Chapter Text
The call comes in at 5:27 pm, which, first of all, fuck that. Who calls a store three minutes before closing? But Catra’s pretty sure if she’s caught sending a homicidal stare towards the telephone until it stops ringing one more time, her manager’s gonna want a word.
Whatever. It’s not like Micah's going to fire her, he’s too nice, and she’s the only one around here that’s not got a dubiously shaped coral in place of their brain.
A customer’s still milling about, mesmerized by the butterflyfish in the display tank as though this were a private aquarium and not an aquatic store, so she thinks she’ll be late home regardless.
“Brightmoon Aquatics, Catra speaking, how can I help y—”
A hiccup, followed, unaccountably, by the sound of sobbing.
Catra narrows her eyes, tries again. “Um, hello? How can I assist you today?”
“Please, I need your help.” All the shaky desperation in the woman’s voice makes Catra think she’d miss-dialled the number for the local emergency services. What is it people do in this situation? Would you like pepperoni with that, is there someone hostile in the room with you, stuffed crust or normal? Catra shakes her head; it's been a long day.
Catra replies dryly, “Okay, what seems to be the problem?”
“Please, I—” Followed by a wet sort of sniffing sound, Catra reckons her face must look a state right now. Another hiccup. “I think my goldfish is dying.”
“You…” Catra rests her forehead against one hand where it’s propped up on her elbow, she moves the phone away a safe distance before muttering, “jesus fucking christ.” And then closer, more collected, “what makes you think that?”
“Um,” They sound so distraught, it’s actually a little endearing. “He’s been swimming kinda wonky today, he won’t eat. I don’t know, he just seems super depressed.”
Catra groans internally, asking between her teeth, “How long have you had him?” She gestures to Scorpia as her colleague approaches, indicating soundlessly to start the process of closing up the shop.
“Um, a few days?”
Catra begins to spin a pen in circles over the till’s tabletop just to give her hands something to do. “And how long has the tank been set up?”
“Uh,” A long pause, before, “a few days?”
Catra tries not to roll her eyes, though she’s not sure why she feels the need to be polite when it’s not like this person can see her. She runs her palm over her face. The last of the customers shuffle out of the shop empty-handed. “Okay, just a few more diagnostic questions for you. Do you have a filter?” It sucks that that’s something she even has to ask sometimes.
“Of course,” the reply almost sounds indignant.
Well, some brownie points there I suppose. “And what size tank do you have?”
“Um.”
“Please tell me you know.”
“I, uh… It was gifted to me.”
“Right.” The pen clatters to the floor, Catra lets out a deep sigh. “Do you know what your parameters are?”
“P… parameters?”
“Yeah, like your no3 levels, your temperature, gh, kh, ph…” She’s being deliberately obtuse now because she’s more than certain the answer is no, but anyone actually knowledgeable about this stuff will understand in an instant. It’s a quick weeding process.
“Um.” It’s uncanny, Catra’s sure she can hear tears welling up in her eyes again. “Just… Please, can you—” Another hiccup, voice wobbling. “Are you saying he could be swimming around in acid right now?”
“That’s very unlikely. Look, what’s happening is actually super normal, preventable though, for the most part.” Catra calls it ‘dumbass with a new tank syndrome’ though most cut out the first three words. “You just gotta do a few water changes, and maybe look at getting a bigger tank.” Because, realistically, yeah.
“Oh, sure, of course, but uh, how do I do a water change exactly?”
Oh my god. She glances at the clock, one minute till closing, Catra might have steam coming out of her ears building from the pressure in her jaw. “Look, the store’s closed, I don’t really have time to—”
“Please,” It comes out fast in desperation. “Finn was my grandma’s, she… She died last week and he’s all I have left of her, I can’t lose him too, and I don’t know what I’m doing but I’m trying and everything keeps going wrong, I don’t know— I don’t know what to do.”
Catra’s nails snag on the countertop. She should hang up, throw this woman in the direction of a few youtube tutorials, tell her to call back in the morning — but she’s so audibly distraught it’s actually breaking her a little bit. Ugh. “Where do you live?”
“Wh— What?”
“We offer an in-home maintenance service.” No. No, no. No. “Where do you live?” Why. The fuck. Are you even offering, Catra?
“Uh, south of the Frightzone, Grayskull road.” At least it’s not much of a detour.
“It’s fifty dollars for a call out.” It’s actually thirty-five, but they’re also supposed to book in advance and it’s also grunt work that she usually shoves on Kyle.
The woman on the other end of the line answers too easily. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Please hurry.”
The front door of the apartment opens to blonde hair and very red-stained, blue eyes. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Catra parrots, her voice comes out more husky than she intends so she clears her throat.
“You’re the fish lady?”
Catra makes a clicking sound with the corner of her jaw. “That’s me.” She confirms, reshuffling the backpack strung over one shoulder. “Name’s Catra”
The blonde blinks numbly at her.
“You gonna let me in or what?”
“Sorry, I just…”
Catra raises an eyebrow. “Just...?”
“Wasn’t expecting…” Catra’s other eyebrow joins the first. She knows fish keeping isn’t exactly the most sexy hobby, but she thinks she’s being a little bit too thoroughly observed for what’s polite here. She’s still in her work clothes, her hair’s half up and she’d opted for her glasses over the hassle of contacts that morning, still, she’d bet she looks more put together than the tear-stained cheeks in front of her. Then, the woman’s attention settles back on her face. “Your eyes...”
“Yeah. I have eyes, they’re different colours. Get over it.” Catra looks away before pushing past her into the entrance, or else they might be stuck out here on the porch for half an hour and she’s pretty sure the forecast is for rain. “Finn?”
“He’s-” the blonde stammers. “He’s through here.” Leading like she’s suddenly remembered why Catra was standing in her doorway in the first place, “I got back from work and I just found him like this.”
The tank isn’t atrociously small, but it definitely needs an upgrade. Catra finds a single orange and white fantail staring back at her with vacant eyes in water that’s starting to cloud. The substrate’s bright pink pebbles, and the silhouette of a castle behind is the only standing ornament.
As aquascapes go, it’s a sin.
“Right,” Catra declares, dropping her backpack of emergency supplies onto the floor and begins to rummage through them. “Take this,” She pushes a tub of Ben and Jerry’s into the blonde's hands, it’s starting to defrost a little on the outside. “Give me your phone.”
“What?” The reaction makes Catra pause for a second, she knows this isn't exactly a white picket fence, meticulously cut lawn sort of a neighbourhood, but it’s also far from a pretend to be a— (what had she called her?) fish lady, just so she could get through the front door and rob her of her valuables.
“Your phone. Gimme. So I can hook you up with some decent youtube channels to learn your shit from while you,”- She points to the ice cream- “eat that, and chill out for a few minutes.”
“Oh,” She’s a little bit slow and distant, Catra’s picking up, but she hands her phone over after fumbling through her pockets for it. “My name’s Adora, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, now sit down,” She gestures to the couch, “and let me do my thing.”
Catra sets to work. Arranging the contents of her bag onto the old, stained coffee table in the centre of the room. There’s no tv here, she notes. The furniture’s all pointed towards the tank.
Taking a sample of Finn’s water with a sanitised pipette, she fills five vials up to the guideline, kneeling before the table. This probably makes her look more like a chemistry nerd than a marine biology graduate but whatever, so long as it makes the glasses on her face look less out of place, she can play the part.
Adora, to her credit, sits. She goes to the kitchen to fetch a spoon first, but Catra can forgive that diversion. Adora’s halfway through the first video on the nitrogen cycle when Catra realises she can no longer hear the occasional sound of sniffing. Good, the ice cream is working.
“That looks really complicated,” Adora pipes up eventually, timid, her attention following Catra’s hands.
“It’s really not,” Catra reassures. “You know how to count right?” she asks, watching as the ammonia indicator bottle no.2 lets out one, two, three drops.
“I mean, yeah.”
“Good for you, princess. Then you could figure this out in no time.” Catra sends her a wink, and if the way Adora’s eyes widen just as faintly as the blush on her cheeks is any indication, it’s pulled her out of her haze a little. “Besides, once this mess is stabilized you can probably get away without the alchemy kit.” She calls it that because it might as well be, from the way Adora’s eyeing it.
Catra sets the five-minute timer on her phone, scrolling through her news feed until it tings. She’s normally the last to volunteer for maintenance service, being in strangers houses like this is really fucking awkward at the best of times, and the way Adora keeps blatantly glancing towards her face that’s probably unflatteringly illuminated by her phone screen should make it more so. It’s not at all though, weirdly. It should be, because Adora’s been, like, obviously crying, and it’s dead quiet aside from the hum of the tank’s filter and the narration from the videos in Adora’s lap.
But it’s companionable, in a really bizarre sort of a way. Catra’s never been a very good judge of these sorts of things though so maybe she’s just reading the room all wrong.
The timer goes off.
The colours in the vials, unsurprisingly, are all the wrong shades of ideal. “I’m gonna do a water change,” she announces, standing. “And then I’m gonna do another one. And tomorrow I’m gonna come back and I’m gonna watch you do one, you understand?”
Adora pales.
“I’ll teach you, dummy. And I’ll leave you with more videos as homework, but listen to me,” She approaches the couch as she hears the end of the video, and witnesses Adora ready to click the next one from over her shoulder. Adora, in a beautiful bit of miscommunication, raises a spoonful of ice cream in Catra’s direction when she tilts down to tap at the screen, as though about to mindlessly feed it to her. Bless her. Catra might be fine sticking an arm in this woman’s fish tank but she doesn't think they’re at sharing spoons yet. “No. Listen to me. Only the videos I recommend, got it? There’s some really fucking bad, bullshit, outdated advice out there.”
“I— Yeah, I got it.” Adora swallows, lowering her hands into her lap. Allowing Catra to select the next link without complaint, she sticks the spoon in her own mouth and hums a little.
“Alright then,” Catra pulls her sleeves up to her elbows.
“Hey, Finn.” Adora greets the now notably more lively goldfish, her face pressed close to the glass as she watches him shimmy through the water, her breath steams against the side of it, before she’s turning away. “Will he be okay now?”
Catra joins her, though doesn’t get quite so close, her arms fold non threateningly within one another. “Your problem was with the water, not the fish. And no, it’s not fixed, but it’s being managed now and he should be fine. From what you’ve said, it sounds like a partial crash and not a whole new cycle so that should speed up the process.”
Adora grimances visibly, straightening as she turns to Catra. “I wish I understood what that meant.”
“Aw, don’t worry, you’ll get there.” Catra pats the top of her hair poof in only partial mock sympathy. “You’ve got my number till then, read the things I sent you, he’ll be good for a little while.”
“Thank you for the ice cream and, um, everything else too.” Adora smiles the faintest amount.
Something about it stirs deep within Catra’s chest, moving all the way up to her cheeks in a trail of pink warmth. So she says, “By the way, Finn is the most stupid, unimaginative name for a fish I have ever heard.”
But Adora’s responding pout doesn’t help to lessen the feeling. Catra ducks her head to her phone, it’s nearly seven, Scorpia will be worried if she doesn’t show up soon. She’ll call on the drive home. “I should go.” She wiggles her phone in Adora’s line of sight as though she needs a justification. “My roommate is making tacos tonight.”
“Oh, shit, right, sorry for keeping you from dinner.”
Catra shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s alright.” Her stomach's been threatening to growl for the last half an hour, however.
Adora grows frown lines over her forehead as though she’s forgotten something, but Catra’s already packing away the last of her stuff, swinging her bag back over her shoulder. “Goodbye, Finn.” Naturally, he ignores her. She lets her voice drop minutely before she says, “bye, Adora.”
“Bye, uh,”- She gives a sheepish wave- “Same- Same time tomorrow?”
“Yeah, tomorrow.” She’ll send Kyle. Probably. “See you around.”
Adora shows up at the shop the next day. Like, unannounced.
Catra’s already busy trying to explain to a customer why it’s a really fucking bad idea to keep multiple male betta’s together and no, it doesn’t matter how big the tank is, don’t test me you goddamn moron. (All in her head, mind you, her customer service persona is one hell of an actor.)
She shoots a glare toward Scorpia who’s sat a short distance away behind the tills, but the familiar, amused reply does not greet her. Scorpia’s attention is on a blonde emerging through the front door, and it takes Catra a split second to confirm it’s not Perfuma.
Adora surveys the room slowly, and then her gaze falls on Catra like a lost sailor finding the north star. She beams, followed by a tiny wave.
Something causes Catra’s limbs to untense and her jaw to release, before she turns back to her current headache. Replying gruffly, “If you try to buy more than one from us, we will refuse the sale.” Then she turns on her heels toward Adora.
“Hi,” There’s that warm smile again.
“Feeling better?” Catra asks. Her eyes snag a little over Adora’s attire, namely on the pink and orange rainbow badge that’s pinned to the pocket of her denim jacket.
Huh.
“Yeah, thanks for last night.” Scorpia lets out a nearly inaudible squeaking sound to their left at that reply. Adora doesn’t seem to notice. “Finn’s good too.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Adora begins a mission fetching something from deep within her right pocket, Catra might still be mulling over the pin too much to query the motion. “I forgot to give you this yesterday.” It’s a whole-ass fifty-dollar bill. Catra blinks at it a few times as Adora holds it up for her to take. “Sorry about that, but I uh, also wanted to see you again, uh, pfft, obviously because you mentioned needing to upgrade to a bigger tank and I thought you might be able to point me in, um, the right direction.” Adora’s cheeks have gone a little pink. Catra will forgive her though because she’s pretty sure her cheeks have too.
Adora’s arm hangs there awkwardly. Catra doesn't reach for the bill, she does, however, pivot her head toward Scorpia as though she’s asking for help. Unhelpfully, Scorpia’s watching them all moon-eyed.
Her best friend sends her an expression that loosely translates to ‘any news you want to share with me, wildcat?’ and Catra’s tilt of her head in return means ‘go deal with gladiator death-match over there and maybe I’ll catch you up later.’ Scorpia leaves them unobserved.
Adora shuffles on her feet. Catra gingerly takes the money, only because she’s certain the earnestness on Adora’s face won’t let her say no. She slips it into her back pocket.
“You still coming over later?” Adora questions, her hands pulling at the hemline of her t-shirt a little. Catra’s line of sight flickers back to the badge again and she thinks Adora notices this time. “Because I was thinking, since you were late having dinner yesterday that we could, uh, if you wanted to, of course, it’s completely up to you, but I wondered if you wanted to have dinner with, uh, with me?” She starts to deflate partway through like a pufferfish, it’s probably because of the way Catra’s dead silent and staring at her. “Just something casual, takeout, or… something.”
Yeah, no way is she sending Kyle. “Sure,” she clears her throat when it comes out raspier than she intended. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”
“Cool,” Adora lights up. “Awesome. Okay, cool.”
“Cool,” Catra returns the smile, before gesturing over her shoulder deeper into the shop. “Tanks?”
“Please.”
“You know you can get one second-hand for like, a tenth of the price right?” Catra’s certain in any other retail position her saleswoman skills would have had her sacked months ago, but Micah’s always encouraged education over profits so she knows she’ll be forgiven.
Adora lets slip that cute little pout again. “I want the best for Finn. And I have the money since… um.” She stalls, almost stops walking, even. “I have the money.”
“Okay,” Catra doesn’t press again. She pauses them in front of one of the preassembled, oak cabinet kits. “Well, this bad boy,”- she slaps the lid- “can fit a whole forty gallons, enough space for Finn to have a friend if you wanted.” Adora’s face goes white as a ghost when she catches sight of the price tag. “Yeah, I thought so.” Catra chuckles lightly, before taking Adora's hand, and it immediately rectifies the pale face problem. “Kits are normally garbage anyway.”
Catra leads them both around the store, amassing the components she needs for a D.I.Y, Adora’s visibly overwhelmed but she settles when Catra promises she’ll put it all together herself. She doesn’t even blanch at how much of her time she’s promising this woman over the next few weeks.
“What am I supposed to do with my old tank?” Adora asks, her arms overburdened with items as Catra passes them to her, considerate of the budget they’d agreed upon.
Catra puzzles. “What do you— What?’
“Like, how do you dispose of a fish tank?”
Catra blinks. Once, twice. “Holy shit, don’t get rid of it. Keep it. It’s a perfectly good tank, you just need something smaller in it.”
“But why would I want two tanks?”
“Why would you…?” A third time. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to retract my previous agreement for dinner.” She says it so deadpan she knows Adora will recognise it as a joke.
“Pfft, alright, how many do you have?” Adora reshuffles her armful, looking grateful that they’re heading in the direction of the till now.
Catra’s jaw locks a little in embarrassment, because if she hadn’t come across as a hopeless nerd before...
“She has seven!” Scorpia answers for her.
Adora lets out a chortle of laughter but there’s nothing unkind there at all. “Oh wow, seriously?”
“Some of them are small.” She says in her defence. It comes out quiet, but Adora’s smile remains bright so she doesn’t feel the need to be bashful about it. Scorpia begins ringing up Adora’s items, the tank itself has to be ordered in so won’t arrive for a week or so but apart from that, Finn’s all set.
“Maybe you can tell me about them at dinner?” Adora prompts. Catra searches her face to decipher if she’s serious or just being polite. She finds no deceit there.
“Okay.”
“Oh, I’m sure Wildcat would love to show off her collection, she’s very proud of it.” Scorpia scans the final item before listing off the total. Catra wants to kick her a little, she’s trying to sound cool dude stop stifling that, but, uh, also...
“Wait,” Catra says, glancing to make sure there will be no witnesses, she pulls out her employee discount card and runs it through. Micah lets them have a generous thirty per cent off and it more than pays back the fifty Adora had thrust in her direction earlier. “Ta-da.”
Adora’s expression is hard to read when she turns to her again, her payment card is paused mid-air on its way to the machine, but it’s kinda a mix of surprised, soft and grateful — it’s a little intense actually. Awed, perhaps. “You won’t get in trouble?”
“If I was gonna get in trouble here, it would have already happened.” She says, leaning both of her forearms on the counter and cocking her hip a little.
“Yup! That's our Wildcat, troublemaker through and through. Sure keeps us on our toes!” Catra squints at her friend. Jeez, Scorp, could you make me sound any more like a puppy that’s going through a mouthing phase?
Catra huffs heatlessly, straightening. “The boss is such a dad, he’s basically a giant pushover.” He’s also the best manager Catra’s ever had, but she’s not gonna get sappy about that.
Something falters behind Adora’s expression, but then she’s slipping her card into the machine and tapping in the pin, so Catra excuses the expression as her recalling the number.
Half an hour after showing up, Adora’s ready to leave again, Catra finds herself scrambling internally for an excuse to keep her in the shop a little bit longer. Adora’s lunch break is over though so it’d be a pointless effort.
“See you later?”
“Yeah, see you later.” Catra nods, her cheeks a tolerable shade of rosy.
She tries not to let a stupid smile bloom across her face like a weed (though a nice one, a dandelion maybe) when Adora waves to the fish in the koi pond that borders the path to the car park. She must fail, because Scorpia’s suddenly sliding up toward her. Catra feels as though she’s about to be lobotomized.
“You took a call out.”
Catra swallows thickly. “Yeah, so what.”
“You took a call out, insisted on nearly twice the usual fee, and then didn’t charge her.” Scorpia lays the facts on the floor to dry out and shrivel in the sun as though it would make Catra confess to... something.
“Your point?”
“My point being that she’s pretty cute. And don’t think I didn’t notice the pin on her jacket. When you said you were with a client last night I thought you meant in a stuffy office or dentist waiting room, not in a pretty sapphic’s living room.” Scorpia wiggles her eyebrows in jest.
“Okay,” Catra scoffs, “First of all, it’s not like I agreed to it knowing what she looked like, you can’t tell how attractive someone is from just their voice over the phone. She sounded upset. Which is the only reason I agreed. And second…” There actually isn’t a second thing. “Shut up!” Catra finishes with instead, her cheeks feeling like hot coals.
“So, you think so too?”
One of Catra’s eyebrows hikes toward her hairline.
“That she’s cute.” Scorpia clarifies, but the only reply she gets is Catra shoving roughly at her shoulder and a mumble that’s probably still distinguishable as ‘fuck off’. It does nothing to unbalance her absolute unit of a friend. “I hope you have a nice date!” Scorpia calls out as Catra stomps towards the breakroom outback, letting the singularly raised middle finger of her left hand trail behind her.