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Waking up feels weird.
Catra has forgotten the last time she opened her eyes without exhaustion weighing heavy on her entire being. It’s been years since she last had a good night’s sleep. Since she woke up the day after Adora left the Horde, peaceful rest had become a foreign concept to her. Through the years, as the anger piled up, so did the nightmares, and Catra had resigned herself to the life of an insomniac.
Not even after the chip had been removed and she and Adora started sleeping in the same room again (“You know... to make sure you don’t have flashes anymore”) she'd been able to rest fully. Catra had spent the better part of that first night awake, her heart beating so hard in her chest she had been sure that Adora, curled right in front of her with her cheek pressed into the pillow, could hear it and was simply pretending not to. Her head kept replaying the baptismal pool, the electricity flowing through her, the scissors in her hair, Prime’s voice in her ears, Prime’s hand on her neck, Prime everywhere, getoutgetoutgetoutgetout.
But then, for some reason, her thoughts had shifted and were instead filled with... warmth. A body trembling with relived sobs as it wrapped Catra into a comforting embrace, strong hands anchoring her as she explored the hive mind through the chip, blue eyes flashing before a jaw-dropping transformation, a warm smile sent her way from across a circle of people.
"I never hated you!"
Sleep had come... actually pretty easily after that.
Of course, it had been impossible to relax. They were at war, stakes higher than they’d ever been, and Adora, poster child of martyrdom and hero complex, had become adamant on giving up her life for the greater good. Like she didn’t matter, like she didn’t deserve to have a future and dreams and a life of her own.
Catra had never wanted to smack her so hard before. And they’d been war enemies, so that was saying something.
Once it was all over, and Horde Prime was nothing more than a fading cloud of polluted energy, it had taken a while for the adrenaline of the fight to wear off. Etheria had been celebrating the entire day and night, the people eager to party for the defeat of the enemy, the honour of the lost, the thrill of being alive. The planet was thriving, brimming with magic, and it hadn’t taken long before people everywhere begun to organise feasts at the various base camps set up for the night.
She and Adora had kept to themselves for a while after the crowd started organising the celebrations. They didn't bother moving somewhere else, simply sitting down side by side on that blooming meadow, and talked it out. It meaning everything, from untouched subjects to what they already had begun to cover during their time on Darla, the freshly uncovered feelings between them shining a new light over each and every interaction. Catra could do nothing but apologise again for the things she had done, from Princess Prom, to the First Ones’ temple, to whatever had gone through her head when she had decided to pull that goddamn lever and activate the Portal.
She didn’t expect to be forgiven. She wouldn’t have forgiven someone in her place. Especially if she were in Adora’s position.
But, that was just it. She wasn’t Adora. Adora, who had lightly tugged her close when Catra’s vision had turned blurry and her breath started coming quicker, Melog curled protectively around her ankles and purring until she gathered enough strength to wrap her arms around Adora’s back in return.
Adora, who apologised once more for her own set of mistakes and not being there when she was needed (and Catra had cut her off right there, because Adora stayed, right when it mattered the most), for being a control freak (“I know it’s true. I’m working on it.” “Oh, you are?” “Oh, ah ha, hilarious. Shut up.”) and for never standing up to Shadow Weaver until it was too late (again, not something Catra blamed on her, not anymore at least).
Shadow Weaver had been... a touchy subject. Catra could barely figure out how she felt about the entire thing, and she figured Adora couldn’t be in a much better place. She’d wondered, then, if they could ever be really okay.
Adora hadn’t answered immediately. She remained silent, thinking, but then Catra had felt a comforting touch on her hand. Adora’d brought their joined hands up to her lips, brushed them over Catra’s knuckles. She said she didn’t know about the future, but they could always work towards being better. And they could do it together.
After that, the night passed in a blur. They had danced, kissed, chased each other around the bonfire, kissed again, Adora had twirled her in the air and they had stolen food out of each other’s plates. She had talked with Scorpia (okay, Scorpia had done most of the talking, sure, but still. Progress) and when the rush from the day had finally started to wear off, it had only felt natural to retire into Adora’s tent, falling into step beside her as they said good night to the others.
It’s not like Catra would have been able to go to sleep any other way. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel Adora’s cold, pale skin, see the green tendrils crawling up her face and hands. Hear her heartbeat fading, her voice weak as she said she was sorry for something that wasn’t her fault.
The second they had settled into the cot, Catra had instinctively pushed Adora down with a hand on her shoulder and laid her ear on Adora’s chest, listening for that familiar, steady beat. Only after she’d realised what she’d done her cheeks had started heating up, but Adora hadn’t said anything, she’d simply smiled and brought her arms around Catra, holding her tight, hands rubbing on her arm and the small of her back.
Only then Catra’d felt herself... relax. Of course Adora understood, of course she was craving that physical closeness just as much as Catra was. Adora had missed this just as badly, if the way she sagged against the hard mattress the moment Catra had settled into her arms was of any indication. She had blearily mumbled something, pressed her lips to the crown of Catra’s head one last time and, poof, she was out like a light, Catra imitating her less than a minute after.
So, yeah. Waking up feels weird. Because Catra can’t remember the last time she slept so soundly.
Catra slowly starts to register her surroundings. Soft blankets, a thin pillow, a mattress that only a Fright Zone kid would call comfortable. Something at her feet resting calmly, moving up and down with steady breaths. A warm, sturdy weight draped across her body, anchoring her. Still, something’s missing.
Her ear twitches, searching, but finds none of that wonderful, strong heartbeat that had lulled her to sleep. Catra isn’t stupid, she knows Adora is near. Her scent is everywhere, acts like a balm for Catra’s slowly awakening senses, and she knows the source of it is laying right in front of her.
Catra mewls softly, still not completely willing to wake up, and yawns as she cracks an eye open. And, like that, her vision is filled with Adora.
Not the worst way to greet a new day, she has to admit.
Adora, blonde hair spilling like spun gold around her collarbones, cheek propped up on a hand and the strap of her tank top sliding off her shoulder. Her arm rests placidly over Catra’s waist, hand a light, welcomed pressure on her hip. Her thumb runs back and forth over a silver of fur left uncovered by Catra’s loose shirt riding up during the night, the movement as delicate as it’s comforting.
Which is. A lot.
“’Morning,” Adora murmurs, almost like she’s afraid to interrupt the quiet between them. Catra’s eyebrow quirks. She knows Adora’s just-woke-up voice. This isn’t it.
“Hey,” she croaks, shuffling a bit to rest more comfortably on the pillow. She gives her childhood best friend a once over. Adora’s eyes are still circled with dark bags, and she looks like she could use a couple of days’ sleep. Or weeks. But Catra knows she looks the same, and really, who wouldn’t after a literal intergalactic war. “Were you watching me sleep?”
Adora’s breath hitches, but she shakes her head slowly, eyes fixed on Catra still. “No,” she says, lies. Melog mewls pointedly, pawing at the covers. She rolls her eyes, glaring at them without much fervour behind her expression. “Okay, maybe. Traitor.”
Melog looks at them for a moment. They stand and stretch, letting out a yawn as they make their way to Catra. They lick her cheek in greeting, then phase to do the same with Adora before exiting the tent. What little light enters is already golden and warm. It must be quite late in the morning, but the few voices Catra can hear are hushed and unfamiliar. None of their friends must be up yet, and she figures they can afford to stay in a bit more.
“Uhm, alright,” Catra blinks, slowly, the remnants of sleep finally clearing from her brain. She lifts her arms above her head, body tensing in a full stretch, and sighs happily when she feels her joints pop. Once she’s done and plops back into position, their knees bump and she simply lets her leg tangle with Adora’s, her tail following suit. She tries, and fails, to stop smirking when Adora’s hand reclaims its position without missing a beat. “Kinda unsure if I should think it’s romantic or just creepy.”
Adora laughs, sheepish, and the prettiest of blushes spreads on her cheeks, making the faint freckles scattered over her nose pop out. “Books tell me it’s supposed to be cute,” she leans a little more into the hand propping her up, and her expression becomes wistful all of a sudden. “And after yesterday I... wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, I guess. I don’t know. I’m probably being stupid.”
Catra knows she’s staring. She’s spent so many years doing that in secret that now that she’s allowed to it feels almost staggering.
Catra’s eyes travel with a mind of their own, mapping with practiced ease the countless scars littering Adora’s face and body. The tree small lines across her nose from that one fight they’d had about Lonnie; the thin, vertical one on her lower lip after Rogelio, fresh out of a growth spurt and totally uncoordinated, had hit her with his tail by mistake; the pale zig-zags on her collarbones and shoulders from their cadet days; the myriad of tiny ones on her wrists and hands from the time Catra was still unused to sheathing her claws, and kept accidentally scratching her whenever they held hands.
Catra tries not to think about the scars she voluntarily inflicted over the course of three years, rendered invisible thanks to She-Ra's healing. She tries not to think about the long, jagged ones she saw on Adora’s back the night before while she was changing into her night clothes. She tries not to think about the uneven scar tissue on Adora’s left thigh, uncovered by her sleep shorts. Tries not to let Horde Prime back into her head, not to let him hurt them more than he’d already done.
Instead, she focuses on the newest scar yet. The upper edges of a once-glowing symbol peek out of the collar of Adora’s tank top, a geometric shape that has become familiar to Catra’s eyes. She doesn’t need to look under Adora’s shirt (also because her face positively feels like it’s about to catch fire at the thought) to know that the failsafe left its mark.
“Ahem.”
The blatantly fake cough catches Catra’s attention. She looks up to find Adora downright smirking at her, wiggling her eyebrows. “Well, hello there,” she drawls, and her fingers drum playfully over Catra’s hip. “Y’know, my eyes are up here.”
Catra’s eyes roll so hard she’s surprised she doesn’t get whiplash. She’s also disgusted with herself for thinking that Adora is utterly, stupidly charming. But, this is her life now, apparently.
“I know, that’s why I wasn’t looking. A full-view of your ugly face first thing in the morning?” Catra scoffs, lifting one hand to poke Adora’s forehead. “Pass.”
It earns her another laugh, and honestly Catra wouldn’t mind waking up like this for the rest of her life. The fact that it’s a more than valid possibility now is enough to knock the breath out of her chest.
“Asshole,” Adora is still laughing, and oh, that carefree expression suits her so much, Catra wants to see it every day, wants to hear her laugh every day. “You’re lucky you are-“
Adora freezes, words dying in her throat.
“What?” Catra tries to sound nonchalant, but she can’t help being a little alarmed at the sudden shift in mood.
“Nothing, just...” Adora trails off, like she’s trying to find the right words. Her hand moves, hovering slowly over Catra’s side until it reaches her face. Her fingertips smooth over her neck, up her jaw to the very tip of her ear, before dropping to brush a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. Catra’s eyelids flutter at the light touch, and the beginning of a purr rumbles in her throat. She doesn’t try to stop it. She couldn’t.
“I just...”
The soft exhale brings her attention back on Adora. Blue eyes wide, impossibly warm, a pretty flush spread across her nose, all the way down over her shoulders. Catra’s thoughts reduce to a cluster of words, mostly “love” and “gorgeous” and “mine” and Adora, Adora, Adora.
“You...” Adora repeats, gulping as her hand moves again, and reaches to cup Catra’s cheek. Her thumb swipes softly right at the corner of Catra’s lips, and Catra blinks, slowly, committing the image of a very flustered and very, very much enamoured Adora to memory. Adora is looking at her like she did after Catra had woken up in her arms after Prime, like she did in the Heart after coming back from the brink of death. Like Catra is the only thing that matters in the entire Universe. “Catra. Oh, Catra, you’re so beautiful.”
Those few thoughts freeze to a screeching halt. Catra gapes.
Adora. Didn’t finish whatever she was about to say. Called her beautiful.
She tries to make sense of those facts.
Adora got distracted and lost her train of thought because she thinks she’s beautiful.
Catra hopes the Rebellion won’t mind a missing tent, because she is going to combust.
“What the - ew, stop. Stop it,” she tries to look annoyed, she really does. With the way her face is probably as red as Scorpia’s pincers and her purr is getting louder by the second, she doesn’t know how convincing she sounds. She’s glad Melog left, because she’s sure they’d have been pouncing on Adora and refusing to let go. “What the heck, Adora?”
Adora giggles, breathlessly, and shakes her head slightly, hair falling in front of her eyes. Catra fights the urge to push back the golden strands in the way of those baby blues. “Sorry, I... I couldn’t help it,” she sputters, and has the gall to look embarrassed. The nerve of this girl. “It’s just... I can finally tell you. How wonderful you are.”
Scratch the combustion. Catra is going to implode.
Someone squeaks - definitely not Catra, nope, that noise did not come from her - and she brings her hands to cover her face, which feels hotter than the forge back at the Fright Zone. If her fingers bump into Adora’s and their pinkies end up intertwining, it’s just a coincidence.
“Adora, you can’t,” she whines, muffled by her hands, one of which is touching Adora’s, stars above Catra is not going to survive this morning. “Stop it, what the hell, since when are you smooth?”
“I-I don’t... know? I mean, since right now, I guess?” Adora helpfully supplies, sounding confused herself at the recent development, and lays back down before she pokes Catra in the stomach with her free hand. “Hey, you told me you think I’m pretty, like, twice last night! Why can’t I do it?”
Catra pushes their hands away from her face with a groan and shuffles forward until she can bury her face under Adora’s chin with the intention to never resurface again. She crosses her arms over her chest and makes sure to wiggle her ears in the way she knows Adora can’t stand because it tickles. Sure enough, Adora starts to squirm. Serves her right.
“I said “stupidly pretty”. As in, "pretty stupid". Idiot.”
There’s a moment of silence, then Adora laughs so hard that she snorts, and they are so close Catra can feel it rumble through her body. Her lips start curling up without her consent. “That is not what you meant, you brat.”
“Your word against mine.” Once she’s positive her flesh isn’t going to melt from her face, Catra pushes back a bit and looks up, immediately catching Adora’s eyes. Twin smiles spread on their faces. Okay, maybe Catra could get used to this. “Hey, Adora.”
“Hey, Catra,” Adora’s grin turns more brilliant, if it were possible, and Catra takes her hand resting between their chests, holding it close. Her smile softens, and her eyes roam a bit all over Catra’s face before she says, impossibly soft. “Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
Adora licks her lips, suddenly looking a bit nervous, but begins to speak nonetheless. “You know, that thing you asked me before... before the Heart. After I got the failsafe and Shadow Weaver – hey, hey, it’s okay,” Adora soothes when Catra winces and starts to recoil, squeezing her hand in hers. “You were right, I wasn’t being honest with myself. And I can’t believe it took me almost dying to figure it out. I really must be an idiot,” she jokes and squeezes Catra’s hand again to reassure her. “So, please: ask me again.”
Catra’s eyes widen in understanding. She nods, nudging Adora’s larger palm with hers so their fingers can tangle. “What do you want, Adora?”
Adora smiles gently, and closes her eyes. She looks... at peace. It reminds Catra of when they were kids and snuck on their platform to get some fresh air (as fresh as air in the Fright Zone could be) and just breathe.
“I want to rebuild Etheria and make it a better place. I want to help our friends and their people with their kingdoms,” Adora begins, and, yeah, Catra had that figured out already. But then she continues. “I want to go on flights with Swift Wind and do loop-de-loops. I want to learn more about the past She-Ras with Bow’s dads. I want to help Madame Razz bake a pie, and maybe find out who Loo-Kee is.”
Catra doesn’t know half the things Adora’s talking about, but it doesn’t really matter. The words flow out of Adora’s mouth at a steady pace, like they’ve been stuck in a closet filled to the brim for who knows how long and couldn’t wait to spill out.
“I want to have sleepovers, with you, Bow and Glimmer. I want to eat cake, and have pillow fights, and show you how ridiculous the rooms in Bright Moon are,” Adora goes on, and Catra’s eyes widen at her sudden inclusion. “I want to go on double dates, and to another Princess Prom, and I want to dance with you even if I suck and I’ll probably step on your feet a hundred times, sorry in advance,” Catra’s breath gets stuck in her throat. Adora’s smile is only getting larger the more she speaks, and her eyes open as she suddenly brings their joined hands to her face, pressing her lips over Catra’s fingers like she’d done the day before. “I want... I don’t know, I want to eat so much ice cream we get brain freeze and can’t move for hours.”
“Adora...”
Saying Catra is overwhelmed would be an understatement. The best she can come up with is a very, very stupid sounding:
“I... don’t know what ice cream is?”
Idiocy simply has to be a disease among the Rebellion, doesn’t it?
Adora just laughs, shifting closer so she can place her lips on Catra’s forehead. “I can’t wait ‘till you try it, it’s the best. Think gray ration bars, but a thousand times better. But, Catra,” she says, and leans on one of her arms again, peering down at Catra with an intensity she’s rarely seen before, not even when they were enemies. The only time that comes close to this was the day before, after they had kissed and Adora couldn’t seem to stop staring at her, eyes laser focused. “Ask me again.”
Yet, even that pales compared to this. Catra is pretty sure she sees a flash of brilliant light in those irises before they go back to their normal colour, but the sheer... force behind Adora’s gaze remains. It’s an expression so fond, so loving and beautiful, and it makes Adora glow. Catra cannot believe she’s the reason behind it, it doesn’t feel real.
But it is.
“Adora,” Catra says, lifting herself up on one elbow until she’s inches away from Adora’s lips. She sucks in a shaky breath when baby blue eyes lock briefly on a place right below her nose before shooting back up. She pushes forward, and Adora mitigates the leftover distance, bumping their foreheads together softly. “Adora, what do you want?”
“You.” It’s a hushed whisper, but it rings with the force of a stun grenade in Catra’s ears. Adora licks her lips, undeterred, and her hand climbs up to cup Catra’s face once more. Catra leans into the touch, clasping her palm over Adora’s fingers in a desperate hold. “Catra, I want to be with you every day for the rest of my life. I want you to be the last thing I see before I go to sleep and the first when I wake up. I want to see the world with you, like we promised. I want to explore the Universe, get lost in the Whispering Woods and watch as the morning moon sets and the stars appear from Bright Moon’s highest tower. And I want you there every step of the way.”
If Adora keeps looking at her like that while saying those things, Catra is going to have a heart attack.
“I want to spend the rest of my days showing you how much I love you-“
Catra doesn’t let her finish. She throws one leg over Adora’s and climbs into her lap, bunching the front of Adora’s tank top in her hands and pulling so hard she’s pretty sure the fabric starts to rip. Adora’s arm winds around her waist like a vice, and she’s so eager leaning up that she misses Catra’s lips and lands on her chin instead. Catra would laugh, but she can’t because Adora lets out a frustrated whine, and her free hand twines with Catra’s hair, pushing down gently, and then they are really kissing.
Not that the first one (best kiss of all time, in Catra’s humble opinion, it did kinda save the world after all) wasn’t amazing, or the other ones in between (including a downright toe-curling one of that had lasted quite a bit as they swayed in front of the bonfire the night before. Adora had even dipped her. Catra couldn't be blamed for losing count, really).
But.
This.
Wow.
Adora tastes like warmth, lips kind of bruised and trembling and oh so clumsy, and tries to press closer still, hugging Catra like it’s the last time they’ll be able to do this. She gasps when Catra runs her tongue over her lips, granting immediate access, and her hand slides from Catra’s hair to her chin to get a better angle at Catra’s mouth.
A girl on a mission, every time Catra pulls away Adora bounces back, giving them barely a second to breathe before she catches Catra’s lips with her own again. She traces pointed canines with her tongue, swallows Catra’s quiet warning (“Careful, ‘s sharp-mhm”), whimpers when those teeth catch her bottom lip and her hand fists forcefully in Catra’s shirt.
It’s greedy. It’s messy. It’s everything. Catra can’t get enough of it.
“I need to make a list. And a list for the list,” Adora mutters when they part for air and she stops trying to chase Catra’s lips for a moment. “Am I selfish? I’m probably being selfish.”
“Shut up,” Catra laughs, and keeps kissing Adora until they are both smiling too much and end up just pressing their faces together. Like idiots. Adora is really starting to rub off on her. "You're not being selfish. I don't know what a Loo-Kee is and your horse creeps me out a little bit, but... Adora, you deserve it. You deserve so much..." Catra says, smoothing her hands down Adora's arms. She palms the hard, defined muscles there and travels with her lips down the bridge of Adora's nose. "You can do anything you want."
Adora's mouth goes slack, then she closes it to suck in a shaky breath of air. Her eyelids fall half closed, blonde lashes brushing her cheeks when she looks up at Catra. "I want to kiss you again."
Catra can help with that. She smashes their mouths together and trails the tips of her claws up Adora's arms, mindful of the pressure, to see how it feels. She is rewarded with Adora's hips jerking under her and her hands grasping at her hipbones with almost bruising force. Catra doesn't mind it one bit.
“And you?” Adora asks her an imprecise amount of time later as she trails kisses all over Catra’s jaw. Catra answers the unspoken request and tilts her head to the side with a pleased hum, letting Adora trace a path down her neck. “What do you want now?”
“Me?” Catra blinks, forces herself to concentrate more on coherent thoughts and less on Adora moving the collar of her shirt to mouth at her collarbone. It doesn’t really work, and she sneaks a hand in Adora’s hair to keep her there. “Well, this is a good start.”
Adora huffs out a laugh, but travels back up to press her lips to Catra’s again. “I’m serious, dummy,” she says between pecks, one of her hands massaging light circles in the small of Catra’s back. It’s getting really difficult not to melt in her lap, but Catra wants to preserve what little reputation she has left. “What do you want? You can tell me anything.”
Good question. There are a couple of things she's thought about over and over again.
Making up for all the hurt she'd inflicted on the Alliance and Etheria was the biggest one to begin with. Though the day before she'd went around and properly apologised to each one of the princesses, terrifying as it may have been, she knows simply saying sorry can't possibly make up for everything she’d done, and maybe nothing ever could, but she desperately wants to try. It is the least she could do. Gimmer had started talking about rebuilding plans for all the kingdoms at some point during the party, and Catra, after choking on her own words for a good minute or two, immediately offered to help.
The reactions had varied from enthusiastic (Perfuma and Scorpia, obviously, those two didn’t have a mean bone in their body even when they had every right to ) to lukewarm at best (Mermista, and Catra couldn’t blame her in the slightest). Mostly, though, after the topic had changed and everyone turned their attention elsewhere, she remembers Adora squeezing her hand and brushing chapped lips to her cheek over and over again, a whispered “I’m so proud of you,” caressing her ear so lovingly it had been hard not to bury her face in her shoulder and spend the rest of the night there.
“Once we’re done with construction work and bringing magic back to the Universe? I don’t know,” Catra shrugs. She uses her hand in Adora’s hair to still her and bumps her head to her face, tail twitching and wrapping around Adora’s wrist . “Adora, I... I just want to be with you. I don’t care what we do, how or when we do it. I never want to be apart from you again. And I know it sounds clingy, and stupid, and mushy, but... I don’t care.”
It’s surprising, really. Catra had thought she'd have run out of tears to cry by now, and normally she would try to push them down until her eyes burn with the effort and her throat is raw from the suppressed cries. But as hot drops slide down her cheeks, she finds them almost freeing.
“I love you,” the words spill out of her mouth in a rush, and she just can’t stop herself anymore. “I-I love you, Adora, I love you, I love you...”
It’s so much, she loves Adora so much her heart almost can’t take it, and she wants her to know. She’s spent so many years pushing those feelings away that doing it now, when Adora is on her same page and is crying too, letting out tiny sniffles as she tries to bring Catra closer still, like she wants to fuse their bodies as one and never let go, is practically impossible.
“I love you, I love y-“
She’s still blabbering when Adora lifts her head and covers her mouth with hers. It’s nothing like the kiss before, just two pairs of lips brushing together, their tears hot and unrelenting, mixing as they slide down their faces.
Adora breathes out a wet chuckle when they part. “So we both want the same thing? How lame,” she says, wiping away the wet trails from her face before doing the same to Catra. Her thumb is careful and delicate as it strokes the peach fuzz of Catra’s cheeks, but even that doesn’t compare to her smile. “One of us is going to have to change.”
“Not a chance,” Catra laughs, nuzzling Adora’s cheek with her nose. She pulls back a bit, just so she can gather Adora’s face in her palms and press kisses to every part of her that’s available. She’s vaguely aware that her purr has reached the intensity of a spaceship engine during take-off. “We can share.”
“Alright then,” Adora nods tiredly, turning a bit so her lips can brush Catra’s palm. She leans back, binging Catra down as well, her hair a halo on the pillow as she looks up at her. “Hi.”
Catra grins back, shifting until she can snuggle comfortably in the crook of Adora’s neck. “Hey, Adora,” she whispers, barely aware of her tail circling Adora’s forearm where it rests around her hips. All she can focus on is Adora’s strong frame underneath her, the scent of her skin, the beat of her heart. “How’s it hanging?”
“Perfect,” Adora mumbles, and Catra can feel her body relax into the mattress. A beat of silence, then Adora giggles. “Catra, you’re purring so hard right now.”
Tough luck. Catra literally can’t do anything about it. “Yeah, well, deal with it,” she says, muffled by just how flushed to Adora she is. She doesn’t really care. If the rumbling kicks up another notch, it’s none of her business either. “You like it anyway.”
“Oh, no, I love it,” Adora answers readily, even as her breathing deepens and her head lolls to the side, against Catra’s. Her lips brush against Catra’s temple, making her burrow even deeper in Adora’s neck. “I love you.”
Catra can feel herself starting to fall asleep. She knows it’s a matter of time before Glimmer or Bow or whoever else burst into their tent and tell them it’s time to wake up, dismantle camp and head to Bright Moon to make plans and assess the situation. But, she figures, they can afford to sleep in just a little more.
“I love you, too.”
They earned it.