Work Text:
day 2 of catradora week july 2019 - together/apart
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Catra knows Adora’s face almost better than her own. The bridge of her nose, with a little bump on it from a training accident; the crease between her brows when she furrows them; the small, but content quirk of her lips, these days more present than ever; the beauty mark on her cheek, faint, but easy to find if you know it’s there; her bottom lip; chapped and always bleeding because she has a tendency to chew it when thinking.
But, as they lie next to each other in their Bright Moon bed after dinner, and Adora is too busy rambling about something trivial to notice Catra’s staring, Catra realizes that something has changed.
Her cheekbones are more refined now; the crease between her brows is deeper. And – there’s a scar where there’s never been a scar before – small and white. It runs though Adora’s left brow. Catra can see it clearly, and as she looks at it, a grim feeling settles in her chest.
“Hey, Adora?”
Adora cuts herself off mid-sentence and turns her head to look at her.
“Yeah?”
Catra’s mind derails from her question for a moment when Adora’s eyes meet hers. They’re her favorite thing about her – blue, with a hint of grey, and earnest, just like the girl they belong to.
“Have you – have you always had that scar?” she finally asks, pointing at Adora’s left brow with her pinky.
Adora instinctively takes a hand up to her face and traces it. “No. You gave it to me. In battle, remember?”
Catra frowns. She’d rather not think about that.
It’s been months since she joined the Rebellion. Some days are better than others. This is definitely one of them. They rarely get moments like these, moments where they can just be together, and she – although she’d never admit it out loud – enjoys every second of it.
But Adora’s words also make her think, make her say: “What else did I give you?”
Adora quirks a brow. “You’re sure you want to see it?”
Catra chews on her bottom lip, a quirk she’d picked up from Adora. Or maybe it’s the other way around. She nods.
“Yes.”
Adora sits up with a sigh and starts to pull her shirt off. Catra’s eyes trace her muscles moving , toned and prominent. She’s not sure if they’ve always looked like that, or if that’s new, too.
Adora puts the shirt aside and turns her body towards Catra.
“Most of the time, She Ra doesn’t scar, but somehow,” she meets Catra’s gaze with a somber look in her eyes, “your claws always leave a mark.”
Catra pouts. “I’m sorry.”
Adora’s lips quirk upwards in a soft smile. “It’s okay.”
Catra’s eyes slide to her stomach. Four long scars run along the fair skin of her left side. Catra lifts her hand and reaches out, curiously, but with caution, like when you try and see how close you can get to a fire before it starts to burn.
Adora watches as Catra’s fingertips make contact with her stomach and slowly trace the scar. Adora’s skin is soft, just like Catra knew it would be. It’s cold, too, but as her fingertips make their way along the scar, it feels like it’s burning under her touch.
“When?” she asks.
“Some time ago. A battle outside a small village,” Adora says.
She nods and pulls her hand back, letting it hover next to Adora’s middle, as her eyes trace the rest of her body.
There are some small scars here and there, some old, some new. What catches her attention, however, is a slightly longer, slightly deeper one right above Adora’s heart. She inches closer, rising into a sitting position, and leans in to inspect it, as she traces it with a single finger.
“And this?”
She feels Adora’s chest rumble as she says: “Another battle in the woods. You almost got my sword that day.”
Catra looks up at her with a small smirk. “I would’ve gotten away with it if you didn’t jump me from behind.”
Adora smirks back. “I learned that move from you.”
Catra’s smirk grows into a smile. “I know.”
This close to Adora’s face, she can see even more tiny scars and scratches, presumably from training, and the majority most likely from her.
She searches Adora’s eyes for a hint of loathing, but they’re just as earnest as they’ve always been.
A memory flashes before her eyes; her, on She Ra’s back, dragging her claws down the white fabric, ripping it and scratching the skin underneath, as She Ra, no, Adora , cries out in pain.
“Turn around.”
Adora moves around, turning her back towards Catra. Now that Adora’s muscles have relaxed, Catra can see them more clearly. Ten long scars, running across her back, only covered partly by the fabric of Adora’s bra.
Catra takes both her hands this time, and gingerly places them where the scars start. Adora gasps under her breath at the contact. Catra drags her fingers, following the white lines, across her shoulder blades, over the fabric of the bra, before finally stopping at the hem of her pants, where the scars end. She keeps them there.
“Battle of Bright Moon,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady.
Adora nods, making her ponytail bob.
Catra sighs, her hands touching every inch of Adora’s skin, as they wrap around her middle, from her back, past her sides, before finally settling on her stomach.
Adora leans into the touch, and Catra buries her face in the crook of her neck.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into her neck.
Adora lets out a small hum. “You’ve said that already.”
“I know.” Catra’s lips touch her skin. Not kissing it, merely resting there. It’s comforting in a way she never thought it’d be. But it makes sense. Everything about Adora is comforting.
She closes her eyes and breathes in. The sickly-sweet Bright Moon soap isn’t able to cover up Adora’s scent. The standard issued Fright Zone bar soap couldn’t either.
Catra feels Adora’s hands on her own, her arms settling atop of hers. She opens her eyes and moves her head to rest on Adora’s shoulder.
“I’ve missed you,” she says. And she has. A lot. Since the moment Adora left for the Whispering Woods to find the sword, Catra’s been missing her. And now, they’re finally reunited. Now, they’re finally together .
“I’ve missed you, too,” Adora says, caressing the top of Catra’s hand.
Catra lets out a small sigh. And then, because she wants to, and because she can, she kisses the soft spot right under Adora’s jugular.
Adora lets out a small gasp, but doesn’t protest. Catra nuzzles against her neck again, and stays like that.
A minute passes. Then two. At some point, Catra must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing she remembers, is waking up a couple hours later, her head resting on Adora’s chest, the lights in the room turned off, and Adora snoring lightly under her.
She’s about to get up and leave, sneak back into her own room. She looks up at Adora’s face, relaxed and content, as she mumbles something intangible in her sleep. A soft smile settles on Catra’s lips.
Maybe she could stay the night, just this once.