Work Text:
Why, Adora thought, was Horde Prime’s ship so large! It had been one running battle with the army of clones after another (no easy feat with an unconscious Catra slung over one shoulder) but she had finally gotten a bit of breathing room.
“On your left,” came Entrapta’s voice, tinny in her ear, “there should be a corridor that you can take straight down, twenty stories to where we are. Or…” Adora could picture Entrapta squinting and turning her head to one side as she studied the blueprints. “More of an elevator shaft, really.”
“Got it,” Adora replied, hammering the ‘down’ button, endlessly glad Entrapta had gotten their comms partially repaired. A disc of translucent plastic floated down and she jumped on, steadying herself with the control pylon in the center. “Here we go,” she whispered, as much to herself as Catra.
“Going for a ride?” murmured a dazed Catra. “Wheeee!” Adora frowned; the love of her life her best purely-platonic friend had clearly been hit on the head. She’d have to have someone look at Catra once they got to safety. She spared a quick glance for now; Catra looked so frail, so alien in the simple white and gray outfit. It had been bad enough trying to fight Catra - now, seeing her helpless and injured was so much more stressful. For now though… The plastic disc floated down, down until suddenly jarring to a stop. The jolt seemed to bring Catra back to her senses, at least briefly. “Emergency override,” she muttered. “At least, that’s what I’d do.”
Adora sighed. Catra was almost certainly right about this sort of thing. And now a handful of clones were already peering out into the elevator shaft, one dutifully starting to climb down the emergency ladder. She weighed her options. She had a head-start and was probably about as fast as they were, even carrying Catra with one arm. But that wouldn’t help her if more clones started to converge on her from other levels. No, she needed to be as fast as possible. “Catra, listen to me: I’m going to need you to hold on to me. Use your claws.” At this, Catra shook her head. “Please, Catra, I’ll be fine.”
“Won’t hurt you again,” insisted Catra with the insolent stubbornness that she used whenever she knew she was probably in the wrong, now layered over with injury-induced grogginess. “My Adora,” she concluded, and snuggled against Adora’s chest, rubbing her cheek against the side of Adora’s neck. Adora blushed, her brain nearly overloading with how cute Catra looked.
Well, Adora thought, she could work with their current position, and with a flick of her wrist, the Sword of Protection became a whip; another flick and it lashed itself around her body and Catra’s. (They were now legally married under the laws of three separate star systems, but that is a story for another day.) With her beloved soulmate childhood friend secured, Adora grabbed the side rails of the emergency ladder and began sliding down to freedom.
(“Wheeee!” said Catra.)