Archive of Our Own ^beta

On Catra’s 14th birthday, Adora snuck out of the orphanage in the pitch-black hours of the night and journeyed two miles to a secluded locals-only beach. She wanted to make Catra a seashell necklace; to Adora, nothing mattered more than Catra’s happiness. Adora was determined to forge a small memento that Catra could clutch in times of darkness, and this beach, in particular, had become their own secluded paradise.

The beach was a hidden gem— a small cove tucked between two massive cliffs, dense foliage obscuring the descending stair path. This alone made it a goldmine for seashell lovers and tidepool enthusiasts. Adora and Catra had found the natural wonder only one month prior, while out and about on one of their many weekend adventures. They decided they would try to return at least once a month.

Adora watched as Catra hopped along the rocks adjacent to the cliff. She’d always admired how surefooted the other girl was; Catra rarely ever fell. As Adora was about to join her, a wave crashed against the cliff and drenched them in a cold deluge of salty water. While others may have cursed at the ocean, Adora and Catra broke out into a burst of innocent, carefree laughter— one that only ever existed outside the confines of the Weaver House.

When Catra shook her hair in an attempt to dry it off, time stood still for Adora: Catra was different. Her face was more mature, her mismatched eyes somehow more radiant and contrasting than before, the outlined edges of her honey skin glowing in the evening sun. Adora tried not to think anything of it; the chill down her spine was only because of the cold water. Right? And yet, here she was, mouth agape, wide-eyed, and hopelessly speechless. It wasn’t until Catra shrieked that Adora realized that time waited for no one.

“Adora! Look at this!” Catra screamed, “It’s blue, like your eyes!”

Adora jogged over to the jubilant girl and gasped, “Whoa. You’re right!” Adora said, and then, “But I think it matches your blue eye more than mine.” Adora noticed a stray snippet of hair disrupting the ever so perfect symmetry that was Catra’s face, and gently tucked it behind her ear.

Catra’s face drew a gentle smile, her eyes narrowing affectionately, her cheeks bathing in a bed of roses. “Nah. It definitely suits your eyes way better. You keep it.” Catra carefully placed the shell in Adora’s palm, closing her hand over it as she stared into Adora’s eyes. For the first time, Catra lost her balance and stumbled headfirst into ocean irises.

Adora turned beet red— she had no idea what was happening, no idea why her body was reacting this way to Catra’s touch. Since she could first form coherent memories, Adora had slept in Catra’s bed more times than she'd slept on her own; cuddled with Catra on more occasions than she could count; cried only with Catra when their world was nothing more than a ring of fire. But her body hadn’t reacted how it was responding now. No, this was something different, if distantly familiar.

It was like every single one of her senses became acutely attuned to Catra, and only Catra; nothing else, no one else, mattered. Nothing, except for one thing: the sun was setting. If Catra and Adora weren’t back before dark, Ms. Weaver would probably force them to do extra chores for the remainder of the month. They could always count on Ms. Weaver to spoil the mood.

Adora took Catra’s hand— the blood in her veins was pounding with the force of a jackhammer. “Thanks for the seashell, Catra,” her eyebrows arched affectionately. “We should head back, though,” she continues, eyes drooping, smile fading, “She won’t be happy with us if we’re not back before dark.”

Catra’s too giddy to care and complies with airy laughter. Her hand tightens around Adora’s. “Okay. Let’s go back.”

When Adora returned just before dawn, she immediately pulled out her box of crafting supplies and set to work. She had looked up countless do-it-yourself videos and had a decent grasp on how to make the delicate necklace.

Adora finished two hours later, and as Catra stirred from her peaceful slumber, Adora slid back into bed next to Catra. When Catra came to, she didn’t say a word; she simply stared at Adora, as if Adora was a ghost visiting her from beyond and only here on borrowed time. Adora didn’t know what to make of it.

“So, you— you’re really important to me, so,” Adora grabbed the small box she had placed the necklace in and handed it to Catra. “I made you something,” Adora whispered, gentle, tone fluttering.

Catra opened the box; her eyes lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. It was fleeting, but revolutionary: Adora couldn’t help but get lost in the way Catra’s eyes seemed to amplify every gleam of sunlight and bit of joy in the room. The way Catra’s smile could vaporize every ominous thought that plagued Adora’s mind; the way Catra so hastily asked Adora to help her with the necklace, and the way Catra turned around the split-second Adora finished. Adora smiled, and Catra bashfully shifted her gaze to meet Adora’s. She savored the moment.

She grabbed both of Catra’s hands.

“Happy birthday, Catra.”

On Catra’s 17th birthday, Adora sat beside a glass window and stared out at the lonely streets below her new home. The skies were gray, the muted evening light casting a blue hue everywhere she looked. It was raining, as it had been for the past week, and Adora couldn’t seem to fill the hole in her chest with anything worthwhile. Not since—

Three Months Earlier

“You’re leaving?”

“I got a scholarship to one of the best high schools in the country and that one woman who used to come by, Angella— she wants to adopt me,” Adora says, “I was hoping you’d be, I don’t know, happy for me?”

Something trembled beneath Catra’s mismatched irises ever so briefly. “I am happy for you, Adora. I just,” Catra paused. Adora knew what that shift in her eyes meant, what the sudden silence symbolized. “I thought we’d see the world together, you know?”

Adora knew. Adora never planned this. But the prospect of no longer needing to worry about money, the optimism she suddenly had for her future— she couldn’t sacrifice it just for one person, even if that person was Catra. Besides, they would still be able to text, call, and video chat with each other. They could arrange visits every so often; a three-hour train ride wasn’t the end of the world. Adora would do it in a heartbeat if it meant spending time with her best friend, who made her feel as if her permanent residence was above the clouds.

“It’ll be okay, Catra. I promise.”

Everything was not okay. Adora was an idiot.

Two months after leaving the orphanage (and Catra), Adora and Catra video chatted, where they discussed plans for Catra’s 17th birthday. Adora was going to take a train down to her old town, and they were going to visit the same beach where Catra gave Adora the blue seashell she still wore around her neck. Unfortunately, Bright Moon Academy, being the prestigious school that it was, swallowed what remained of Adora’s time and attention. Adora’s coursework and extracurricular activities had her spread so thin, that when the day finally arrived, Adora had forgotten entirely.

Her train was scheduled to arrive at 10:15 AM. Catra’s friend from Horde High, Scorpia, was going to pick them up and give them a ride to the beach to maximize their time together. The day before had exhausted Adora; she had a pivotal soccer match that required all her focus and attention. It was the state qualifier. Bright Moon won, but it drained most of Adora’s energy.

Her new adoptive sister, Glimmer, and her best friend, Bow, offered to take Adora out to a spa. There, she could relax her sore muscles and release tension and stress from the day before; the mini-getaway turned out to be everything she didn’t even know she needed, which was always a pleasant surprise. It wasn’t until she got out of the spa at around 1:00 PM that she checked her phone: she had 7 unread text messages and 12 missed calls.

‘Adora? We’re here.’

‘Hey, been here about 20 minutes, did your train get delayed?’

‘Nvm, it just pulled in lol.’

‘Hey, dude? What the fuck? Your train just left, and I don’t even see you.’

‘Heh, should’ve known you’d forget about me as soon as your life got better.’

‘Hope it’s worth it.’

Adora felt sick to her stomach. She forgot. How did she forget? She wrote it down in her planner. She wrote it on a neon pink sticky note. She even put it on her Google calendar! Did Catra mean that little to her? Did Adora actually forget her best friend’s birthday?

Her stomach collapsed into itself and became a black hole pulling everything into an unavoidable event horizon. The air in her lungs felt dense, heavy, and yet, emptier than ever. On top of her inner torment, Adora’s vision was starting to look like zooming light trails of a spaceship (Star Wars was one of their favorites). Adora raced to the train station, hoping to buy a last-minute ticket to Frightland City. When she got there, the remaining trains had been canceled due to the railroads needing emergency maintenance— the result of a freak mudslide obstructing a large section of the tracks.

As fate would have it, her 7:15 AM train was one of the last to depart the station that day.

Three days and 47 different apology messages later, she received a text message that would tear down her world in one unrelenting swoop.

‘Hey, Adora. Thanks for coming to my birthday. I had a lot of fun waiting at the train station. Guess you’re too good for me now, huh princess?’

Adora immediately replied.

‘Catra, can we talk?’

No reply.

‘Catra, please, it wasn’t like that! I was so tired, and the train was so early and I just...I never meant to forget. When I realized what happened, I ran like hell to catch the next train, but a thunderstorm apparently ruined part of the tracks, and all the trains got canceled!’

Another dead end.

‘Catra, please, call me? At least let me wish you a happy birthday?’

‘Catra?’

‘Catra, I’m so sorry. I care about you so much. Please don’t do this…’

Message not delivered. The recipient’s number is no longer in service, or your number has been blocked.

In the time between the debacle that was Catra’s 17th birthday and the text message to end all text messages (in Adora’s mind), Adora realized the extent of her feelings for Catra. The fluttering sensations in her stomach from their younger days crystallized in an instant: every prolonged hug; every jolt of electricity when they brushed hands; every stolen glance— it all suddenly made perfect sense.

And she realized it too late.

The following weekend, Adora took an afternoon train to Frightland City in hopes of finding Catra at the orphanage. When she arrived, Ms. Weaver greeted her at the door.

“Adora? I assume you’re here to see Catra,” Ms. Weaver said.

“Yeah. I need to apologize for something—”

“Oh, Adora, nonsense. You owe nothing to that lost cause,” the woman says, “Besides, she’s not our problem anymore. She moved out a few days ago. Good riddance.”

Adora clenched her fists as the blood in her veins turned to ice, and it took every single ounce of willpower in her body to not punch Ms. Weaver then and there.

“Thank you. I should go.”

Adora left and never looked back.

On Catra’s 18th birthday, Adora received a text message from an unknown number. A tingling sensation in her gut told her she knew who it was, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. She opened the message.

Unknown: Hey Adora. Let’s talk.

It would have been nice if Catra extended that invitation a year ago. Then, maybe, Adora wouldn’t have all the pent up skeletons of guilt racked up in her closet like some vanity project. Adora was angry, and yet not— she knew how difficult it was for Catra to initiate serious conversations. Catra wanted to talk; maybe this could be the start of something new, something better. She typed out a message.

Adora: Secret spot?

Send.

Catra: Secret spot. Tomorrow— 3 PM?

Adora: Works for me.

Catra: See you tomorrow, princess.

To say the conversation went smoothly was an understatement. Adora expected Catra to rip her a new one, no words held back. Instead, the heterochromatic girl looked despondent, defeated. And yet she’d never looked more free, intentional, like for the first time in Adora’s life she was seeing the girl in front of her free to choose and not just ride the waves and motions.

In the year they spent apart, Catra’s features matured. The girl was always stunning, but now she was something entirely out of Adora’s league. All the exertion Adora put into keeping the keys to her heart tucked away in some hidden compartment vanished into thin air.

Adora couldn’t get over Catra’s jarring features: her lips were fuller, her collarbones now chiseled, her eyes somehow more vibrant, her jawline more defined than ever. Catra was a woman now— a really, fucking, hot woman. She couldn’t help it. Catra wasn’t just beautiful now; she was bewitching, a mesmeric muse. Adora wrestled with the many sensations coursing through her body, struggling to hide her undeniable adoration. She wasn’t fooling anyone— especially not Catra.

“You’re gonna end up swallowing a bug if you keep your mouth open any longer,” Catra laughed.

There it was. That high-pitched laughter that made Adora smile so much; the sound of conflict washing away with the tide. Adora missed this laugh more than anything in the world.

“Sorry,” Adora said, “You’re just— you look,” Adora paused, flustered, cheeks burning. “You look really good, Catra.” Adora hoped she didn’t just make a fool of herself.

Catra must have relished the flattery because her shit-eating grin somehow stretched even more. “Thanks, princess. You’re not so bad yourself. You’re definitely more built than I remember— what, did you eat a lot of spinach or something? It’s only been a year.”

The longest year of my life, she wanted to say.

Instead, Adora smiled. “Yea, well, when you have a lot on your mind and really demanding coaches, that, uh, happens, I guess.” She didn’t want to bring up the past. They’d have to eventually.

Catra could still read Adora’s mind. “Don’t worry, princess,” Catra said, “I’m not here to yell at you. I actually, uh,” Catra paused. “I actually want to apologize.”

Well, this was new.

“Catra,” Adora said, “I’m the one who needs to apologize, I— I missed your birthday when I promised you we’d be okay! I never wanted to hurt you or make you feel like you weren’t important. You mean a lot to me.”

“I actually, well, I actually wasn’t talking about that. But thank you,” Catra said. “Look, I just. I did a lot of reflecting when we were apart. When that train took off, and you weren’t there, it felt like,” Catra paused to catch her breath. Adora stiffened.

“It felt like a piece of my heart went with it, too. I was hurt. I thought you finally realized I was a liability. So I lashed out— I blocked your number, and Scorpia’s folks took me in. Got me a new phone and everything. I’m sorry.”

Adora’s eyes glossed over, but she didn’t feel like she had a right to cry. Instead, she placed a tentative hand on Catra’s shoulder. When Catra didn’t refuse, Adora pulled her in for a loving embrace.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like that, Catra,” Adora said, “You were never a liability. You were— you are my best friend.” Adora tucks her chin closer to Catra’s head, “But now we can start something new. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Catra leaned further into Adora, tucking her head in the crook of Adora’s neck, “You know, princess,” and Catra exhales, “that actually sounds kinda nice.”

“And, uh, Catra? Happy birthday.”

PRESENT DAY

Adora’s sprawled out on the red couch in her and Catra’s shared apartment. In a twist of fate, Adora and Catra ended up attending the same university. It was quite the undertaking, but Catra managed to earn a few college credits through acing her advanced placement courses. Catra was always intelligent, but living with Ms. Weaver had a particular dampening effect on both Adora and Catra’s self-esteem. They persevered, however, and now, they have promising careers. While Adora majored in sports medicine, Catra majored in marketing, with a minor in graphic design.

Ever since that fateful day at their secret beach on Catra’s 18th birthday, Adora and Catra’s friendship has been the most healthy they could’ve hoped for. They talk about their feelings (most of their feelings), they confront issues before they fester (though some things never die down). More importantly, they support each other in their passions (though Adora’s real love is evident to everyone but Catra). Things couldn’t be any better than they are now— at least that’s what Adora tells herself every morning.

Their routine is seamless like clockwork: Adora wakes up at 5 AM to workout; Catra wakes up at 7:30 AM; Catra sometimes makes breakfast; Catra drops Adora off at work at 9:00 AM; Catra goes to work at 9:30 AM. They both have separate bedrooms, but more often than not, one of them would always end up in the other’s bed. Catra and Adora’s routine is reminiscent of what most members of society call a relationship.

But Adora and Catra are not in a relationship.

Adora and Catra aren’t even remotely close to dating.

At least to Adora.

Here’s the thing: Adora’s been in love with Catra for as long as she can remember. Every morning, Adora conjures up a daydream: Catra, at her side, limbs tangled in sheets; kisses and loving glances at her whim. What Adora doesn’t realize, however, is just how intertwined they already are. They share a bathroom with two sinks. They cook for each other and playfully shove spoonfuls into the other’s mouth. Catra likes to make helicopter noises when she feeds Adora.

Sometimes they curl up on their red couch and have movie nights, and those movie nights often end in Catra falling asleep on Adora. Sometimes, Catra will surprise Adora with a healthy pick-me-up dinner. It’s common during stressful weeks; Catra always seems to know whenever Adora’s under duress. One night, Adora was so frustrated that she started manically cleaning the floorboards with a toothbrush, insisting she was doing it as stress-relief. Catra grabbed a spare toothbrush and joined her.

After the cleaning spree, Catra picked up Adora (since when could she do that?) and casually tossed her on the couch. Catra then loosely gripped Adora’s shoulders and laid her flat on her stomach.

‘Just close your eyes, and relax, princess,’ Catra said.

Adora felt a sudden weight on the back of her thighs. Her cheeks flushed. Within seconds Catra’s hands were kneading deep into her tense, overworked neck and shoulder muscles, and oh, did it hurt so good. Catra ended up lubricating her hands with a massage oil she stashed away (for a special occasion, she said), and worked her way down to Adora’s lower back. Adora would never forget that night.

(It also helped that Adora’s back hurt a lot less after the massage, and when she and Catra fell asleep on the couch, it ended up being one of the best nights of sleep she’s ever had.)

The cruelest part of the entire situation is that Catra doesn’t even have to put in any effort to look as gorgeous as she does. She doesn’t even exercise as much as Adora. Yet, her body is so perfectly sculpted, Adora surmises even an amateur artist could pour plaster on Catra’s body and craft a museum-worthy mold. Catra doesn’t need to do anything special to be special. Adora only wishes Catra could see that, too.

Their shared childhood in the orphanage left them with many scars, but with time, and each other, they’ve managed to clear most of the hurdles without a scratch. The problematic wounds, however, were always rooted in Ms. Weaver’s harsh, deprecating words. Catra bore the brunt of the verbal and physical abuse, and though she’s doing better now, Adora can see past the mask she sometimes tries to hide behind.

Sometimes Adora feels responsible; like perhaps Catra would not have gone through such an ordeal had Adora only been stronger. Maybe if she’d been better, Ms. Weaver would not have punished Catra as frequently. Adora’s wounds are visible only to those who take the time to truly see her.

Catra’s always seen Adora.

It’s 6:06 PM, and Adora’s sprawled across the red couch in her and Catra’s shared apartment. Adora only had to work a half-day today, and, since Catra had the car, she booked a Lyft home. Catra typically picks up Adora at 5:15 PM on the dot, and they’re usually home by 5:45 PM, no later than 5:50 PM. It’s 6:07 PM, and Adora’s nerves threaten to leap out of her skin. Catra should be home by now, right? She can’t vanish the day before her birthday— that isn’t right at all!

Oh, that’s right. Tomorrow is Catra’s birthday.

Tomorrow is Catra’s birthday.

“Shit!”

Right as Adora screams, the doorknob rattles and an amused Catra stands in the doorway, arching an eyebrow and a smirk at her best friend’s antics. See, Adora didn’t scream because she forgot Catra’s birthday; Adora bought her present months ago. (She would never miss Catra’s birthday again, and she made damn sure of it.)

But this birthday is going to be different.

On this birthday, Adora plans to confess— or at least, try to confess. She has a plan for everything: she’s already made reservations at Catra’s favorite restaurant (Catra loves seafood, especially seared salmon with seaweed chips and tuna sashimi), and she even wrote down 24 things she loves about Catra to prepare.

Catra’s turning 24— it seems appropriate.

If they do decide to drink, Adora has a plan for that, too: she asked Bow and Glimmer if they’d be willing to chaperone them around the city. Bow and Glimmer looked at each other in confusion but nodded right after. She could have sworn Glimmer muttered something along the lines of ‘useless’ under her breath. Adora didn’t think much of it.

Adora has every single detail neatly strung together, and everything is going to be perfect. Nothing can ruin her plans.

“Ugh, I can’t believe I have to go to this stupid company party on my birthday. Like, what, they just randomly decided October 28th was a good day for a party? It’s a Thursday!” Catra yells at the ceiling as she drops her bag on the ground and heads straight for the kitchen.

Except that.

Adora’s eyes widen in shock as she registers what Catra just said. “Wait, a party tomorrow?”

Catra looks at Adora in agreement. “I know, right? I was hoping I could just spend my birthday with you and Scorpia, and ‘Trapta, but no, Humpty Hordak decided to throw a company party on my birthday!”

Every muscle in Adora’s body stiffens. Sometimes, Adora forgets that Catra has other friends. It was always just her and Catra growing up. Of course, when she left, Catra had no choice but to forge other bonds; it was unreasonable to expect otherwise. Adora made new friends, too. Adora likes Scorpia, she really does. In certain instances, though, the way Scorpia looks at Catra brings out some simmering, ugly emotions that make Adora uneasy. Adora hates those feelings, but she perseveres for Catra.

There go my plans, I guess.

“You wanna know the worst part about this party?” Catra asks as she makes her way over to the couch and lets herself fall next to Adora, “Everyone is encouraged to bring a plus-one. And almost everyone is bringing their significant other.” Catra raises her hands in feigned outrage. “I don’t have a significant other, Adora. I’m gonna look like an idiot!”

Catra groans as she grips the hairs on the side of her head in frustration. Adora groans as well, but not for the same reason; hearing Catra say that out loud pierced her chest in an unusually soul-crushing way. Catra seems to pick up on Adora’s sudden shift in demeanor because now she’s facing Adora, scrunching her face, and tilting her head in that cute way when she’s thinking and—

“You okay, princess?” Catra asks, concerned, “You don’t have brain damage, do you?” Catra pinches Adora’s cheeks and stretches them out as if Adora were a child. “But, no, seriously, you look sad all of a sudden. What’s up?”

Adora lets out a defeated sigh. Well, it wasn’t supposed to come out that depressing. “Nothing, really, just a stressful day.”

Catra doesn’t buy it.

“C’mon, Adora, how long have I known you?” Catra shifts herself closer to Adora. “I know your bothered face, and that’s your bothered face,” Catra says. Then, she gets an idea. “Wait, I know how this party can be fun.” Catra flashes a devilish grin, and Adora knows what that look signals. Adora’s about to be in deep trouble.

“You wanna be my date to this thing?” Catra asks nonchalantly.

Adora nearly faints. “W-what?”

“You heard me! Be my date to the party.” Catra fidgets like someone set her skin on fire. “Look, okay, there’s something I have to tell you, actually,” Catra says, her voice suddenly dropping to a lower, rigid tone. Catra breaks eye contact with Adora, and begins fiddling with the fibers of the couch cushion.

Catra seems...anxious? Adora’s heart thumps at near lightspeed, the blood in her veins a raging river approaching an inevitable plunge.

Is Catra…?

“So I keep getting teased at work about how I’ve never had a girlfriend, and I may have, uh,” Catra sheepishly rubs a hand behind her head, “I may have told them to eat shit and that they’d meet her tomorrow. Except. Well. I didn’t exactly think before I said that.”

WHAT?!

Is it too late to jump in front of a moving train? Adora would rather be a literal pile of mush than the disaster pile of mush she is right now. Did she even hear Catra correctly? Adora did run out of q-tips not too long ago— which reminds her: buy more.

“So what do you say, wanna be my not-girlfriend for the night?” Catra smugly says as she wiggles her eyebrows in that mischievous, sly, sexy—

“Uh,” Adora says. Her brow creases, and she blinks so fast it almost looks like the flicker of a malfunctioning computer screen.

That’s it. That’s all Adora says.

That’s all Adora’s overloaded brain cell can say.

Catra’s grin immediately switches to a concerned frown, “Hey, Adora, I didn’t mean to stress you out, I can just ask Scorpia—”

“No, I’ll do it!” Adora’s lips move on their own. Shit. Fuck! Shit, fuck! I’m a mess.

“Wait, really?” Catra nearly jumps off the couch in excitement, “Holy shit, Adora, you’re the best. I owe you big! And hey,” Catra trails off, and Adora feels something soft rubbing her shoulder. “I know you probably wanted to spend my birthday with me. But I’ll make it up to you, okay? I promise.”

Catra’s words are a blanket of relief and comforting warmth as a plethora of Adora’s anxieties are exorcised away, insignificant specks of dust floating in an infinite cosmos. Okay, maybe not all of Adora’s concerns, but at the least, she now knows that Catra does want to spend her birthday together. Adora can’t believe how fortunate she is— Catra, her best friend, is promising to make up for something when she has no reason to. It’s Catra’s damn birthday!

Adora tenderly grips Catra’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “You don’t have to make anything up to me, Catra,” Adora says. She smiles, then, “I mean, unless you wanna watch a shitty sci-fi movie with me right now?”

Catra smiles, then, “You know I love making fun of Hollywood science. I’ll make the popcorn, you grab the blanket?”

“Race you,” Adora says.

-

Two and a half hours and one shitty disaster movie later (seriously, what’s with the science behind San Andreas? Even Adora knows that’s not how plate tectonics works), and Catra’s asleep on Adora. Catra’s subdued, rhythmic breathing is the one melody Adora could play on repeat for all eternity without growing fatigued of its beauty. Adora doesn’t even want to imagine what her life would be like without Catra. If she tells Catra how she feels, would she lose all of this?

Adora looks back at Catra’s face. Seeing her like this: calm, safe, vulnerable— it’s a sight Adora would have never seen back at the orphanage. Catra’s lips twitch as she fidgets in her sleep. The sleeping girl must be having a damn good dream because right then, her head nests further into the den that is the crook of Adora’s neck. Adora tightens her hold; the familiarity of it all wakes a dormant thought that she realizes she’s always known.

They’ve been through worse things and survived.

They’ve bounced back stronger each time.

Adora decides then and there: at the end of the day, when the lights go out, when the credits roll, Adora has faith that, even if things don’t go exactly as she plans, they will always have each other. Right before drifting off, Adora whispers in Catra’s ear...

“Goodnight, Catra,”

...and plants a gentle kiss on her head.

-

When Adora wakes at the crack of dawn, the first thing she notices is the distinct lack of fuzzy warmth on her chest. Catra must have gotten up sometime during the night. It makes sense; they fell asleep in a rather uncomfortable position by ergonomic standards. (By Adora’s standards, it was absolutely perfect, and no one else could tell her otherwise.) Adora’s rubbing at her sleepy eyes when she hears plates tapping against a wooden surface.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Catra says, “Thought you might be hungry.”

Adora glances over at the dining table, and her jaw drops: Catra’s making her breakfast. Catra’s made Adora breakfast before, but for some reason, the atmosphere feels like someone charged every single atom in the room. She can’t pinpoint it, but last night’s conversation seemed to have shifted something in their dynamic, if only slightly. Adora brushes it off.

“I made you an English muffin with turkey sausages, spinach, and eggs— and yes, egg whites only,” Catra says. She glides across the kitchen and grabs Adora’s favorite travel mug from the cupboard. “And here’s your coffee— no cream, two sugars, and one pump of toffee nut syrup.”

What the fuck does Adora say to this? Isn’t it Catra’s birthday? Shouldn’t Adora be the one up at 5:30 in the goddamn morning making Catra breakfast for her birthday? Adora doesn’t understand a single thing that’s happened in the past 24 hours, but she can’t deny the ever-growing rumbling in her stomach; she’s starving.

Adora shuffles over to the kitchen. “Thanks, Catra,” Adora says. Adora’s eyebrows draw together as she deviously grins at Catra, “Also, happy birthday!” Adora gently flicks Catra on the nose and gives her a noogie. “You’re 24 now— you’re getting old!”

“Adoooooora,” Catra whines, giggling, “I’m not twelve anymore, you can’t give me noogies!” There’s no harshness in Catra’s tone, though; it’s playful, tender, affectionate. Catra’s laughter subsides into a soft chuckle, and then, “But, thank you, princess. For everything.”

Adora will never forget the way the reassuring vibrations of Catra’s gentle timbre brushed against even the most damaged ravines in her heart.

—

Adora skipped her workout this morning to have a birthday breakfast (that Catra made) with Catra. Her day at the Etheria Academy training grounds flies by rather quickly. After all, Adora’s just had one of the most memorable mornings of her life with the most lovable person in the world.

Adora wants to show Catra how much she loves her with more than just a present she bought, though. Which, yes, Catra’s gift is lovely (a new digital tablet so she could doodle anywhere she wants), but it isn’t as personal. Yes, Adora did put a lot of thought and money into Catra’s gift. But Adora wanted to give Catra something else: something that would withstand the merciless test of time. Something so undeniably Adora and Catra, Catra would have no choice but to treasure it for as long as she lives.

Adora’s filing paperwork when she flinches as if a marble just hit her on the head. She has an idea. The best part is that she already did the most challenging part of all: putting into words the top twenty-four things she loves about Catra. Adora’s never been the best with words; condensing a lifetime of unsaid feelings and untold stories into only twenty-four statements was meticulous work. It was almost in vain since her dinner arrangements didn’t go as planned— but now she has a more endearing purpose for her efforts.

Adora leaves work early and sprints to the nearest craft store. It’s just her luck that there happens to be one only three blocks from her workplace. Adora runs inside, grabs two mason jars (in case she drops one because she’s Adora), a fine-tipped pen, some colored tape strips, and small decorative pieces of paper perfect for writing secret notes.

Not wanting to risk getting caught while preparing her gift, Adora goes back to her office and works away. As she’s about to put the twenty-fourth note into the jar, her hand freezes on its own. She can’t bring herself to put this note in the jar. Adora needs to give Catra this note herself.

She decorates the jar with stickers and some adhesive color strips. With the jar now completely decorated, Adora writes Catra’s name on the jar and adds a tiny heart next to it. Adora smiles and pulls out her phone.

Adora: Hey, gonna head home early. See you soon :)

Catra: See you later, “girlfriend” ;)

Adora short-circuits.

—

Despite tripping on the way home, the result of Catra’s ‘girlfriend’ remark completely blindsiding her, Adora is somewhat enthusiastic about dressing up a tad. She’s torn between two outfit choices: black pants with a light gray henley and a red blazer, or; brown pants, with a loose tucked in cream-colored top and a dark denim shirt jacket. Adora’s favorite color is red, but she also wouldn’t want to stand out too much; she is going as Catra’s ‘girlfriend’ after all. The less attention she draws, the better.

Adora’s still mourning the loss of her dignity that died the second her lips parted without her consent. She may as well have unleashed her own pandora's box. Why did Adora agree to this so impulsively? Of course, digging further into her mental fortress would accomplish nothing; she already knows why. But dwelling on these thoughts isn’t something Adora can afford to do right now. Catra will be home soon, and she’d rather not look like the garbage disposal ate her and spit her back out.

She turns the hot water knob for a shower; perhaps the steam and aroma tablets Catra bought for her would be enough to quell her anxieties. Maybe this will get the bellowing voices in her head to at least calm themselves into a tolerable whisper. Adora leaves her outfit on the bed and strips. The water hitting her back already feels relieving, soothing. She can feel her pores breathing beneath the near-boiling streaks of water, skin smoothing, muscles uncoiling. Adora needed this.

The shower worked wonders for her mind and body; her nerves have calmed, the voices in her head are on a forced vacation, and maybe she can tell Catra how she feels. After the party, of course. As she brushes her hair and does her usual post-shower routine, Adora can’t help but wonder if Catra returns her affections. Catra could have asked anyone else to be her date, but she asked Adora. Granted, Adora is her best friend, so in a way, it does make sense.

But the way Catra’s usually calm facade cracked beneath the weight of her own question festered in Adora’s thoughts. Adora did not miss when Catra’s pupils grew for a split second, the way her eyes briefly overloaded with hope. Catra’s mannerisms don’t naturally shift drastically within a short window of time. Adora can’t overthink it though; the more Adora thinks, the more her resolve wanes.

The doorknob rattles. Seconds later, Adora hears Catra’s footsteps shuffling along their wooden floor.

“Hey, Adora? You home?”

“I’m in the bathroom, Catra!” Adora yells, “I was taking a shower. It’s open if you wanna use it, I think I’m done in here.”

Catra slides into the bathroom, wearing an expression covered in mischief. She’s dangerously close to Adora—

“Aw, babe,” Catra teases and sticks her tongue out. “You’re so thoughtful. What would I ever do without you?”

Adora frantically turns away from Catra, oblivious to the fact that Catra can still see her reflection. Adora’s entire face looks like one enormous, swollen mosquito bite; sometimes, she wishes she didn’t have such radiant cheeks. Catra starts cackling and props herself against the counter.

“Holy shit, Adora, you’re so easy!” Catra says between laughs as she struggles to catch her breath, “Relax, princess. It’s just for tonight.” Catra’s face scrunches up for a split-second.

Adora tries to shrug it off, “Yea, of course! Just for tonight. One night.” Okay, stop rambling now, please— “This night— your party company, uh, company party night.”

Welcome to Disasterville, population: Adora.

Catra merely raises an eyebrow in apparent confusion. Adora grabs her hairbrush and slowly backs away from Catra. “I’m just gonna— I’m just gonna go, uh, get ready,” Adora stammers, “See you when I’m dressed?”

Catra starts laughing again, clearly amused by Adora’s plight, “Alright, you dummy. Don’t take too long ‘cause I really don’t feel like taking shit from everyone more than I already have.”

“I won’t!”

—

Adora adds the finishing touches to her outfit: a brown leather watch, a silver gemstone choker, and of course, the belt. Adora puts her dirty blonde hair into a messy bun and decides to texture her updo by adding beach waves to the bangs framing her face. Wow— her hair actually looks presentable when it’s not being held captive in an obnoxious hair poof.

Alright, so maybe she took a bit longer than intended, but the result has proven well worth it. If Adora wasn’t planning on drawing attention to herself at Catra’s company party, she’s about to fail. She realizes it the second she sees Catra’s jaw nearly drop to the floor. Whether that’s positive or negative is a mystery to Adora.

Adora meets her gaze. She looks left, then right, then back to Catra.

...Catra’s still fixated on her.

Did Catra break? Adora almost wants to wave a hand in front of Catra’s body to see if anyone is still alive in there. She feels like knocking. Would anyone be home?

“Catra?” Adora finally breaks the awkward silence, “Is there something wrong with my clothes?” Adora hopes that Catra’s gawking is a good thing.

Catra recollects herself at last. “Y-yea, I mean, no! No, nothing’s wrong with your clothes,” Catra stammers, “You, uh. You look really nice, Adora. I mean, obviously, you’re finally wearing something that’s not fucking sweats and a hoodie.”

Adora’s become accustomed to Catra’s teasing remarks about her wardrobe selection at this point. However, something about the abstruse inflections in Catra’s tone prompts Adora to notice the jarring shift in the air. It’s overwhelming, but not necessarily in a bad way. It oddly brings Adora solace and a strange sense of conviction. Catra likes what she sees; that alone is enough to get Adora to smile.

If Adora has to suffer, she’s going to make the most of it. “Hey, I can wear real pants from time to time, you know,” Adora chuckles, “Plus, I can’t let my girlfriend hog the spotlight.”

Catra’s posture relaxes as her signature grin returns to the fray, “Yea, yea, alright. Now let’s get going before Lonnie threatens to braid my hair again,” Catra says as she lightly punches Adora in the arm.

Amid her trepidation, Adora overlooked just how well Catra cleaned up; Catra’s always been an attractive woman, but right now, she is mind-blowingly irresistible. The way she lets her shaggy hair roam free in its beautifully chaotic form, and how those mismatched eyes put the sun and moon to shame. The way she flaunts that stupid denim jacket, and those black ripped jeans; the way her form-fitting white henley fits snug against her abdomen and brings out her shining, sculpted clavicle, and— okay, stop it, Adora!

Okay, so maybe tonight is going to be a challenge, after all.

Fuck me.

But actually…

—

The company party is rowdier than Adora expected. Her innocent assumption was that it would be a business casual dinner, with a few drinks and toasts to the hardworking individuals who make the magic happen, followed by the usual mingling until the agonizing small talk chases people home. Adora did not expect: music; drinking games; hard liquor; excessive amounts of PDA.

Except for her and Catra, of course. Because they’re not dating. That’s something only people in a relationship do, and they are not in a relationship.

Adora can do this. Adora can make it through two more hours of this: watching others affectionately hold hands and cheering each other on. Watching people steal glances and sneaky pecks. This is nothing. Nothing at all. Adora can—

“Hey, Wildcat!”

Oh.

Adora doesn’t know what’s worse: that something less than ideal inside of her has reared its ugly head or the fact that Catra left her without any hint of hesitation to stand next to Scorpia. She truly has no grudge against the tall woman. Scorpia is a lovely person: friendly, but fiercely loyal. If anyone messes with Catra, they can make sure they’d be hearing from Scorpia.

Catra looks so...happy. The way she leans against Scorpia like a solid rock, the way the white-haired woman encourages her, boosts her confidence. Catra acts like they've known each other for decades. She doesn’t usually let people this far in. What changed?

This Catra used to only show herself to Adora. She was only ever comfortable around Adora. Catra’s jubilant laughter and lax mannerisms were membership perks to one very exclusive club. That club used to have only one member.

It’s not that she feels entitled to Catra’s happiness. It isn’t that she’s jealous of Scorpia. Well, perhaps the latter isn’t entirely true, but it’s not entirely a lie either. As Adora the best friend, she’s relieved and glad that Catra has another close friend she can rely on. Catra’s never had the most stable support system, and when she did, that support system left, and everything fell apart. To be someone’s sole source of happiness is a burden not meant for any single human to bear.

As Adora the useless pining disaster, however, Scorpia poses a hypothetical threat to Adora’s standing in Catra’s life. Catra is at the top of Adora’s priorities. Nothing, or no one, comes close. It’s natural to desire something like that, right? To feel like the center of someone’s universe, to feel like another person’s number one. Of course, in a literal sense that spells the making of one very co-dependent relationship.

That’s not what Adora wants at all. They already did that once. It failed— things soured. Adora doesn’t want to have to reconcile a second time. For that, things would need to take a wrong turn a second time. And once was already too many.

But to feel seen and matched halfway on every journey, to feel both invested and invested into, admired and wanted in equal measure. To feel like one half of a heart that’s found its way home, eagerly accepting a warm welcome— this is what Adora wants. She doesn’t want to put someone on a pedestal, and likewise, she doesn’t want anyone to worship her.

Adora just wants a partner. A life partner. The only life partner she’s ever known.

Adora wants Catra.

And so does Scorpia.

And honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised if others do, too. Adora’s seen how Glimmer sometimes looks at Catra up and down when Glimmer thinks no one is watching. Not that Adora blames her; anyone with eyes would at some point submit to Catra’s captivating orbit.

It’s natural to want to feel loved. Given that Adora is Adora, however, guilt and self-punishment prove her most formidable roadblock. See, though Adora and Catra became best friends again and forgave each other, Adora’s still having a hard time forgiving herself. For what, no one knows— the whole abandoning the orphanage bit was one lousy chapter in this ongoing fairy tale. She can’t let one rough chapter spoil the ending, too.

No. She won’t.

“Hey, Adora.”

Speak of the cat, er, the devil.

Alright, Adora, time to sweep up the long face.

“Catra! Hey,” Adora says.

“You look like you could use a good buzz,” Catra hands her a cider, “Here, try this one. It’s pear cider. Pretty tasty and not a lot of alcohol.” Catra smirks. “Just how you like it.”

Adora wearily eyes Catra and takes a sip of her cider. It’s surprisingly good. Sweet, with a tart finish and almost no trace of that alcohol bitterness.

“Hey, this is pretty good!” Adora grins, “You know my taste so well.”

Catra chuckles, then, “Yeah, well, what kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

Adora freezes in place, her smile still as it was a moment ago, her eyes unblinking. Catra doesn’t move either.

A blonde woman in a pink dress approaches them. “So! Catra,” the woman begins, “I’m going to assume this is the mystery woman you told us about.” The woman suddenly acts surprised, extends her hand, then, “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Perfuma.”

Adora snaps back to reality, and shakes Perfuma’s hand, “Adora. Nice to meet you all.” She doesn’t sound too amused. She takes another sip of her cider.

“Oh, right,” Catra interrupts, “I forgot this was a thing. Perfuma, Adora. Adora, Perfuma— she’s going to offer you an edible, by the way,” Catra shoots Adora a worried glance, “Don’t do it.”

“Please, Catra, this is not the time or place for an edible!” Perfuma yells, “But if you two want to come over to my place after—”

“Thanks, Perfuma! We have plans after this, you know,” Catra says, “For my birthday.” Catra winks at Perfuma, and Adora nearly faints.

Perfuma grins, “Oh, right. Of course. Well, maybe another time!”

Just then, another familiar voice gets Adora’s attention. “Adora?!”

Adora knows this voice. She turns around, then, “Bow?!” Adora’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets, “What are you— I mean, hi! But what are you doing here?” No, really, what is Bow doing here?

“I’m here with Entrapta! Glimmer ended up going to some last-minute thing, and Entrapta promised I could play around with her new computer.” Then, Bow takes a cookie from the small plate in his hand, and shoves it in his mouth, “Plus, who can resist free food?”

He has a point.

Bow munches on his cookie and then continues, “Hey, Catra, you’re here too!”

Catra deadpans, “Uh, yeah. I work here.” Adora forgets how obtuse her friends can be at times.

“Right! I remember now,” Bow says. He squints and cocks an eyebrow at Adora, “Wait, so are you and Catra…”

Adora turns tomato red. Catra answers in her place. “Yea, Bowflex, did Adora not tell you? Been goin’ steady for a bit now.” Catra looks incredibly smug. And so attractive— damn her!

“I mean, it’s about time. Glimmer and I were making bets on when it was gonna happen, but I definitely thought I had more time at the rate you two were moving.”

Adora jumps, “Wait, you and Glimmer made bets? My love life isn’t a game!” Catra’s doubled over, her hand clutching her abdomen as she laughs hysterically. At least someone is enjoying this interrogation.

“Oh my god, Adora,” Catra gasps between cackles, “You’re too easy to rile up! So what if Glitter and Bowtie wanna make bets on us.” Catra wraps an arm around Adora’s waist and pulls her close. “I think that’s a pretty safe bet if you ask me.”

It’s like someone took a giant red balloon and rubbed it all over Adora’s body, the static raising the hairs on her body up to the heavens. Without thinking, she leans into Catra— wait why is she leaning into Catra with all these people watching, they aren’t even really dating, but her heart’s beating so fast and—

“You okay, Adora?” Catra’s looking at her now, something soft and sympathetic in her gaze, as if she knows the thoughts running through Adora’s head. Then, she leans into Adora’s ear, and whispers, “If you don’t wanna be here anymore, we can leave. I don’t want you doing anything you’re not comfortable doing.”

Adora considers it for a moment. Leaving does sound tempting. She’d get to spend the remainder of the night with Catra, probably curled on the couch watching another bad sci-fi or romcom film. But Catra seems like she’s having a genuinely good time. Adora can’t take that from her. She won’t.

“I’ll be fine, Catra,” Adora whispers. She gently grips Catra’s arm, “Thanks for asking, though.” She smiles at Catra, softly, reassuringly.

“Alright, princess,” Catra says, “But if you do ever feel like leaving, just say the word.”

Adora nods and chuckles. Her smile doesn’t fade. “I know,” Adora says.

—

The party goes on for another couple hours, and Adora’s seriously considering tapping Catra on the shoulder so they could go home. Of course, Perfuma, Scorpia, Entrapta, Lonnie, and many others have other ideas for the pair.

Lonnie walks up to Adora and Catra, her eyes clearly intent on carrying out some agenda. “So, how long have you two been dating?”

Uh oh.

Catra doesn’t seem scared, though. She’s actually— wait. Why is Catra smirking? “Oh, Lonnie. Sweet, sweet, dumb, Lonnie. Adora and I started dating like a month ago.”

Lonnie doesn’t look like she’s buying it. “Oh, really now?” Lonnie raises her eyebrows, “See, I was under the impression that you made this whole thing up.”

“Nah. You just can’t stand being a sore loser.”

Lonnie scoffs. “Alright, let’s play a game, then. I’m going to ask a question, and you both have to answer at the same time. You can’t talk to each other before you answer. Good?”

Adora gulps. She glances over at Catra and sees the same mark of mild concern scribbled on her face. They’ve known each other nearly all their lives, though. Surely they can answer some questions even without consulting each other.

“You’re on, Lonnie,” Adora says, confident. She shocks Catra with her bold response, but Catra follows suit.

“Hear that? My girlfriend’s challenging you,” Catra snarks, “So let’s get this on, Lon-Lon.”

“First of all, don’t ever call me that shit again. Second, this is gonna be fun.” Lonnie rubs her hands together and steps closer to the pair.

“Wait!” Entrapta shouts, “Can I record this? This is so intriguing!” Bow gives Adora an apologetic smile, mouthing sorry as he goes.

“Ugh, whatever,” Catra says.

Fantastic, they’re being recorded. If Adora and Catra get an answer wrong, it’s going to be on video, and it’s going to haunt them for the rest of their lives, and their whole office is never going to live it down, and then maybe Adora won’t even get to ask out Catra because she’ll be too embarrassed to even make a move at that point and—

Breathe, Adora.

Catra grabs her hand and gives a reassuring squeeze. She leans into Adora again, and whispers, “Remember the beach,” and then kisses Adora’s left cheek. Adora’s never going to wash her left cheek again.

Lonnie clears her throat, eager to begin her impromptu interrogation (game). “Alright, first question: Where is Catra from?”

“Frightland City!” They shout in unison. Too easy.

Lonnie glares at Catra, and Catra sticks her tongue out at Lonnie. This is shaping up to be quite the party, Adora must say. She needs another cider.

“Alright, that one was pretty easy. Alright, when did Catra start working for us?”

Adora answers before she can even consciously recognize her lips are moving. “Oh, Catra started here about a year and a half ago, sometime around April, I think! She had the first interview in February, and then the final round interview sometime at the end of March. I remember because she was so excited, she even got to the final round.” Adora pauses to take a breath, then, “I’m still so proud of you, by the way,” Adora says, and she gives Catra’s arm a loving pinch.

Lonnie sighs, “Alright, we get it. Alright, two more, ‘cause I’m not trying to stay out too late.” Lonnie pops her neck. “Who asked who out, and where?”

Adora pauses as she realizes they never actually established who initiated what in their ‘relationship.’ Okay, think.

“I asked her out—” they both blare in unison.

A sinister grin splits Lonnie’s face in two, her eyes bright with what seems an inevitable victory.

Oh no. They can still recover from this, right? Unsurprisingly, Catra has an explanation. They’ll be fine. Adora doesn’t even know why she’s so concerned with beating Lonnie in the first place. I’s not like she needs to defend a relationship because to defend a relationship, you need to be in a relationship. And Catra and Adora are not in a relationship.

“We asked each other out, doofus,” Catra explains, “Yea, we were just enjoying a sunset at this secret beach we like. I looked at Adora, she looked at me and, well, I mean. It kinda hit us like a wave.” Catra explains this so naturally like it is an irrefutable truth with no other version of events because there is no different version of events. It’s an object falling off a cliff; there are no variations in the laws of nature: what goes up, must come down. It is simply an inevitable, irrefutable truth.

Lonnie scrunches her face. “Alright. Final question: when did you start dating? Officially.”

Oh, this is a question, alright. Shit.

No, Adora can do this. Remember the beach, Catra said...remember the beach, remember—

“September 28th,” they both answer in unison.

Lonnie raises an eyebrow, unamused that her charade of a game didn’t quite accomplish what she wanted it to. “Alright, alright. You win! Sheesh, it’s about time, anyway.”

Catra releases a triumphant laugh followed by a nod in Adora’s direction, her eyes glowing with endearment and gratitude, saying, ‘Thank you for doing this for me.’ In an unexpected and bold gesture, Catra angles her body slightly and wraps an arm around Adora’s waist, pulling her in close, and rests her chin on Adora’s shoulder.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Lonnie,” Catra says, “But my girlfriend’s kind of the best.”

As if Catra couldn’t get any braver, as if the game was not enough to convince everyone else in the room, Catra stares straight into Adora’s eyes, and then, her lips. Adora does not miss the sudden flicker in Catra’s gaze, and hearing the unspoken invitation, leans in. Catra meets her halfway, and they share a tender, if brief, kiss.

In a perfect world, Adora and Catra’s first kiss would have been right after Adora confessed her love, with Catra swooping her into a loving embrace. No, it doesn’t need to be a perfect world— any world with Catra in her life is already perfect, and this is an added bonus, the extra icing on the cake. After all, this is something Adora has wanted since she learned to want; what she's craved since she learned to love.

Catra’s lips are softer than she expected; the brunette’s rough exterior gives off a misleading perception of her true gentle nature. They taste like mint, presumably from the chapstick she donned earlier today. Adora can keep this going forever. She can pick apart every single sensation down to the last cell with surgical precision for the rest of her life if it means she could stay right here, right now, with her lips slotted perfectly against Catra’s like a lock finally matched with its proper key.

When Catra pulls away, her expression is remarkably different. Her mismatched orbs seem more intent now, her cheeks burn brighter, and did her breath just catch in her throat? Adora can feel her heartbeat quicken. Her nerves flutter with the thought that, if she’s seeing what she thinks she’s seeing, then maybe this is what Catra’s wanted all along. Adora’s face splits in two with a gleaming smile, her excitement lighting up the room. Catra gives Adora’s waist a gentle squeeze, a silent thank you, and gesture of reassurance.

“You two are so cute, Adora,” Bow says with quivering lips and eyes so glossy, and wide it's as if someone is staring at them through a fishbowl. “I can’t wait to tell Glimmer about this, she is going to flip!”

The realization hits her then.

If people start talking about this; if the news travels from one echo chamber to another through some comedic form of telephone, Adora and Catra wouldn’t be able to go about their business as usual. Everyone beyond their safe apartment walls will ask for updates. For how their date night went, for details on who the better kisser is (Catra would win this award in Adora’s eyes. So far.)

Catra senses Adora’s paranoia and swiftly shifts into damage control mode. “Alright, calm down, Bowflex, our love life isn’t like some episode of Westworld. We kept it low key for a reason,” Catra says, “But, I guess there’s no harm in telling ol’ Sparkplug. You’re good with that, right, Adora?” Catra turns her head towards Adora, an implicit request for approval.

Adora nods her head before Catra can finish her sentence, “Yea! I mean,” she clears her throat, “Yea, why wouldn’t I be? Glimmer’s practically my family, anyway.”

Does this mean Catra is okay with everyone thinking that we’re dating…? Does this mean…

“It’s settled then,” Catra says. She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says, and then leans in closer to Adora’s ear and whispers, “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Adora can’t see Catra’s face, but she doesn’t need to; she can feel Catra’s playful mischief, her mouth involuntarily growing into a smile of anticipation.

“Yea,” Adora says, “Yea, I think I do.”

—

In true social gathering fashion, it takes Adora and Catra roughly twenty minutes to say their goodbyes to everyone in the room. And of course, it was the longest twenty minutes Adora’s ever experienced. It doesn’t help that Scorpia hijacked a quarter of those twenty minutes to congratulate Catra on a new and healthy relationship; Adora doesn’t miss the irony of it all. While she doesn’t mind talking to people, Adora has other matters she’s more eager to attend to.

The duo makes it outside to the parking garage, at last, Adora holding the door open for Catra in true chivalrous girlfriend fashion. Adora has forgotten that she no longer has to play along with Catra’s little scheme, but finds that she no longer cares. Soon, she’ll tell Catra how she feels. Soon, she’ll open herself up, hand Catra the scalpel, and hope that the only pieces Catra will carve out are the corrupted pieces of doubt sewn in her flesh.

It’s a crisp autumn night, with sprinkles of summer still lingering about. The wind against Adora’s cheeks provides a much-needed reprieve from the momentous evening she’s just experienced, a chance to recollect herself and harden her resolve for the next crucial step. That is until she feels something warm wrap itself around her hand with familiar comfort.

Catra’s gaze is still focused on the road ahead, her left hand firmly on the steering wheel as it rests against the door, wind dancing with her loose bangs as they frame her chiseled jaw. It’s as if Catra isn’t even remotely aware of what her free hand is doing. Except, right then, Catra grins and releases a lighthearted chuckle that tugs at Adora’s heartstrings.

Adora’s breath catches, and for a second, the world flies out the open window and into the void. So Catra is aware of what her hand is doing. Catra is aware that their fingers are now intertwining; that her thumb is now gently rubbing against the top of Adora’s hand. It's a type of soothing comfort reminiscent of cooling gel on the sunburn that is burning anxiety branding her skin.

“You doing alright there, princess?” Catra asks, calm, composed, “You seem a little tense.” Catra’s grip briefly tightens— tenderly, of course.

Adora smiles, then sighs, “Yea. Yea, I’m good. I’m just thinking—“

Thinking what, Adora? At this rate, Catra will never know how you really feel!

“—that I had a lot of fun tonight, is all,” Adora finally mutters.

The hesitation isn’t lost on Catra; she gives Adora a questioning look, a look Adora instantly recognizes as Catra’s inner skeptic.

They pull up to the apartment, Adora relieved that she’s free from Catra’s interrogating stare for the time being. They walk toward the door in silence, neither woman quite partial to disturbing the tense air between them. Catra puts the key in the lock, slowly twisting with more purpose than usual, glancing at Adora in her peripheral vision. She pauses for one moment before turning the knob and pushing the door open.

As the pair step inside, Adora can feel the certainty flowing through her veins; in just a few hours, their shared history has been rewritten from a different point of view. Adora realizes that maybe, just maybe, she could do this. There’s a painful irony in the situation. Adora, with more certainty than knowing the sun will rise and set, knows with all her heart that she loves Catra and that Catra loves her.

So then why is this certainty still plagued with the fear of the unknown? Adora knows she’ll be fine when she dives in, but does she want to jump headfirst, or wade slowly? Would it matter if she ends up in the same place regardless— lost in a pool of laughter, tears, playful banter, heated arguments?

“Hey, you good?”

A shaky voice breaks her anxious spell. Thankfully.

Adora sighs. “Yea,” she says, breath still stuttering, “Yea, I’m okay.” She looks at Catra intently, then, “Can I ask you something?”

Catra cocks her head to the side and leans against the wall.

Adora continues, “Sorry, that sounds so serious,” she lets out a nervous chuckle, “I just,” Adora pauses. Her lips press tightly into a contemplative line. “Do you ever feel, I don’t know—” Why are words so damn complicated? No, not words— just honest words.

Catra continues to lean against the wall, twisting her body back and forth in anticipation. Adora can’t tell if it’s nerves or impatience.

“Adora,” Catra says, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” Catra tilts her head forward attentively, a reassuring gesture, no doubt.

“Yea!” Adora shrieks, a bit unnaturally. She shakes her head slightly, hoping it’s enough to stave off her fears. “Yea, of course, I know. I guess it’s just—“

Breathe. Focus.

Adora zones in on Catra’s freckles, pausing for a moment to wonder: after this, there’s no going back. There’s no rewind button, no undo shortcut to solve things the easy way should they go wrong. But there’s never anything easy about the most satisfying things in life. Adora’s never known anything worth having that didn’t involve struggle.

It’s not the effort alone that defines time and pain well spent. It’s the sheer amazement that Adora is even capable of such a journey of wanting as much as she desires right now. That Adora, with all her faults and misfires, wants nothing more than to love with the intensity she feels loved with, to return the favor. That Adora has always been worthy of feeling so fulfilled and complete all along.

Adora wishes she could grab every moment kindled by these feelings and light a fire with them. She wants to show Catra all the ways she’s made Adora feel throughout their life, for they are undeniably and irrevocably the most empowering and consuming thing she’s ever had the privilege of feeling. If that were possible, Adora might as well give Catra the sun itself.

This is her moment.

“Do you remember when you gave me that seashell? And you told me it matched my eyes?” Adora asks, lip quivering, finger fidgeting.

“Yea?” Catra replies, an upward curve in her pitch, “What about it?”

Adora steps closer, then, “I still remember how you looked at me when you gave me that shell. And,” she pauses. She takes a shallow breath. “And I still remember how happy I was when you closed my palm around it.”

Catra fidgets now— are her cheeks turning rosy? Adora lets it slide. “Anyway, I was just thinking that everything you do, no matter how big or small,” Adora whispers and takes another step, “It’s always changed me, somehow, I think. If that makes sense?”

“Uh, what are you getting at, Adora? Everything I do—“

“I’m in love with you.”

Oh. Well, that wasn’t supposed to come out just yet. Better now than never, Adora supposes. She continues despite the shocked expression on Catra’s face. Though she can’t tell if Catra’s elated or mortified, she may as well rip the whole bandaid off.

“I’ve always been in love with you, I think,” Adora says, “There was just always this— this pull, you know? Like, okay,” Adora breathes deeply, “I like what I like. You like what you like. But somehow, no matter where life would take me or my interests, it never felt right without you there in some way.” Adora wipes the newly formed sweat off her brow.

Catra stares at Adora with an unreadable expression. What is Catra thinking? Is this a mistake? Adora takes another deep breath and continues.

“When you found that shell and your eyes lit up, I— I realized I wanted to see that look on your face all the time. I wanted to see you truly happy. And not that fake happy face you’d put on whenever we were at Weaver’s, where you pretended everything was okay,” Adora takes another step closer, and offers her hand. Catra accepts.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, well. Actually, wait here,” Adora releases Catra’s hand as she rushes toward her bedroom and pulls out two boxes. When she returns, Catra’s sitting on their couch, still staring into nothing and blinking incessantly.

“I’m just going to show you because I’m really not good with talking about emotions,” Adora laughs, “And it’s also your birthday so...Happy Birthday, Catra.”

For the first time since Adora’s blindsiding confession, Catra meets her gaze and seems to have come back to reality. She wordlessly unwraps the first box, revealing a high-end (and expensive) drawing tablet that she hasn’t mentioned in two years. Adora even looked up the newer model. The tablet box trembles in her grip, and Catra finally smiles.

“Wow,” Catra says, shaking her head as if trying to wake from a dream, “I— Adora, what? This must have been expensive! I can’t possibly—”

“Don’t worry about that. I didn’t get it for you because it was expensive,” Adora says. “I got it for you because I wanna cheer you on in everything you love doing, in whatever way I can, Catra. But,” Adora trails off and fiddles with the smaller box still in her hands. “Well, your face when you’re really focused on something is kinda priceless,” Adora giggles.

Catra playfully shoves Adora in the shoulder, her hand hovering in midair as she pulls it back like something wants her to keep it in place. Catra isn’t touching Adora, and yet she can still feel Adora, the rise and fall of their chests in perfect sync, breathing each other in.

Catra closes her eyes and takes one more deep breath before planting her hand on Adora’s shoulder, her thumb gently stroking the smooth edges of her collarbone. “I don’t— I don’t deserve this, any of this, but,” Catra’s eyes begin to gloss, and she has to blink quickly to keep the emotions at bay. “But, thanks, Adora. Really, I don’t even know what to say to this. I really don’t deserve—”

“Hey. I used to think I didn’t deserve you in my life, either. But,” Adora pauses and gently lays her palm over the hand Catra’s resting on her shoulder. “But I realized it’s not about deserving, or, or being worthy enough for someone,” Adora glances at their hands and smiles. “It’s about how well you fit together, I think. No, I know.”

Adora breaks eye contact to stare at the small box in her hand. She decides to ride her wave of courage while she still has it. “You should, uh,” Adora hands Catra the small box, “You should open this one.”

Catra takes the box and notices just how neat the wrapping job is. Catra almost feels terrible that she’s about to claw it all off— almost. Catra opens the box, and rather than feeling shocked, she smiles fondly as she stares at the sentimental jar before her. This is just like Adora; sappy, earnest, beautiful Adora. As Catra’s smile continues growing, she gives Adora a side glance, her smile turning into a teasing smirk.

“I should’ve known you’d do something like this, you nerd,” Catra chuckles as she turns her head to fully face Adora now, “So, how long did this take ya to make?”

If Adora is honest with herself, she wholeheartedly expected Catra to tease her for being soft. Instead, the reaction before her is something out of a dream. Catra, smiling fondly at her gift, chuckling, but not with any hint of ridicule; her eyes gleaming in such a bona fide way that Adora could only describe as very Catra. Adora leans back on the couch, gesturing for Catra to do the same.

“Well, there’s a story behind this present, actually,” Adora says, “If you wanna hear it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Catra asks, “Of course I wanna hear it! This is probably the sappiest thing you’ve ever given me, ‘Dora!” Adora pretends to not notice the bright red tint on Catra’s cheeks, as acknowledging it could prove far too dangerous.

(Though, Adora is already in deep, and she doesn’t understand her mind’s current line of logic. Then again, when does she ever?)

“Okay, so,” Adora begins, “First of all, you’re not allowed to laugh. But I had a plan for your birthday already, I mean— I mean before the company party thing and all,” Adora says.

“What, like a picnic by the sea or something?” Catra teases.

“N-no!” Adora yells, not planning to disclose that the thought had, in fact, crossed her mind at one point. “I was going to take you to your favorite food place that makes the fish you love, and then I thought we could either come back here and have a movie night or go out for drinks. If you felt like it, that is.”

“Wow, sounds like you had it all planned out. Too bad that party ruined it, huh?” Catra lightly punches Adora in the arm.

Adora chuckles as her face slowly turns more serious, “Well, I mean, kinda. But I think it worked out, don’t you?”

Catra doesn’t answer. Instead, she curiously scans the decorated mason jar in her hands. She traces her thumb along the letters of her name and then shifts her eyes to meet Adora’s.

“If we went out to dinner,” Catra treads lightly, “would this still have happened?”

Adora, puzzled with her beloved’s abrupt question, simply gives a resolute nod, “Yes. Yes, no matter what happened tonight, I—“ I would’ve told you I loved you even if the world was burning, she wanted to say. Instead, “I would have told you either way. I can’t not be honest with you anymore. You mean too much to me for that.”

Adora continues, “And I know we would’ve been fine regardless— that we will be fine, I mean. Whatever you, uh, choose. Or, you know, choose to do with that— that information,” Adora can’t seem to stop her lips from quivering.

A smile plasters itself on Catra’s face as she reaches out and pokes Adora right in the center of her brow. They’re kids again, a promise in motion as they reassure each other, confide in each other, and seal it with a loving gesture only shared between the two of them.

“You’re really worked up about this, huh?” Catra says, smug, “Well, I wouldn’t be too worked up if I were you,” Catra begins to lean into Adora slowly.

“You know, the reason I started poking your forehead, princess,” Catra takes a breath. Her words become a whisper, “is because this is where I’ve always wanted to do this.” Catra cups Adora’s cheek with one hand and presses her lips against Adora’s forehead as she wraps an arm around the small of Adora’s back.

Adora’s eyes grow wide, and the warmth from Catra’s lips travels down her neck and seeps in through her pores. Did Catra just—

Wait. Catra needs to open the jar. Catra needs to read the notes inside.

Adora pulls away, and Catra looks puzzled.

“Catra, uh, before you,” Adora clears her throat. “Jar, the jar. I—I want you to open the jar and, well, you’ll see.”

Before Adora can finish, Catra twists the lid off the mason jar and notices the different colored strips of paper. “These cute little coupons or something?”

“No! Just...well, they’re, well, you’ll see. Open one and see for yourself,” Adora says, looking away with a glaringly apparent blush.

Catra opens the first note.

“I love the way you laugh,” she reads. Catra’s breath catches in her throat, the note’s comfort coddling her like a blanket.

Any minute now, Catra would double over and break into a wheezy and near-silent giggling fit, followed by sarcastic but endearing remarks like, ‘Wow, you really wrote me a bunch of compliments, princess?’ Or maybe ‘Wow, you’re cheesy.’

But lately, Catra’s been full of surprises. Instead of laughing and poking fun at Adora, she’s staring at the note in silence, her gaze locked in place, the rest of her body following suit. She remains like that for over a minute before she slowly faces Adora, her expression unreadable. Adora hopes that’s a good thing.

Catra tries to speak. Her lips part, but nothing, except air and an almost inaudible croak, comes out. It’s another few seconds before she’s able to conjure an actual sentence.

“You...” Catra trails off, “...you wrote these all for me?” Her voice starts off resolute but fades into a croaky whisper. “You w—you wrote what you like about me?”

Adora nods. “Easiest thing to write in the world. Okay, actually, it was harder than I thought it would be. I mean, how can I possibly choose from so many things?”

“You’re such a dork.”

Adora shifts in her seat and angles her body more towards Catra, her head nearly leaning on Catra’s shoulder. “Maybe. Read another one,” Adora says.

Catra cocks an eyebrow, “Alright, alright. Here's another one, it says,” Catra unfolds the teal piece of paper, “this one says, ‘I love the way you always made funny Weaver impressions whenever she turned around.’ Okay, this one’s pretty funny,” Catra chuckles.

For the next few minutes, Catra and Adora inch closer and closer as Catra opens and reads each note aloud. ‘I love the way you somehow always end up with the blanket at night,’ reads one, or ‘I love how creative you are with your insults,’ reads another.

Catra opens the final yellow note. “I love your eyes and how you always truly see me,” she reads. Catra takes a moment before realizing something. “Hey, how many notes are there supposed to be?”

Adora smirks at her, “See, I knew you would notice!”

“I mean, it’s not that hard- I’m turning 24, the notes went all the way up to 23, and I know when you plan things you don’t miss a detail,” Catra replies, her eyes assured, “So whatcha got up your sleeve, Adora?”

“Well,” Adora replies as she pulls a note from her rear pocket, “before I give you this, I just— I have to know if you,” Adora pauses to swallow the lump forming in her throat, “I just need to know how you f— “

Adora doesn’t get a chance to finish; Catra threads her fingers through Adora’s hair and locks their lips together.

It’s a dream: Adora baring her soul for Catra to see, stretching each and every emotion taut, trusting Catra to feel without cutting her, to look without flinching at what she might find. Adora, kissing Catra, genuinely, without false pretenses, without an audience; kissing Catra in a home they made their own, on their red couch rich with moments shared with no one but themselves.

Catra licks Adora’s bottom lip and laughs into the kiss, “So,” Catra kisses the right corner of Adora’s mouth, “are you gonna let me read it now?” She kisses the other corner of Adora’s mouth. “I mean, I don’t mind doing this,” she says as she slots their lips back together.

It’s tempting to continue, frankly, but Adora really wants Catra to read this last note. And then, well, then what? Would they continue how they were? What if she scares Catra away? No, they would be fine. They would always be fine. Adora stops the kiss and pulls away.

“As much fun as that was,” Adora says, “this, well. This note is why I wanted to know, I guess.”

Catra briefly glances at Adora before switching her attention to the note. She takes it out of Adora’s hand, never breaking eye contact with Adora as she opens it slowly, almost deliberately.

Because of course, Catra would.

“I love the way you’re you. I love you. So I wanted to ask...do you want to date me, maybe?”

This time, Catra can’t help it. She laughs and laughs for a few seconds before suddenly stopping. Her crinkled expression quickly shifts into something inexplicably tender. “Alright, I only laughed because I think it’s hilarious how useless we are.”

“What do you mean?” Adora’s genuinely curious. “Useless?”

This quickly prompts Catra to recall that Adora doesn’t speak meme. “I sometimes forget your hair poof shields your brain from the hilarity that is the internet.”

This time, Adora breaks into a small giggling fit, lunging at Catra to get her in a headlock.

“And I sometimes forget you can never get out of these,” Adora replies.

“Okay, okay, I’ll explain! Just lemme go, dummy,” Catra says before Adora releases her. “I’m just saying that I— well, I,” Catra blushes, forgetting how to speak, mouth hanging open with words that won’t come out. “I mean I’ve always—“

Of course, Adora finds it endearing, and rather than make fun of Catra, she brings her hand behind Catra’s ear and gently strokes her hair.

It works. “I said we were useless because I’ve always loved you too, I think,” Catra says. “I may not have realized it, but,” Catra pauses to place her palm on Adora’s knee, “deep down, I guess I always knew. I just never said anything because I didn’t see how someone like you could possibly love someone like me. In that way. Like a girlfriend. I think?”

Adora brings their heads together. They sit in silence and simply count each other’s breaths. It’s not something they often do, or ever, really: lose themselves in the other without a single worry; open themselves wholly, without hesitation or suspicion. There has always been a glass wall between them: from Weaver’s manipulation tactics to the world conspiring against them, to getting adopted and moving away.

But not now. Not now when all Adora feels is Catra’s skin on hers. Not now when all Adora can see is the glowing blue and yellow before her. Not now when the only thing she can smell is Catra’s ocean breeze perfume; when the only thing she tastes is Catra’s minty breath, and when the only thing she hears is Catra’s muted chuckles.

Catra is all she can sense.

There are no walls— not anymore.

“So,” Adora breaks the silence, “Did you, um. Do you have an answer? Not that it’s any rush! I mean, take your time, I understand if a relationship isn’t what you want right now or really like, I mean, ever, or I mean— well, you know!” Adora has to stop to catch her breath. She’d be the Olympic gold medalist for rambling if such a category existed. “What I mean is, if you’re not ready, I understand. And if you just wanna stay friends, that’s okay too.”

Catra facepalms. “I just kissed you, and you’re asking me if I have an answer? Oh my god, I knew that pine cone hit you on the head too hard!”

When they were 7, a pine cone fell from a tall tree and hit Adora right behind her hair poof.

“Ha, very funny!” Adora retorts, “I’m gonna uh, well. I’m gonna take that as a...yes, then?”

Catra facepalms with her other hand. “I need to call 911. Help! My girlfriend’s lost all her brain cells!”

Adora smacks Catra playfully as she wrestles them down into the couch, Adora now straddling Catra. “Hey!” yells Adora, “I have brain cells!” Then it hits her. “Wait, did you say girlfriend?”

Catra’s face splits in two as a wide, close-lipped, mischievous grin spreads across her face. “Damn right I did,” she says, “So are you gonna kiss me or what?”

Adora smiles back.

“You know, I think I will,” Adora says as she leans in, “But I think we should get off the couch.”

They didn’t go to sleep until 5AM.

—

Adora wakes in Catra’s arms, and though she’s done it many times before, this time is another experience altogether. Catra’s still asleep, but Catra also doesn’t have to work today. Adora does.

Adora quietly attempts to get out of bed. Still, Catra hugs her tighter the moment she feels even a slight quiver of movement.

“Mornin’, ‘Dora,” Catra yawns. “What time is it?”

“Not that it matters for you, but it is,” Adora checks her phone for the time, “10:30AM. Wait. It’s 10:30?! I’m so late!”

Catra yawns again and lays back down, “Mmm, just take half the day off if you care so much.”

Adora calls her boss and explains the situation in detail. Her boss is surprisingly supportive and offers Adora the full day off. Still, Adora has a lot of catching up to do, given her past week’s attention to Catra’s birthday. She has a bit more time, though, so she snuggles back into bed with Catra, who welcomes her with open arms and the cutest sleepy grin Adora’s ever seen.

Adora settles onto the side of Catra’s chest. “Can I ask you something, Catra?” Adora asks.

Catra pulls Adora closer to her chest and places Adora’s hand next to her heart. “Anything.” Catra gives Adora’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Why did you do all of that for me on the morning of your birthday? I mean, I should’ve been the one up and making you breakfast, silly.” Adora nuzzles the top of her head against Catra’s chin; Catra kisses Adora’s forehead.

“Well,” Catra starts, “There’s only ever one thing I really want for my birthday.” Catra wiggles her body into a more elevated position. “You. You happy, Adora. I just like when you smile, in— hmm. In a way where it’s not weighed down by all the dumb shit of the past, you know? The smile only I get to see,” Catra tilts her head to give Adora a peck on the lips. “Plus, you’re stupid cute when you’re happy.”

Adora can feel her eyes gloss over, a torrent of water threatening to break the dam. They aren’t sorrowful tears, though, not in the slightest. “Wow. When did you get so cheesy?” Adora giggles, and she starts poking at Catra’s ribs, jostling the brunette woman into a fit of a high-pitched, undeniably cheerful burst of laughter. “I think my Catra has gotten soft on me.”

And they both freeze. Time stops. Breaths halt.

Catra leans in and cradles Adora’s cheeks; their lips lock, and this time, it’s more profound, passionate, much more satiating than a peck.

“You,” Catra says through a panting breath, her hands occupied with Adora’s sun-kissed hair.

“Just,” Catra moves down along Adora’s jaw, planting kisses as she goes until she reaches her destination.

“Said,” Adora cuts her off, gasping with her head up high, giving Catra more room to work with.

“You’re mine,” Adora moans into Catra’s ear, “You’re stuck with me, Catra. How do you feel?”

Catra’s devilish grin threatens to set the room on fire. She wiggles her eyebrows and eyes her girlfriend like she’s the last slice of leftover wedding cake. “Like I’m gonna sleep under your skin like a baby. You'll be so pissed when you have to be away from me for even a minute. Work’s gonna be tough on you, princess.”

When Adora goes to work that afternoon, she takes Catra’s favorite hoodie with her.