Don't look at her like that. Catra's lips press together stubbornly, her eyebrows pulling together in a frown. Her stomach does dumb flips whenever Adora makes that face at her, and right now is neither the time nor place for her to deal with squashing that down.

But as ever, Adora knows just how to smooth her bristling - literally and metaphorically, Catra's raised fur settling as she accepts the contrite kisses. She just -- doesn't want Adora to immediately hate it and then decide to never do it again, why is that such a hard thing for her to understand?

She huffs an annoyed breath, but wills herself to relax again; tugging Adora with her as she lays back down.

"I don't know," she grumbles, embarrassment still burning in her chest. "I just didn't want you to think I was dying, or something."

--It's legitimate, okay. Last night Adora had been convinced she was on death's door, and they hadn't even done anything.