The few days following the mass exodus of future Vallo spawn was a mixed bag at best. For Catra, anyway - she felt this ache that gnawed a hole in her heart from Finn’s absence even if, logically, it made sense for them to return to the timelines they were plucked from. Didn’t mean it hurt any less, but compared to Adora (who’d been full of snot with damp cheeks) she’d taken it better. Out of the two she was always the one that guarded herself more, expecting the worst in every situation as if it would soften the blow of heartbreak. The worst of that situation was inevitable.
But there was a silver lining - an elation that balanced out the emotional pangs of missing Finn. It came in the form of a thin golden band that had found its home on a very specific finger (at least it meant something in American Earth culture??) to symbolize the whole soon-to-be-wed thing. Catra toyed with it, constantly. She liked jewelry. Not that she wore it too often, but she loved the feel and weight of this one and why was this making her fucking sappy.
There was also another accessory added on herself today too. Richie’s gift to her, the replica of the arcade token turned necklace that she was also had feelings about. Her birthday had been overwhelming in the sense that people actually cared and, uh. That was something to get used to. Like, really get used to.
In a good way.
“So, uh.” It was obvious, right? Richie had to know. Catra had made a specific request to Adora to not make some grand announcement and to let people find out slowly. But Richie had gone with her to get the ring, and she’d wanted to be the one to let him know that it’d obviously gone well (and maybe gush or something about it?). Hence the whole part where Catra was currently shoving her hand into his face to show him the thing. “Look at it, loooook.”
Right above the Herald’s Rest was where they were located, in this surprisingly nifty and airy room (someone named Sera used to stay here, back in Thedas or something) and there were pillows and they’d been day drinking because why not.
Why not indeed. Guzzling from a bottle of honey mead (it was one of Richie’s favorites, out of all the Thedosian liquor) seemed like a good way to pass the time.
Richie had experienced a lot of grief in his life - losing Eddie had been the worst of it, like snowballs rolling downhill and constantly gaining traction because he just felt it all the time. There was no escape from that ‘anvil on your chest’ sensation, not when he thought of the first person he’d ever loved, or Stan, or how his childhood had been abusive, chock-full of trauma, and he’d never get that back. There was anger attached to that grief too, something his therapist assured him was normal - but Alfie disappearing with the rest of the kiddos, that was more bittersweet.
Dark chocolate - or like swallowing a piece of grapefruit. He knew Alfie would be back and he’d be back with Finn and the kids were close (waaaay down the line - Richie knew what that meant) but now wasn’t the right time. Having it be the right time was important.
Still. Those little green orc ears twitching when he tried to tell a cute lie were just so adorable.
He would try not to mope about it, however. Because he was happy for Catra and Adora and wanted to celebrate their love and all that shit. “Oh my god, let me see,” he practically squeed (was that a thing?), taking her hand to properly fawn over the ring (though he’d been there when Adora picked it out and thought she did a good job - Richie definitely suggested that cat-sis would want some simple, not flashy bling). “It still looks awesome. I’m glad she went with this one. Congrats, again, by the way - gonna let me throw you a ‘bye to single-dom party that isn’t a bachelorette party’?” Whatever you called it these days.
Catra definitely appreciated the simplicity of it. She didn’t need a big lump of rock on her finger, and this stood out anyway since it was the only ring she wore. Like she had told Adora it had easily become her most favorite possession ever, let her be a little sappy over it. “But isn’t that what a bachelorette party is?” she squinted in thought and some amusement. “Like what we did with you and Max? I’m not opposed to the pole dancing. I’m really good at it.”
Her movements were always smooth and graceful, as if her bones were all liquid with how naturally bendy she was. Thanks, magic cat genetics. Maybe she could learn a dance routine and give Adora a private show - although she wondered if her brain would ever recover from how Catra would surely break it if that happened.
“I don’t really know where to go from here though,” Catra frowned as she grabbed the neck of the bottle for her own swig. She was sprawled over a pile of pillows with a languidly swishing tail, dressed in tight fitness wear from that morning’s yoga session. “We haven’t talked about it with…” Insert a vague hand gesture here. “The kids being gone.”
Richie chuckled, shifting to better arrange himself on the squishy clouds, some harder than others and some beaded and some having seen better days - Sera’s nook was one of his favorite spots in Skyhold. It was this weird ledge in the tavern that he could just imagine someone making a proper sleeping quarters out of - add a bunch of pillows and done. One of the best spots to let your guard down. Richie hung out here often when he couldn’t sleep, whereas Max was partial to the rookery during bouts of insomnia.
“I mean, I guess that’s technically what a bachelorette party is - the term is just a little outdated,” he explained. “Pole dancing also isn’t a requirement but if you wanna, I’ve got you.” He’d make it fun no matter what - because that’s what Trashmouth was, fun personified.
He gently batted at the swishing tail, because it was so cute - he’d work up to scratching behind Catra’s ears. Alfie seemed to be fond of doing that to Finn. “The kids being gone sucks but - I guess it was time. I don’t wanna miss baby Alfie anyway, I’d feel robbed.” It still was like a damn suckerpunch, however - he got that. “But yeah, you know - you just kind of bask in being engaged for awhile. Plan things at your own pace. Pick a date, or at least a vague ‘it might be nice to get hitched in the spring’ or whatever and go from there.”
Richie could bat at her tail. He was allowed. Touchy-feelies were still eh on Catra’s behalf - she preferred it to be on her terms (gee, wonder why) but she definitely felt comfortable enough around him to let her guard down. Maybe one of these days she’d even purr in his presence or something, gasp.
Her pupils were definitely a little wide though. They got that way when she was on the inebriated side, and she was but Richie also counted as an object of affection sometimes.
“I’m in no rush,” Catra shrugged her shoulders high. “I’d even be okay with eloping and getting that Elvis guy or whoever to marry us somewhere remote. A big spectacle really isn’t my style but I think Adora wants the whole experience - the extra food and the dancing and all.” Which she didn’t really mind, and she’d just get over her initial reaction of oh god people if it really meant that much to Adora. “Honestly - I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already made a binder or turned one of the spare rooms into a planning zone with really intricate diagrams. She did that for our first date, you know.”
So this was… probably going to be really extra and Catra was both amused and terrified by it. Oh god.
An Elvis wedding, what an awesome idea. Richie would have definitely gone that route if he and Max hadn’t decided for video games with a milk and cereal bar - there were a thousand ways to do it, and while he also personally wasn’t all for the big spectacle with fancy shit either he could see why it might appeal to others. Maybe. Different strokes for different folks and all of that.
“To be fair, you may need a spare room for wedding planning,” he snorted a laugh, rolling over on his stomach to lounge like the true princess he was, all long legs and ankles crossed, kicked into the air. “Especially if you’re gonna go all out. It’s fun though. I’ll help with whatever you guys need - and if you want fruity pebbles fried chicken at yours too? Done.”
He wanted to make sure the fam had the greatest nuptials - anything they desired.
Cute pose, Richie. He looked super comfy, and Catra may have allowed herself to sink deeper into the mesh of cushions because of it. “Won’t totally reject the idea of fruity pebbles chicken,” she chuckled scratchily, pressing the bottle to her lips even though it was technically Richie’s turn - she was cheating. Another sip down the facehole before passing it over. “I’m still getting used to the idea, though. The whole wedding thing.”
Hell, she had never attended a wedding before Vallo and sure as shit hadn’t grown up with a Pinterest board about dresses and rings and all that - which seemed to be a theme in all the rom-com media they’ve been consuming since being here. Catra had known about the concept of it in some technical, factual way that never left an impression because why would she ever experience something like that? It was never supposed to be in the cards for her. Funny how things changed.
“Like.” Catra’s freckled nose got all crinkly. “Objectively it’s nice and I guess when Adora and I talked about it I thought I’d just shrug it off but I got weirdly emotional when she proposed. Really embarrassing. I think you people and your sap have been rubbing off on me, fuck you.”
Then she smacked him with one of the hundreds of pillows. It was easy to blame Richie. He had a gooey center and was always so encouraging with his comments - clearly he was the worst influence.
“I guess sometimes when there’s actually opportunities, you’re like - hey, you know what, it might be cool to have this. And that’s okay. Things change, because life and all that - it opens up to a whole bunch of different paths,” Richie said, chuckling as he grabbed another pillow and returned the whack - a friendly one, before he took the bottle of mead and sat up a little so he could take a drink without splashing the liquid in his face. “I’ll take the blame for sap - I’m a huge fucking squish, it’s true.”
He totally was, no apologies - he’d always had a gooey center, always been sensitive. He’d always been generous too, since his parents were relatively well-off (or his dad made decent money as a dentist and all) and for some of the Losers, that wasn’t necessarily the case. So when they needed cash for some of the few things in Derry that actually brought little slivers of happiness, ice cream cones or movie theater tickets or video game tokens (like the one Catra wore around her neck, aww - total sappiness there also), Richie was the first to pitch in; he took care of his friends.
Of course, that sensitivity meant the general sludge of Derry, the bullying and slurs courtesy of Henry Bowers and his goon friends sunk in deep, poison that leeched in and lingered - he’d stayed in the closet for an unfathomable amount of time; there were parts of him that were always broken, and a childhood crush on Eddie, the springtime sensation of first love, wasn’t enough to help those parts heal. It had taken him awhile to realize that.
“By the way, I also creeped around in the bushes and got pics of you guys outside so - I’ll send you the ‘five minutes before we got engaged’ photos,” he grinned.
The biggest squish. Full of wisdom, too. Reassuring comments from a third party helped give Catra a boost in confidence, even if she sometimes struggled with this whole imposter syndrome thing she had randomly googled and decided was an accurate diagnosis for her feelings.
“Okay, stalker,” she laughed squeakily, blocking the pillow blow with her arms. “Good thing you got outside photos because what happened on the inside after Finn went down to bed was definitely not meant for an audience.” It had been her birthday, the kid was in a deep sleep, Adora proposed - feelings happened, lovey ones and horny ones and let’s just say they spent most of the night rolling on the floor after they fell off the couch.
Anyway, for the moment she thought it was best to lay off the booze for a tiny bit. She didn’t want to end up home completely trashed or anything, and she was in this sweet spot of being buzzed where everything was comfortable and she was more inclined to talk about feelings without fidgeting. “How are you doing?”
“Total stalker,” Richie laughed, fully copping to that analysis - but what could he say, he was elated for the two of them and wanted to return the favor from when they’d taken photos of his engagement - granted, it had actually happened outside but you know. The x-rated stuff had also definitely happened, once he and Max had returned to Skyhold. That was part of celebrating. “But you loooooove me anyway.” Hey, Catra had been drinking some - she might freely admit it, or at least happily twitch her cat ears at him.
He made that drink of mead his last one, forgoing the bottle to get back to sprawling since that was much more important. “I’m good though. Mostly. I miss Alfie and so does Max - he’s been really clingy lately, which I’m not complaining about,” Richie said, staring up at the pillow nook’s ceiling. As far as clinginess actually went on a normal day for them two of them, Richie was definitely on a higher level than Max because that was just the way he was - but Max always went with the flow, never pushed him away. He appreciated that.
“We tried to ask Alfie what year he was born but a five-year-old has no damn concept of time. So we just have to kinda wait and see what happens, I guess.”
“I was way too afraid to ask that question,” Catra winced. Mostly because she didn’t want to, like - fuck up the timeline or something, although Finn probably wouldn’t have known the answer to that question. What she had asked was how they were made and their answer was so innocently vague but enough for her to put two and two together. Here, she thought it’d be funny to play with a magical sword that can shifts into anything (hello, magical strap) and it turns out she literally fucks around and finds out somewhere down the line.
Scooting closer to him, her tail went to mindlessly thwack his arm. It was swishy. “I mean - were you able to find out if you had them as a baby or a little older?” she asked. Adora’s hot-as-fuck-future-self seemed to imply Finn happening earlier than Catra would have liked (if she had a choice, anyway) but whatever happened, happened. “All Future Adora said about Alfie was that he and Finn were close. Close, close.”
As in, an item down the line. It was cute. That meant they’d be in-laws at some point.
“That’s what she said too, about Finn and Alfie,” Richie chuckled - it really made him curious, he had to admit. But he also understood that Adora revealing too much wouldn’t be a good idea - they weren’t supposed to know. At the very least, she said that Richie had really nailed the psychic thing - so that was fun. Maybe he was like, actually super good at it - after all this work, the payoff would be pretty sweet.
That swishy tail got a few pets from Richie - and he may have reached over, with one long arm, and gave Catra a good scratch behind the ears the way he saw Alfie do to Finn. Hopefully it felt nice and she wouldn’t throw him down to the lower level of the tavern. “Baby, from what I know - and we definitely adopted him. It wasn’t like, a magical surrogacy thing where we both squirted into a cup and somehow our sperm got fertilized so any kid would have orc genes and also our genes.”
Which - he didn’t get how that worked. The fact that magical surrogacy was a thing blew Richie’s mind. How ‘out there’ in terms of science were we getting here? Wild stuff. “But if they’re close, I guess that means we’re never getting rid of each other.”
Oh, look, a miracle happened - someone who wasn’t her partner taking a gamble by scratching an ear (they were super soft to the touch) and keeping both eyes? Catra was feeling too floaty from day drinking to show even the slightest sign of a recoil. That amber-gold eye of hers shut, and she simply allowed it to happen. It felt nice.
There was a very subtle and slight rumble going on, but she was ready to deny it if Richie brought it up. She had a reputation to uphold.
“I won’t even ask if that’s for sure possible,” she snorted. Adora had a friend who got herself pregnant with her own magic somehow; ignorance was bliss, she’d mind her business. “I’m… kind of excited, though.” In Catra terms that meant she was actually really fucking excited but please let her eyes dart around the sunlit room awkwardly, thanks. “That we get to stay here and… I guess raise our snots together? It doesn’t seem like we’ll have a bad life here.”
Not at all. Taking care of a kid was stressful as fuck but the calm moments in between, watching Aflie and Finn play and being in company with people she cared (a lot) about felt like a dream that shouldn’t be real. But somewhere, down the line, it could be.
Awww.
Catra downright purred at him and it was the most adorable thing - Richie knew better than to bring attention to that fact, however. Then it would never happen again and he just couldn’t have that. He was gentle as he scratched though and, hell - even as a human he enjoyed a good scritch behind the ears. It was one of those places that was followed by this mind-melting bliss sort of feeling.
“I’m excited too,” he agreed, squinting at Catra happily - that squincy look of contentment, you see. Sloshy blue irises floating there, the influence of alcohol quite clear - but there was also the influence of something else too. Maybe just knowing that he had people he could count on. People he loved.
Not replacements for the Losers - who had been with him as he navigated the wistfulness of being young and all the anxieties that came with a fragile innocence. But rather, as people who understood him. Who were with him as he navigated this whole new chapter of his existence, one with a whole new set of twists and turns. “We’re gonna have a great life...”
He stretched, staring up at the (slightly blurred) ceiling. Day drinking was wild. “A sometimes drunk life also, but that’s cool. We’re still awesome.”
Day drinking was fun okay. Call this Catra’s low-key celebration of engagement considering they hadn’t told everyone yet - baby steps for her. Meanwhile Adora was bursting at the seams wanting to scream it into the world and she’d get to that point. Eventually. People were still reeling on losing all their future kids and whatnot, let them angst about it.
“Oh shit,” she blinked and shot up, and grabbed Richie by the collar like her tail was on fire. “Before I leave today - teach me how to roll a joint.” Her eyes squinted at him just a smidge. “You can do that without being totally sober, right? I gotta learn so I can get Adora to chill by being high.”
Day drinking with Adora would never be a thing because Adora for whatever reason couldn’t hold her booze but getting stoned - that helped her neurotic wife-to-be, so Catra wanted to learn. Who better to teach her than Richie?
Wait, what. Roll a joint? Those were the magic words and this was the greatest day of Richie’s life - well, one of the greatest days. Definitely ranked up there with proposing to Max, marrying Max, and when that nostalgia vibe rolled through Vallo and he got to buy boxes of Nintendo cereal.
“Cat sis, I thought you’d never ask,” he replied grandly, already sitting up - disentangling himself from the cloud pillow trap was a task but he managed to get it done. “Because, yeah, I can teach you - but what you really wanna try sometime is edibles. Give Adora her chill in food and it’s like the best of both worlds. I’ll bake you a batch of special brownies as an engagement gift.”
Oh hell yeah, he was definitely gonna make that happen now. But first he’d fulfill his promise. “I got a stash in me and Max’s room, be right back.” Lighting up honestly sounded like the best way to bring this adventure to a close, so he was all in.