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Adora straddles a suspiciously sentient-looking log, her eyes bright with determination.
“Okay, okay, so if I hit it just right, I can launch myself across the ravine." Gideon claps like a seal, enthusiasm spilling from every pore.
"Yes! Yes! Log trebuchet! Log-buchet!" Nearby, Korra bends at some rocks, shaping them carefully.
“We could just use an earth ramp. I could make that in two seconds." Adora shakes her head, grinning.
“But this is more fun." Gideon beams.
“She’s got a point." Korra arches a brow.
“You have never once successfully launched anything besides your own forehead into a tree." Adora rubs a still-healing bruise.
“Character development?" Catra crosses her arms, tail lashing with a mixture of affection and irritation.
“Adora, please. I just got you patched up from the glider incident, the zipline thing, and the hoverboard-on-water disaster. Stop inventing new concussions." Asami stands nearby in immaculate heels, the mud of the field doing nothing to mar her pristine appearance.
“She’s trying to impress you. Watching a golden retriever try to do algebra with a stick." Harrowhark emerges from a bone cocoon throne, her expression drenched in dramatic disapproval.
“Can someone please explain why our girlfriends are playing Calvinball with physics again?" Gideon, mid-launch attempt, shouts, “I regret everything!" The log trebuchet activates, and Gideon sails fifteen metres in the wrong direction, cartwheeling like a possessed washing machine before landing in a puddle. She stands up, mud in her teeth, and gives a double thumbs-up. Adora gasps.
“She stuck the landing!" Korra jumps into the puddle like it’s a sport.
“Aw, man, let me try!”
“No, absolutely not," Catra snaps, tail swishing with authority. “You are not flinging yourself through weird wormhole-grass-world space because your muscle-brained polycule got hyped on Gideon’s Olympic-level dumbassery." Adora frowns.
“I thought you said it was ‘delightfully stupid’ when I tried to make a hoverboot suit out of spark bugs and wishstones." Catra sighs.
“I say a lot of things while watching you electrocute yourself in a jumpsuit. It doesn’t mean I mean them.”
“My beloved is a sword jock with the cognitive range of a medieval wheel of cheese," Harrow mutters. Asami grins, holding up her tablet like a proud parent filming a disaster movie.
“And you love her.”
Adora, Korra, and Gideon huddle close, murmuring and scheming with occasional sparks flying. Catra squints.
“I know that face. That’s the ‘we’re-about-to-die-but-it’ll-look-cool’ face." Asami nods.
“They’ve all got it." Harrow groans.
“This is how we lose them to quantum entropy." The huddle breaks apart. Adora hoists Gideon onto her shoulders while Korra braces beneath them, ready to form a human stack.
“What if we combine our powers to form one mega-gay?" Gideon asks eagerly. Korra smirks.
“Like a mech, but it’s just vibes and bad judgement.”
“For love!" Adora shouts. The stack collapses instantly, limbs tangling and groans filling the air. Somehow, a small flame flickers to life despite nothing flammable nearby. Catra, Asami, and Harrow stroll over, sighs perfectly coordinated. Harrow casts a bone spell, snuffing out the flame. Asami pulls a medkit from her handbag, and Catra hauls Adora upright by the collar.
“You’re lucky you’re pretty," Catra says flatly. Asami wipes a smudge off Korra’s nose.
“You owe me so much takeout for this." Harrow cradles Gideon’s face with long-suffering intensity.
“If you die doing this again, I will kill you." Gideon grins, missing a tooth.
“Hot.”
“We are dating golden retrievers with gym memberships," Catra mutters.
“And zero brain cells," Asami adds.
“No notes. That’s accurate," Harrow agrees.
Later, everyone cuddles beneath a star dome conjured by Harrow and powered by Adora’s sheer gayness. Hot chocolate steams in mismatched mugs. Adora’s head rests in Catra’s lap. Korra soaks her foot in a bucket of healing water. Gideon wears taped-on bones for “aesthetic.”
“So when are we doing that again?" Gideon asks. Adora and Korra answer in unison: "Tomorrow!" Catra, Asami, and Harrow groan in perfect synchrony.
“Absolutely the hell not." Gideon grins wider.
“Still hot though.”