Chapter Text
Catra wrings her hands under the counter, crumpling the coarse fabric of her apron beneath her fingers. See, it’s not that the woman sitting in the booth in the corner of the coffee shop where Catra works is beautiful- though, she definitely is that too.
It’s that she’s utterly, drop-dead gorgeous.
The woman has been sitting there since morning, since the shaft of summer sunlight streaming through the window was a strong, glowing beam that lit up the golden strands of her hair and the delicate, rosy tint to her cheeks. Now, however, the setting sun casts a warm orange glow through the room, making the coffee machines glint- and somehow, the woman looks even more beautiful in this light. Her eyebrows furrow as she gazes down with deep concentration at the notebook in her hands, twirling a charcoal pencil with her graceful, slender fingers. She seems utterly oblivious to the world; she doesn’t even seem to notice that she has a smudge of charcoal on her chin.
Catra watches the woman under lowered eyelashes, pretending to be busy and wipe down the counter just for something to do. Catra is alone for the closing shift, as her coworker Double Trouble spilled a large caramel iced latte over themself as well as Scorpia earlier, and they had both gone home to clean up- see, it was incidents like this that had earned Double Trouble their nickname. Honestly, Catra could only wonder how they hadn’t been fired yet, though that was most likely entirely due to the never-ending patience of their boss, Angella.
A sharp exhale brings Catra back to the present, and she watches as the woman closes her notebook- a sketchbook, Catra realises- and gazes around at her surroundings with a vaguely shocked expression, as though she is surprised to find the small, cramped space of The Busy Bean completely deserted apart from herself and Catra.
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry! I hope you haven’t been staying here just for me?” The woman’s voice is rough with disuse, and it just does something to Catra.
“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Catra strides forward to take the coffee cups out of the woman’s hands as she attempts to bring them over to the counter- four cups? Damn. And Catra thought that she had a caffeine addiction.
The woman smiles politely as she relinquishes the cups to Catra, shoving her sketchbook in a tote bag and tucking an errant strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “So, uh, see you around, maybe?” The way she phrases it, as a question so full of possibility, makes Catra’s lips twitch with the shadow of a smile.
“Yeah, uh, for sure. See you around.” And Catra has to turn away to hide the way that the woman’s answering smile sends a full-blown grin blooming onto her face.
---
“No, Glimmer, that’s totally not what this is about,” says a voice somewhere to Catra’s right. It’s been a few days since she’s seen the woman from the other night, and Catra’s head immediately jerks up at the unmistakable sound of her voice.
She walks into The Busy Bean arm in arm with a girl with choppy pink hair, a smile on her face that lights up the cramped coffee shop more effectively than the early morning sun just beginning to stream through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The duo navigate their way to the other side of the room and sit down at a table close to where Catra is stood at the counter sprinkling some cinnamon on a hot chocolate for one of the regulars- an elderly, sweet old lady called Madame Druis who comes in every day at 10am sharp with two sausage dogs that sleep at her feet, panting in the summery warmth and begging for scraps of people’s breakfast.
“Oh, sure, Adora. You’re totally not forcing me to come with you just so you can use my mom’s discount. Sure. I totally buy that.” The pink haired girl- Glimmer- rolls her eyes good naturedly, and Catra realises that that’s where she knows Glimmer from. Her mother, Angella, is the owner of The Busy Bean- and Catra’s boss.
Catra also finds herself tucking away another piece of information- the name of the woman with the sketchbook from the other night. Adora. And Catra doesn’t know why, but somehow, it makes perfect sense.
“Hi. Can I get you guys anything?” Catra asks, dusting her hands from cinnamon powder.
“Yeah, uh, I’ll have a latte with an extra shot of espresso,” says Adora. Catra isn’t prepared for the full force of her gaze.
“And I’ll have a mocha,” finishes Gimmer with a smile.
Catra smiles politely and heads away to make the drinks, her eyes shooting daggers at Scorpia as she stumbles on her way out from behind the counter, sloshing a drink that Catra just made all over the sides of her tray.
“Sorry, sorry!” says Scorpia good naturedly, chuckling. Catra hates how Scoripa acts sometimes- like everything is just a game. Like nothing really matters, and there’s room to make mistakes. Because in Catra’s world, there isn’t. She’s just here to make enough money to be able to finally leave this godforsaken town.
By the end of Summer, she plans to be long gone.
Catra turns her back to the rest of the shop, slouching against the counter as she calls out the order to Double Trouble. Despite their clumsiness, they’re new to the job, and Catra wants to give them as much experience as possible while she’s still around to help. She doesn’t know why, but Double Trouble reminds her of herself when she was younger- naive, and just trying to do the right thing.
Catra is just about to correct Double Trouble when they attempt to use the frother on a completely full cup (and Catra does not want that mess on her hands) when her phone buzzes in her pocket.
She completely freezes.
There’s only one person who ever calls Catra. Ever.
Shadow Weaver.
That’s not her real name, of course, but rather the code name she gives herself. Shadow Weaver only ever meets Catra under the cover of darkness, a dark veil covering her face like the antithesis of a bride as she barks out her orders to Catra, the next macabre command on her never-ending list.
“Yes?” Catra answers shakily, covering the mouthpiece with a cupped palm to block out the hustle and bustle of The Busy Bean. It’s been months since Shadow Weaver’s last call; Catra supposes she should have been expecting this sooner or later.
The answering reply crackles with static.
“Catra.” Even just hearing her name on the other woman’s lips sends fingers of dread raking down her spine. “I suppose you already know what I’m going to say.”
“Yes. I suppose I do.” Catra hates the way her voice trembles.
“I’ll say it anyway. Tonight, midnight, same place as always. Don’t be late.”
Catra lets out a breath as she hears the click of the call disconnecting.
Fuck.
Catra yanks her apron over her head and stalks out of the shop, not even bothering to look back…
…but if she had, she would have seen a pair of blue eyes tracking her every movement, wide with concern.
---
Catra sits on the floor of her small, dingy flat above a kebab shop clad in head-to-toe black, her head resting in her hands and her breath coming in small pants. This always happens after one of Shadow Weaver’s calls; her palms are clammy and she can feel her heart racing in her chest as if counting down the very seconds until she has to come face-to-face with her.
Muffled thumping and laughter drifts from the shop below; normal, everyday sounds that somehow feel a million miles away. Catra forces her breaths into a somewhat more regular pattern and digs her fingernails into her palms, the pain centering her in a way that nothing else ever could.
And as she reaches into the hidden spot under her floorboards, her fingertips coming into contact with the sinisterly cold caress of metal that simultaneously leeches the life out of her and fills her with purpose, she forces her soul down to that familiar place where nothing can ever affect her, down to that dark, shadowy spot in the deepest recesses of her soul,
down,
down,
down.
---
Adora would never admit it to her friend, but the reason she dragged Glimmer to The Busy Bean that morning had nothing to do with her friends’ discount.
It had everything to do with the slender, tan-skinned barista with the short, messy haircut and striking eyes from the previous day. And now, the barista in question had just walked out of the door after taking a phone call, with eyes that had previously flickered with warmth and life now raging with some inner turmoil.
And, sure, Adora didn’t even know the woman, but something about that just didn’t sit right with her.
“I’m so excited! Fuck, Adora, what should I wear?” Glimmer’s eyes widen with alarm from where she is sat across from Adora, and she claps a hand over her mouth in a comical expression. “Oh my god, what am I gonna wear? I hadn’t even thought about that!”
Adora can’t help the laugh that escapes her. Glimmer kicks at her shins playfully under the table, joining in with a laugh.
“Okay, Glimmer, but it’s only Bow. Come on. You’ve known him for over a decade, for christ’s sake. It’s just Bow!”
“I know, that’s just it,” Glimmer agrees. “It’s Bow. I’m going on a date with Bow.”
They both dissolve into laughter, the sun warming Adora’s back through the thin material of her shirt.
“I mean, you guys are going for brunch. I’d hardly call that a date.”
“Who made you the leading authority on dates? You can hardly talk, it’s been fucking ages since you’ve been on one yourself.”
“Ow! Way to hit me where it hurts, Glimmer.” Adora laughs and theatrically massages her ribcage in mock pain, but she can’t help the way their topic of conversation makes her thoughts immediately flash to the barista. She imagines walking over to the counter, smiling at the barista and striking up conversation, maybe even asking her out…
Adora swallows.
“Okay, fine, that was a bit low,” concedes Glimmer, raising her hands in mock surrender, “but can you immediately wipe that from your brain? Please? I wanna ask if I can borrow your red dress. You know the sleeveless one you wore to prom?”
“Wait, you wanna wear that to brunch?”
“Oh.” Glimmer’s face falls.
“No, I didn’t mean-”
“No, you’re right. That’s waaay too much. I just- I wanna make an effort, you know? I wanna draw the line between hanging out as friends and our date tomorrow. Because I’m scared that Bow can only ever see me as a friend, because that’s all we’ve been for so long. I just- I don’t know what to do? To make him see me as something other than a friend.”
“Oh, Glimmer.” Adora takes her friend’s hand in her own, squeezing reassuringly. “He asked you out on a date. I think that’s enough reason for you to believe that he likes you as more than a friend! He likes you for you, so all you have to do is be yourself!”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Okay.” Glimmer sits that way for a moment, pulling her lip between her teeth. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“What am I gonna wear?” she screeches, punctuating each word with a dramatic squeeze of Adora’s hand.
“Psycho!” But Adora laughs. “Listen, I dunno why you think I’ll be any help at all but if you come back to mine, we can see if I’ve got anything you like.”
“You’re a fucking saviour,” Glimmer exclaims, reaching over the table to enthusiastically throw her arms over Adora, smacking a kiss to her cheek. “Come on.”
Glimmer pulls Adora up from the table, and she can’t help the sinking feeling in her heart at the realisation that if she leaves now, she won’t be able to see the barista until at least tomorrow.
“Wait, girls,” says a voice from behind their shoulders.
“Mom!” Glimmer smiles up at the tall, graceful form of Angella standing behind them. While Glimmer is all bounding, eager energy with the force and brightness of an exploding neutron star, her mother exudes nothing but quiet, calming serenity. If her daughter is a hurricane, she is the still depths of a crystal clear blue pond.
“Can I ask you girls a favour? I think one of the baristas went home sick, and she left her phone.” Angella holds up the phone in question. “Can I bother you terribly and ask you to drop it off at her house? It’s not far, I just don’t want her coming back in if she’s unwell and spreading her germs.” If there’s one thing Adora knows about Glimmer’s mother, it’s that she’s a massive germaphobe.
Even if Adora knows that the barista left for a reason other than illness- a reason she suspects was entirely to do with that mysterious phone call.
“Yeah, sure, Mom.” Glimmer accepts the phone, pulling Adora out of the door and calling over her shoulder, “just text me the address!”
“Thanks, hon!”
Adora steals a glance at the phone. And, sure enough, it’s the same one that she had seen the barista making the phone call from earlier.
“Listen, I have an idea,” begins Adora as they head towards the house she shares with her three friends- Entrapta, Mermista and Perfuma. She hopes that her voice sounds casual as she asks, “seeing as you’ve got the whole date with Bow thing going on, do you want me to drop the phone off later? Just so you’ve got one less thing to worry about?”
“Are you sure? If you honestly don’t mind, you’d be a total lifesaver. I mean, more than you already are for lending me your clothes.”
“Nah, it’s no big deal. You know I’d be happy to.”
Adora accepts the phone from Glimmer, her heart already racing with the possibility.
---
“Fuck!”
Adora blinks groggily in the early morning light, unsticking a loose piece of paper that must’ve fallen out of her sketchbook from her cheek. She’s sitting at the desk in her bedroom, the digital clock informing her that the time is 5am and the throbbing ache in her neck indication enough that she must have spent the night asleep in a horrible position at her desk.
She remembers helping Glimmer find something to wear last night- and indeed, a glance behind her shows the majority of the contents of her wardrobe strewn across the bed and half of the floor. Glimmer eventually left in the mid-afternoon with a lilac sweater and white trousers that Adora assured her would suit her perfectly, and then Adora had moved to her desk, planning to take the phone to the barista’s house.
And then, like an idiot , she had fallen asleep.
“No, no, no,” mutters Adora under her breath, grabbing the phone from where she had left it on her desk the previous night and hastily pulling a sweater over her head. Quite separately from the fact that she doesn’t want to let Angella down, Adora really, really doesn’t want to let the barista down. Which is silly, really, because she doesn’t even know her.
Not fifteen minutes later, Adora is standing outside the Address Glimmer forwarded to her- it’s in a rather run-down part of town next to a boarded-up pizza place, weeds breaking through little cracks in the pavement and shards of glass from a shattered window littering the street. Adora bites her lip nervously and buzzes the doorbell for apartment 9, which looks like the one right above a small kebab shop.
A few heartbeats later, and still no answer.
Adora’s heartbeat quickens, and she buzzes again. What should she do if there’s no answer? She’s pretty sure that the mysterious woman isn’t actually unwell, but that phone call seemed to trouble her- what if she’s in danger? Or maybe Adora’s just worrying over nothing as she tends to do, and the barista’s just on the early shift at The Busy Bean. Or maybe she headed back there early to track down her missing phone- a phone which is currently in Adora’s possession. And besides, it’s not even 6am yet- maybe she’s just asleep.
Adora scuffs a crack in the pavement with the toe of her converse, deliberating. How long should she wait?
Just as Adora is about to give up, she hears the faint sound of footsteps coming up behind her, almost entirely silent in the quiet, unnatural stillness of the early morning.
Adora whirls around, and is faced with-
A wraith.
The figure approaching her has the angular features of the barista from the previous day, but her turquoise and gold eyes, previously so full of life and emotion, are now completely dead. Lifeless.
She pays Adora no heed as she approaches almost soundlessly in black combat boots that easily navigate the cracks in the pavement with the lithe, deadly grace of a panther. She’s dressed in head-to-toe black with a black cowl pulled over her head, obscuring her features.
This is unmistakably the barista from the previous day, but at the same time, this angel of death is a complete stranger to Adora. This is an entirely different person to the mysterious woman whose mouth had twitched with the beginning of a smile just yesterday in response to Adora’s words- a smile that Adora had dreamt about maybe coaxing out of her again in the future.
The woman unlocks the door next to the kebab shop, slipping through it silently before Adora even has the chance to offer her the phone.
Adora stands there, silently, until the sun is fully risen in the sky.