listening to Glimmer’s chuckled voice behind her, she thinks someone’s probably scooped Melog up, “I can’t believe you two co-adopted a furbaby before you even realised you wanted to be together.”
Catra just rolls her eyes warmly.
“Wildcat!” Scorpia beams after Catra swings the door open, a huge tinfoiled dish in her arms that looks miraculously like the outline of a whole turkey. It would have been a workout to carry it up the stairs if it wasn’t, well, Scorpia.
Entrapta’s peering over the taller girl’s shoulder, wearing a headband with antlers that have lights dancing all over them, her own arms full of heavy grocery bags. “We brought food!”
“Yeah,” Catra nods, bemused, “you sure did.”
“Where's the cat?” Entrapta asks, prompts, before Catra steps aside and lets them in.
There’s a chorus of greetings, before everyone dissipates to sit around the picnic blanket. Melog now curled upside down like a baby in Entrapta’s arms.
They leave a space for her next to Adora, she notices.
It’s not exactly a cozied up around the fireplace sort of feel but it is close. Catra thinks it might actually be better.
Glimmer starts serving, it’s a strange patchwork of a holiday meal. From the corner of her eye, she picks up Melog staring with a little too much intent at the turkey Scorpia’s just unveiled. But she doesn’t care. Adora arm ghosts around her waist and holds, inviting, and Catra melts into her side. It’s still so new that it takes her breath away.
She turns her head to find Adora watching her, eyes endearingly warm. “Did you get everything you wanted?” She asks, quiet. While the rest of their friends are chatty and cheerful around them.
She’s pretty certain as Christmases go, there is no competition.
Catra nods.
And then Adora leans forward and kisses her, unabashed, in front of everybody. Catra’s face turns scarlet, her ears pinned back as their friends coo at them.
But it’s hard to grumble when you’re smiling, she’s learned.