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A few days after they activated the Heart, a local doctor had taken a look at all of them once they returned to Bright Moon, drained and battle-worn. Catra was reluctant and considered slipping away, finding somewhere to hide, until she saw the doctor herself, a tall, lithe woman with brown eyes full of kindness. Catra decided she could give this doctor a try.
The doctor told her everything she was going to do before she did it, asking permission before she listened to Catra’s heart, before she touched Catra at all. She pronounced Catra healthy in most of the important ways: Catra’s heart was strong, her eyesight perfect, her reflexes exactly as they should be. The doctor’s main concern, as she told Catra carefully, was Catra’s nutrition.
“It seems that you’ve experienced some malnourishment,” the doctor explained. “Have you been able to eat regularly lately?”
Catra didn’t know how to respond. There were still gaps in her memory. She remembered the dinner on Horde Prime’s ship where Glimmer told Prime how the Heart worked, the strange, gelatinous brick he provided to her and Glimmer. She remembered Glimmer and Wrong Hordak’s surprisingly delicious dumplings when they were aboard Darla after. The in between is fuzzy, though. She’s not sure if she ate at all while she was chipped. Had anyone given her food? Had she even been hungry? Had she noticed?
The doctor continued. “It appears there was likely some earlier malnutrition as well, in childhood.”
Catra winced involuntarily. She recalled early years marked by denial, food given and taken away by authority figures, sometimes on a whim. Catra remembered the day when she and Adora were 7 years old, when Adora had scraped her knee during one of their earliest training exercises. Catra had kissed a whimpering Adora’s knee to comfort her, and one of their supervisors quickly snatched Catra away from Adora, scolding her for something Catra didn’t understand, and she hadn’t been allowed to eat dinner that night. Adora had, of course, hidden half of her rations and brought it to Catra in their bunk.
But that was just the first of many times. Later, there would be consecutive days where Catra was prevented from eating, usually thanks to Shadow Weaver.
Catra was drawn out of her reverie by the doctor, who, seeing Catra’s discomfort, said, “Nothing that a few months of good food can’t help. Don’t worry, you’re a very healthy young woman.” Catra forced a smile in response, thankful that the doctor didn’t press further.
Later, she recounted the visit to Adora, in large part out of a rediscovered habit. Catra had forgotten how automatic some of it could be, telling Adora things that it wouldn’t have occurred to her to tell anyone else. Catra could almost see the wheels of Adora’s quick mind working out how to fix this, how to make it better, as she listened. As far as Adora was concerned, there was no problem that couldn’t be addressed by a well thought-out plan. Catra loved her for it. She also worried about her for it.
Now, a couple of weeks later, Adora enters their bedroom, an eager smile on her face as she walks up to where Catra is sitting on their bed.
“Close your eyes,” Adora says.
Catra looks up at Adora, taking her eyes away from the book she’s reading: Mer-Mystery: Secret of Seashell Cove. Mermista had tried and failed to conceal her excitement when Catra, now with time to indulge in activities that never would have been possible in the Horde, began reading whatever sounded interesting from Bright Moon’s library and stumbled upon the Mer-Mystery series.
“Yeah, that one’s pretty good, I guess,” Mermista had conceded, which Catra took to mean it was probably Mermista’s favorite one. Mermista now brought it up with Catra after each monthly Princess Alliance meeting, pretending to be only casually interested before detailing her theories about the upcoming sequel. Catra listened intently while also pretending to be just casually interested, and in this way she and Mermista formed a tentative, book-related bond, much to the delight of Adora, Glimmer, and Bow.
Lounging and reading agree with Catra when all she cares to do is lie in bed while Adora dozes peacefully beside her during quiet afternoons when there are no meetings or princess-related events to attend. And more than that, Catra has discovered that she really just likes reading. She likes turning her brain off for a while, focusing instead on the lives of made up people in made up places. She likes reading her favorite parts out loud to Adora, who rests her head in Catra’s lap while she listens intently, eyebrows knit together in concentration.
Catra’s eyebrows raise in surprise at Adora’s request, but Adora’s bright eyes and animated expression make her smile.
“Why?” Catra laughs.
Adora, practically bouncing with excitement, only repeats herself. “Just close your eyes! I have a surprise for you.”
Catra sees that Adora is holding one hand behind her back and puts two and two together. Adora has taken up the habit of bringing Catra new foods to try that she’s never even heard of before, much less tasted. Two days ago it was chocolate, the creamy, sweet, smooth sensation overwhelming in the best way. Adora had watched Catra try it, grinning from ear to ear when Catra’s eyes widened with amazement at the completely new taste.
Their meals in the Horde had been one bland ration bar after another, and sometimes the sheer volume of choices now available to her overwhelmed Catra. Adora, having spent far longer in Bright Moon, was more used to the abundance of options, but it all seemed new to her once again whenever she got to enthusiastically introduce Catra to one of her favorites. Adora takes Catra to the kitchens at meal times, guiding her by the hand past tables covered in a rainbow of options that Catra couldn’t have imagined a short time before, quietly telling her which fruit is which, describing flavors and textures, picking out an assortment for the two of them to share so that Catra will feel less out of her depth.
The first time Catra ate a perfectly ripe peach, she felt as though she’d discovered some sort of well-kept secret, the kind she and Adora used to whisper to each other in bed late at night in their days as cadets. Adora had seen Catra’s awed expression and smiled softly, squeezing Catra’s hand under the table and pressing a brief kiss to her temple. It made Catra’s heart stutter.
Now, in their bedroom, Adora waits once again, near to bursting with anticipation to share yet another new and unexpected luxury with Catra. Adora sits down on their bed beside her, still concealing whatever treasure is hidden in her hand, and Catra has to catch her breath. Even now, being so close to her without feeling afraid, or ashamed, or hurt, or angry, or any number of the negative feelings that kept them apart for so long, feels like a precious, delicate gift that she wants to pay attention to every time.
She studies Adora’s blue eyes, her soft, pink lips, the slight crook in her nose from where Lonnie had broken it in a sparring match when they were kids. She knows this face better than any other, every peak and valley, every memory they share together etched across the plains of her skin.
Catra smiles and closes her eyes, just like Adora asks.
One of Adora’s strong, tender hands cup Catra’s cheek, the other bringing something to Catra’s mouth.
“Taste,” Adora says, just above a whisper, her thumb brushing Catra’s cheek.
Cautiously, Catra takes a bite of the proffered food and tastes something sweet but just a bit sharp at the end, cool and juicy in the way she remembers the dark purple grapes she loves being, but still so different. The fruit on her tongue makes her think of running with Adora in the late mornings, sitting back-to-back with Glimmer in the sunshine of Glimmer’s balcony as the sun warms their upturned faces, Bow showing her how to shoot with the new arrows he’s been working on so diligently in the low-burning golden light of a summer afternoon.
Catra swallows, finally opening her eyes, a slow smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Adora, beaming at her, explains, “It’s called a ‘strawberry.’”
Catra can’t help but laugh at what seems to her like such an odd name, but at this point, she’s growing more comfortable with the remaining unfamiliarities of life in Bright Moon. Adora places the rest of the fruit in Catra’s hand, and Catra admires the bright red color, the tiny seeds, and the green leaves at the berry’s top. “It’s delicious,” she replies.
“I know, right?” Adora, pleased with herself and her surprise, cups Catra’s face in her hands, kisses her forehead, the corners of her eyes, her lips. Catra loses herself in the sensations, dipping her tongue into Adora’s mouth, the faint taste of the strawberry lingering between them.
Catra thinks of half a dozen things she could say to Adora (please don’t worry about me, I’m going to be okay, the way you care for me makes my heart ache), but she settles on the one she’s still getting used to saying openly, the one that still makes her feel scared and brave at the same time.
“I love you.”
Adora crinkles her nose at her, kisses her quick once more. “I love you, too.”
----
Adora can’t remember a time when she didn’t want to be near Catra.
From the time they were small, the great, windowless metal walls of the Fright Zone rising high around them in the only world they’d ever known, Catra was her touchstone. Holding hands as they explored new hiding places among the barracks, hugging each other after their earliest training injuries, Adora holding a fistful of Catra’s hair for comfort when she woke up to shadows in the middle of the night. A single touch from Catra, a hand on her arm or her back, could calm Adora faster than anything else. Catra was how Adora knew where she was. Who she was.
After a certain point, though, any touching had to happen away from the eyes of everyone else. Adora’s bunk, which was, truthfully, always their bunk, became a world unto itself. They made it every night and unmade it every morning, a universe of their own creation that only existed once the lights went out. There they could reach for each other without fear.
When they were older they found new ways to be close, to touch each other without raising suspicion. Wrestling, punching each other in the arm, playfully tackling each other and dissolving into laughter, none of it serious, none of it for any reason other than the insistent, constant desire to be close, close, closer. Adora tried to overlook it. Most of the time she succeeded. But the want never completely went away; she just got better at ignoring it.
Adora became very good at that. Pushing feelings down, and away, and back. Denying them. Denying herself. Only in these recent months following Prime’s defeat has she begun practicing giving in to herself. To what she wants.
Tonight, Adora’s not denying herself anything. Tonight, she’s indulging.
Sparkly and sweet and warm, Adora feels the bubbles of the champagne she grabbed from the kitchens on a whim down to her toes, and she somehow feels more alert, her skin especially soft and sensitive. Catra is sitting in her lap while Adora leans against the headboard of their bed, Catra’s legs wrapped around Adora’s waist, and they’re passing the same glass of champagne back and forth, catching up after a day spent mostly apart.
The people of Elberon asked for She-Ra’s help with their continued rebuilding efforts and Catra had spent her morning and most of the afternoon with Glimmer and Bow in the former war room, going over final plans for their upcoming trip on Darla.
Catra takes the glass from Adora, taking a long swig as Adora squeezes Catra’s thighs, then runs her hands up Catra’s back under her shirt, kneading and pressing her skin, and Adora’s heart hammers in her ribs, hard, when she suddenly looks at Catra and says sincerely, openly, “I’ll never get over being able to touch you like this.”
Catra’s cheeks redden instantly, but the champagne makes her bold again, and she leans down to give Adora a feathery light kiss, whispering against Adora’s lips, “don’t get over it.”
Adora takes the glass back and finishes what’s left, sets it down on the table beside their bed, then flips Catra over onto her back, Adora straddling her from above. Catra squeals and laughs with delight at the abrupt movement and pulls Adora into a kiss, twining her fingers in Adora’s hair.
The kiss is messy and unmatched at first but soon turns demanding. Adora feels greedy and impatient, and she doesn’t mean to be, but Catra doesn’t seem to mind because she kisses Adora back even harder.
They pull away, just for a second. Catra’s pupils are blown and she’s panting.
“Out of breath?” Adora asks, smirking.
Catra rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “No more than you.”
It’s felt like this every time since the first time. Giving in, indulging in the want after so many years of self-denial. It makes Adora feel drunk even when she’s sober. Their nights alone are desperate hands tugging at each other’s clothing the moment they shut their bedroom door, the exquisite relief of being alone together, finally, after a long day of stealing kisses in between a dozen day-to-day responsibilities.
Catra pulls Adora’s tank top up and over her head, then tugs at Adora’s sleep shorts until they slip down her legs and Adora kicks them off completely, leaving her in nothing but the thin cotton of her underwear. Adora then pulls Catra’s t-shirt over her head, reaching behind her to unclasp Catra’s bra.
Adora runs her hands down the length of Catra’s body, taking note of every curve, dip, mark, and scar. She wants to spend her life tracing the crooked line of freckles on Catra’s ribs.
Adora coaxes Catra’s legs open, stroking and kneading her thighs. Catra takes Adora’s hand and guides her where she wants her, lower and lower, until Adora is slipping her hand beneath the band of Catra’s shorts. Slowly, painfully slowly, Adora dips her fingers inside her and Catra shudders underneath her. Catra’s hands desperately grasp at Adora’s hair, her shoulders, her back. With her free hand, Adora clasps Catra’s wrists and holds them above her head.
Adora leans down close to her ear.
“Looks like you’re all mine now, Catra.”
A low moan escapes the back of Catra’s throat at Adora’s words, and Adora grins, returning to the task at hand.
Catra gasps and trembles with pleasure, her thighs clenching around Adora’s other hand. Adora lets go of Catra’s wrists to pull her shorts down and then all the way off, tossing them on the floor. She gets down on her stomach and pulls Catra’s legs over her shoulders, settling in between her thighs, then looks up to see Catra’s blushing face and hazy eyes.
“Tell me what you want.”
Catra gives a sharp intake of air, her legs trembling under Adora’s touch, but she holds Adora’s gaze.
“I want you to touch me.”
“Say please.”
“Please,” Catra groans breathlessly, barely able to get the word out.
“Good girl.”
Adora buries her face in Catra’s wet warmth, licking long and slow, so slow, making her want it even worse. Catra’s hips buck underneath Adora’s mouth, but Adora makes her wait, maintaining a steady, torturous pace. Catra grinds against Adora’s mouth, her moans low and breathy. Catra arches her back and raspy gasps of air turn into sighs as all the tension leaves her body.
Adora wipes her chin, uses her arms to heave herself up and on top of Catra, her breasts pressed against Catra’s. She leans down to kiss Catra’s sweet swollen mouth, her neck, her collarbone.
Catra wraps her arms around Adora’s neck and Adora sits back on the bed, pulling Catra towards her, settling her in her lap, Catra’s legs circling Adora’s waist. She tucks her face into Adora’s neck, her cheeks flushed and warm. Adora fists her hands in Catra’s hair and scratches the soft hairs at the nape of her neck. Catra hums and brushes her lips against Adora’s collarbone.
Adora grasps for Catra’s hand and raises it to her lips, pressing kisses to her knuckles, her palm, her wrist, finally placing Catra’s hand over her heart, Adora’s bare skin warm and flush from exertion, her heartbeat a steady rhythm against the palm of Catra’s hand.
Catra mumbles something unintelligible against Adora’s neck.
“What was that, baby?” Adora asks.
Catra raises her head slightly, and Adora can hear the smile in her voice. “I said, you’re trying to kill me.”
A laugh bubbles up and out of Adora’s chest and she kisses the top of Catra’s head, running her fingers through her now shoulder-length hair.
“You just make it so easy,” Adora teases.
“Shut up!”
“Make me!”
Catra moves her legs from around Adora’s waist, bracing her feet against the bed, and pushes Adora over until she’s on her back, lowering herself between Adora’s legs.
Catra grins at her from above.
“If you insist.”
----
Catra, for all her keen senses, doesn’t always seem to notice when other women notice her. Adora, however, notices enough for the both of them.
From the very beginning of their travels through space, each mission to restore magic to the planets they encounter takes on a rhythm of sorts: Adora, Catra, Bow, and Glimmer arrive on a planet, establish diplomacy with its inhabitants, find and release the planet’s magic, and typically end their stay with some sort of celebration thrown by a grateful, rejoicing people.
It’s during these celebrations that Adora observes the way admiring eyes linger on Catra’s swaying hips, people who gradually move themselves into Catra’s personal space, complimenting her bright, mismatched eyes, some bold enough to place a hand on her arm.
And now, here, tonight, a woman Adora vaguely recognizes from the welcoming delegation upon their arrival three days ago but never actually got the chance to speak to puts her hand on Catra’s waist, prompting Adora to quickly sidle up behind Catra, slipping her own arm around her, knocking the interloper’s hand from Catra’s body, interrupting, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Catra, who’s this?”
Adora barely registers the fast, detached introduction Catra makes to the Something Ambassador to Somewhere, engaging in a reasonable amount of small talk before Adora makes a likely flimsy excuse for the both of them and leads Catra outside to a nearby balcony.
“What the hell was that?” Adora hates the sharp edge to her words, but she’s tired, and worn out, and she hasn’t gotten a break in three days. She’s barely had time to exchange more than a few words with Catra before they both pass out each night, exhausted, and she misses her, and she really wishes they could just go back to Darla and be alone and hold each other for a while, but she can’t seem to find the words to express that.
Catra crosses her arms, immediately defensive at Adora’s tone. “What the hell was what, Adora?”
“She was hitting on you!”
“Adora, please—“
“Did you really not know she was hitting on you!?”
“Of course I knew she was hitting on me! But I also know how important it is to you, and Glimmer, and Bow to be nice to everyone and make and keep peace, and I didn’t know what to do! Was I supposed to slap her hand away? Push her? Yell at her? Believe me, I thought about doing all of those things!”
Adora‘s stomach plummets. “Catra—“
“I didn’t do anything wrong!”
Tears spring to Catra’s eyes and Adora closes the space between them, slowly, trying not to encroach too quickly, but Catra doesn’t move, allowing Adora to enter her space. Adora gently places her hands on Catra’s shoulders, looks into her eyes.
“Catra, you never have to let someone touch you if you don’t want them to, no matter what. Of course you can push them away. I’m so sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Catra’s voice is thick with emotion. “Then why are you mad?”
Adora slowly pulls Catra into a hug, giving her time to say no, but Catra doesn’t resist, instead letting her forehead rest on Adora’s shoulder, sinking into the embrace. Adora rests her cheek on top of Catra’s head.
“I’m not mad,” Adora says. “I think I—I think I got a little jealous.”
Adora can hear the small smile in Catra’s voice.
“Jealous?”
Adora chuckles softly and exhales a breath, a bit shaky. “Yeah. And I think the last few days are catching up with me, and I’m tired, and I miss you, and I got completely stupid when I saw another woman touch you.”
Catra gives a faint laugh. “If only you’d just said that.”
“I know,” Adora says, then laughs. “I’m an idiot, remember?”
“If you’re an idiot, you’re mine.”
Mine. Adora closes her eyes, holds Catra tighter. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Adora pulls away from the hug, finally, grasping one of Catra’s hands in hers.
“You never have to let anyone touch you if you don’t want them to, including me.”
Catra smiles, squeezing Adora’s hand in response. “It’s different when it’s you. When it’s you . . . it feels good, and right. When it’s you, I want it.”
Adora brings Catra’s hand to her mouth and presses a small kiss to her palm. She glances towards the party still going on a few yards away from the balcony, then turns back to Catra.
“How about we bail right now?”
Catra feigns shock, her eyes wide. “You, She-Ra, sneak away from a party in your honor with your girlfriend? What will everyone think?”
Adora laughs, playfully knocking her shoulder into Catra’s, who does the same back.
“You know what? Tonight, I don’t think I care. I really just want to be alone with you.”
Catra’s gaze softens, and a faint blush complements the freckles sprinkled across her cheeks.
“Well, then get me out of here already, princess.”
So Adora does.
----
Adora had been on her way to a meeting with Glimmer and the newly-appointed Bright Moon Ambassador to Thaymor when she fell.
Late the night before, Adora told Catra that her throat felt “scratchy,” like sandpaper. Catra made her tea and gave her one of those cough drops that Glimmer suggested, which Glimmer had described as “gross, but effective.” To Catra they tasted pretty much like candy, but Bow has generously deemed hers and Adora’s culinary standards to be “just a bit untrustworthy” due to their years of nothing but Horde ration bars.
One minute Adora is telling Catra she’ll be back in time to go to dinner together and the next she’s on her knees by their bedroom door, one hand holding her head, the other braced against the floor to prevent herself from falling further. Catra jumps up from her perch on the window seat, dropping the book she’s been reading, getting to Adora’s side in seconds. Catra takes Adora’s face in her hands, finding unfocused blue eyes unable to look directly back at her.
“Adora, what happened? What’s wrong?”
Adora’s eyes, still hazy, finally meet Catra’s concerned gaze. “I—I don’t know, I—I feel . . . so dizzy.”
Catra presses the back of her hand to Adora’s forehead, the telltale heat of a fever burning through Adora’s flushed skin. Catra wraps her arms around Adora’s waist, helping her to her feet, and guides her to their bed, laying her down as Adora groans, still holding her head in one hand.
Catra sits down next to Adora on their bed, leaning down to press her cheek to Adora’s temple, just like she’d seen Glimmer do with Bow when he’d gotten a bad cold a few months ago. Catra wasn’t sure what exactly this did, but the gesture stuck with her, and she remembered the way Bow had smiled dreamily at Glimmer after, like maybe he didn’t mind so much that he was sick and had to stay in bed, so long as Glimmer was close by.
Adora has tried to push herself too goddamn hard, once again, and even now she’s trying to get up again, babbling something about how Glimmer is expecting her, and only gets back in bed because Catra physically prevents her from getting up, gently but firmly pushing Adora down onto their bed. “Stay down,” Catra commands, hands on Adora’s shoulders, pressing her into the propped up pillows against the headboard, locking eyes with Adora who, thankfully, sees the determined look on Catra’s face and temporarily complies with the order to rest.
“I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.”
“Glimmer’s waiting for me—“
“Then Glimmer’s going to be waiting a long time because you’re not going.”
“At least let me go tell her—“
“I will tell her you’re sick.”
Adora blanches. “I am not sick!”
“Adora! You have a fever, you said last night your throat hurt, you haven’t had any appetite all day—“
“I’m fine!”
“Then you’re going to keep being fine right here in bed where I can see you!”
Catra has her hands on her hips, a fierce, unyielding expression on her face. She isn’t budging this time.
Adora sighs. “Fine,” she relents.
“Someone has to stop you from working yourself to the bone, and it looks like it’s going to be me, so get used to it.”
Adora‘s whole demeanor eases.
“Yes, ma’am,” she half jokes, smiling softly.
Catra smiles back, satisfied she’s won, at least this time.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
Adora has to throw up three times throughout that night, and Catra gets up with her each time, holding Adora’s hair and rubbing small circles on her back. Her arms circle Adora’s waist, leading her to and from the bathroom, gently shushing Adora’s whimpered apologies for keeping her up.
“If you’re awake, I’m awake, dummy,” Catra whispers as she tucks Adora back into bed, kissing her forehead.
Early in the morning, the first gray light just barely seeping in through their bedroom windows, they both slip into the easy sleep that eluded them all night. A few hours later, Catra wakes up to the mid-morning sun reflected in the fountain, and Adora stirs beside her, eyes fluttering open.
Catra brushes Adora’s bangs off of her forehead, slightly damp with sweat, her fever finally broken. She helps Adora sit up, grabbing a glass of water off the bedside table and bringing it to Adora’s lips, and Adora drinks gratefully, worn out by the restless night and the effort of fighting off her fever.
Adora sighs, leaning back against the pillows. She looks at Catra, tilting her head to one side.
“You’re a good nurse.”
Catra lightly taps Adora’s forehead with her pointer finger.
“You’re not a bad patient, surprisingly.”
Adora laughs, a bit weakly, but her eyes are clear and she’s looking at Catra with that dopey expression she gets sometimes that Catra teases her for but not-so-secretly loves.
Catra smooths her hand over the crown of Adora’s head, lightly massaging her scalp. Adora leans into her touch. Catra decides to say the words before she loses her nerve. She’s worked on how to say what she feels out loud, so she’s going to do it now.
“I’m always going to take care of you, Adora. And it’s because I want to. And because I love you.”
Adora’s breath hitches, and she looks up at Catra, eyes glistening with sudden, unshed tears. She holds her arms out, wordlessly, and Catra burrows into her embrace. Catra listens to Adora’s heartbeat for the next minute or so, finding herself about to drift back to sleep once more. But not before she hears Adora’s belated, teary question.
“Promise?”
Catra holds her tighter, trying to pour all of her love and devotion and care into the answer.
“I promise.”
----
They are curled up on the daybed on the balcony, Adora’s body solid and warm behind her. Catra wipes away tears she barely understands, tears she's not sure she can explain. Adora plays with her hair, waiting for Catra to be ready to speak.
Adora had been putting Finn down for a nap, and Catra heard them giggling and begging for "one more story" as Adora persuaded them to lie down, promising to read them a book. Catra peeked around the doorway of Finn’s room, seeing them tucked into their tiny toddler bed, trying to listen intently to Adora’s voice even as their eyelids threatened to droop. Adora read and Finn laughed, and Adora looked at them and beamed with so much love on her face it made Catra’s heart constrict. Things like this happen all the time. Catra loves their little family.
She sometimes still wakes up in the night and has to remind herself they're here.
Catra wanders to the kitchen to distract herself. She doesn’t like the thoughts creeping into her mind. Thoughts of doom and dread, inevitability.
Permanence is a lie.
She shakes her head, her long, plaited hair swishing back and forth down her back as she drives the thought away.
She decides to make bread to go with dinner, the kind Finn likes, getting out the yeast and flour and sugar, the familiar steps of the recipe soothing her uneasy thoughts. She doesn’t realize how long she's been standing at the counter kneading the dough until suddenly Adora is beside her, hand on her shoulder. She startles, and Adora backs up.
"Sorry, love, I didn't mean to scare you."
Catra laughs uneasily. "It's alright, I scare easy."
Adora nods, eyes searching. Catra recognizes that this is true in many ways.
"I called your name, but I didn't hear an answer." Adora looks worried. Catra hates it when she makes her worry.
"Oh, uh, sorry, I didn't hear you." Catra is annoyed that this is true.
"I said your name when I walked into the kitchen." Adora is trying to catch Catra’s eye.
"I . . . just didn't hear."
Adora smiles, a soft, slow smile. "A little lost in thought?"
Catra keeps her attention on her task. "Yeah, I guess so."
She doesn’t want Adora looking at her right now so she busies herself finding a bowl for the dough to rise in.
Adora stays where she is, watching Catra search through the cabinets. "You're making your bread." She laughs lightly. "We'll have to watch Finn, they love it."
This makes Catra smile and finally look up as she covers the dough with a damp cloth. "Yeah, we will."
Adora smiles back. She starts to say something but stops. Then, "I'm going to go check in with Glimmer about tomorrow’s agenda. I'll be back in just a little bit, okay?"
"Okay."
For a little while after Adora leaves, Catra sits beside the dough, trying to decide if it’s risen at all while she's been watching, or if it’s like boiling water in the way that it won’t change unless you walk away for a while. So that's what she does.
She walks to the doorway of Finn’s room, watches their little body exhale as they sleep. Always, they kick off the covers and twist themself into what looks like a ridiculously uncomfortable pose, just like Adora has a habit of. "It must be genetic," Catra had teased her.
Catra walks out to the balcony attached to her and Adora’s room, her favorite part of their suite. In the mornings after making coffee, Catra likes to sit in the cool, quiet still of the last few minutes of gray morning to watch the sun break out above the distant tree line. It’s here that she lies down on the daybed, her body turned towards the garden outside. Tears begin leaking out of her eyes. That's all it is. Not even really crying, just quiet tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.
This is how Adora finds her when she gets back.
Wordlessly, Adora lies down behind her, curving her body around Catra’s and draping an arm over her waist.
"It's not an easy day, is it?"
Catra sniffles. "Mm mm."
"Whenever you're ready."
"Okay."
Now they have been lying here together for half an hour or so, and Catra’s tears have stopped. In their place is a dull headache but a clearer mind.
At last she speaks up.
"I get scared sometimes. It's not often, and actually it's hardly ever now, but today it's just bad and I don't know why."
Behind her, Adora props herself up on her elbow. She speaks quietly. "I think sometimes you feel like one day you'll be walking across the ground and it’ll swallow you whole."
Catra shuts her eyes tight. She has no idea how Adora does this. She turns around to face Adora, eyes shiny but clear.
"Sometimes I feel like the ground might swallow me whole."
Adora moves a strand of hair away from Catra’s eyes, lowers her voice to a whisper, eyes earnest.
"It won’t swallow you whole. You’re standing on solid ground."
Catra takes a deep breath.
“Okay.”
They watch the sun go down, the bright orange ball of the sun setting big, low-lying clouds on fire as it leaves to make room for the moon.
Catra and Adora hear Finn before they see them, little footsteps announcing their approach as they sing a nonsense song in their tiny, high-pitched voice. They squeal when they walk into the bedroom and find their moms, short little legs running and launching themself onto the daybed on top of Catra and Adora, setting off a chain of laughter from all three of them. Finn settles in between them and starts an uninterrupted stream of questions that ends with, "what we have for dinner?"
Adora blows a raspberry on Finn’s stomach that sends them into a fit of giggles, laughing with them, and looks at Catra. "Mommy's making your bread." Finn claps their hands with enthusiasm. Catra kisses Finn’s forehead, then looks up at Adora.
"I love you."
"And I love you."
"And me!" Finn pronounces as they begin to jump on the bed, blonde hair bouncing wildly about their head.
"And you!" Catra and Adora say it together as Catra scoops Finn into her arms, and they walk to the kitchen together, hand in hand.
----
Catra finally says she wants to take a ride with Adora and Swift Wind.
It’s only taken literal years of Adora offering and Catra declining, but Catra agrees one day, partly to surprise Adora with her agreement, and partly to surprise herself. Catra feels especially good today; her skin hums pleasantly under the gentle warmth of the spring day, and she smells sweet flowers blooming, and she’s been leisurely eating strawberries out of the porcelain bowl with bluebirds painted on the inside that she likes, and she feels like surprising herself. She likes doing that now, in this life with Adora that feels lived in and brand new at the same time.
She’s ridden with Adora and Swift Wind before, but not flown, insisting they remain firmly on the ground whenever Catra is with them. They both pretend to give her a hard time about it, but they never push, even though Swift Wind always ends each of these conversations with, “one day, you’ll see what you’re missing out on!”
Catra decides that today is that day.
She’s not too proud anymore to admit that a part of her is definitely still terrified, but she climbs onto Swift Wind behind Adora, wrapping her arms tightly around Adora’s waist, while Adora and Swift Wind promise her they’ll ascend slowly, fly low circles around the castle grounds, and only then go higher, if Catra still feels comfortable.
When they take off, Catra has to shut her eyes and cling to Adora’s waist. Adora rubs her thumb over Catra’s knuckles, silently assuring her that they’re alright.
Catra can’t breathe for a moment, and it’s only partly because of the wind rushing towards them. Bright Moon stands tall and regal below them, shining in the mid-afternoon sun, and Catra can see the mountains beyond in sharp relief against the sky. She can just barely make out a handful of people walking through the castle grounds, their forms impossibly small from her vantage point in the sky. It’s incredible.
“Let’s go higher,” she tells Adora.
Adora turns around briefly to meet her eyes and beams at her in response.
They fly higher, bit by bit, until the already small figures of the people below become nothing more than black dots on the green landscape. Catra feels light, weightless, even, as they rise up through clouds high above the ground. Her arms loosen just slightly from where they’ve been clutching Adora’s waist. She feels bold and wide awake and alive.
They fly like this for the next few minutes, taking in the view of their home below.
Home.
The word still feels more remarkable to Catra than all of the universe’s magic combined.
Finally, they begin their descent, slow and careful, just like when they began, the ground gradually coming closer and closer. Bright Moon comes back into view and Swift Wind lands gracefully. Catra and Adora dismount, and all three of them are laughing breathlessly, Adora praising Catra’s bravery and Swift Wind already planning their next excursion (“we’ll go visit Razz!”).
Catra watches Adora, her face flush with the thrill of flight and the cool winds of higher altitudes. Suddenly, a flash of another day, years ago now, and another thrilling ride, enters Catra’s mind. Suddenly, they’re 17, a set of keys dangling from Adora’s hand, that same hand reaching for Catra’s to pull her into a stolen skiff.
There’s the memory of the wind in her hair as they fought over who got to steer, seeing the Whispering Woods for the first time, being separated from Adora for the first time. Finding Adora dazed, distracted, already drifting away from Catra and their life as they’d known it for so long.
Catra feels a sharp pang of emotion, not quite sadness, not quite regret, something unnamable that forms a lump in the back of her throat so that she can barely speak. The knowledge of the pain that would follow, the deep ache of that separation, the all but miraculous reunion that brought them together again against what seemed like insurmountable odds, washes over her. Adora sees the change in Catra’s mood, concern written across her features.
“Catra? Is something wrong?”
Catra feels another sharp pang, but this time it’s overwhelming gratitude. For Adora, for the years they’ve already had together, for all the years together they have ahead of them.
Overcome with emotion, with this burning, consuming love she’s had for the girl in front of her for nearly all her life, Catra throws her arms around Adora, holding her tight, face buried in Adora’s chest.
Adora hugs her back, clasping her hands together at the small of Catra’s back and pulling her even closer.
Catra speaks past the emotion rising in her throat.
“I’m so lucky. We’re so lucky. I never saw this coming, and I—I love this, everything about it, my life with you.”
Adora pulls back to look Catra in the eye. A few tears escape her eyes and Catra brushes them away, smooths Adora’s hair away from her face.
“It was my dream. Before I even knew it was my dream, it was. A life with you. I wished so hard for it . . . I was so scared we wouldn’t get it.”
Catra squeezes her eyes shut tight, clutching Adora’s jacket in her hands.
“But we fought like hell for it,” Catra whispers.
Adora kisses her now, and Catra melts into it, remembering the kiss that brought Adora back to her, the kiss that brought Etheria back from the edge of destruction. They part and rest their foreheads together.
Adora takes Catra’s hands in hers. This has to be one of her earliest memories, holding Adora’s hand.
“Let’s go home?” Adora asks.
Catra feels just like the little girl who loved nothing in the world like she loved her best friend, the little girl who would’ve followed Adora anywhere.
She feels that way now.
“Yeah,” Catra says. “Let’s go home.”