The force of Catra's attack knocks Adora to the floor, and she blocks the momentum with her palm just in time to keep from falling flat on her back. With her other hand, she's now holding a hose. Just a hose, because Catra beheaded it, except now instead of a measured shower stream it's blasting out water at full force.
She can't believe Catra beheaded it.
"You're so stupid!" she squawks, already beginning to panic as tries to work out just how, exactly, she'll be explaining all this to her parents. "Do you not know how showerheads work?!"
Now she's just going to spray Catra's face with the hose.
She has a moment of reprieve, wherein she crouches heaving for breath on Adora's lap, as Adora registers that yes, Catra is very good at killing things that annoy her.
And then the mad gleam fades from Catra's eyes for a second and her heavy breathing slows as her gaze drifts to the hose, still spraying water.
Boy did she miscalculate that one.
"Adora!" She's yowling before the water even hits her face this time, making desperate grabs for Adora's wrists, shoving her knees into her chest in a very rough and very rude effort to force her down. "Don't you dare--!"
But Adora does dare, and Catra's threats turn into hissing and spitting and twisting and clawing, trying to simultaneously escape the water and fight Adora.
That's the scene that the door opens up onto, Adam the youngest and fastest and thus the first to make it to the loud and dramatic screams of distress.
Melog just brrpts at him, sitting primly in their spot. Nothing to see here, citizen. Move along.
Adora's mom and dad are quick to follow, poking their heads in over Adam's broad shoulders. All three of them look positively aghast. "What in the world happened here, you two?"
Adora-- breathless, exhausted, at some point pinned onto her back with Catra sitting on her chest, just lets the sputtering hose fall to the floor, and heaves out a miserable whine.
Then, quickly coming to her senses, she points to Catra. "She started it!"
Catra freezes at the voices, wild thrashing suddenly stilled as she stares at Adora with wide eyes. The oh shit written across her soaked face is real, and her knees thump on Adora's chest as she falls that little distance with her, far too caught in the act to bother trying to change position now.
And then Adora accuses her, and Catra comes to life with indignation, slapping her hand quickly around Adora's to wrestle her accusatory fingers to the ground.
"I did not!" She argues, voice hoarse and still shrill, because she's soaked through and cold and it didn't even wash any of the sap out which means she still has to deal with bathing properly later, and this is all Adora's fault because if she would just be happy with just Catra for once, there would never have been any argument or hurt feelings at all.
It's the water that's making the appearance of tears in her eyes, that's all. It's just the shortness of breath causing the tightness in her chest. She just - she just really hates water.
"I'll get some towels," Adam announces helpfully - because of course he is, he's Adora's family. But also because he's got to go outside and assure the neighbours that no, She-ra was not torturing anyone, and the screaming they'd heard was just some... some...
...he has until he gets outside to think of what all that screeching and carrying on could have been.
"I'm-- I'm really sorry about your bathroom," Adora stammers out as she scrambles to regain some shred of dignity, repositioning Catra onto her lap so she can sit up, brushing the hair that's been knocked free from its tie away from her face. (Her dad reaches forward and twists the faucet off, thank god.)
"I'll fix it, I promise. I mean, I don't know how to manually fix bathrooms, but I can probably just do the glowy thing, uh, if you give me a minute..."
"Oh, don't worry about that right now," her mother reassures. "Let's get you two toweled up-- Adam will be back in just a moment. Why don't I make you some tea, in the meantime?"
God. They're so nice. It's like they're not even mad, but they have to be, right, because if your long-lost daughter just popped out of the blue one day, ruined dinner, almost leveled your village and destroyed your forest, and unleashed devastation upon your very humble bathroom on top of it all-- well, anyone would be mad.
But tea and a towel sounds really, really good right now. If Catra would stay for it.
Her eyes flicker to Catra's face for the first time since the intrusion, and when she catches sight of the shimmering wetness in the corners of those mismatched eyes, Adora's chest freezes over. "Catra--"
Everything else immediately falls away: the ruined bathroom, the cuts across her arms, the hoarseness in her throat from all the yelling. She brings her hands up in an instant, instinctive motion, cupping Catra's drenched face between her palms. "Hey. Hey, it's okay."
It's annoying - really, really annoying how easy it is for people to just pick her up and move her about as soon as she loses momentum. And yet, she does not protest when Adora repositions her into her lap; but neither does she make any move to do anything further. Her tail just curls up close, the entire length of it some degree of sodden and damp and continuing to become more so through the water spilled all over the floor.
She scoffs at least, at Adora's offer to She-ra the bathroom back into working order. We'll just add that to your list of skills, she thinks to herself sarcastically. She's proven she can't trust herself with words tonight. She-ra, Princess of Indoor Plumbing Repair.
She doesn't get the lack of anger at the mess and destruction, either. Or the distinct lack of forthcoming punishments. But - whatever, they were Adora's family. Their idea of a bad night was probably something stupid like--
--Like finding out their daughter was alive, trying to spend time with her, and then spending the evening cleaning up after her guest's dumb emotional baggage.
Melog phases through Adora's parents, re-forming in a large size before them in the bathroom. They warble something, and Catra's lips draw tight, and then their head presses gently against Adora's parents, ushering them out. Melog will help make the tea. Catra never does things like that, and Melog's curious to learn.
Add that to the list of bad things on their evening, Catra supposes. Being bossed around and stalked by an alien surely belonged up there.
She wants to let her face push against Adora's palms, now that everyone is gone; wants to lean forward and rest her head on her shoulder; wants to accept the comfort being offered and let herself relax into it.
Instead she pulls away, her hands rising to grab Adora's wrists. Adora's looking at her with that -- that face, the one that could fool anyone into thinking she cared about them (--she does care, Catra argues to herself. Smart choice or not, despite everything, Adora loves her.), and Catra can't look her in the eyes.
"Don't," she croaks, pushing Adora's hands away. She wants them back so badly it aches. "Just. Just don't. Okay? Just leave it. Please."
She just needs a minute to put herself back together, and to rebuild her defenses. Because right now; sitting soaked and tired in Adora's lap, the anger washed away in the energy of their struggle, she feels vulnerable and small. And she can't have that.
Her heart cracks a little when Catra forces her hands away. She's not even angry anymore, too weak and drained to keep fighting-- all she wants is to be able to talk to Catra, to hold her until she's better, to make it all okay.
Catra can't keep pushing her away forever. Adora is, after all, just as stupidly, unshakably stubborn.
She shakes her head with a strained little scoff. Her hands shift in Catra's shaky grasp, finding just enough wriggle room to press palm to damp palm, link their fingers together.
"Listen-- I'm not going to 'just leave it'. I'm here, and I care about you, Catra, and I'm not going away. Okay?"
"Adora--" It's supposed to come out stern. Commanding. Instead Catra's voice breaks on the first syllable, as Adora slides their palms together and laces their fingers, and that. That's it. There's no more fight left. There's nothing left to be confusing and funneled into rage, there's no energy left to huddle around her weaknesses and defend them with literal tooth and claw.
There's just Adora. Stupid, dumb, kind, sweet, smart, beautiful, warm and too-good Adora. It makes Catra's chest hurt, more than Hordak's dumb machine or Shadow Weaver's stupid spells ever did. And because she's - she's nothing but a kid still, apparently, always running from her feelings; because she's that, she slumps, defeated. And then leans forward, cautiously dropping her head to Adora's shoulder, no longer caring about the water or being wet. Seeking comfort and refuge in the last place she knows to look.
"I'm sorry," she breathes first. Because she is. Because Adora deserves to hear her say it. Because she's been exactly who they both know she is as a person, and for some reason Adora's still here. Right where she's always tried to be. "You--" (no, what was it Perfuma had said? 'I statements'. 'Use I statements'. Don't put the blame for her actions onto somebody else.) "I--" (it's hard though, and her grip tightens suddenly on Adora's hands.) "I tried, okay? I really tried." (she didn't want to ruin everything. That still never seems to stop her.) "I couldn't keep it together. I screwed up."
For a moment, Catra just stares at her, and Adora's almost sure she's going to fight her off again. She braces for it, jaw squared and shoulders tense-- but instead, Catra crumples, and Adora gasps as she leans into her, small and wet and shaking.
It brings a wave of relief so intense that her whole body shudders with it, and soon there's tears welling in her own eyes, too, spilling in rapid streams down her cheeks as she buries her face in Catra's neck.
"I just don't understand why you got so upset," Adora sobs out, raspy and stuttering. "Did you think I was going to leave you for them?"
The silence that comes in the wake of Adora's question speaks volumes. Catra just presses her face into Adora's wet shoulder, where it doesn't matter if her eyes are doing things or not, and tries to pretend that the tremor across her shoulders is from the cold. She curls further, pressing their clasped hands against her chest because now Adora's crying and she - she doesn't know what to do with that. She wants to fix it, and she doesn't know how.
"I don't--" She can't say she doesn't think that. The words stick in her throat, and the quick heave of her chest might be her body's own attempt at a silent and quickly subdued sob, but she chokes it back down. That's so stupid, for her to cry because Adora is crying. That's like, the dumbest thing she's done all night. (It's absolutely not because Adora's hit the nail on the head, or because hearing the words aloud gives a realness to them that doesn't exist otherwise.)
Her hands fumble in Adora's, trying to clasp both of hers in one of Catra's so that Catra can reach around her and grip her in a hug.
"I tried not to!" She hates how whiny, how desperate her voice sounds. But she - she has to make sure Adora knows. She's not slipped so far backwards she can't see reality, she's not such a lost cause that she has to be given up on. (Funny, how she thinks those things about herself; but when it comes down to it she doesn't want Adora to think them. Because if Adora thinks them, that usually means they're true.) "I just-- I got--"
She's screwed up a lot tonight. It's the least she can do to fight against years of training and conditioning, to give voice to the obvious, glaring weakness that anyone with a pair of eyes can see anyway.
"I got scared," she admits in a rush; and her fingers spasm, clenching, forgetting for a split second the placement of any claws before she jerks them back again with a sharp breath. "I tried to handle it and I--" woke up a giant forest dweller, almost destroyed the village, outed Adora to her family, destroyed their bathroom "--...didn't," she finishes lamely. Adora was there. Adora knows what happened. She doesn't need a recap.
Catra's confession only makes Adora cry harder, shoulders hitching with her sobs. It twists her up inside that Catra's been feeling this way, and she can't help but feel -- as she so often does -- that it stems from her own failings.
She knows Catra gets jealous, and angry, and insecure. But they've been together for this long now, and Adora still can't chase those insecurities away. It's stupid, because she feels for her so strongly -- has she not been showing it enough?
"Listen, Catra..." She gently withdraws her hands from her grasp so she can cup her face again, holding on steady this time. Her gaze, blue and shimmering with tears, pins Catra's in place.
She has to reach her, this time.
"Meeting my family today, I was so excited and overwhelmed and-- I wasn't really thinking about it, what I'd do next, my long-term plans, or anything. And yeah, part of me was imagining what it'd be like to stay, but it's like I told you," she sniffs, then heaves out a breath. "You were part of it. You're always, always part of it, Catra."
Her grasp softens then, shaky fingers brushing at Catra's cheek, her dark, water-matted hair. "Don't you see? I can't picture my future without you in it."
All she can do as Adora's shoulders shake beneath her is grip her tighter; hold her closer; bury her wet face more deeply into her sodden shirt and try not to cry with her.
She doesn't want to let go of Adora's hands, and her fingers follow as they pull away; closing around Adora's wrist and slipping down her arm, over the soaked bandages, coming to rest in the crook of her elbow as she moves Catra. She raises her head obligingly when Adora's hands cup her face, pliant for one of the few times in her life, and her eyes are still swimming with a mess of emotions when Adora locks onto them. Doubt, guilt, fear, heartache linger still.
Catra wants to look away, but she owes this to Adora. Anything she wants from her, she'll give it. It's the least she can do.
So she doesn't look away when her eyes do well and spill over with tears, or when her face pinches and she bites the inside of her mouth to drive back a sob. The full-body shudder still comes, though, and Catra's eyes do scrunch shut when she turns her face into one of Adora's hands, pressing into it, suddenly desperate for the affection; the comfort; the touch. It's like a giant, painful void has opened inside her and she doesn't know how to fill it, doesn't know how to make it stop. Can only fall into Adora's hands and hope she'll help; can only breathe in ragged gasps and grip at Adora's elbow, her shoulder, silently begging her to stay, to guide her through the deluge of buried feelings because Catra can't do it on her own - could never do it on her own. This isn't anger, this isn't jealously, this isn't anything that burns hot and fast and leaves her blood rushing and heart pounding and she's never been able to deal with anything that isn't those, too scared of the vulnerability and weakness and no idea how to deal with either.
"Don't go," she does choke out - pitiful and strained, because. Because if she doesn't say it, Adora might not know. Adora might go. Adora might somehow miss the total mess bawling pathetically in her lap, and go off to save someone who knows how to ask her to; to help someone who knows the words to express what they need, instead of staying and brushing her fingers against Catra's face, her hair, like she wants her to.
"I'm not," Adora lets out with an incredulous laugh-sob, burying her face against the top of Catra's head, pressing kisses over her hair and temple. She holds her as tight as she knows how, so tight her arms strain with it, and she can feel each of Catra's shivers as if they run through her own body.
--And that, it turns out, is all she needs. For Adora to hold her as her chest wracks with silent sobs, for Adora to bear with her as she clings to her, for Adora's arms to tighten in a protective, defensive shell around her.
She had never understood how people could do that, Catra thinks to herself once it all begins to slow. Once the pressure atop her head registers as Adora's kisses instead of a vague and distant sensation, once she becomes aware of the blood on her tongue and pain in her cheek. Her throat is painfully dry, and she feels -- wrung out. Exhausted and frail, more than she's ever felt in her life. She'd never understood how people could let themselves fall to pieces, how they could trust themselves not to shatter into shards when they did.
In the safety and warmth of Adora's arms, she's realizing the vital part she'd been missing. She'd never thought to consider the possibility of people having someone to catch them when they broke apart.
It's one of those things they probably learn from family. From parents who hold them. From people who give praise when it's earned and who you don't half-expect to kill you when they pass by your door. But then, how did Adora learn it? Maybe it was just something innate. Some sort of skill that Catra missed out on.
Catra's always been good at flopping; always had an innate ability to become seemingly boneless, usually put to good use to frustrate people during grapples or (she thinks idly of Bow and Glimmer) kidnapping.
But the sort of boneless she is in Adora's arm is different to that. It's the same feeling as when she'd woken in Adora's arms on the spaceship, with a distant struggle to breathe in her lungs and an overwhelming feeling of peace; of gratitude; of relief; of love.
"I'm sorry," she breathes apology again against Adora's neck, throat dry and sore for no good reason. Before she can doubt herself, she presses a kiss against Adora's skin. Lingers there so long she forgets what she's doing, just breathing deep and gathering back together all the pieces of herself she'd felt fall from her grasp. And then, so quietly it's almost more of just a movement of her lips than a sigh of words: "I love you."
Adora is quiet, save for her own sniffles and the occasional hiccup, as Catra comes undone in her arms. She's here, she's got her, and in this moment Adora knows that's all she really has to be -- rocking Catra softly, trailing kisses across her hair and face, just. Here. Solid and steady.
It's all that Catra's ever needed from her.
"I love you, too," she says, and her chest feels lighter already, just hearing the words and saying them back. "And I'll be here to remind you of that, as many times as you need, so..." She slithers a hand between their bodies, under Catra's chin, to tilt her head up towards her. "Believe in me, okay?"
And she brings their lips together in a kiss, to seal that promise.
She knows it, but it's still a relief to hear the words from Adora's own lips. Especially after everything she's done today. Especially after fighting.
Catra lets her chin lift, trusting in Adora, and a quiet and soft rumble begins unbidden at the base of her throat as she nuzzles into the hand, eyes sliding shut before Adora even kisses her. And then she does, and it's soft and chaste and reassuring, a silent promise between them, and Catra's too tired to be embarrassed about or put an end to the comforted and loved purr.
"Don't laugh," she mutters, raising a hand to Adora's on her chin, urging her hand flat against her cheek so she can lean into it and soak up the moment, the affection, the love.
"I'm not, silly," Adora says, her damp eyes crinkling with fondness. She loves Catra's purr. She's grateful she's able to hear it now, after everything that happened in this mess of a day. It's soothing. It anchors her.
She touches their foreheads together, closes her eyes, and just lets herself breathe. Her tears have slowed to a still before she could even notice, and her frantic, hiccuping gasps have lulled into an even rhythm. She feels her chest rise and fall in synch with Catra's, both of them calming at last, and she thinks she could stay in this moment forever when the sound of rapping on wood pulls her back to her senses.
"Uh, I've got the towels, guys," Adam's voice drifts sheepishly from the other side of the door. Adora gets the sense he's been standing there a while. "And there's tea, if you want."
Adora chuckles, her pink, splotchy face flushing deeper with a hue of embarrassment as she looks back to Catra. "... Come have tea with me?"
Catra could well fall asleep on her like this, awkward position and drenched fur be damned. She brushes her nose up against Adora's in a tender bump, relaxing further as her troubled breathing and hiccups ease.
It's a very rude awakening when her ears perk up suddenly at the rapping on the door, and Catra's attention jerks as her muscles jump. That's right, that's a thing. They're still in Adora's family's house. (--And now that she's not scared, now that she's not hurting, she feels a little bad for having hated it earlier.) She's still destroyed their bathroom.
She has, as ever, apologies to hand out.
She shouldn't be surprised when Adora looks back to her instead of immediately responding, but she is; and a matching flush grows on her face as her heart does this -- weird little flutter, and she nods.
"Think he has enough towels?" She asks wryly. And then as if to prove her point, leans back from Adora to shake her head rapidly; water flying from her hair and face and shoulders to shower across the room and Adora's face. Never let it be said that Catra doesn't know how to destroy a mushy mood.
"Catra!" Adora howls out as the droplets splatter across her face, but the indignant sound quickly crumbles into laughter. If they're messing around like this again, it means everything's truly back the way it should.
"Uh, yeah!" She calls back at Adam, wiping her face on her sleeve. "We'll be right out!"
Just as soon as Catra climbs off her lap-- that makes the getting up part a bit hard.
...So it turns out Catra was wrong. She is, it turns out, not very good at dispelling mushy moods. Instead, it seems like she's just managed to play herself into the trap of Adora's dorky laughter, her heart skipping a beat as Adora's playful howl breaks down into it, glad to have finally put a smile back on her lips.
Adora's, just. Yeah. She's just - Adora, and she's beautiful, even sprawled in the chaos of the bathroom they'd destroyed, and for the first time Catra lets herself think that maybe, maybe she really is a part of Adora's future after all.
And then she catches herself staring, and the flush returns manyfold as she stands abruptly, water trailing in a steady trickle from her soaked tail. She ought to shake that out on Adora, too, but instead Catra takes herself to the bath and begins to gently squeeze the water out of it there. No matter how many towels Adam's scrounged up, Catra guarantees it won't be enough for both her waterlogged fur and both their soaked clothes.
Adora's laughter subsides just in time for her to glimpse Catra staring, and she holds her gaze for exactly half a second before Catra launches herself off her lap. Adora giggles a little at that, too, then opens the door a crack-- "I'm just gonna take some of those towels now, thanks. This might take a teensy bit."
She pinches her forefinger and thumb together with an apologetic smile, before accepting the bundle of towels from Adam, and carefully nudging the door closed with her foot.
Setting the towel stack down on the thankfully unscathed sink, she picks out the biggest, fluffiest-looking one, and steps over to stand behind Catra. "Here. Let me help."
And she drapes the towel over those slender shoulders -- just gently, half-expecting her to still flinch away.
There's no helping Adora when she's got the giggles, and Catra rolls her eyes as water squelches off her tail with every pass of her hands, pretending like she's not still feeling soft about her laugh.
She's just picking some bark from her tail when Adora takes the towels, and Catra's in a good mood so she figures she'll do her the courtesy of letting her dry off first. That's before Adora steps behind her, and Catra looks up and over her shoulder at her - just in time to blink at the large, fluffy towel that Adora's now draped over her, large enough that it blankets fully around Catra's shoulders and dangles all the way down past her waist.
Because she's in a good mood, she lets herself admit that she... well, likes the unexpectedly tender action. You know, as opposed to balking at it. And maybe the warmth that it inspires all across her is okay, too.
"You sure this is a towel?" She asks skeptically; moving one hand from her tail to pluck at the fluffy material. It's a far cry from the short and thin towels of the Horde, but sure enough it absorbs the water from her hand, and her ear twitches as she only half-jokes dryly; "I think he gave you a blanket."
"Well, it's comfy and it keeps you from dripping all over the place. So whatever it is, I'd say it's pretty good."
Taking Catra's reception of the contact as her go-ahead, Adora grabs some of the fuzzy material between her hands, and sets to stroking it softly up Catra's nape. "You dry your tail, I'll do your hair." With a lopsided smile, she adds: "We can meet halfway."
Well, if Adora's happy to use what may or may not be bedding to dry her off, who is Catra to complain?
She thinks she's fine with it, but there is a second where the brush of something against the back of her neck gives rise to alarm - but then Catra breathes a shivery exhale and leans back into the touch, instead of away. There's nobody she trusts more than Adora, and it feels nice. And it'll make her dry, but that's seeming like a bit more of a fringe benefit in the moment.
"You should pamper me like this more often." The low rumble in her tone makes it sound like she's joking, but Catra absolutely is not. "Can you dry my hair after every shower?" --That one is more of a joke. Although, actually. She might end up complaining less about them if this is what she has to look forward to afterwards.
Her hands move automatically over her tail, alternating drying it with combing her nails through to dislodge the leftover bits of their forest fight. It's not going to be as smooth as she likes it until she can give it a proper wash, but it'll do.
"Okay," Adora simply answers, aware that Catra's teasing but content to ignore it. It might be silly, but the promise of a routine, something unchanging between the two of them, means the world to her right now. "That sounds pretty nice, actually."
She slowly makes her way up the back of Catra's neck, where the short fur of her neck thickens into the sodden bird's-nest of dark hair. She's careful as she knows how to be around this spot, the ghost-image of the chip once planted there enough to make her jaw clench-- and she seeks to offset it somewhat, by pressing her lips to Catra's cheek.
Adora's hands don't linger there long, but her lips hover in place a few moments, as she works to squeeze the wetness from Catra's unkempt hair.
"Should I pat down your ears, too?" She knows approaching that part of Catra without prior warning can earn her a new set of scratches, even on a good day.
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boxitup2020-05-31 09:58 pm
no subject
She can't believe Catra beheaded it.
"You're so stupid!" she squawks, already beginning to panic as tries to work out just how, exactly, she'll be explaining all this to her parents. "Do you not know how showerheads work?!"
Now she's just going to spray Catra's face with the hose.
no subject
And then the mad gleam fades from Catra's eyes for a second and her heavy breathing slows as her gaze drifts to the hose, still spraying water.
Boy did she miscalculate that one.
"Adora!" She's yowling before the water even hits her face this time, making desperate grabs for Adora's wrists, shoving her knees into her chest in a very rough and very rude effort to force her down. "Don't you dare--!"
But Adora does dare, and Catra's threats turn into hissing and spitting and twisting and clawing, trying to simultaneously escape the water and fight Adora.
That's the scene that the door opens up onto, Adam the youngest and fastest and thus the first to make it to the loud and dramatic screams of distress.
Melog just brrpts at him, sitting primly in their spot. Nothing to see here, citizen. Move along.
no subject
Adora's mom and dad are quick to follow, poking their heads in over Adam's broad shoulders. All three of them look positively aghast. "What in the world happened here, you two?"
Adora-- breathless, exhausted, at some point pinned onto her back with Catra sitting on her chest, just lets the sputtering hose fall to the floor, and heaves out a miserable whine.
Then, quickly coming to her senses, she points to Catra. "She started it!"
no subject
And then Adora accuses her, and Catra comes to life with indignation, slapping her hand quickly around Adora's to wrestle her accusatory fingers to the ground.
"I did not!" She argues, voice hoarse and still shrill, because she's soaked through and cold and it didn't even wash any of the sap out which means she still has to deal with bathing properly later, and this is all Adora's fault because if she would just be happy with just Catra for once, there would never have been any argument or hurt feelings at all.
It's the water that's making the appearance of tears in her eyes, that's all. It's just the shortness of breath causing the tightness in her chest. She just - she just really hates water.
"I'll get some towels," Adam announces helpfully - because of course he is, he's Adora's family. But also because he's got to go outside and assure the neighbours that no, She-ra was not torturing anyone, and the screaming they'd heard was just some... some...
...he has until he gets outside to think of what all that screeching and carrying on could have been.
no subject
"I'll fix it, I promise. I mean, I don't know how to manually fix bathrooms, but I can probably just do the glowy thing, uh, if you give me a minute..."
"Oh, don't worry about that right now," her mother reassures. "Let's get you two toweled up-- Adam will be back in just a moment. Why don't I make you some tea, in the meantime?"
God. They're so nice. It's like they're not even mad, but they have to be, right, because if your long-lost daughter just popped out of the blue one day, ruined dinner, almost leveled your village and destroyed your forest, and unleashed devastation upon your very humble bathroom on top of it all-- well, anyone would be mad.
But tea and a towel sounds really, really good right now. If Catra would stay for it.
Her eyes flicker to Catra's face for the first time since the intrusion, and when she catches sight of the shimmering wetness in the corners of those mismatched eyes, Adora's chest freezes over. "Catra--"
Everything else immediately falls away: the ruined bathroom, the cuts across her arms, the hoarseness in her throat from all the yelling. She brings her hands up in an instant, instinctive motion, cupping Catra's drenched face between her palms. "Hey. Hey, it's okay."
no subject
She scoffs at least, at Adora's offer to She-ra the bathroom back into working order. We'll just add that to your list of skills, she thinks to herself sarcastically. She's proven she can't trust herself with words tonight. She-ra, Princess of Indoor Plumbing Repair.
She doesn't get the lack of anger at the mess and destruction, either. Or the distinct lack of forthcoming punishments. But - whatever, they were Adora's family. Their idea of a bad night was probably something stupid like--
--Like finding out their daughter was alive, trying to spend time with her, and then spending the evening cleaning up after her guest's dumb emotional baggage.
Melog phases through Adora's parents, re-forming in a large size before them in the bathroom. They warble something, and Catra's lips draw tight, and then their head presses gently against Adora's parents, ushering them out. Melog will help make the tea. Catra never does things like that, and Melog's curious to learn.
Add that to the list of bad things on their evening, Catra supposes. Being bossed around and stalked by an alien surely belonged up there.
She wants to let her face push against Adora's palms, now that everyone is gone; wants to lean forward and rest her head on her shoulder; wants to accept the comfort being offered and let herself relax into it.
Instead she pulls away, her hands rising to grab Adora's wrists. Adora's looking at her with that -- that face, the one that could fool anyone into thinking she cared about them (--she does care, Catra argues to herself. Smart choice or not, despite everything, Adora loves her.), and Catra can't look her in the eyes.
"Don't," she croaks, pushing Adora's hands away. She wants them back so badly it aches. "Just. Just don't. Okay? Just leave it. Please."
She just needs a minute to put herself back together, and to rebuild her defenses. Because right now; sitting soaked and tired in Adora's lap, the anger washed away in the energy of their struggle, she feels vulnerable and small. And she can't have that.
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Catra can't keep pushing her away forever. Adora is, after all, just as stupidly, unshakably stubborn.
She shakes her head with a strained little scoff. Her hands shift in Catra's shaky grasp, finding just enough wriggle room to press palm to damp palm, link their fingers together.
"Listen-- I'm not going to 'just leave it'. I'm here, and I care about you, Catra, and I'm not going away. Okay?"
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There's just Adora. Stupid, dumb, kind, sweet, smart, beautiful, warm and too-good Adora. It makes Catra's chest hurt, more than Hordak's dumb machine or Shadow Weaver's stupid spells ever did. And because she's - she's nothing but a kid still, apparently, always running from her feelings; because she's that, she slumps, defeated. And then leans forward, cautiously dropping her head to Adora's shoulder, no longer caring about the water or being wet. Seeking comfort and refuge in the last place she knows to look.
"I'm sorry," she breathes first. Because she is. Because Adora deserves to hear her say it. Because she's been exactly who they both know she is as a person, and for some reason Adora's still here. Right where she's always tried to be. "You--" (no, what was it Perfuma had said? 'I statements'. 'Use I statements'. Don't put the blame for her actions onto somebody else.) "I--" (it's hard though, and her grip tightens suddenly on Adora's hands.) "I tried, okay? I really tried." (she didn't want to ruin everything. That still never seems to stop her.) "I couldn't keep it together. I screwed up."
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It brings a wave of relief so intense that her whole body shudders with it, and soon there's tears welling in her own eyes, too, spilling in rapid streams down her cheeks as she buries her face in Catra's neck.
"I just don't understand why you got so upset," Adora sobs out, raspy and stuttering. "Did you think I was going to leave you for them?"
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"I don't--" She can't say she doesn't think that. The words stick in her throat, and the quick heave of her chest might be her body's own attempt at a silent and quickly subdued sob, but she chokes it back down. That's so stupid, for her to cry because Adora is crying. That's like, the dumbest thing she's done all night. (It's absolutely not because Adora's hit the nail on the head, or because hearing the words aloud gives a realness to them that doesn't exist otherwise.)
Her hands fumble in Adora's, trying to clasp both of hers in one of Catra's so that Catra can reach around her and grip her in a hug.
"I tried not to!" She hates how whiny, how desperate her voice sounds. But she - she has to make sure Adora knows. She's not slipped so far backwards she can't see reality, she's not such a lost cause that she has to be given up on. (Funny, how she thinks those things about herself; but when it comes down to it she doesn't want Adora to think them. Because if Adora thinks them, that usually means they're true.) "I just-- I got--"
She's screwed up a lot tonight. It's the least she can do to fight against years of training and conditioning, to give voice to the obvious, glaring weakness that anyone with a pair of eyes can see anyway.
"I got scared," she admits in a rush; and her fingers spasm, clenching, forgetting for a split second the placement of any claws before she jerks them back again with a sharp breath. "I tried to handle it and I--" woke up a giant forest dweller, almost destroyed the village, outed Adora to her family, destroyed their bathroom "--...didn't," she finishes lamely. Adora was there. Adora knows what happened. She doesn't need a recap.
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She knows Catra gets jealous, and angry, and insecure. But they've been together for this long now, and Adora still can't chase those insecurities away. It's stupid, because she feels for her so strongly -- has she not been showing it enough?
"Listen, Catra..." She gently withdraws her hands from her grasp so she can cup her face again, holding on steady this time. Her gaze, blue and shimmering with tears, pins Catra's in place.
She has to reach her, this time.
"Meeting my family today, I was so excited and overwhelmed and-- I wasn't really thinking about it, what I'd do next, my long-term plans, or anything. And yeah, part of me was imagining what it'd be like to stay, but it's like I told you," she sniffs, then heaves out a breath. "You were part of it. You're always, always part of it, Catra."
Her grasp softens then, shaky fingers brushing at Catra's cheek, her dark, water-matted hair. "Don't you see? I can't picture my future without you in it."
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She doesn't want to let go of Adora's hands, and her fingers follow as they pull away; closing around Adora's wrist and slipping down her arm, over the soaked bandages, coming to rest in the crook of her elbow as she moves Catra. She raises her head obligingly when Adora's hands cup her face, pliant for one of the few times in her life, and her eyes are still swimming with a mess of emotions when Adora locks onto them. Doubt, guilt, fear, heartache linger still.
Catra wants to look away, but she owes this to Adora. Anything she wants from her, she'll give it. It's the least she can do.
So she doesn't look away when her eyes do well and spill over with tears, or when her face pinches and she bites the inside of her mouth to drive back a sob. The full-body shudder still comes, though, and Catra's eyes do scrunch shut when she turns her face into one of Adora's hands, pressing into it, suddenly desperate for the affection; the comfort; the touch. It's like a giant, painful void has opened inside her and she doesn't know how to fill it, doesn't know how to make it stop. Can only fall into Adora's hands and hope she'll help; can only breathe in ragged gasps and grip at Adora's elbow, her shoulder, silently begging her to stay, to guide her through the deluge of buried feelings because Catra can't do it on her own - could never do it on her own. This isn't anger, this isn't jealously, this isn't anything that burns hot and fast and leaves her blood rushing and heart pounding and she's never been able to deal with anything that isn't those, too scared of the vulnerability and weakness and no idea how to deal with either.
"Don't go," she does choke out - pitiful and strained, because. Because if she doesn't say it, Adora might not know. Adora might go. Adora might somehow miss the total mess bawling pathetically in her lap, and go off to save someone who knows how to ask her to; to help someone who knows the words to express what they need, instead of staying and brushing her fingers against Catra's face, her hair, like she wants her to.
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She's not letting go.
"I'm not going anywhere."
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She had never understood how people could do that, Catra thinks to herself once it all begins to slow. Once the pressure atop her head registers as Adora's kisses instead of a vague and distant sensation, once she becomes aware of the blood on her tongue and pain in her cheek. Her throat is painfully dry, and she feels -- wrung out. Exhausted and frail, more than she's ever felt in her life. She'd never understood how people could let themselves fall to pieces, how they could trust themselves not to shatter into shards when they did.
In the safety and warmth of Adora's arms, she's realizing the vital part she'd been missing. She'd never thought to consider the possibility of people having someone to catch them when they broke apart.
It's one of those things they probably learn from family. From parents who hold them. From people who give praise when it's earned and who you don't half-expect to kill you when they pass by your door. But then, how did Adora learn it? Maybe it was just something innate. Some sort of skill that Catra missed out on.
Catra's always been good at flopping; always had an innate ability to become seemingly boneless, usually put to good use to frustrate people during grapples or (she thinks idly of Bow and Glimmer) kidnapping.
But the sort of boneless she is in Adora's arm is different to that. It's the same feeling as when she'd woken in Adora's arms on the spaceship, with a distant struggle to breathe in her lungs and an overwhelming feeling of peace; of gratitude; of relief; of love.
"I'm sorry," she breathes apology again against Adora's neck, throat dry and sore for no good reason. Before she can doubt herself, she presses a kiss against Adora's skin. Lingers there so long she forgets what she's doing, just breathing deep and gathering back together all the pieces of herself she'd felt fall from her grasp. And then, so quietly it's almost more of just a movement of her lips than a sigh of words: "I love you."
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It's all that Catra's ever needed from her.
"I love you, too," she says, and her chest feels lighter already, just hearing the words and saying them back. "And I'll be here to remind you of that, as many times as you need, so..." She slithers a hand between their bodies, under Catra's chin, to tilt her head up towards her. "Believe in me, okay?"
And she brings their lips together in a kiss, to seal that promise.
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Catra lets her chin lift, trusting in Adora, and a quiet and soft rumble begins unbidden at the base of her throat as she nuzzles into the hand, eyes sliding shut before Adora even kisses her. And then she does, and it's soft and chaste and reassuring, a silent promise between them, and Catra's too tired to be embarrassed about or put an end to the comforted and loved purr.
"Don't laugh," she mutters, raising a hand to Adora's on her chin, urging her hand flat against her cheek so she can lean into it and soak up the moment, the affection, the love.
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She touches their foreheads together, closes her eyes, and just lets herself breathe. Her tears have slowed to a still before she could even notice, and her frantic, hiccuping gasps have lulled into an even rhythm. She feels her chest rise and fall in synch with Catra's, both of them calming at last, and she thinks she could stay in this moment forever when the sound of rapping on wood pulls her back to her senses.
"Uh, I've got the towels, guys," Adam's voice drifts sheepishly from the other side of the door. Adora gets the sense he's been standing there a while. "And there's tea, if you want."
Adora chuckles, her pink, splotchy face flushing deeper with a hue of embarrassment as she looks back to Catra. "... Come have tea with me?"
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It's a very rude awakening when her ears perk up suddenly at the rapping on the door, and Catra's attention jerks as her muscles jump. That's right, that's a thing. They're still in Adora's family's house. (--And now that she's not scared, now that she's not hurting, she feels a little bad for having hated it earlier.) She's still destroyed their bathroom.
She has, as ever, apologies to hand out.
She shouldn't be surprised when Adora looks back to her instead of immediately responding, but she is; and a matching flush grows on her face as her heart does this -- weird little flutter, and she nods.
"Think he has enough towels?" She asks wryly. And then as if to prove her point, leans back from Adora to shake her head rapidly; water flying from her hair and face and shoulders to shower across the room and Adora's face. Never let it be said that Catra doesn't know how to destroy a mushy mood.
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"Uh, yeah!" She calls back at Adam, wiping her face on her sleeve. "We'll be right out!"
Just as soon as Catra climbs off her lap-- that makes the getting up part a bit hard.
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Adora's, just. Yeah. She's just - Adora, and she's beautiful, even sprawled in the chaos of the bathroom they'd destroyed, and for the first time Catra lets herself think that maybe, maybe she really is a part of Adora's future after all.
And then she catches herself staring, and the flush returns manyfold as she stands abruptly, water trailing in a steady trickle from her soaked tail. She ought to shake that out on Adora, too, but instead Catra takes herself to the bath and begins to gently squeeze the water out of it there. No matter how many towels Adam's scrounged up, Catra guarantees it won't be enough for both her waterlogged fur and both their soaked clothes.
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She pinches her forefinger and thumb together with an apologetic smile, before accepting the bundle of towels from Adam, and carefully nudging the door closed with her foot.
Setting the towel stack down on the thankfully unscathed sink, she picks out the biggest, fluffiest-looking one, and steps over to stand behind Catra. "Here. Let me help."
And she drapes the towel over those slender shoulders -- just gently, half-expecting her to still flinch away.
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She's just picking some bark from her tail when Adora takes the towels, and Catra's in a good mood so she figures she'll do her the courtesy of letting her dry off first. That's before Adora steps behind her, and Catra looks up and over her shoulder at her - just in time to blink at the large, fluffy towel that Adora's now draped over her, large enough that it blankets fully around Catra's shoulders and dangles all the way down past her waist.
Because she's in a good mood, she lets herself admit that she... well, likes the unexpectedly tender action. You know, as opposed to balking at it. And maybe the warmth that it inspires all across her is okay, too.
"You sure this is a towel?" She asks skeptically; moving one hand from her tail to pluck at the fluffy material. It's a far cry from the short and thin towels of the Horde, but sure enough it absorbs the water from her hand, and her ear twitches as she only half-jokes dryly; "I think he gave you a blanket."
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Taking Catra's reception of the contact as her go-ahead, Adora grabs some of the fuzzy material between her hands, and sets to stroking it softly up Catra's nape. "You dry your tail, I'll do your hair." With a lopsided smile, she adds: "We can meet halfway."
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She thinks she's fine with it, but there is a second where the brush of something against the back of her neck gives rise to alarm - but then Catra breathes a shivery exhale and leans back into the touch, instead of away. There's nobody she trusts more than Adora, and it feels nice. And it'll make her dry, but that's seeming like a bit more of a fringe benefit in the moment.
"You should pamper me like this more often." The low rumble in her tone makes it sound like she's joking, but Catra absolutely is not. "Can you dry my hair after every shower?" --That one is more of a joke. Although, actually. She might end up complaining less about them if this is what she has to look forward to afterwards.
Her hands move automatically over her tail, alternating drying it with combing her nails through to dislodge the leftover bits of their forest fight. It's not going to be as smooth as she likes it until she can give it a proper wash, but it'll do.
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She slowly makes her way up the back of Catra's neck, where the short fur of her neck thickens into the sodden bird's-nest of dark hair. She's careful as she knows how to be around this spot, the ghost-image of the chip once planted there enough to make her jaw clench-- and she seeks to offset it somewhat, by pressing her lips to Catra's cheek.
Adora's hands don't linger there long, but her lips hover in place a few moments, as she works to squeeze the wetness from Catra's unkempt hair.
"Should I pat down your ears, too?" She knows approaching that part of Catra without prior warning can earn her a new set of scratches, even on a good day.
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