Chapter Text
If you asked someone, “what was the worst day of your life?” they’d probably need a second to think about it. Maybe some could name the date pretty fast, and a few could probably tell you the year, too; but for most, it’d take a moment to sort through a lifetime of memories and decide the final rankings.
If you were to ask Adora Grayskull what the worst day of her life was, she could tell you the exact moment it became the decidedly worst day of her life, right down to what she was wearing and how her mouth tasted. She could describe the whole thing in achingly clear detail as though she were watching at a playback reel and describing it to you.
But if you were to ask Adora Grayskull, she wouldn’t tell you all that. She’d hesitate, then give her shoulders a shrug and say something like, “I try not to dwell on stuff like that,” or even, “I guess my worst day hasn’t happened yet,” and laugh it off.
It would be a flimsy cover, and if you knew her well enough, you’d see the hurt flash in those deep blue eyes. You’d know she rubs her neck when she’s lying, that she picks at the skin around her nails when she gets nervous, and she nibbles on her lip when she wants to say something but her compulsive need not to burden others with her problems keeps her silent.
Only one person knew all that about Adora, though, and Adora hadn’t seen her since the very worst day of her life.
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“Hey, are you almost wrapped up? Huntara wants us to meet in the breakroom after closing, but I really wanna grab a smoothie first.” Adora let out a grunt as she pulled herself up till her chin passed the pull-up bar before she slowly lowered herself back down. Bow was leaning on the hanging leg raise machine (well, more like draped over it in peak distressed damsel fashion), giving her puppy dog eyes that should honestly be illegal.
With a roll of her eyes, the blonde let herself drop to the floor and gave her shoulders some rolls for good measure.
Her last client of the day had been her roommate’s girlfriend, Hope, who meant well but her constant questions and inquiries about what they were doing always left Adora a little mentally wiped. Mara had said she was looking to up her cardio (and wiggled her eyebrows in a manner that made Adora shudder). Still, Hope seemed more interested in putting Adora through an endless pop quiz on every piece of machinery the gym had to offer.
She’d planned on just doing some quick upper body to reset her brain, but it seemed Bow was on a mission to get a smoothie and her presence wasn’t negotiable.
“Fiiiiiine, but you’re buying,” she whined, but Bow was already ten steps ahead of her pumping his fists in victory. Adora smiled despite her mild annoyance; honestly, what sort of monster could stay annoyed at Bow?
Adora liked working at the gym.
Scratch that, Adora loved working at the gym.
During her senior year, she’d had a bit of a spiral, well her friends would call it something worse than that, but Adora wasn’t apt to engage in that conversation. She had stared at her immediate future, a degree in astronomy looming on the horizon and a never-ending feeling of dread at what would come next.
She’d pick her degree on a whim; she’d loved the stars ever since she was a kid. Those nights when it was just the two of them up on the roof, huddled close for warmth, whispering for fear the slightest noise could wake their sleeping guardian, imagining different lives for themselves in the sparkling sky.
When she’d gotten to college, alone and broken, she’d found comfort in the stars again.
The intro class had been confusing as all get out. Most of the words the teacher used sounded like gibberish but seeing those fantastic glowing bright balls of magic projected onto a large screen before her soothed her anxious heart. It felt like staring at a slideshow of old friends, the sounds of their make-believe playing in her mind like an old record, warped but familiar.
So she stuck with it.
She wasn’t great at it, even her advisor had politely begged her to reconsider, but it only made her dig her heels in harder. She’d buckled down that second semester and even buddied up to another girl in her class who seemed to be her exact opposite.
Glimmer was born for astronomy. She loved it just as much as Adora, but where words would slip in one of Adora’s ears then out the other, Glimmer held them tight before putting them on display in her impeccable mind.
What Glimmer was not great at was committing to a schedule. Adora had watched the girl screech into class five to eight minutes late regularly enough to piece together that time tracking wasn’t her strong suit. Her notes were littered with sticky notes whose text looked more like hieroglyphics than any language Adora had seen. She was a hot mess who knew her shit inside and out, but the former was compromising her success with the latter.
With that, Adora saw her opportunity to strike. She had approached the small pink-haired cannon after class and offered a deal: Glimmer would tutor Adora, and in turn, Adora would help her get organized.
And not just like, a new planner and color-coded pens. Oh no, Adora would be outside her dorm, fifteen minutes before late night labs with a jumbo coffee in hand, ready to go.
But from there, it blossomed into Adora’s first friendship since her . It was kismet, Glimmer liked to joke their meeting was written in the stars, but Adora was just relieved to finally have someone to talk to again.
Bow was the wonderful inevitable next step when it came to befriending Glimmer. The two had been glued to the hip since an incident in second grade when a bully had teased Bow for not “dressing like a girl should.” Bow told the story of the smallest girl in their grade, all pink and sparkles, appearing out of thin air and somehow knocking the bully’s two front teeth cleanout.
She had been sent home and wasn’t allowed back at school for the rest of the week. Bow and his dads had shown up at the Moon’s house with a plate of cookies that night, and the two were inseparable from then on out.
It took all of one study session (of which Bow eagerly crashed) for him to declare the three of them the “Best Friend Squad” and create a corresponding group text.
It was oddly perfect. It was charmingly unreal.
It was achingly familiar to something she had lost.
A few years later, Glimmer was off getting her Masters, Bow was working two jobs to save up and open his own archery range, and Adora was just content to work as a trainer while she figured things out. The hours were great, she was practically Huntara’s right hand, and she got to work out whenever she wanted. Her friends were always around, and she’d made a little family for herself.
And only once in a while did she think about her and wonder if she was happy.
Wonder if she ever missed her.
But that was in the past, and there was nothing to be done. For now, Adora was in a good place surrounded by good people, and she finally felt like she had found her place in the world.
So now, with a too-large green smoothie in hand and a very excited Bow by her side gushing over the bright blue “Mermaid Mist” smoothie he was holding, she headed into their staff meeting.
Their routine, average, totally nothing to concern yourself with, run-of-the-mill meeting.
As they approached the door to the breakroom, though, the voices were a bit more energetic than usual. They had heard Scorpia talking down the hall a mile a minute; the woman was usually the excitable type, but today she sounded like a kid who’d washed down about 30 pixie sticks with a red bull. And once Adora and Bow had wedged their way into the room and settled into their respective spots (Adora seated on the kitchenette counter and Bow on an old exercise ball by her feet so he could rest his head on her knee), they could see why.
Towards the front of the room, Huntara stood with her clipboard, running through her usual notes and announcements prep, standard meeting stuff. But by her side stood a sun-kissed wisp of a woman Adora had never seen before. Her long sandy blonde hair in a braid looked like it was weaved by Disney birds rather than by hand and her entire vibe screamed “free meditation in the park.” Adora would have bet a million dollars she had a crystal somewhere in her massive tote bag that swayed ever so slightly as she chatted with the gushing pile of muscle known as Scorpia.
This was, undoubtedly, Scorpia’s new girlfriend, Perfuma.
Scorpia had burst into the gym on a Tuesday morning at 6 AM two months ago, her sleek faux hawk disheveled, eyes brimming with delight, and all but shouted, “YOU GUYS ARE NEVER GONNA BELIEVE THE DATE I HAD.” From that day forward, staff and clients alike were gifted daily fun facts and isms the white-haired Amazonian had picked up from her new girlfriend.
It may have been annoying if it had been anyone else, but Scorpia had the largest heart any person could have. She was a raging ball of sunshine and well wishes, and her unending supply of jubilee was as infectious as it was unfathomable. If anyone deserved happiness, it was Scorpia, and the woman before them looked every bit the patient meditation master they’d heard so much about.
Huntara cleared her throat, and the room settled into an exciting quiet; they didn’t get surprise visitors to staff meetings very often.
“Alright, team, listen up. We’ve got some new faces with us today.” Adora’s eyes swept the room but saw no one new except Perfuma.
Other than the absence of Glimmer, who was barely part-time with the semester starting, and Frosta, who was manning the front desk, the room had its usual suspects. Sea Hawk sat at the table looking like he was about to burst from having to keep silent for more than ten seconds, and to his right, Entrapta whittled away at some gadget. The latter was the resident maintenance person who seemed way too skilled to be manning a gym, but everyone was a bit too scared to ask what she did in her little back room. Netossa and Spinerella, the resident newlyweds, were only half listening as they sat in the back corner making googly eyes at each other while they did mushy shit like trace their fingers along the other’s palm or what have you. Adora usually looked away before they had the chance to scar her.
So she shrugged her shoulders and dismissed the “faces” comment as a slip of the tongue.
“The thing is, gang, we’ve got to do a little change of pace around here. Another bougie specialty studio just announced they’re setting up shop a few blocks down, and we can’t stand to lose any customers to these places. They may have the posh setup, but we got the best group of trainers I’ve ever seen and the reviews online to back it up.” A few claps and whoops came from the gathered crowd, but Huntara waved them off.
“But clients want those specialty options. Like we say, no one ever sees success unless they’re willing to try something new and push themselves, right?” Again a chorus of cheers greeted their fearless leader as everyone’s drifted to Perfuma, confident where this was leading to.
“We know Glimmer has her Jazzercise class, but people want more than that, and with her school starting up soon, she can’t be around to teach anything more than what she’s got on the schedule. So, after talking with Scorpia, I’ve decided to expand our group class options. Starting next week, we’ll be offering our clients yoga and barre classes.” Scorpia squealed with delight and shot Perfuma two very enthusiastic pincers up.
“Now Perfuma here specializes in yoga and guided meditation. I uh-,” Huntara’s gaze darted to Perfuma, who only gave a warm, patient smile in response, “can’t say I know much about either, but I’ve been assured Perfuma is the best in the business.”
Perfuma gave a slight nod of agreement to Huntara before turning her eyes to the rest of the room. “I’m so excited to be working with you. Scorpia has told me so much about this place, and I feel nothing but positive energy from this team! I can’t wait to work beside you all and learn more about each of you.”
Adora, to her credit, managed not to roll her eyes at the “positive energy” bit and decided she deserved a beer later as a reward. Perfuma seemed nice, though, maybe not Adora’s go-to cup of tea, but she seemed super genuine, and if Scorpia and Huntara vouched for her, she had to be the real deal.
But… wait, what about the barre class-
“Sorry, I’m late! Street parking was a nightmare.”
Everything in Adora went still at the sound of the new but hauntingly familiar voice coming from the staff room door. The blood in her veins froze in place, her heart paused its regularly scheduled beating, and the breath in her lungs stayed right where it was. It was like a camera flash that captured her in a single frame where time ceased to exist, and all that remained was the blurred image of Adora.
She hadn’t heard that voice since a Friday night in late June six years ago at the worst party of her entire life.
Since the worst day of her entire life.
In what felt like torturous slow motion, Adora watched as the person who had once been her whole world strolled to the front of the room and planted herself to the right of Perfuma. The two exchanged some whispered pleasantries before the late entry turned her focus to Huntara.
“No worries, we’ll set you up with access with an employee garage pass.” Huntara then turned back to the room to introduce the new barre instructor.
But Adora didn’t really process the words; they came through like the muffled sounds of voices when your head is underwater. She didn’t need to listen, though; she knew the basics.
Standing before her and the rest of The Waste gym staff was Catra D’riluth. Her hair was in a messy ponytail that was barely managing to restrain the wild mane she was always so proud of, two big soft ears that now had the little gold earrings Catra always wanted and a glowing confidence Adora had always dreamed for her. The Catra in front of her was so different than the scrawny, insecure teen she had known all those years ago.
This Catra stood tall, her smile unabashedly cocky, and she radiated self-assurance as Huntara spoke of her skills and professional accomplishments. She looked so cool and collected though Adora quickly noticed the twitch of her tail that always betrayed when Catra was feeling excited.
She was changed but still the most beautiful person Adora had ever seen.
Adora watched with anxious awe as Catra’s eyes began to scan the room, a blend of bored and curious that was so very Catra. Her heart jumped from rattled silence to forceful pounding as that gaze grew closer and closer to Adora.
Would Catra still recognize her?
Adora had changed too. Sure, she was visibly more muscular than she was in high school, but she had grown in more ways than one. She’d managed to make a whole life on her own, one she was happy in. She excelled at work, made a great group of friends, and even managed to stand up for herself once in a while.
The moment of truth came as Catra’s mismatched eyes finally made their way to Adora, the blonde nearly about to wriggle out of her skin with anticipation. And then-
The eyes continued to Bow and past Adora without so much as a blink of her eyes or a twitch of an ear. Adora might as well have been the “What To Do When Someone’s Choking” poster that hung on the back wall; she garnered so little interest.
Adora felt that old pit in her stomach opening once more, that ancient chasm built on despair and loss growing with an eager hunger to swallow her whole.
Six years of nothing. Six years of missing the other half of her heart only to have it walk right into her work without a care in the world.
Catra had ignored her entirely.
Worse, you can’t ignore someone you didn’t even notice.
_______________________________
If you were to ask Catra about the worst day in her life, she’d hiss at you.
Most magicats are taught at a young age that hissing isn’t quite “polite” behavior; however, Catra never had anyone with any knowledge about magicats to tell her otherwise. So the habit stayed, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the way people flinched and backed off when she did.
Picking the worst day would be challenging for Catra; she’d been dealt such a cruel hand for reasons the universe never seemed able to justify. Orphaned so young, she only had flashes of faces, whispers of voices, and a crumpled photograph to hold tight to when she wondered where she came from. She was raised by a sadistic drunk who seemed to delight in criticizing her ward while forcing her to compete with her only companion, the golden child.
The golden child who crawled into her bunk that first night at Weaver’s and pet her mane while humming “Row Your Boat” until Catra drifted to sleep. The golden child who held her hand through everything, even when Weaver told them it was childish and silly to be so glued at the hip. The golden child who made her feel like she was more than the horrible things thrown at her at every turn.
The golden child she loved with every bit of who she was, inside and out.
But the worst day, in Catra’s mind, would always be the night of her high school graduation. How they had fought, and Catra had stormed off and fled the party, running two blocks before she allowed herself to break down crying on some random suburbanites lawn. How she had managed to get control of herself and decided she needed to go back. How even though she was hurt and angry, she would never just run away from her best friend, her world, so easily.
How when she got back to the party, she was frozen dead in her tracks as she watched her worst nightmare play out before her eyes.
How this time, when she ran, she didn’t look back and swore she never would again.
_______________________________
Perfuma and Catra had always been an odd pairing.
After an injury forced Catra to take a hiatus from dancing, she’d felt an insane itch for something physical to put her energy into, and one-night stands could only do so much. She missed feeling connected to her body, the pride she felt in moving and contorting her muscles in ways most people couldn’t fathom.
Magicats were naturally flexible, but Catra was a whole other level.
While struggling through an ill-advised run (well, a run that turned into a jog that turned into a very frustrating walk), Catra stumbled upon an outdoor yoga class taught by someone who looked like they sang to their plants when they watered them.
Let the record show Catra was right on the money with that observation.
But Perfuma could smell a struggling aura a mile away, and before Catra could hobble away, Perfuma had swept her into the practice and gone through extra lengths to held her work with and around her injury. Catra had intended to put up a fight, but within two minutes, she was feeling that connection she’d missed so much, a familiar burn humming through her nerves.
Catra felt alive again.
So she returned for the next session, and the one after that, and the one after that, and before she realized what had happened, she and flower girl were friends. Well, friends in the way Catra would let herself be friends with anyone. They would walk to the farmer’s market after sessions, Perfuma would bring Catra home-brewed kombucha that somehow didn’t taste like a fruity fart, and Catra would give Perfuma rides since the hippie didn’t have a car.
The next thing she knew, they were roommates six months later and had been a perfect balance of chaos and zen for almost two years. It was nice. Not exactly the happily ever after Catra had used to imagine for herself, but she was content.
She had seasonal gigs doing chorus line work at the local theater, she was a dancer for the women’s basketball team, and she’d even picked up teaching for some easy money. She was doing things she loved, living with someone she liked, and the old feelings of abandonment and fear seemed like a demon she’d finally locked away.
And then Scorpia showed up.
They’d met her during their Saturday farmer’s market trip; Scorpia had accidentally slammed into Catra, sending the magicat and the mushrooms she was inspecting straight to the ground. Catra couldn’t tell which was worse, the injury or the unending flood of panicked apologies spewing from the klutz’s mouth. She’d been all set to rip her a new one, but then Perfuma swooped in, the living embodiment of soothing breathes, and calmed the massive scorpion woman.
Usually, she would have also helped Catra stand up as well, but Catra knew her roommate had a weakness for kind-hearted beefcakes. Five minutes later, Catra watched the two blushing idiots manage their way into a coffee date; one month later and Catra practically had a third roommate.
U-Haul couldn’t even begin to describe Perfuma’s speed. It was admirable and terrifying.
Catra liked Scorpia, honestly, even if she was a bit much. The woman was practically Catra’s number one fan, oohing and aahing over all of Catra’s jobs and what a “star” she was. But like her roommate, she was absolutely sincere in her kindness, and while Catra didn’t understand it, she enjoyed it.
So much so that when Scorpia proposed this gig at her gym, she said yes without giving it much thought. Perfuma would be there, Scorpia raved about what a positive work environment it was, and Catra was honestly looking for a less stuffy place to teach at. Within a day, Scorpia’s boss had shot over some paperwork, and she and her roommate were told to come in and meet the team.
Catra had gotten too comfortable. She’d gotten sloppy.
She hadn’t even stopped to investigate the place.
Which is how she found herself having a panic attack in the living room; her phone screen lit up and mocking her with a face she’d tried so hard to forget.
She’d gone to The Waste’s Instagram page to get a read on the other employees, they had their introduction meeting coming up, and she wanted to have a better read on who she’d be working with. She’d scrolled down a fair bit; most of the staff seemed eager to pose for pictures or cheering on clients who reached their goals. Wholesome stuff.
But then she’d reached the staff Christmas photo, and standing dead center in reindeer antlers and an ugly sweater was Adora.
Beautiful, perfect, happy without her, Adora.
When Perfuma found her, Catra’s cheek fur was matted with tears, and her breathing was shaky at best. The two spent the next half hour going through breathing exercises until Catra was finally settled enough to drink some water and form a sentence.
Perfuma knew of Adora, not by name but as the looming what-if and devastating heartbreak that had rocked Catra to her core. They’d spent nights sharing trauma, Perfuma talking about her transition, the bad times, and how she’d dedicated her life to enjoying the beauty and kindness of the world in spite of it. Catra had shared her loss, how it felt like she’d been standing in a basement her whole life, only for the floor to surprise her by giving way and proving she could fall lower. They’d sipped wine, cried, held each other, made the other swear never to tell a soul she’d done any of that (Catra, of course).
And when Catra motioned to her phone, finally spoke the name “Adora” for the first time, Perfuma understood instantly.
They talked about backing out, that Catra didn’t have to do anything that would make her uncomfortable or put her mental health at risk, but it didn’t feel like a real option. Catra wanted this job; she’d worked hard to get to where she was, and she had been excited to teach somewhere that was more relaxed than the studios she’d been in.
And most of all, it was absolute bullshit to let Adora take this away from her.
So that’s how Catra ended up around the corner of the gym. Perfuma was already inside, giving an excuse that Catra was on a hunt for a parking space while Catra did her third round of breathing exercises.
“You’re fine. You are good at what you do, and you deserve an easy gig. She can’t get you fired. All you have to do is ignore her and do what you came there to do.”
It was all true… well, the first part felt like a bit of stretch but like she was okay.
All she had to do was go in there and do what Catra did best, shove it down and play it cool.
And she even looked hot today! Did she wake up at 6 AM for no reason and spend the entirety of the morning and early afternoon obsessing how to perfectly convey casual “hottie who was in incredible shape and highly desirable and clearly doing just fine without you, Adora” look?
Yes.
Did Perfuma walk in to offer her some kombucha and find her roommate’s closet had all but erupted to the point the floor was no longer visible?
Definitely.
Had she once again insisted Perfuma not burn sage in her room to “cleanse it of negative energy” on the grounds of it irritating her nose?
Yup.
But here she was, in a nice pair of high-waisted leggings that made her bubble butt look exceptionally perky. She had a cropped white tank with a high neckline and sizeable armpit holes that let you catch a hint of her crimson sports bra if you were lucky. Her hair was being blessedly cooperative, and she’d even managed a little bit of eyeliner to look extra viscous.
She was Catra D’riluth, and she wasn’t one to be fucked with.
So with one final deep breath and her head held high, Catra made her way inside. The petulant teen running the front desk barely looked up from her phone as she motioned Catra towards the break room, and soon she was opening the door to a room full of strangers.
Well, strangers, her roommate, her roommate’s girlfriend, and the woman who shattered her heart so bad she had been shocked when the rest of her hadn’t fallen apart as well.
It turns out spite is a hell of a drug.
When Huntara introduced her, she tried to focus on the words; listening to her accomplishments be listed out to an attentive audience was certainly a pleasant experience. But she couldn’t ignore the palpable sensation of eyes boring into her.
She had smelled Adora the moment she walked into the room, even swore she heard a woman’s gasp at her entrance. She hated how her first instinct was to find those eyes and lock onto them. How her heart leapt at the idea of Adora seeing just how much she’d grown and, even more shamefully, hoped she’d be impressed.
It was absolute shit that a part of her just wanted Adora’s attention even after all this time.
When she finally granted herself a casual sweep of the room, it took everything in her not to let her eyes rest on Adora. She schooled her emotions to play bored and don what Scorpia called her “too cool” face. And when her eyes finally found Adora, she sent out a prayer to anyone who might be listening; she could hold it together. She just needed to keep it together till she was safely back in the car driving home.
Because Adora looked infuriatingly incredible, she’d filled out, not shocking considering her coping mechanism had always been exercise and her current place of employment. But physique aside, she looked so… nice. Like the blonde-haired goober, she’d loved her whole life, just a tad taller.
She had bags under her eyes now, still probably overworking herself and not sleeping. Catra would always make such a fuss about having to make Adora follow a sleep schedule when in reality, she couldn’t contain the purr rumbling from her chest when they would cuddle close in Adora’s bed. The way just a few minutes of rumbly bliss would soothe Adora’s mile-a-minute mind into a peaceful sleep, and Catra would just lie awake, wide-eyed, staring at the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.
Before her was somehow a 50/50 mix of a stranger and the former center of her universe, and to think on the concept a moment longer would send her spiraling straight into the broad shoulders of the idiot in question.
So she ignored her, let her eyes continue looking bored and detached, scanning the remainder of the room of not nearly as fascinating people.
But she felt those eyes on her.
Felt those sharp blue icicles pierce her, demand her attention.
But the last time she stared into those eyes, she lost the only thing she’d ever had. Watched her only hope go up in flames just like Weaver had always promised it would.
So she ignored it and let her attention fall back to her new boss, listened to the updates and new protocols and changes that would be put in place with her and Perfuma’s arrival. The main class studio would be closed for two days while installing a barre, some light dimmers for meditation, and getting a new equipment chest the two new teachers would share, and staff would need to request access to.
Trainers would be encouraged to promote the classes to clients, and every trainer would be required to take each class once so they could accurately explain it-
Wait.
Wait the fuck up.
And that little plot twist, that little unplanned factoid, is what finally broke the steely resolve fueling her effervescent nonchalance. Catra’s eyes went wide with panic and found themselves locked with Adora’s steely blue.
Fuck.
_______________________________
After the staff meeting, she’d try to talk to her.
The way Catra had stared at her when Huntara said instructors had to take the new classes, her eyes had screamed “PANIC” in a way that felt so horribly nostalgic to a look she would give Adora in their youth. But this time, she was the reason for that panic, and she couldn’t do anything to help.
But Catra had artfully gotten her effortlessly uninterested mask back in place and done a round of “how you dos” with the team before disappearing from the building entirely like magic.
(You should know Catra actually just hid in the “New Mother’s” room and waited till Perfuma texted her the all-clear.)
About a week later, Adora watched with sad puppy eyes as Catra and Perfuma fussed around the large renovated classroom, laying out all their odds and ends and do test runs of their classes. The two would take turns setting the other up or playing with the sound system and teasing the other with ridiculous songs.
Well, it appeared that prank was more Catra’s idea than Perfuma’s, but the zen master happily joined in giggling just the same.
She may not have had Catra’s hearing, but she could hear that laugh a mile away, like keys in the door when you’ve been alone for too long and your heart races knowing the loneliness is about to end.
But it wasn’t about to end. In fact, every time she heard that raspy laugh that still annoyingly ended in an adorable squeak, Adora felt even more alone.
Catra was so close, but she felt further away than ever before.
It had been six years since she last saw Catra. After graduation night, she never heard from her again.
She’d gone to the apartment they were set to rent the next day, even stopped by the leasing office to ask if she’d been by. All the unhelpful man at the desk was able to tell her was that some rude magicat had stopped by and dropped off a package for her then left.
It was a bunch of cash, a portion of Catra’s savings to cover the deposit and first month’s rent. There was no note, no clue to where she’d gone or if she’d come back.
It took Adora a day, sitting alone with two suitcases in what was supposed to be their studio apartment, for her to realize Catra had blocked her. No calling, no texting, no social media stalking, no nothing. Catra had blocked, deleted, and set to private any means of Adora reaching her.
And after a week of crying into her air mattress, she finally gave up and made her way back to the leasing office. Catra wouldn’t be coming back, and she would need to shorten the lease.
She had college to go to.
But now, just behind a big plexiglass window, stood the woman she thought she’d lost forever, and rather than a light at the end of the tunnel, it fucking felt like the final nail in the coffin.
Catra ignored her with such determination Adora would be impressed if it didn’t feel like an icy punch to her gut every time.
Bow tried to help. He suggested just talking to Catra, that even if she was ignoring her that maybe she was scared and hoping Adora would make the first move. He had wandered into the classroom to chat with their new coworkers and said that while Catra was a tad prickly, she’d been exceedingly helpful talking to him about taking her class and what to expect. The minute he mentioned he had loved dance when he was little but transitioning had made him feel less comfortable with traditional class spaces, she’d dropped all of her stand-offish pretenses to reassure and encourage him to try it out.
Which sounded right; her Catra may have always been a tough nut to crack, but it was just to protect an incredibly soft nougat center.
But the one time she tried to approach the room, it was like Catra had sensed her coming and turned to gift her a glare so sharp it pierced her lungs and drained the air from her chest.
So Adora opted for the path of least resistance: avoiding Catra at all costs.
If only she could stop staring...
_______________________________
Catra had been working at the gym for two weeks now and was enjoying it for the most part. The clients were eager and excited, Huntara gave her free reign to teach how she wanted, she had complete control of her lesson plans, and she liked her coworkers.
Well, most of them.
The team as a whole was a bit too “one big family” for Catra’s liking, but they’d all been helpful and welcoming to her and Perfuma, so she couldn’t really complain. Most of the staff had taken both classes, which, outside of Sea Hawk nearly burning the building down by playing with Peruma’s meditation candle, had gone pretty smoothly.
The only holdout had been Adora, and Catra wasn’t about to complain.
“She won’t stop staring at me,” Catra grumbled as she watched Adora turn beat red at being caught yet again and immediately drop to the floor to do push-ups (a totally normal and smooth reaction).
“Hmmm, that’s interesting.” Perfuma mused in a tone that absolutely suggested she meant something else. Catra was tidying the studio and helping turnover the room for Perfuma’s evening class, which she usually enjoyed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She growled at her completely unbothered roommate.
“Oh nothing really, it’s just I’m not sure what one would call staring at someone long enough to always notice when they’re staring back at you? Any thoughts?”
Catra’s eyes narrowed to slits and hissed at the audacity while the wispy blonde only hummed and continued setting out mats.
“Didn’t think so.”
Catra wasn’t staring; she was just watching to make sure Adora didn’t get any dumb ideas about trying to talk to her! They’d manage to avoid being in the same room so far, and Catra was eager to keep the streak going. Catra may have only taught six classes a week, but Adora was just always there. If she didn’t stay on high alert, who knows what that idiot might do.
Probably cry about her feelings. Tell Catra she’s “sorry” without knowing what for. Maybe even try something ridiculous like hug her or pick her up and spin her till they got dizzy like they used to.
Nope.
Catra shook the image from her head and resumed the rest of her duties, wiping down the barre and mirrors one last time for good measure.
‘Well, maybe you two can discuss the issue over drinks tomorrow night. I’m sure being in a familiar place will help you feel more comfortable having a sensitive conversation. Plus, I’ll be there if you need support.”
Catra froze mid wipe before almost mechanically turning to her roommate, who was lighting a candle as if she hadn’t just made an atomic bomb level suggestion.
“Excuse you?” She bit out the words, each syllable dripping with venom. Perfuma was, as always, unbothered.
“Catra, I told you the team wanted to have an outing after work; it’s been on the staff whiteboard for days. Scorpia has been dying to take everyone to ‘Nothing But,’ and this seemed like a perfect opportunity.” Her roommate stood and faced her with a look that was sympathetic and exasperated all at once.
Honestly a classic Perfuma look.
“Did you really not know? Scorpia was talking about it last night at dinner, and you said it sounded fun?”
In Catra’s defense, Scorpia tended to say a lot. The big gal had a lot of thoughts. Plus, she had maybe been a bit distracted thinking about how she saw the blonde demonstrating proper squat form when she was checking to make sure Adora wasn’t watching her.
It wasn’t her fault her brain was gay and uncooperative.
Perfuma let her head drop and released a rather tense sigh.
“Look, Catra, if you don’t want to go, that’s fine, but I really wish you would have been a bit more considerate. I understand this situation is difficult, and being around Adora makes you anxious, but being afraid to communicate shouldn’t-”
“I’m not afraid to communicate!”
Perfuma’s face nearly strained itself, trying to maintain a nonjudgmental reaction. Her roommate sat down on a mat and took a deep breath before fixing Catra with a very no-nonsense look.
“Catra, I don’t mean to be insensitive but I’m not sure what you would like me to call it? I understand you both went through traumatic things growing up, and the fallout was incredibly hard, but that was a long time ago and you’ve both changed. She’s stayed out of the room, avoided taking classes she’s required to take and maintained a boundary you set without even telling her. I’m not saying you have to forgive her or even be friends, but you both work here, and I think you’d feel better if you just had an honest talk. I know you’re capable; you just have to ignore that voice-,” the rest of Perfuma’s sage advice was drowned out over the sound of Catra’s groaning.
“Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll talk to her, tell her to fuck right off, and stop being weird. And then I’m going home because this entire team seems like the type to start crying and saying, ‘I just love you guys’ after one shot. Happy?”
Perfuma seemed smug, which was worse than happy, but Catra knew that unraveling that would just make things more annoying.
So with shoulders rolled back, head held high, and what was left of her dignity, Catra stepped out of the studio. She locked her eyes on the back mats and marched right over to where a blonde idiot was too busy enjoying mountain climbers to see her approach. What psychopath enjoys mountain climbers?
Catra didn’t want to have a “talk” or “set boundaries,” and she sure as hell wasn’t interested in sharing her feelings. But Perfuma was right, and even if she wasn’t, Adora was like the second in command here, and she liked this job. She would say her piece, tell her to just be cool and quit staring, and then they could just ignore each other forever.
As she got closer, she saw beads of sweat roll down the slopes of Adora’s toned arms while the woman held herself up effortlessly, not even a tremor of exhaustion showing. Something about that empty space beneath the blonde spoke to her, whispered a filthy little thought that made her imagination blush and a slight tingle run down her spine.
Years later, and the very idea of Adora could make her whole body betray her. So, instead of a cool opener and a relaxed discussion of “no contact,” what came out of her mouth was,
“Hey, idiot.”
Old habits die hard.
Adora collapsed flat on her face in shock at the barked greeting, scrambling to her knees before staring up in a wide-eyed panic.
“C-Catra! Uh, hi, what are you-”
“Zip it.” Catra bit down a smirk as Adora’s jaw snapped shut on command. “We need to talk. Meet me in the staff room.”
And then she turned on her heel and left a gobsmacked beefcake staring after her.
Which was good; she needed a second because WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
_______________________________
What the fuck was that?
Adora watched Catra’s retreating form, her tail twitching in agitation and fists clenched at her sides, and wondered if this was real or she had gotten dehydrated again.
Nope, her jug of water indicated her water levels were precisely where they needed to be.
So Catra wanted to talk? Like for real talk! That had to be a good thing, right? Unless it wasn’t. She’d looked annoyed whenever she caught Adora staring, but she’d been doing so much better! And who could blame her? It was Catra!
Oh gods, what if she was feeling objectified? Or what if she was offended Adora hadn’t taken her class yet? I mean, it felt like she wouldn’t want her to, given how Adora-avoidant she’d been.
Or maybe… maybe she finally wanted to talk about what happened.
Flashes of the night she worked so hard to keep locked away burst from their chest in her mind. The way Catra had been so excited for the party, ready to celebrate their freedom from Weaver and her reign of terror. The pit in Adora’s stomach as she delayed telling her about the letter from BU hidden under her mattress. Then Catra had pulled them to the backyard, lit up with fairy lights and the glow of blue lights from the pool, and looked up at Adora with such unabashed joy. How she’d leaned up to do the one thing they’d always been too scared to do, and Adora pulled back.
Catra’s face when she told her the truth.
How Catra had run off.
How she’d started drinking.
How Starla had come to check on her, she was always so nice.
The way Catra ran off a second time.
Adora let her forehead rest on the heels of her palms as she willed the miserable mental slideshow to end.
If that was the conversation they were about to have… well, Adora had had six years to prepare, and she just hoped her brain could muster up something meaningful instead of freezing up.
With a mix of panicked adrenaline and pure will, she managed to stand and make her way to the staff room. It was late, so there wasn’t much staff still on. Sea Hawk worked late so he could meet Mermista when she closed up the shop and was currently deep cleaning the squat rack, and the Frosta had gone home at 7. With Perfuma’s class kicking off, it was safe to say the two would be uninterrupted.
Adora just wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Sweaty palms pushed the door open, and she was greeted by the achingly familiar sight of a nervous Catra. Leaning against the back wall with her tail wrapped around her thigh and arms gripping her sides in a soothing self hug; this was a small Catra that Adora spent so much of their childhood reaching out to comfort.
On instinct, her hand reached out the way it used to, palm open, and fingers splayed in an invitation for her best friend to take her hand let Adora pull her close.
But Catra’s eyes just narrowed, and her mouth warped into an angry snarl.
Adora dropped her arm and settled to lean against the kitchenette counter on the opposite side of the room.
Silence stretched over the room like a resistance band, pulled taught and tense and threatening to snap at the slightest provocation.
Adora’s head hung and eyes glued to her sneakers; maybe it was selfish or cowardly, but she couldn’t stand the angry look in Catra’s eyes. She had spent six years fantasizing in her quiet moments about how a reunion could go. That if she ever saw Catra again, she’d be able to scoop the girl into her arms and never let her go. How she’d kiss her the way she wanted to her whole life but had been too scared too.
But instead, it was going to be the worst-case scenario, and Adora didn’t want to watch it play it.
“You keep staring at me.” The words were only a few decibels over a whisper, but in the tense silence, they rang out loud and clear. Adora’s head snapped up and found Catra’s gaze locked on the door like she was already contemplating her exit.
“I-I know. I’m sorry, it’s just,” Adora bit her lip and hated the words she knew she couldn’t stop from leaving her mouth, “it’s you, Catra. It’s really you, and I can’t help it.”
Catra’s ears immediately went flat against her skull, and Adora saw a flash of something vulnerable in those mismatched eyes before they grew cold and distant. A classic Catra defense if she ever saw one. Catra hated feeling weak, or at least she had when they were younger. That side of her was only for Adora when they were alone in their room, and she could crawl into the blonde’s lap and let every little thing she buried dig up through the surface.
Adora opened her mouth to say something, what she wasn’t sure, but anything to try and get Catra to talk to her. Let her explain how happy she was to see her. That even if they never spoke again, she was just relieved to see she was alright. Tell her how proud she was of her for pursuing the thing she loved despite Weaver doing everything to tell her she’d fail.
Before she could utter a single syllable, she heard Catra mutter, “This was a mistake,” and sprint for the door. And she almost made it; Catra was fast.
But Adora was fast too, and close enough to the door, running interference wasn’t an issue. In a blink of an eye, the two went from standing on opposite sides of the room to a breath away. Adora had managed to catch Catra; the magicat’s back now up against the wall and face flushed. She looked up at Adora, whose hands were planted on either side of her head, effectively caging her.
Adora wondered once again if she had drunk enough water because the sight had her mouth bone dry.
Once again silence reigned, this time with a different sort of tension. Adora felt her palms growing warm and clammy against the wall but she was frozen in place; captivated by the woman before her.
Up close she could smell Catra, that familiar musk that was purely her mixed with a hint of cinnamon and cloves. And looking down at her face she could see the woman’s freckles she used to map like they were beloved constellations. She used to dream of brushing her finger from one freckle to the other, tracing a trail across those soft cheeks before kissing that smart, sharp, perfect mouth.
Catra’s breath caught and something like a whine wiggled its way out of artfully parted lips and Adora was so incapable of movement she wondered if she had been turned to stone.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
Adora’s heart skipped a beat and she was suddenly very aware of their position and where exactly they were.
She was a manager, standing in the break room, cornering an employee in a very compromising position.
DAMMIT ADORA WHAT THE FUCK!?!
She dropped her arms to her sides instantly and began to pull back, an apology on the tip of her tongue when a clawed hand shot out and had the front of her shirt in a vice grip. Held in place, Adora looked down to the hand in her shirt and back up to it’s owner only to find herself locked in that steely determined gaze.
“Catra, I-,” but Catra just shook her head and kept those eyes locked on Adora’s.
“Just do it Adora… please.” And while Catra’s tone was confident and her grip didn’t slack, Adora saw the fear lingering behind those shining eyes. Before her was a new Catra, taller and stronger and a woman who had set out to achieve all the things she was told she wouldn’t be able to. But deep down, behind the cocky grin and bored apathy, was that nervous guarded girl who had stood on her tiptoes that night in the hopes of finally letting herself have the one thing she had been too scared to want.
And here she was again. Asking Adora after all these years and terrified the scene would play out the same.
But Adora would never, could never, say no to this moment. She had lived with six years of regret at not leaning down and capturing those lips with her own just once. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
As though her hands had planned the choreography after all these years her left moved first, gripping at the smaller girl’s waist and gently pushing her back against the wall before letting her arm wrap around that lither little waist holding her close. Then her right drifted up to capture that soft cheek in her palm and was filled with an addicting sort of peace that it felt just like she remembered. She let her thumb give the pink-tinged cheek a soft stroke before she let gravity do what it was meant to do.
Pull them together into a kiss that both of them had been lost forever to the land of “what-ifs” and wonderings.
Catra’s lips parted under hers willingly, offering no resistance as Adora deepened the kiss and let her tongue explore the enticing taste of Catra. As her tongue ran across one of Catra’s sharp fangs the woman in her arms shuddered as Adora swallowed her moan. The hand clutching her shirt tugged her closer and eagerly pushed her body closer, not missing the way Catra’s back arched again as parts of her seemed to beg for friction. Adora felt the pinprick of claws as Catra’s left hand gripped at her bicep, kneading it as purrs began to fill the air around them.
“A-Adora, please,” Catra managed to whine as Adora’s mouth moved to leave a trail of hot kisses and nips along her neck.
Adora felt Catra’s legs shift and without a second thought moved to press her thigh between them, receiving a wonderful trill of delight as the woman in her arms seemed to melt.
It was everything they’d ever wanted. Years of wanting and wishing and fantasizing about the day they would be free from their shitty life and free to love without fear of being separated was being granted a sweet reprieve in the staff room of the gym.
A loud crash from the main floor and Sea Hawk’s booming voice broke the moment, both women suddenly pulling apart and staring at the other in shocked horror. Both red-faced and panting, Catra’s cheeks a flaming red (and based on the heat in her own face, she wasn’t fairing any differently). Adora watched as Catra’s hands ghosted up to touch her lips like they were feeling for proof the moment had indeed occurred.
There was no denying it; that had absolutely happened.
Catra started making her way to the door, though this time, Adora didn’t stop her. She just watched as Catra twisted the knob and pulled the door open, only to stand in the doorway unmoving, like she was waiting for something.
Unfortunately, the best Adora could manage was, “Are you going to the team hangout thing tonight?”
Catra sighed before letting out a soft chuckle, and Adora wondered if she would ever know a day that the sound of Catra’s laugh wouldn’t make her heart flutter.
“You’re such an idiot.” And then she was gone leaving Adora standing in the middle of the room with no idea just what she was supposed to do next.
“I know.” She whispered to no one in particular as she let her mouth pull itself into the biggest smile she’d had in years.