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1.
Sometimes, Catra and Adora like to sneak out to where the big kids are. It’s passed curfew for everyone, but the big kids don’t care: they gather in a big, loose circle to tell scary stories. Most of them are about princesses, and some are about Lord Hordak and Shadow Weaver, fewer still are about Beast Island. Catra’s favorites all involve princesses (her eyes shine bright when one of the big kids tells about a group of undead princesses on the attack, about how he defeated them, but not without getting a chunk taken out of him), and Adora...doesn’t have any favorites.
She doesn’t like scary things, doesn’t like that when she sees Shadow Weaver now, she thinks back to the story of how what’s hidden under her mask had been caused by a princess. She doesn’t like hearing strange noises at night and wondering if a horrific beast is coming to get her. She doesn’t like that Catra likes the scary stories so much, because that means that she has to hear them too.
Catra likes to take the scariest stories back to their team—they all crowd around two bunks after curfew and listen to Catra retell them, and somehow, in the dark with only the rumblings of machines for background noise, the stories sound even scarier. It’s funny sometimes: Kyle always jumps at the smallest noise, which makes Lonnie shove him, and even though she claims she’s not scared, Catra always tenses and leans into Adora like it’s instinct, like she knows that together, they’ll be fine. But it’s mostly scary, and Adora hates the scary stories most when she’s curled up small and still in bed, trying to lie absolutely still and silent, because if she does, the scary monsters and princesses won’t hear her. Maybe they’ll eat Kyle, and she and Catra can run away while the monsters are distracted.
In the distance comes a loud clank followed by a thud, and Adora curls herself even smaller. Maybe if she takes up less space, they won’t see her, and—
“Hey, Adora?”
Adora nearly jumps a foot in the air, fear coursing through her veins even though it’s just Catra. “Yeah?” she whispers back. She blindly sticks out a hand and Catra easily catches it, squeezing her hand tight to ground the both of them.
“Can I—can I come down there?”
“Sure,” Adora reluctantly lets go of Catra’s hand and scoots over, making room for her just as she vaults over and into the newly created spot. She lands a little on Adora’s hand, immediately whispering an apology when it makes Adora make a little noise of pain. In retaliation, Adora nudges her, giggling a little when Catra flops down as if shoved hard. Adora lays down next to her, scooting over until they’re pressed together and wrapped snug under her blanket.
“Why’d you come down? Were you scared?” Adora whispers once they’re settled. Catra makes an offended noise and pushes her.
“No way. I’m not scared of anything , dummy. I could tell you were scared, so I came down to make sure you didn’t cry or something.”
Another clanking noise, louder and closer this time, and if Adora wasn’t so scared, she’d laugh at the way Catra’s hair stands up on end. “Thought you weren’t scared,” she says between giggles.
“I’m not! ” Catra insists. “I was just trying to protect you, dumbass! Next time I’ll let it get you—” as she speaks, someone (Lonnie, probably) shushes them, and Catra grumbles under her breath before laying back down again.
“Next time, I hope it gets her, ” she mumbles, and even though it’s mean, Adora laughs, clapping both hands over her mouth as Lonnie shushes them again.
“You tired?” she whispers when she makes herself comfortable again, searching for Catra’s hand and squeezing when she finds it. Despite the lingering fear, she isn’t really scared anymore, not like before; she’s sure it’s because Catra is here now, warm and safe.
Catra nods—or shakes her head, it’s too dark to tell—and then whispers, “No, but you can sleep if you want. I’ll protect you while you sleep.”
Adora pouts, eyelids suddenly heavy. She wants to say that she can stay up, that she’s not tired, but she knows that Catra will know she’s lying. So she sits up and feels around in the dark for Catra’s cheeks, presses their foreheads together so that Catra knows she’s promising. “Fine, but wake me up when you’re tired, and I’ll protect you too, okay?”
“Okay, Adora, promise I will.”
2.
It doesn’t surprise anyone—not even their instructor—that Catra ends up skipping training. Again.
She’d been curled up in bed when Adora woke up, but by the time she came back from her morning jog, Catra had been gone, the foot of the bed cold. Unusual, but Adora didn’t think anything of it until she gets to training, and Catra isn’t there. She’s a bit worried, but she boxes the feeling away when the simulation starts, resigned to agonize over Catra’s whereabouts after training.
The team does better than usual (Adora is sure to work extra hard to cover for Catra’s absence) and when they are finally dismissed, Adora runs back to the dorm, hoping and half expecting to find Catra lying stretched out in bed, or facing the door with a shit-eating grin and a taunting remark on her lips. But all she finds is an empty room and a still cold bed. No one in their team has seen her all day, and there’s no way she’s going to ask Shadow Weaver, so Adora sighs and spins on her heel, determined to find her friend before dinner.
The Fright Zone isn’t that big of a place, but there are plenty of places small enough for Catra to hide in: vents and empty closets, forgotten hallways and ladders that for some reason, lead to tiny platforms and nothing else. When they’re playing, Catra doesn’t go anywhere that Adora can’t, even if she always rolls her eyes and sighs because those places are always the most fun. But she still reaches for Adora’s hand to hold so that they can find some other place to play in.
But now, she’s alone, and Adora just knows that Catra won’t make it easy to find her. So she skips passed all of the usual places that they play in, heading straight for where she knows Catra is. Whenever Catra’s really upset, she likes to go someplace high, leaving even Adora behind as she somehow leaps and climbs higher and higher—
Adora’s lips automatically pull down into a pout as she reaches the ladder. She’s an okay climber, but she always feels like she’s awful at it whenever she watches Catra. Because Catra doesn’t even look like she’s climbing, she looks like she’s flying. That’s what Adora focuses on as she climbs: Catra, and how free she looks when she’s climbing, and the joy on her lips and in her eyes because this, this is one thing that no one else has, that no one can take away from her. She focuses on how proud Catra always looks whenever Adora clumsily follows her, on the way they sit close together at the top, how they talk about ruling the world someday. She focuses on the quiet rumbling purrs she earns by playing with the soft fur of Catra’s tail, and the way they lean into each other even though it’s not cold, even though Catra hates touching. She focuses on Catra, and that keeps her going, rung after rung after rung.
And when she finally reaches Catra, she’s not huffing and puffing the way she used to, but she’s still tired, collapsing by her friend’s side and grunting out a greeting as she stares up at the sky.
“Wow, Adora. Look at that, you climbed on your own.”
“Wow, Catra. Look at that, you skipped training.” Adora retorts immediately. The words are harsh but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of her lips, and Catra scowls before letting herself fall on top of her, pushing out all the air from her lungs in one easy movement.
“Yeah, well. It’s not like anyone missed me,” she mutters.
I missed you, Adora wants to say, but instead, she reaches out and runs her fingers through Catra’s hair. And then, as Catra relaxes into her, something in Adora’s heart stutters, and without her brain’s permission, her mouth says, “ I missed you.”
“Oh,” Catra sounds genuinely surprised, “well. That doesn’t count, and besides, you just saw me this morning, dumbass.”
“I know, I just—forget it.”
Being best friends for so long means that they know each other, and more than just the easy stuff. Adora knows when to back away and when to prod, Catra knows when Adora is trying her best not to cry when they’re supposed to be asleep and when she’s about to explode in a fit of emotion. They know how to read each other’s bodies, even the most subtle tells, and somewhere along the line, they’ve even learned how to have full conversations with just their eyes.
So Adora knows that despite what she says, Catra is going to prod—and she does. She sits up, twisting around to stare Adora down, and before she can even think about escaping, Catra throws one of her legs over Adora’s, sitting on top of her to keep her in place. “Tell me,” she demands, and Adora frowns.
“I really don’t know, I just...missed you. I like training with you—I like winning with you. It’s always best like that.”
Something in Catra’s face softens, and she gives Adora the smile that is reserved for her (soft, gentle, sweet) before she shakes her head and says, as if the very idea pains her, “I guess I’ll stop skipping then…”
“Why do you? Skip, I mean.”
At that, Catra sighs and lays down, rolling over so she’s curled up against Adora’s side, her head pillowed by Adora’s now outstretched arm and her tail wrapped around Adora’s waist. “I don’t know. It’s always the same thing every day, and I...”
“You?”
Catra heaves a sigh, and Adora obediently goes quiet. She suddenly gets the urge to roll over, to watch her friend even though all she’s doing is looking at the sky. If Catra catches her staring, she’ll never hear the end of it, but somehow, Adora doesn’t really mind. So she takes a breath, and looks over at Catra—only to find her looking back.
There’s an unusually soft grin on her lips, though Catra quickly wipes it away once she sees Adora looking; she elbows Adora in the side but doesn’t pull away as she asks, “What are you looking at?”
“A dumbass,” is Adora’s immediate response, and Catra squeaks in indignation, elbowing Adora again, harder this time. “What are you looking at?”
Catra falls quiet and still, and Adora can tell by the tapping of her nails that she’s trying to decide what to say. “My best friend,” is what she settles on, and for the second time that day, Adora loses all the air in her lungs.
“You dork, ” she tries to say, but it comes out quiet, soft enough that one of Catra’s ears twitches forward to hear.
“Yeah, well.” Catra shrugs, and Adora giggles because she’s definitely flustered, and poorly trying to hide it. She presses her face into the curve of Catra’s neck, breathing her in and trying to move as close as possible. Another reason Catra likes it so much up here is that no one ever comes up here, so it’s almost like their private place, so be weak and shed tears or to touch. Adora loves the way Catra touches her, gentle and hesitant, loves that up here, in secret, Catra’s calloused hands are whisper-soft as they glide over her shoulders and down her arm to grasp at her own hands. She loves that even though she knows how rough and sharp and clawing her hands can be, that when it’s just them, Catra touches her like she’s the best thing in the world.
She hopes that Catra feels the same way.
“Hey, Adora?” Catra’s voice comes out slow and uncertain, like she’s testing out the words as she speaks them. When Adora peeks up at her, she finds her friend still looking up at the sky, brushes away a single tear that threatens to glide down her cheek.
“Yeah?”
“Do you think—do you think we’ll ever get out of here? See the world, do whatever we want?”
“Sure,” Adora frowns, sitting up and taking Catra with her. “Doesn’t matter if we’re cadets, Force Captains, or if we run away—we’ll see the rest of the world outside the Fright Zone. We’re gonna be together, and that’s all that matters, right?”
Catra takes in a deep, shuddering breath before nodding. Another tear slips down her cheek and Adora watches it fall, frowns at the way Catra glares up at the sky—she’s trying to keep from crying, but Adora knows her well enough to know that that’ll just make it worse. So she lays down, stretching out her arm again as she looks back to the sky. “You can cry if you want, no one else is here.”
After a moment, Catra lays back down as well, curling fully into Adora so she can press her silent tears into her shirt.
(They end up missing dinner, “But that’s okay, because we’re together,” Catra reminds Adora as they get ready to go back to their room, “and nothing really bad can happen if we’re together.”
Adora nods in agreement and presses her forehead to Catra’s. “Promise we’ll always stay together?”
“Promise.”)
3.
Adora falls to her knees, She-Ra slipping away from her as she shakes on her hands and knees. Her sword is barely even a foot away from her, but she can’t even reach out for it without her vision blurring and spinning. All the while, the war rages on around her, and a selfish part of her wants to give into her body’s screaming urge to collapse and let the darkness of unconsciousness take her. The princesses are relying on her, she knows, she can’t let them down. Because if she—the strongest, the leader, She-Ra— falls, the Rebellion will fall, and the Horde will win, and Etheria will be destroyed, and it will be all her fault, because she wasn’t strong enough—
“ Hey , Adora!”
Adora’s heart thuds hard at the familiar voice, and she whips around, heart in her throat as her gaze meets Catra’s for the first time in months. She barely has the strength to stand, let alone speak, but she’s sure Catra doesn’t quite care by the broad grin on her lips and the lashing of her tail. Before she can muster the strength to reach for her sword, Catra calls out, “ Wow , looks like even the mighty She-Ra needs help.”
Somehow, between heaving breaths, Adora manages to laugh, ignoring the blood dripping down her cheek and the throbbing pain racing up and down her left arm as she stares Catra down. She’s flanked by people that have the same ears and tail as her; if they weren’t in the middle of a war, Adora would tease Catra about it (“god, now there are more of you”), and as if reading her mind, Catra scowls down at her.
“Princess C’yra!” one of the people behind Catra calls out, and Adora’s mind goes blank, because Catra, a princess? Catra must see the look on her face, because she laughs, pretty and light and joyful despite the battle raging on around them.
“Come on, Adora, keep up,” she drawls, coming closer all the while, “and because I can practically hear you trying to piece everything together: yes, I’m a stupid princess, no, I’m not joining your stupid rebellion, but yes—I’m on your side.”
As Catra reaches her, she holds out a hand, one that Adora takes without even thinking, and once Catra helps pull her up, Adora leans fully into her, pressing her forehead to Catra’s as she shakes with fatigue and gratitude and fear. “Catra, I—”
“Go help with defense,” Catra interrupts her, stern but quiet, “everyone knows that you’re the heaviest hitter, but that doesn’t mean you need to be fighting all by yourself. My warriors will take care of the front lines, you…” Catra pulls away from the embrace, ears flat on her head and lips pulled down as she studies Adora, taking in all of her wounds. After a moment, she pushes away completely. “Go help your princess friends, they need you.”
But what about you, Adora wants to say, you’re my friend too, I don’t want to see you get hurt, I don’t want you to be hurt because of me, I can take it, I’m stronger, this is my destiny— “Technically, you’re my princess friend too,” she starts to say, breathing out a laugh—and wincing as it sets off a searing pain in her ribs—at the look Catra gives her , unimpressed and almost scathing.
“Don’t make me change my mind, Adora. I’ve got better things to do than rescue you, princess.”
And, no. That’s not entirely true. “You’ve got my back.”
That earns her a wry grin and a roll of Catra’s eyes—but she nods too. “And you’ve got mine. Now let me do what I came here to do, princess.”
“And after? What will you do then?”
Catra hesitates, then comes closer again to press their foreheads together again. For a moment, Adora lets herself be selfish, breathes in Catra’s warmth and closeness, lets herself feel weak. “I go back to Half Moon. My people need me, I need…” Catra takes a breath and lets it out, prolonging their embrace for another selfish moment. “I’ll come back.” There’s an unspoken to you in her promise, and Adora latches onto it before reluctantly stepping back.
“I’ll wait for you.” And before the tears that are beginning to well up can begin to fall, Adora reaches down for her sword and turns away, her battlecry on her lips.
(Catra and her people are long gone by the time Adora has finished helping get the injured to the infirmary, but for once, Catra’s disappearance has left her feeling hopeful. She’s coming back, and this time, this time, they’ll be together again.)
-
It’s later than late when Adora gets back to her room after another long day, and she’s so tired that she sinks into bed without even taking her jacket and shoes off. She’s asleep almost immediately, and when she wakes, it’s still dark, but there is something warm and soft and achingly familiar pressed against her back. Adora rolls over, reaching out hesitantly and tracing the shape of Catra’s face as her heart races in her chest. Eight months, and Adora’s still this far gone for Catra.
“Catra?”
One blue eye opens, then the other gold. Catra yawns and her tail winds around Adora’s waist, an unspoken demand for her to move closer. “Hey, Adora.”
4.
It feels surreal to be sitting next to Catra like this; the expression on her face is cold, but there is a new confidence that is nothing short of regal in her posture and in the way she speaks that leaves Adora breathless and in awe. But somehow, it's still the same Catra: the tip of her tail lashes against Adora's thigh under the table every so often, betraying her annoyance at having to sit quiet and still for so long, and Adora catches it and rubs the silky fur between her fingers, both to calm Catra and to distract herself, just like when they were kids. Adora half expects Catra to glare, or hiss, or snatch her tail away, but all she does is glance sidelong at Adora, lips pulled into a soft, amused grin.
Across from Adora, Glimmer clears her throat, and Adora startles, tearing her gaze away from Catra so it looks like she's at least trying to pay attention. Catra, on the other hand—"What now , Sparkles?"
Even after so many years, Catra's teasing jabs still makes Glimmer throw up her hands and say, "It's Glimmer! Queen Glimmer!"
Before Catra can retort—because Adora just knows she's going to—Adora stands to divert everyone's attention to her. "Y'know—I think that's enough for now! Why don't we take a break to eat and come back later! I'm sure all of us are very hungry, " she says, eyeing Bow until he gasps and stands too.
"You're so right! Let's get some lunch and meet back in an hour, everyone?"
Glimmer stands too, grumbling something under her breath that Adora can't hear (but by the way Catra's ear twitches and the smug grin flirting with her lips, she has, and it probably isn’t anything kind) and after she exits with Bow at her side, the rest of the princesses follow her lead, talking amongst themselves. Catra waits for everyone else to leave the room before she stands, her tail finally uncurling from around Adora's hand as she does so.
"You coming?" she asks, and Adora stands as if compelled, following Catra out and into the hall. There are so many things that she wants to say, but all she can think about is that Catra is by her side again, and that even with the cape, the armored boots, and the cool regality, it’s still the same Catra. It’s still her Catra.
“You’re staring at me,” Catra says without looking at her, and the way she says it is both a question and a demand. “Why?”
“I was just thinking...you look so different, but it’s still the same you. The you that I’ve always known.”
Catra’s ears draw back in embarrassment, and to hide it, she scoffs. “Yeah, well. Finding out you’re the famous lost Magicat princess and subsequently taking over the Horde does a lot to a girl.”
“You mean like finding a magic sword that says you’re a reincarnation of a mythical goddess, and that you’re from a different planet? Gee, wonder how that feels.”
Another scoff, but this time it’s accompanied by a laugh, soft and genuine. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
Relief unclenches the worried knot in Adora’s stomach; this is the most they’ve spoken, the most familiar they’ve been in a long time. They’re on the same side of things now, of course, but Catra has been swamped with so much recently: keeping the New Horde in order and turning it from a vicious military regime to an army that fights for Bright Moon and its allies, learning about the past that was stolen from her and her new duties as a princess, and proving herself over and over as an ally of Bright Moon, the leader of the New Horde, and the ruler of the Magicats. It’s a lot, and they don’t quite have the luxury of free time or true peace yet, so stolen words, quick touches and lingering glances have been the most they’ve shared.
Until now.
“You know,” Adora whispers, cheeks burning, “I really missed you.”
“Yeah, well. I guess I missed you too.” Catra leads them outside, blinking into the bright sun as Adora stands by her side. They don’t hold hands, but the tip of Catra’s tail finds itself wrapped around Adora’s wrist again as they walk through the palace grounds, walking side by side until they reach the edge of the woods.
Catra doesn’t even have to say it; she glances at Adora, wicked playfulness in her eyes, and Adora laughs. “We’re skipping the rest of the meeting, aren’t we?”
“Well, would you rather stay in that stuffy room for hours listening to them talk for ages about nothing? ” Gone is every bit of poise befitting a princess and leader: this is the Catra that Adora knows, petulant and mischievous, cheeky and impulsive. She doesn’t even wait for an answer, that’s how well she knows Adora; she forces Adora to meet her gaze with both hands on Adora’s shoulders. With the boots, she’s got an extra few inches on Adora, which, Adora realizes belatedly, was probably on purpose.
“You have got to learn how to be selfish, Adora. Seriously.” And though the words toe the line between teasing and scathing, Catra is serious when she looks Adora in the eye. “I get that you’re She-Ra, but the world hasn’t needed She-Ra in so long now.”
“I know that, it’s just...I have to be strong, and—”
“And at this rate,” Catra interrupts, “you’re going to run yourself into the ground trying to please everyone. I know you, Adora. You always want to play the hero, and that’s fine, but you get to be selfish too.”
Adora bites her lip and looks away, and Catra sighs and lets go of her. “Forget it, let’s go.”
“I’ll try—” Adora blurts out, “I just...might need some help.”
Something in Catra’s gaze softens, and she nods, reaching out to twine her fingers with Adora, claws retracted, vulnerable. All of her walls are down like this: alone together, just the two of them, in the private safety of the Whispering Woods. And after everything, that’s…
Adora’s heart thuds in her chest, and she squeezes Catra’s hand tight. (Catra squeezes back.)
After so many years of being together and then apart and somehow joined together again, there is no need to fill the silence with words; the quiet is easy and familiar, just like the warmth of their joined hands and the brush of their shoulders as they walk. Neither of them have a destination in mind, and honestly, skipping the meeting aside, Adora likes this.
“You know, I really like this. There’s no pressure, no pretenses, just... us. ”
Catra breathes out a quiet laugh, but she nods in quiet agreement, stopping abruptly and facing Adora. She doesn’t say anything: she just stares at Adora like she’s seeing her for the first time, like she’s committing Adora’s face to memory, and one hand comes up to brush over the faded scars on her cheek, a silent apology, one of many. “Hey, Adora?” she murmurs, so quiet that Adora almost thinks it wasn’t meant to be heard.
“Yeah?”
Catra purses her lips, eyeing Adora again. She reaches up to wrap her arms around Adora’s shoulders and steps in close close close, then presses their foreheads together. When she pulls back, she says again, “Hey, Adora?”
And Adora knows what’s coming, knows that this moment has been building and building for years, knows that she is just as scared as Catra looks, and—“Yeah?”
Catra rolls her eyes, takes a breath, and kisses her.
5.
When Adora wakes up, she immediately realizes that two things are wrong: the sun is high in the sky, and Catra is gone. The Horde hasn’t done many things right, but the one thing that Adora misses is the strict, unwavering schedule; she’s used to waking up early, and even now, after years of defecting, her body still tends to wake her up far too early. Most times, it’s Catra that keeps her in bed; she prefers her mornings to be spent lazing about in their bed—which has, over time, suspiciously migrated to a spot under the huge window, so that the sunlight streams in and warms them until noon.
Today though, what wakes Adora isn’t her own internal clock, or Catra’s purring and absent kneading, but a dream, distorted memories of Catra slipping from her grasp over and over again. It’s almost worse than one of Light Hope’s simulations, because she knows it’s both real and not. And now, Catra is gone, and some stupid, panicked part of her mind wonders if Catra has decided to leave her again, maybe for good.
Her side of the bed is cold, and when Adora goes out in the halls, every guard that she passes says that they haven’t seen her. And actually, that makes sense, because if she were Catra, and she were trying to leave for whatever reason, she wouldn’t leave through the door. Adora forces the panic away and returns back to their room, looking out the window and squinting into the late morning light. It’s still not an easy climb for her after all this time, but for Catra, it’d been laughably easy from the beginning. The question then, is where would she go—and as Adora’s gaze passes over the Whispering Woods, she knows that’s where Catra is. What better place to hide than a forest that is constantly shifting?
After grabbing her shoes, jacket and the knife from under her pillow, Adora climbs out the window, carefully climbing down the wall with the rope Bow left ages ago. Once on the ground, it’s an easy hike to the woods. She realizes, belatedly, that she’s not like Catra, that she doesn’t have a sensitive nose to track scents, that she can’t climb and leap through the trees; she has no way of finding Catra, and aside from that, if the woods don’t want her to find Catra, then she won’t, simple as that.
Thankfully, the trees block out most of the hot summer sun: Adora wanders through the woods for what feels like hours, looking out for any sign of brown or blue and gold. Catra likes to be high up, likes to balance on branches that look like they’ll snap in a heartbeat, so Adora keeps her gaze up, hoping to catch sight of her, or to hear a drawled greeting or a fond jab. But there’s nothing to be seen except for the trees and the sky, and finally—a tiny figure sitting hunched over a boulder. Catra is sitting so still that Adora almost passes her by; she’s not facing Adora, and she gives no indication that she’s heard her approach but for the languid wave of her tail back and forth. “Catra?”
One of Catra’s ears flicks in response but she doesn’t answer, and she still doesn’t move when Adora approaches, so Adora sits down next to her, close enough to touch if she leaned over just a little bit. She doesn’t, and neither does Catra.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Just thinking,” Catra sighs. She glances over, quickly looks away. “How’d you find me?”
That’s easy, at least. “I know you, Catra. I figured you’d come out here since you weren’t in our room.”
“I meant how’d you find me? It’s not exactly a walk in the park here, princess.”
“Oh. I just...walked? I knew I’d find you eventually, even if it took a while.” Adora nudges Catra, grinning. “What, did you doubt me? I’d always find you, dummy.”
Catra scoffs, but she scoots over so that they touch firmly from shoulder to thigh. “You’re stupid,” she mumbles, and Adora shrugs.
“Maybe, but I did mean it. I’ll always find you, no matter how long it takes.” That earns her is a quiet rumble of a purr, and Adora can’t help smiling at the familiar sound. Catra soon falls quiet though, and Adora follows her lead, leaning her head against Catra’s shoulder—it isn’t much, but any bit closer she can get, she’ll take. Adora doesn’t know how long they stay sitting together, but eventually, Catra shrugs her shoulder to get Adora’s attention.
“Hey, Adora?”
“Yeah?” Adora sits up fully, stomach turning over as Catra shifts to face her fully. She looks unusually serious, and for a moment, Adora is sure that she’s going to say something horrible, something awful, that she’s leaving or that she’s sick of being together—
“Do you...like this? Us, like this?”
And, oh. “Sure I do. What’s not to like?”
Catra’s ears flatten as she narrows her eyes, after a moment, she rolls her eyes and reaches out to jab a finger at Adora’s forehead. “Somehow, I always forget how stupid you can be. I mean, do you like us? Sparkles and Bow are attached at the hip and they don’t even do some of the things that we do. They don’t share a bed, they don’t—” Catra’s cheeks go pink as she looks away, “anyway, they’re that close, and they don’t do half of the stuff that we do.”
“Well, yeah, they’re just friends.”
“ Yes, ” Catra says it very slowly and very patiently, like she’s explaining something to a child, “that’s why I’m asking—do you like what we do?”
“...Yes?”
“Oh my god, Adora! Are you kidding around or are you really that dumb?”
Adora crosses her arms and tries her best to glare at Catra, fails. “Just spit it out!”
Instead of doing so, Catra scowls before leaning in to kiss Adora, clumsy and soft and gentle. “Do you get it now? ” she asks petulantly when she pulls back. One of Adora’s hands comes up to touch her lip, the other reaches out to breach the gap between them and tug Catra closer.
“I get it,” she responds, and loses herself in the press of Catra’s pleased grin against hers.
1.
In Adora’s life, very few things have remained constant. Training, bruises, cuts and tasteless ration bars fill her childhood; the smooth grip of her sword, those five words a battlecry, a call to greatness her teenage years, and now—peace. Peace is something that Adora is still trying to get used to. Most days are fine, but other days the guilt and paranoia consume her, and so she falls back on what she knows. Training with a sword that she has not used in battle for years, calling out the words that she has not needed in so long, running through drills over and over and over.
For as long as Adora can remember, the only thing that she has carried with her all her life is Catra. She remembers running through the Fright Zone together, and sneaking out together, and sharing everything— their bed, secrets, food. The fury in Catra’s eyes, the sting of her claws, the longing for what they used to share.
The endless apologies for everything, the nights spent together silently crying, holding hands under the table at breakfast, reminiscing. (Not sparring, never again. The first time they’d tried, Catra had frozen up, and tears sprang to Adora’s eyes almost immediately, her mind and body unconsciously remembering . Without even having to discuss it, they decided that they would never spar again.)
They’re nowhere near perfect, Adora knows, but this, what they have now, is so much more than good enough. Which is why—
“And what are you thinking about so hard?”
Adora jumps at Catra’s voice next to her ear, her cheeks flushing as Catra laughs. “God, Adora, shouldn’t you be used to this by now?”
“Shut up, ” Adora groans, “I was thinking. Anyway, what are you doing back so early? I thought you would be gone for at least a week.”
“Aww, Adora ,” Catra coos, “did you actually miss me?”
“No! Absolutely not, I—pfft. Who’d miss you?”
“You would. And did.” Catra sounds extremely smug, and Adora huffs even as her heart stutters. Even after two years, the simplest things still make her realize and re-realize just why Catra holds her heart. Her laugh, the wicked look in her eye when she wants something, the way her tail reaches out to brush against Adora’s wrist or thigh after they argue. All the subtle ways she shows that she cares, their playful banter, how warm and safe and familiar her body is when they settle down to sleep.
“Fine, maybe I did miss you, just a little.” And before Catra can tease her for that, Adora reaches around and tugs Catra down with her, easily holding her by the waist. “Did you want to rest or…?”
“ God, no. Let’s get out of here.”
And for what is probably the millionth time, Adora realizes that she really is in love with Catra. “Hey,” she says, tightening her hold before Catra can slip away. When Catra stills, Adora cups her cheek with a hand and then leans up just enough to press her lips to her cheek in a soft, chaste kiss. As usual, Catra flushes, her ears tilted slightly forward as she leans into Adora’s touch. They’re still learning how to do the whole gentle affection thing, still learning how to be vulnerable and soft with each other, but Adora thinks they’re finally starting to get the hang of it.
For a long few minutes, they stay like that; Catra curled up in Adora’s lap on the edge of her bed, and it’s nice like this—Adora’s hand keeping Catra in place, Catra’s tail wrapped around Adora’s wrist, just breathing each other in—and when Catra finally pulls away, even the way she rolls her eyes does nothing to mask the tenderness written all over her face.
“Where did you want to go?”
Adora shrugs, letting her hand fall back to Catra’s waist. “I don’t know, I just know how you get, especially after diplomatic missions. And there’s supposed to be a feast tonight to celebrate... something. I figured you’d want to have dinner on the roof.”
“Why, Adora , you want to have dinner alone together?” Adora watches the cheshire grin slowly bloom on Catra’s lips; she sounds unbelievably smug as she says, “That almost sounds like a date. ”
Months and years ago, Adora would have gone pink, would have fumbled for a response, but now she just leans even closer into Catra’s personal space and says, not trying to hide her smugness, “Maybe it is.”
And like she predicted, it’s Catra that gets flustered, her ears perking up and flicking back in surprise. “Touché. I take it you got the food already?”
“You know me best. You go on up, I’ll meet you in a minute.” And if Catra is suspicious, she doesn’t show it aside from the way she squints. But then she rolls her eyes and slips from Adora’s lap, turning back when she reaches the window to give Adora a look that says hurry up.
And then she’s gone.
Adora waits for a few moments to be safe, then rushes over to the bottom dresser and pulls out the ornate box Glimmer had gotten her years ago, and—the ring. It’s still safe inside, and Adora breathes a sigh of relief before slipping it into her pocket and following Catra out the window.
For once, Catra doesn’t tease her about her being slow; she’s looking out at all of Bright Moon, quiet and still. Her ears twitch when she sees Adora, but other than that, she makes no movement, and Adora watches her before sitting next to her and looking out too. Now that the sun is beginning to set, people have started to flock towards the castle for the feast; Adora twists around to look at their own dinner. She’d gone to the kitchens earlier and with Glimmer’s help, brought up a bit of everything that’d been there.
“Do you remember,” Catra starts then, slow and quiet, “years ago, when I said what we’d do after you became Force Captain? I said we’d see the world, and conquer it. And…” she waves a hand out at everything spread before them. The people celebrating, free of the Horde, the warm glow of the sun, the peace. “This is better.”
And Adora had planned to wait, until they finished dinner, until the fireworks started, until everything was perfect, but—”Hey, Catra?”
When Catra looks over, Adora fishes the ring from her pocket. “I was going to wait, but—”
“ Seriously, Adora?”
Adora looks up, startled, and she can’t help the startled huff of laughter that tears from her throat, because Catra is holding a ring too. “You copied me.”
“ Excuse me? I was planning this for months. You just upstaged me—”
“Fine, you can do it how you wanted to. After you let me finish.”
Catra purses her lips in a failed attempt to hide her smile; she reaches out for the ring and puts it on her finger before Adora can even speak. “I like it.” And the tiny bit of worry in Adora’s stomach unclenches; she and Catra both like simple things, and while the ring isn’t gaudy by far, it’s definitely not something Catra would’ve chosen on her own.
“It’s a garnet,” Adora says, “it’s my birthstone—I asked Spinnerella and she said I should do something personal, so...I guess I just wanted you to always carry a little piece of me.”
“Just so you know, I did plan my proposal before you. You know that, right? You copied me. ”
“What, did you do the same thing as me?” Adora holds out her hand and lets Catra slide the ring on her finger. Catra huffs as she does so, but she nods.
“Yeah, you did the same thing as me. I just...when we were kids, we promised to look out for each other, and I want that forever. With you.”
“Forever is pretty long, you know. You promise you’ll stay that long?”
“I promise.”
(And if they both end up crying together after that, their foreheads pressed together in a silent promise, well, no one needs to know.)