"--Right. Heh. That's good." Adora's lips twitch into a self-conscious smile. At some point back there, all she was doing anymore was letting the magic flow from her unrestrained -- she wasn't even directing it at any specific target, just wanting to fix everything.
Or at least, as much of this as she could fix.
She winces and hisses as Catra tends to her wounds, but keeps as still as she can, biting on her lip to keep any yelps of pain trapped within. They're both worn out, and more than a little lost -- on foreign grounds and out of their depth, in that way neither one of them has ever been good at handling.
Still, Adora chatters away, hoping to lighten the mood. "That was some monster, huh? Biggest guy we've run into in ages. But I guess I'm kind of rusty, too. It's been a while since I've had to fight without Bow and Glimmer..."
A pause, and her brow furrows. "Man, where are those two? You texted them a while ago already, I figured they'd be here by now." She worries at her lower lip, already working herself up into a fuss. "You don't think they're lost, do you?"
Adora. Adora. Catra is trying so hard to be good and pliant right now, trying to quietly bring herself to give voice to the apology curdling in her stomach. She really does not need to hear about you'd rather have had your other two friends in that fight.
(That's not what Adora said, but that's what Catra takes from it.)
"I told them not to come," Catra mutters; trying not to think about how, if it had been Bow and Glimmer with Adora instead of her, no crazy forest beast would've woken up to begin with. She bends over Adora's arm, the perfect excuse to not look at her face, and checks with experienced eyes for any foreign matter. (At least she doesn't have to fill out any paperwork about this. That's a small blessing.) "Figured you'd stay here the night and I'd catch them up. That was before we went and knocked down half of a forest though, so who knows what they're thinking now."
They'd probably seen or felt She-ra's healing magic and shrugged, honestly. It was all par for the course for them by this point.
Adora's eyebrows hike towards her hairline. She told them not to come?
"What? No, I-- ow!" Adora flinches as Catra pulls on her arm just a little too hard-- "I wanted them to meet my family, too!"
She whips her communicator out, at first to see just what kind of messages Catra had sent, but her attention is quickly snagged by the cracked screen and the faint staining of blood. She'd gotten so caught up in the panic of adrenaline of battle that it's almost slipped her mind altogether, and the reminder has her heart sinking like a rock.
Of course she did. Of course she wanted Bow and Glimmer to meet her family at the same time Catra did.
--Catra does not know why this is insulting to her, but it is, and her teeth grit.
"You were there," she grinds out, and her tail finally moves; lashing as she makes to grab for Adora's arm again. She'll hold it more firmly this time, and press her fingers in enough to Adora's wrist make the threat of her claws an obvious enough deterrent to keep Adora from yanking it away again. "Nothing happened."
Adora's shoulders stiffen as Catra forces her arm back in place, and her features pinch into a scowl. She doesn't move away a second time, but she doesn't stop pressing for answers, either.
"Well, you cracked my communicator, bled on it, and ran off into the woods to start a fight with a giant tree monster. I'm pretty sure that counts as several somethings, actually."
She does not need any reminders, thank you, and Catra's fur bristles with annoyance at them.
"Clumsy me," she says sarcastically. And honestly, it's a testament to how much she's improved that neither of her hands 'slip' when she says it. (She still thinks about it, though, which makes it frustratingly clear that she hasn't improved enough. As if the rest of the evening hadn't made that obvious.)
Her tail continues to lash, and outside Melog warbles a question at her. She ignores them, snatching the gauze from the kit and beginning to pack it against the wounds with a proper professional amount of force. She is trying, she is trying so hard, and on nights like this -- on nights like this, she wonders what the point even is. She's never going to be a good person. She's never going to be someone Adora can be proud of. She's never going to be the sort of steady, reliable person that Adora can count on. She can't even get through one lousy dinner without pulling Adora into trouble.
A quiet voice in the back of her head murmurs Shadow Weaver was right, and Catra's ears twitch as if it were real.
"Look, I'm sorry for ruining your evening." It's not the heartfelt apology she'd started out wanting to give. This one sounds bitter and sarcastic instead, because - and she did not ever need to have a session with Perfuma to know this - that's what she's forcing the churn of her emotions into. Something familiar, something she knows how to handle. The words feel acrid and wrong on her tongue, and she hates herself more for every single one of them. "I'll just finish up with this and then you can call Bow and Glimmer," (their names are sneers on her lips and it feels wrong, as wrong as it ever did to snarl Adora's name with that same vitriol, and she wants to stop herself but she can't stop once she's started, she's never been able to stop once she's started), "and get back to playing the perfect daughter with your family."
Adora shrinks into herself more and more as Catra speaks. Each syllable from her mouth drips with the sort of vitriol Adora hasn't heard in a long, long time.
It's not like Catra no longer gets angry -- she always has, she always will. Sometimes her walls slam up before she can help it, and sometimes she has to run out on her own to cool off. That's fine. Adora knows her, Adora knows she's been trying, and has sworn to stay by her side through it at all.
But now Catra's stabbing every word into her vulnerable flesh like a dagger, and there is a coldness in her eyes that lets Adora know this isn't some sudden, uncontrolled flare-up -- it's a slow, boiling rage that's been simmering a while.
And Adora can't find what she did to cause it.
There's a moment where her expression cracks, revealing nothing but raw confusion and hurt underneath, as Adora wracks her brain for anything she's done wrong. It's always her first reaction when someone she loves is hurting, and she always finds something.
But all she's done today is meet her family. Feel excitement and joy over it. Try to have a nice dinner with them and with Catra, so they could all get to know one another-- so she could maybe, just maybe, put together the family she's barely even allowed herself to dream of.
For once in her life, Adora is certain she's not the one to blame.
"No." In the blink of an eye, her features have gone stone-cold, eyes flat and jaw rigid. She pulls her bandaged arm away, rises to her feet. "That's not fair, Catra."
She can't even look at Adora. She knows what she's done, and there's a tremble to her fingers as she winds the bandage around the gauze, finishing up on Adora's arm quickly. In a few seconds, the shoe will drop.
Adora pulls her arm away, and there it is. With just a few choice words they're back where they were before the chip, Adora cold and closed and Catra angry and hurting.
She hates it, but it's familiar. And in familiarity is comfort. Catra's eyes flash as she straightens, her hands curling into fists by her sides. She's filthy, she's tired, she's sore and she's guilty and she wants to go home with Adora and fix all of those things.
But she can't. Because she's gone and kicked everything they were working on over. Because Adora has a family now. And if there's one thing the Rebellion loves, it's sticking with their families. (Catra should know. Targeting the families of hiding rebels had been a ridiculously basic Horde strategy. They'd even used it on Glimmer and the Queen before her, whose name doesn't actually escape Catra [because Catra pulled that lever, Catra got her stuck] but who, for this moment, pretends she doesn't know it anyway.)
She knows it isn't fair, and still her lips lift in a jealous sneer.
"What's not fair, Adora?" She's been trying to keep it together but her voice shakes with the anger now, compressing hurt and fear and guilt together into barbed words that drag and stick in her throat. "That's what you want, isn't it? To have your perfect little family and your perfect little friends, all together in one perfect little house?"
(And it really is little, there's not even room in the bathroom for Catra to fling her arms out. No wonder it had felt so claustrophobic with Adora's entire family crammed in there.)
"Yes! Maybe!" Adora stomps her foot against the tiled floor, frustration running through her muscles like knotted wire. "I don't know, Catra, I've only known those people for half a day!"
She doesn't even know if they'll have her, after this. Can't imagine what they must think of She-ra. It may well be an idle, baseless fantasy-- but yes, it's one she's entertained today. And she refuses to feel guilty about it.
"Why does it make you angry, if that's what I want? You're part of it!"
There goes keeping it together. Catra's anger rises up, and over, and before she knows it she's moved to grab the collar of Adora's shirt in her fist -- to what end she doesn't know. To shake sense into her? To slap her?
The snarl on her lips quivers, just for a second, before she lets go and turns away in disgust.
"Just get out there," she snaps. "I'm sure they're waiting with bated breath to make sure you're still alive."
The sudden proxmity makes Adora tense up, her chest buzzing with adrenaline and nerves. She can feel Catra's breath against her skin, and it sends goosebumps down her arms, tightens her fingers into fists. She's never stopped having that effect on Adora, no matter how angry she can make her.
But it only lasts a moment before she's let go and pulled away, and Adora is left dizzy, seething. None of this even makes sense.
"What? That's-- You're just being--" She grapples uselessly with Catra's words, hurt and confusion and anger mounting into a pillar that stretches from her gut to her throat, threatening to gag her.
Something in Adora snaps, and she finally stops trying to parse it, gives up on finding the right response.
"That's so stupid!" she shrieks, nasal and high-pitched, kicking at the floor. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"
Catra folds her arms, glaring determinedly at the pleasantly tiled wall like it's what's responsible for everything wrong in her life right now. Her chest heaves slightly with barely-controlled breaths, and the only reaction she gives Adora at all is a surprised jerk and puff of her tails and alarmed rise of her ears when Adora screeches in complaint.
So great. Now her ears are ringing on top of everything else. A muscle in Catra's jaw twitches as her teeth clench, and Adora does not respect the strength of will it takes to not turn around and smack her in the face.
(Maybe then she'll get some relief from the tension coiled tightly in her body, Catra thinks, almost hysterically. Wouldn't that be the perfect way to just -- end this. They had a good run, she'd had Adora - truly had her, in just the way she'd always wanted - for longer than she'd ever dared to imagine she would. She'd just... she'd just hoped that maybe they'd have a little longer, before she self destructed like this. Like she always does.)
Instead she hunches in on herself, claws digging in to the resistant elbows of her clothing.
"You don't have to stand here and listen to it," she points out sharply. Even though she wants her to. Even though she wants to rewind through literally everything she has said and done in the last day and redo it, properly this time. Do it without falling deep into the trap of her own bad habits, do it without hurting Adora. "I told you already. Get out. Leave."
That's what you're good at sits heavy in her mouth, unsaid. That's too low a jab, even now.
No matter how loud she wails or how insistently she protests, Catra's not having any of it. She's not listening at all, and Adora wants to explode, wants to throw herself at the wall and punch it until it collapses, she wants to scream and she wants to cry and for one very real, palpable moment, she honestly does want to leave. Get away from here. Breathe.
But she knows that's giving Catra exactly what she wants-- that it'll be 'proving' to her that whatever twisted-up scenario she's playing in her head is true. And just for that, Adora plants her feet firmer on the ground, refusing to budge an inch from this room.
"You know what, Catra? I'm just-- I'm just gonna--"
And without even bothering with the rest of the sentence, she hoists Catra up with every last bit of strength that remains in her arms, tosses her into the empty bath, and sprays the showerhead directly at her face.
She was expecting it to come to something physical, was tensed and ready for it. She was prepared for a fight.
So Adora's hands on her, those weren't a shock.
--Being picked up and thrown into the bath was, however, and Catra's too busy being furious and scrabbling to find her feet to care about the painful and loud thud that had surely reverberated through the house. It didn't really matter, though, if Adora's family heard it or not; because surely they do hear the shrill screech that tears from Catra's throat when the showerhead turns on, blasting water into her face, and any progress she'd made in getting up is thwarted by the instinct to shield herself and get the everloving fuck away.
Which, in this case, meant clawing some new patterns in the walls as she scrabbled up the side of the bath, hissing defensively and ready to murder. Adora, Netossa, whoever it was who decided that showers ever needed to be a thing -- any of them, all of them. They'd all contributed equally to the water dripping from her, and to the impassioned fury heaving in her chest. She'd take them all on.
From her relative safe spot outside the bath, Adora sends new blasts of water towards Catra's face with each screech and flail, wielding the showerhead the way she would a laser gun. "Just shut up for one minute and I'll stop spraying you!"
How can she stop screeching and yowling when you keep spraying her?!
Catra has never been one to take things laying down, and she's certainly not going to stay there and let Adora soak her. A growl as Catra's head bows into the spray is the only warning she gets before Catra's muscles tense under her bristling and wet fur, coiling her against the wall for a brief second before she launches herself off, directly into the stream of fire, claws aimed directly at the weapon to slice it into pieces. She will certainly barrel directly into Adora this way, and she does not care. The important thing is destroying the showerhead.
Which, naturally, being a showerhead... is just going to result in an uncontrolled stream of water in the bathroom of Adora's recently found family.
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?"
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boxitup2020-05-31 09:58 pm
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Or at least, as much of this as she could fix.
She winces and hisses as Catra tends to her wounds, but keeps as still as she can, biting on her lip to keep any yelps of pain trapped within. They're both worn out, and more than a little lost -- on foreign grounds and out of their depth, in that way neither one of them has ever been good at handling.
Still, Adora chatters away, hoping to lighten the mood. "That was some monster, huh? Biggest guy we've run into in ages. But I guess I'm kind of rusty, too. It's been a while since I've had to fight without Bow and Glimmer..."
A pause, and her brow furrows. "Man, where are those two? You texted them a while ago already, I figured they'd be here by now." She worries at her lower lip, already working herself up into a fuss. "You don't think they're lost, do you?"
no subject
(That's not what Adora said, but that's what Catra takes from it.)
"I told them not to come," Catra mutters; trying not to think about how, if it had been Bow and Glimmer with Adora instead of her, no crazy forest beast would've woken up to begin with. She bends over Adora's arm, the perfect excuse to not look at her face, and checks with experienced eyes for any foreign matter. (At least she doesn't have to fill out any paperwork about this. That's a small blessing.) "Figured you'd stay here the night and I'd catch them up. That was before we went and knocked down half of a forest though, so who knows what they're thinking now."
They'd probably seen or felt She-ra's healing magic and shrugged, honestly. It was all par for the course for them by this point.
no subject
"What? No, I-- ow!" Adora flinches as Catra pulls on her arm just a little too hard-- "I wanted them to meet my family, too!"
She whips her communicator out, at first to see just what kind of messages Catra had sent, but her attention is quickly snagged by the cracked screen and the faint staining of blood. She'd gotten so caught up in the panic of adrenaline of battle that it's almost slipped her mind altogether, and the reminder has her heart sinking like a rock.
"... What happened at dinner, Catra?"
no subject
--Catra does not know why this is insulting to her, but it is, and her teeth grit.
"You were there," she grinds out, and her tail finally moves; lashing as she makes to grab for Adora's arm again. She'll hold it more firmly this time, and press her fingers in enough to Adora's wrist make the threat of her claws an obvious enough deterrent to keep Adora from yanking it away again. "Nothing happened."
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"Well, you cracked my communicator, bled on it, and ran off into the woods to start a fight with a giant tree monster. I'm pretty sure that counts as several somethings, actually."
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"Clumsy me," she says sarcastically. And honestly, it's a testament to how much she's improved that neither of her hands 'slip' when she says it. (She still thinks about it, though, which makes it frustratingly clear that she hasn't improved enough. As if the rest of the evening hadn't made that obvious.)
Her tail continues to lash, and outside Melog warbles a question at her. She ignores them, snatching the gauze from the kit and beginning to pack it against the wounds with a proper professional amount of force. She is trying, she is trying so hard, and on nights like this -- on nights like this, she wonders what the point even is. She's never going to be a good person. She's never going to be someone Adora can be proud of. She's never going to be the sort of steady, reliable person that Adora can count on. She can't even get through one lousy dinner without pulling Adora into trouble.
A quiet voice in the back of her head murmurs Shadow Weaver was right, and Catra's ears twitch as if it were real.
"Look, I'm sorry for ruining your evening." It's not the heartfelt apology she'd started out wanting to give. This one sounds bitter and sarcastic instead, because - and she did not ever need to have a session with Perfuma to know this - that's what she's forcing the churn of her emotions into. Something familiar, something she knows how to handle. The words feel acrid and wrong on her tongue, and she hates herself more for every single one of them. "I'll just finish up with this and then you can call Bow and Glimmer," (their names are sneers on her lips and it feels wrong, as wrong as it ever did to snarl Adora's name with that same vitriol, and she wants to stop herself but she can't stop once she's started, she's never been able to stop once she's started), "and get back to playing the perfect daughter with your family."
no subject
It's not like Catra no longer gets angry -- she always has, she always will. Sometimes her walls slam up before she can help it, and sometimes she has to run out on her own to cool off. That's fine. Adora knows her, Adora knows she's been trying, and has sworn to stay by her side through it at all.
But now Catra's stabbing every word into her vulnerable flesh like a dagger, and there is a coldness in her eyes that lets Adora know this isn't some sudden, uncontrolled flare-up -- it's a slow, boiling rage that's been simmering a while.
And Adora can't find what she did to cause it.
There's a moment where her expression cracks, revealing nothing but raw confusion and hurt underneath, as Adora wracks her brain for anything she's done wrong. It's always her first reaction when someone she loves is hurting, and she always finds something.
But all she's done today is meet her family. Feel excitement and joy over it. Try to have a nice dinner with them and with Catra, so they could all get to know one another-- so she could maybe, just maybe, put together the family she's barely even allowed herself to dream of.
For once in her life, Adora is certain she's not the one to blame.
"No." In the blink of an eye, her features have gone stone-cold, eyes flat and jaw rigid. She pulls her bandaged arm away, rises to her feet. "That's not fair, Catra."
no subject
Adora pulls her arm away, and there it is. With just a few choice words they're back where they were before the chip, Adora cold and closed and Catra angry and hurting.
She hates it, but it's familiar. And in familiarity is comfort. Catra's eyes flash as she straightens, her hands curling into fists by her sides. She's filthy, she's tired, she's sore and she's guilty and she wants to go home with Adora and fix all of those things.
But she can't. Because she's gone and kicked everything they were working on over. Because Adora has a family now. And if there's one thing the Rebellion loves, it's sticking with their families. (Catra should know. Targeting the families of hiding rebels had been a ridiculously basic Horde strategy. They'd even used it on Glimmer and the Queen before her, whose name doesn't actually escape Catra [because Catra pulled that lever, Catra got her stuck] but who, for this moment, pretends she doesn't know it anyway.)
She knows it isn't fair, and still her lips lift in a jealous sneer.
"What's not fair, Adora?" She's been trying to keep it together but her voice shakes with the anger now, compressing hurt and fear and guilt together into barbed words that drag and stick in her throat. "That's what you want, isn't it? To have your perfect little family and your perfect little friends, all together in one perfect little house?"
(And it really is little, there's not even room in the bathroom for Catra to fling her arms out. No wonder it had felt so claustrophobic with Adora's entire family crammed in there.)
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She doesn't even know if they'll have her, after this. Can't imagine what they must think of She-ra. It may well be an idle, baseless fantasy-- but yes, it's one she's entertained today. And she refuses to feel guilty about it.
"Why does it make you angry, if that's what I want? You're part of it!"
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There goes keeping it together. Catra's anger rises up, and over, and before she knows it she's moved to grab the collar of Adora's shirt in her fist -- to what end she doesn't know. To shake sense into her? To slap her?
The snarl on her lips quivers, just for a second, before she lets go and turns away in disgust.
"Just get out there," she snaps. "I'm sure they're waiting with bated breath to make sure you're still alive."
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But it only lasts a moment before she's let go and pulled away, and Adora is left dizzy, seething. None of this even makes sense.
"What? That's-- You're just being--" She grapples uselessly with Catra's words, hurt and confusion and anger mounting into a pillar that stretches from her gut to her throat, threatening to gag her.
Something in Adora snaps, and she finally stops trying to parse it, gives up on finding the right response.
"That's so stupid!" she shrieks, nasal and high-pitched, kicking at the floor. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!"
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So great. Now her ears are ringing on top of everything else. A muscle in Catra's jaw twitches as her teeth clench, and Adora does not respect the strength of will it takes to not turn around and smack her in the face.
(Maybe then she'll get some relief from the tension coiled tightly in her body, Catra thinks, almost hysterically. Wouldn't that be the perfect way to just -- end this. They had a good run, she'd had Adora - truly had her, in just the way she'd always wanted - for longer than she'd ever dared to imagine she would. She'd just... she'd just hoped that maybe they'd have a little longer, before she self destructed like this. Like she always does.)
Instead she hunches in on herself, claws digging in to the resistant elbows of her clothing.
"You don't have to stand here and listen to it," she points out sharply. Even though she wants her to. Even though she wants to rewind through literally everything she has said and done in the last day and redo it, properly this time. Do it without falling deep into the trap of her own bad habits, do it without hurting Adora. "I told you already. Get out. Leave."
That's what you're good at sits heavy in her mouth, unsaid. That's too low a jab, even now.
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But she knows that's giving Catra exactly what she wants-- that it'll be 'proving' to her that whatever twisted-up scenario she's playing in her head is true. And just for that, Adora plants her feet firmer on the ground, refusing to budge an inch from this room.
"You know what, Catra? I'm just-- I'm just gonna--"
And without even bothering with the rest of the sentence, she hoists Catra up with every last bit of strength that remains in her arms, tosses her into the empty bath, and sprays the showerhead directly at her face.
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So Adora's hands on her, those weren't a shock.
--Being picked up and thrown into the bath was, however, and Catra's too busy being furious and scrabbling to find her feet to care about the painful and loud thud that had surely reverberated through the house. It didn't really matter, though, if Adora's family heard it or not; because surely they do hear the shrill screech that tears from Catra's throat when the showerhead turns on, blasting water into her face, and any progress she'd made in getting up is thwarted by the instinct to shield herself and get the everloving fuck away.
Which, in this case, meant clawing some new patterns in the walls as she scrabbled up the side of the bath, hissing defensively and ready to murder. Adora, Netossa, whoever it was who decided that showers ever needed to be a thing -- any of them, all of them. They'd all contributed equally to the water dripping from her, and to the impassioned fury heaving in her chest. She'd take them all on.
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From her relative safe spot outside the bath, Adora sends new blasts of water towards Catra's face with each screech and flail, wielding the showerhead the way she would a laser gun. "Just shut up for one minute and I'll stop spraying you!"
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Catra has never been one to take things laying down, and she's certainly not going to stay there and let Adora soak her. A growl as Catra's head bows into the spray is the only warning she gets before Catra's muscles tense under her bristling and wet fur, coiling her against the wall for a brief second before she launches herself off, directly into the stream of fire, claws aimed directly at the weapon to slice it into pieces. She will certainly barrel directly into Adora this way, and she does not care. The important thing is destroying the showerhead.
Which, naturally, being a showerhead... is just going to result in an uncontrolled stream of water in the bathroom of Adora's recently found family.
What good decisions they've both made.
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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.
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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.
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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!"
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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.
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"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."
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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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