InsaneJournal

It started with a smell.

Or a stench; it was awful. Rancid was the best description - like days old rot thriving, it could burn your nose hairs and make your eyes water. Catra hated it. Even Adora could pick up on it with her inferior senses (lesbe-honest) and, distantly, she could hear the sound of something weirdly wet.

Not a babbling brook, not the cascades of waterfalls or the sharp currents of a river. This kind of wetness was disturbing; it was a squelch, something squishy bursting under pressure and the sound of moist lips smacking. Literally the worst symphony of noises that could reach her ears and she could hardly take it - and even before they arrived at the scene of whatever the fuck it was, Catra was shuddering. Don’t mistake that for a fear-driven shudder. It was a fucking-stop-that-because-it-sounds-gross kind of shudder, creeping up her spine and under her skin in the worst ways. Like, please stop with that sound.

They’d seen some weird shit during patrol shifts. This, hands down, was the weirdest. The culprit was all willowy limbs, flesh dripping off bones - decayed organs that could be seen from the gaps in its ribcage, rows of razors for teeth and claws that were pointed and long like needles. Its eyes were hollowed, it was tall, it was a nightmare made flesh and it was chowing down on leftover turkey legs from a platter.

Turns out some dumbshit teenagers set up a forest camp of adolescent debauchery with kegs, red solo cups and a beer pong table and somehow along the way - they got drunk and summoned some ghoul from the depths of wherever-the-fuck. That tracks, doesn’t it?

“If you don’t know how to fix this,” Catra seethed, having taken the role of herding the stupid high schoolers away from a threatening scene because Adora - beautiful, wide-eyed, happy-go-lucky, grinning Adora - went into She-Ra mode and began to fight the goddamn thing once it perceived them as a threat and began to attack. Aggressively. “Get the hell out of here! Shoo! Go to your fucking parents!”

She absolutely did not have the time to babysit them or escort them to the nearest Waypoint. Her attention was split but it was mostly on her wife, watching with distress how insanely fast this creature was - its movement was fluid and flawless, and was swiping at Adora with every intent of shredding her to pieces.

It was proving to be a struggle to keep up, and Catra did not like it.

Even the creepy fuckers in all their screwed-up-ness hadn’t made Adora’s skin crawl like this.

The stench was unforgivable. She wasn’t as sensitive to bad smells as Catra was by far, but this one made her want to sever whatever nerve made you smell things and go on without it for the rest of her life. Or just chop off her nose, either or. Her stomach absolutely churned at the smell, and she was sure she was going to be sick, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that, not with all the screaming and crying and this ghoul-thing turning on them.

She tried her best to hold her breath and keep up with this creature’s attacks at the same time, her sword-turned-shield wrapped around her right upper arm. It was no easy task - she was trying to absorb the attacks, hoping beyond all reason that, eventually, it would tire and give up on its own. She was beginning to think that was optimistic, though.

And that was mostly because this thing moved fast. Adora’s attempt to push back against it was only really putting her at more risk.Those needle-like nails or claws - or whatever they were - it wielded hurt. It was just one catch so far, a shallow cut that was no worse than something she might have gotten just from tripping over her own feet and landing on a pinecone or a stick or something.

Then it lunged and she hurtled backwards, ankle twisting, and hit the forest floor. She thrust the shield up desperately, kicking up the other foot in an attempt to kick it back.

Catra was stressed the fuck out.

The stupid kids retreated hastily, full of guilt and regret and oh god we can’t tell our dads!!! as they ungracefully sprinted away from the scene of this monster summoning crime. So that was great - best to avoid the risk of bystanders getting hurt in any of this, they were in the clear for that. But what had her wigging out was just like, the way that Adora was handling the fight.

It made her cringe. Catra was frightened for her safety. She was doing that thing again, where she absorbed blows instead of dodging with the assumption that She-Ra was a self-healing tank and could take it. Theoretically, she could. Most of the time these situations worked in her favor even if she didn’t come out completely unscathed. Adora’s lack of regard for her own safety was something that always unsettled Catra, though - because she didn’t view her as someone who was invincible. She was flawed. She had her weak points, even as She-Ra. Catra knew all of them.

She has done the dance of battle with her many times; sword versus claws that yielded broken bones and scars for both of them. And this thing fought more like her - speed, sharp jabs, seeking unguarded spots that were vulnerable because sometimes that’s all it took. One vulnerable spot to aim for, and one hit. The head, the heart; areas where She-Ra could receive damage and maybe not be able to heal from it because the wound could become so life-threatening in less than a second.

The less she moved to get away from it, the more that risk increased.

What happened next required no second thoughts, movement and instinct only - a blur of cat claws and leather ensemble and the sound of angry hissing that came between Adora and that. The ghoul threw hands, and Catra caught them.

Or at least one. She tried to stop the other, but the grip had been awkward and suddenly there was this needle-like appendage that literally punctured the side of her stomach. In one end, out the other - the tip of it could be seen from an exit wound on her back. Catra felt a pinch. Whatever excruciating pain she was supposed to experience at being stabbed hadn’t been processed by her nerves yet. Instead she looked down, witnessed it, and got angry.

“Were you really trying to stab my fucking wife,” she snarled with exposed teeth, the two of them caught in a stand still struggle before she managed to catapult the monster away. The claw was at least out of her now, leaving behind a small hole (smaller than a penny) that was beginning to get bloody.

Catra’s had worse. She would worry about it later. Adrenaline was pumping now, a vicious flow in her veins. The ghoul made a sound at her that she interpreted as a threat so she cracked her neck - cracked her clawed fingers, began side-stepping in a circular taunt that was awfully composed (even wounded, she didn’t falter in grace even a little) and then they went at it. It was a violent display of acrobatics and evasive moments. There were almost stabs, successful slashes delivered that spattered both their blood into the grass, a mouse and cat chase of a predator and prey dynamics where the roles were switched up. Sometimes she was the prey. Other times, the predator.

It almost looked fun. But, you know. In situations like these, Catra was always going to be the cat. She needed one good window. One.

And she got it when she leapt on its shoulders, sunk her claws into the bottom of its skull, and began to gruesomely separate its head from the rest of its body.

One of She-Ra’s many perks was quick self-healing, and both the scratch (one, singular, not that big of a deal) and her sore ankle healed right up. She did need a minute to regain her breath - the surprise lunge had definitely knocked the wind out of her - but before she’d even gotten to her feet, Catra was already in attack mode. Like, way fiercer and faster and scarier than even Adora had really seen her. She couldn’t even figure out how to wedge her way in there, to try to help, without risking getting Catra hurt, too.

Watching her take that thing claw for claw, though - it would have been kind of hot if they weren’t surrounded by that godforsaken odor. It was completely sickening, so terribly disgusting that she could nearly taste it.

That wasn’t helped by the way Catra literally tore its head from its shoulders. She raised her hand to cover her mouth as it fell to the ground, now in two complete pieces, exhaling rapidly through her nose. It was beginning to border on miraculous that she hadn’t thrown up yet. Her concern for her wife was the only thing keeping her focus off of the smell, but she couldn’t bring herself to move closer - not until Catra dug her claws out of that thing’s skull, at least.

“Catra? Are you okay?” she called out. She-Ra faded out in a glow of gold and rainbows, and she shifted the shield back into bracer form to snap around her wrist.

A sickening crack, a splatter of gunk - a thud, which was the sound of the skull hitting the grass. The body followed quickly after. Catra made sure she was off it, landing gracefully on two feet. The stench didn’t register with her much anymore. She was riled still, heart beating in her ears with teeth out and a low growl that settled in the back of her throat.

Her hands were messy, claws in worse shape and there were some gashes in her skin visible by streaks of blood. A couple on her arms, one on her neck that was thankfully shallow (that thing had literally gone for the jugular), and then - of course - the stab wound she had somehow been functioning with. Her shirt was soaked now, and all that movement hadn’t helped in stopping that flow.

“You,” she decided to answer accusingly with a finger pointed at her, stomping towards Adora’s direction, “are a DUMBA–”

Wait. Hold that thought. Because, uh - her eyes might have rolled back into her head and then somehow the ground got up to hit her. Or she hit the ground, the details were pretty fuzzy there.

She was fine.

Adora’s eyes went wide the moment she really looked up - because she’d been preoccupied with her sword and her eyes hadn’t shifted up when she called her wife’s name. She’d known in the back of her mind it was likely Catra had taken some damage, but her shirt was soaked with blood. That fight had been such a flurry to keep up with, but she was sure she hadn’t seen that happen!

But it had happened. Watching her wife collapse while she rushed forward left no room to doubt otherwise. Her revulsion was all but forgotten as she fell to her knees at Catra’s side, ripped her shirt open without a second thought, and sunk her fingers into the fur on her stomach until she found the source of the wound. The hole torn into her was so small, but it had caused so much damage.

Another golden glow surrounded them both, and in a matter of minutes, the blood had stemmed and the wound was healed up, leaving Catra as good as new. Adora might insist on an x-ray at a later date, just to make sure everything was okay internally, but she’d literally resurrected this woman before; she wasn’t too worried.

The worry didn’t leave her face until Catra’s eyes opened again and Adora’s brows unfurrowed. “Who’s the dumbass in this relationship again?” she snarked, lifting her hand to curve around Catra’s jaw, blue eyes crinkled in that soft way.

“Still you,” was her retort, heatless only because she was feeling a little weird - the pain had suddenly hit her like a fucking truck, then there was warmth and instead of rot she smelled Adora, and then she felt the tingling sensation of magic settle over her like a blanket of healing. The sharp aches dulled, but her eyes had this dazed look despite her multiple blinks for clarity.

At least her view was of Adora’s stupid, pretty face. Catra had a feeling she did not look as pretty.

Whatever, she was fine. Or at least getting there. Enough for stare to become narrowed and for her to sit up, biting back a slight groan of discomfort (her head felt a little woozy, probably still recovering from the whiplash of literally everything), and definitely enough for her to point that accusing finger at her wife again too, and yell: “Don’t you even know how to dodge anymore??!!”

Adora reeled back in confusion, mouth dropping open in shock. She knew better than to think Catra would be profusely grateful - it was fine, she knew - but she hadn’t expected to be yelled at like that. She huffed and got to her feet, helping Catra to hers, too; she might be annoyed with her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t still take care of her.

“I dodged plenty,” she protested, even though when she thought back, she hadn’t really. It had been more blocking than anything, mostly because the thing started swinging immediately, and she’d acted on instinct. “I’m not the one who got stabbed here! For someone who can self-heal! I would’ve gotten back up if you’d given me a minute, you know!”

She knew Catra didn’t like seeing her put herself in danger, but she was trained for it. She could handle herself. And She-Ra was quite literally built to be a warrior - maybe not in the same way as He-Man but still. She could take flying needle fingers from a smelly ghoul without nearly bleeding out.

Catra wouldn’t refuse the help. Her balance was okay; she felt the threat of a sway but she was quick to stabilize. It always took her a few minutes to feel normal after a healing like this, although this damage was probably the most she’s sustained in a while. She was usually pretty good at coming out of most situations without anything major - quick feet and cat reflexes and all - so maybe something like this was overdue.

(Except for the stunt where Vallo thought it was being funny and she died repeatedly for dumb reasons, but she prefers not to bring that up.)

“You absolutely did not,” she scowled, jabbing that finger of accusation into her wife’s chest for emphasis, dotting her shirt with some residual blood. “You did the thing where you think you’re a tank all the time and absorb blows! That thing could have stabbed you in the heart, or something!” Like, she knew She-Ra’s get up involved some armor but you never know. “Or what if it dealt you head damage?! Your self-healing doesn’t mean you can take every hit you take!”

“Well, I didn’t, did I?” Adora retorted, hands going to her hips. This was where the superior height came in handy as she glowered down at Catra, swatting at the finger poking on her chest. “The thing started attacking out of nowhere! I did what I could to hold it off so those stupid kids wouldn’t get hurt. I got one scratch and a rolled ankle. And what did you get?”

She gestured down at the forest floor then, where the front of Catra’s shirt lay on the ground not too far from the decapitated ghoul head. “I’ll cop to being the dumb one most of the time, but you were the one who almost got killed this time, Catra, not me!”

What was she even waving at - wait. Was that fabric? Was that part of her shirt? Catra then blinked down at herself and, behold, a good chunk of the front was missing and her tits were two seconds away from full exposure. Whatever. Internal commentary about her delayed reaction could be set aside, there were more important things at hand.

Like arguing with your wife while covered in gross shit in a spot that still had a half-full keg, some abandoned snacks and a monster corpse. That wasn’t on this week’s bingo card of what weird situation can life put them in but here they were.

“Better I get stabbed than you,” Catra hissed, glaring up right back at her in the same post - hands on her hips, chest puffed out. Or tits out, more accurately. “If something happened to you where you couldn’t self-heal because you were too hurt we’d be shit out of luck! I’d have to get help and we don’t know how long that would take, and I can’t just quickly carry you off to wherever-the-fuck the closest Waypoint is at the time! You can heal me, I can’t heal you!”

Adora’s jaw clenched and she puffed out a breath through her nose, arms shifting to cross over her chest instead. Loathe as she was to admit it, Catra had a valid point. As much as she might like to believe (and portray) She-Ra as completely invincible, she wasn’t. She was better off than most beings, yes, and self-healing was a big factor in that, but she was still human underneath it all. She could die.

She didn’t consider it likely, but it also wasn’t impossible. Which meant she couldn’t argue with it, even though she really wanted to argue with it.

“Okay, fine,” she grumbled. “Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t mean it’s better for you to get stabbed. Especially not when I wasn’t even hurt.” Her voice was weaker this time, tone laced with less irritation. She knew Catra had been worried and meant well, and she had managed to end the threat.

“We should go get you cleaned up,” Adora sighed. She let her shoulders relax and cupped her wife’s cheek. She wanted to kiss her, but as the stench invaded her senses again, she couldn’t bring herself to just yet. She looked over to the source, nose wrinkled in disgust. “What do you think we should do with…it?”

“Who cares,” Catra groused, not concerned about the whole dead monster thing - wasn’t there someone they could call for clean up? But the hand on her cheek, yeah, that eased the tension. “Look, I’m sorry for yelling. I just love you a lot and you’re mine and I’m the one that looks after you when you’re too busy looking after everyone else, okay?”

If she could keep Adora from getting hurt then that was always a win, no matter how much she bled because of it.

Grumbling, she tore away from her to help do something about that body - which, in Catra terms, meant she went to kick the skull hard and high and it disappeared into the throng of forest somewhere. “There - took care of part of it,” she huffed. “Stupid shitfuck monster and even stupider shitfuck kids. I’m going to be scrubbing myself for hours, ugh.”

Oh. Well. That wasn’t exactly what Adora had been thinking when it came to ghoul body disposal, but it was probably effective enough. The parts would all decompose eventually now that it was dead. Or dead again. Extra dead. She just hoped that the head didn’t land in some tree branches and knock over a bird’s nest or something, but she didn’t think that was a very strong possibility.

She placed her hand on Catra’s back, right between her shoulder blades and smiled down at her softly. “I’m sorry for yelling, too.” Catra might have started it, but she’d yelled right back. It happened sometimes, when emotions were high and the situation was charged. She knew it was just because Catra cared so much. “I might have to hose you down outside so you don’t bring that nasty smell onto Darla,” she teased.

“Don’t make me scent mark you,” she shot back, though there was a smile that curled her lips. Small, but unmistakable. Catra needed a good cleaning desperately. “Guess I could strip down before I get on the ramp.”

There was no salvaging these clothes. The shirt was ripped anyway, and she was doing her best to hold it together so she wasn’t so exposed. “I’d like to get washed up soon too, since I think that’s the reason why you haven’t kissed me yet and I’m kind of mad about it.”

And she was trying to not invade Adora’s bubble with this kind of stink. See? She was being considerate.

“Awww,” Adora laughed. “Promise I’ll kiss you as soon as the smell of you doesn’t make me want to lose my lunch, okay?” She wanted to kiss Catra, especially after all the yelling, but yeah. She was having too hard of a time with the smell creeping into her nose and her mouth again, and not even the mounds of junk those stupid teenagers had left behind could mask it.

Luckily, they were nearing the end of their shift, anyway, so there was no harm in calling it off a little early. It didn’t take them long to steer themselves toward a Waypoint to get them back to Darla. It wasn’t ideal, given how Catra reacted to teleporting - even now, she had no tolerance for it - but it was quick, and that was what they needed right now.

Once they’d gotten back home and taken the elevator upstairs, Adora kept on ushering Catra right into the bathroom. She’d have to track down some air fresheners for the elevator, but that could come later. “Alright, give me those clothes, I’m incinerating them literally this second. We’ll buy you more.”

Fucking Waypoints. It was efficient, yeah - still made her stomach churn, but at this rate Catra was so used to it that she knew the amount of seconds she had to count for it to pass. Thirteen to fifteen seconds, usually. But they were at least home, and Adora didn’t need to tell her twice. Those clothes were peeled off - leggings, what was left of her shirt, the fingerless gloves.

“They were patrol clothes anyway,” she shrugged, turning on the faucet to get the hot water going. Catra opted for the showerhead. Getting her to sit in a fucking bathtub would probably involve some force - she did not want to marinate in her own filth, thank you. “Just go toss them into the incinerator and let me get presentable for you, princess.”

Blood had crusted over the spots where all her wounds were. The spot where she had been stabbed was the worst, and she had matching splotches on her front and back - entrance and exit. Would have made a gnarly scar if Adora’s healing powers weren’t so damn good.

Adora was excellent at obeying orders. She gathered up the clothes Catra had shed, took another quick trip in the elevator down to the cargo bay and - poof. Clothes incinerated, source of the smell eliminated. Her own clothes were dirty but not covered in whatever kind of fluid had been coming out of that ghoul, so she was safe.

Not that her clothes lasted more than about ten seconds on her when she stepped back into the bedroom. Ivy paused in her cleaning to eye her disinterestedly from where she’d sprawled across the bed; Adora paused to pat her on the head before striding back into the bathroom. The mirror had started to steam with the running water and she pulled open the glass door to join her wife, arms slipping around her waist.

“Mm.” She pressed her nose against Catra’s temple and took a deep breath. “You already smell better. How ‘bout that kiss?”

Catra was determined to cleanse herself, damnit. The moment she had gotten into the shower she doused herself in soap, and shampoo, and even more soap, and took the washcloth and scrubbed. So much scrubbing. From her face to her arms, shoulders, stomach, wherever she could reach - she had suds clinging to her, little bubbles sticking to her fur.

“I still smell it,” she mumbled, ears pinned against her head and nose crinkled into a pout. Back pressed into her front, she leaned back into her wife (tail went around her leg, too) and squished the washcloth between her hands. Excess water and soap spilled out, running down her wrists. “You don’t wanna kiss me.”

Shut up, let her be a baby about it.

“Where’s that special stuff for your fur?” Adora questioned, glancing around the shower until she found it. Catra wasn’t the only catgirl around Vallo, not like she’d been back in the Fright Zone, and there were certain products that were made just for her. Soap and shampoo had helped - Adora meant it when she said she smelled better - but of course it wasn’t all going to be gone. Maybe the fancy stuff would help.

She nuzzled Catra’s temple and pressed a short kiss there. She did want to kiss her, desperately, but she didn’t mind babying her some, too. “Told you I’d help you scrub, so let me help?” She leaned forward against her wife’s back, just a little, to grab the bottle. It was pretty strongly floral scented, but there was no question it would kill that rotting smell.

Her reply was a small, disgruntled noise at the mention of that special stuff. Adora snatched it up fine without direction. It was a nice blend that made her soft and silky, no doubt - but finding it in other scents besides floral was a bitch. Every time she used it she smelled like she had just rolled out of Flower Power’s Kingdom.

But, objectively, there were worse smells. Case in point.

“Knock yourself out,” Catra sighed, setting the washcloth aside to bunch up all that wet hair of hers and drape it over the front of a shoulder. She didn’t need the help but she wasn’t one to turn to Adora for this kind of stuff. Intimacy was good to have after that lover’s spat anyway, and the whole, uh, stabbing thing. “My muscles feel kinda stiff so it’ll help.”

Adora was well aware that the scent of this stuff wasn’t Catra’s favorite, so she wasn’t even a little surprised she’d tried to scrub it out with their more citrus-y scented products first. The specialty stuff did kind of give her Plumeria vibes, actually, with how heavily overpowering it could be. But Catra didn’t use it often, and it faded over time. Now it was needed if she wanted to get back to smelling like something other than ghoul goo.

She poured some gel out onto her hands and began working on Catra’s back - slow, smooth, circular motions working their way downward. She was going to make an effort to make sure this felt good. It was the least her wife deserved after that incident and the little tiff they’d gotten into immediately following it.

“You know,” she said, “it was really hot seeing you tear that thing up.” Did she care for the results? Obviously not. But Catra was always graceful when she fought, a beautiful vision in action. “Thank you for being my big, bad protector.” A playful grin curled her lips that Catra couldn’t see, but it would be obvious from the cooing tone of her voice.

“You’re such a dork,” she snorted, rolling her eyes where Adora also couldn’t see but she could also tell by the exasperated but fond tone of her voice. Catra was living for the way she was being touched - soft yet with a firmness her bones needed, and it had been the cause of the new onslaught of purrs. Water sucked. Showers were a necessary evil that she really hated though it was always bearable when she had company.

Eventually, she twisted around under the showerhead and cozied up to her wife, fronts pressed together. Maybe she could feel the vibrations coming from her chest with how loud the purring had become; you could almost hear it separate from the running water. “I’m always going to tear things up for you,” Catra quipped, a hand settling on the side of Adora’s neck. “Monsters, robots, bad people. Your clothes. Next time I’ll try harder and not get stabbed in the process, that's all.”

Adora could kiss her now too, except Catra didn’t say so - she just showed her instead, drawing her in for it.

The kiss swept Adora in and she sank down into her wife’s grip, heart picking up speed when she felt those purrs rumbling against her chest. Her hands were still soapy and she brushed them over Catra’s shoulders and down her arms while they shared wet kisses under the hot water. She’d needed this, and now the only taste that crept into her mouth was much more flowery. She could get through that.

“You’re such a sweet talker,” she murmured against those lips, eyes blinking open again to meet Catra’s. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you, though. Just…less stabbing would be good, please. I’ve already had to pull you back to the land of the living once. I don’t wanna have to do it again.”

Mostly because she didn’t want to have to witness Catra dying again. That memory was so seared into her brain, one of the most visceral she had. On her bad days, she could still close her eyes and hear that last breath Catra had taken. She tried her best not to think about it, but in situations like these, it came hurtling back to the front of her brain.

Oh.

Yeah. Adora did have to do that, didn’t she. Not that she precisely forgot, or anything like that - the details were a little fuzzy from having been chipped but she did see herself (thanks to the Crystal Castle pulling it from Adora’s memory) hit the ground from being tossed off the platform, heard the sound of her bones shattering (must have been her spine, if she had to guess). Catra could dismiss her death easily. It was hers, and it happened, and she wouldn’t voice out loud that she thought she may have deserved it. Sometimes she didn’t really think much about it.

Her wife’s perspective (and experience) with all that was very different, though.

“I promise you won’t have to resurrect me a second time,” she vowed, standing on her toes to give her nose a kiss as she held her face between her hands. “Sorry. I kinda forget I died every now and again. As long as we’ve got each other’s backs - we’re okay, though. We’re showering, aren’t we?” Catra smirked. “Nothing’s broken, nothing’s bleeding.”

Adora was a little somber, but she wasn’t too deep in the dark feelings on this one. She knew Catra hadn’t intentionally gotten stabbed, knew that she wasn’t trying to be reckless or get herself killed. She was trying to protect Adora, and maybe she needed it. Sometimes. She had come a long way from that strict rule-follower raised in the Horde.

“Let’s keep it that way,” she said with a soft flicker of a smile. She tipped her forehead down to rest against Catra’s for a moment and enjoyed that closeness, water falling down around them, for a few more moments. Then she kissed her again, savoring the feel of her lips and those purrs still vibrating against her chest.

“Ready to get out? I’ll towel you dry and get you all brushed and silky and fluffy.” She grinned and raised one hand to tangle into her wife’s damp curls.

Naked intimacy is what made her enjoy showers like this - otherwise the ordeal would be annoying, but lucky her she didn’t dirty up like the more human-folk did. This whole tango with whatever shit-demon summoned from the stinkiest circle of hell warranted a good scrub, though.

Catra didn’t mind the help during or after.

“I mean - if you’re offering to do all the maintenance,” she hummed, nuzzling into her cheek as her arms wound up around her. Sorry, did you expect her to shut off the water? Adora could do that. “At this rate you could brush me into a goddamn nap, I’m tired.”

Adora’s healing did wonders for broken bones and opened wounds. Didn’t do much for the exhaustion that pulled on her muscles from that claw to claw tango with a ghoul. “Used to be able to push myself to the limits more often when I fought you and not feel as wiped,” Catra snorted, head resting on her wife’s shoulder. “Vallo’s made me soft.”

“I like you soft,” Adora chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of Catra’s head and reaching out with one hand to turn off the running water. She didn’t wear down too easily, but she was tired, too. That whole ordeal had been an emotional affair, and at this point, a nap didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

After the brushing, though. She actually kind of loved brushing Catra out and smoothing her back down. There was something therapeutic about it, just like when she braided Catra’s hair. It required a lot of care and precision and patience, and she was never more full of those things than she was for her wife.

“And,” she added, sliding open the shower doors to reach for their towels, “I like you not fighting me. Not that it wasn’t hot and everything, but I don’t miss the enemy thing.”

“You just like watching me fight other things now,” Catra snickered, bunching her hair to wring the excess water from it. Now came the annoying part of the post-shower process - the uncomfortable dampness that clung to her, even with rubbing a towel all over herself.

Her preferred method of drying off was sunbathing in the nude, but - uh. Not practical. Adam was around, that’d be weird.

Once it felt sufficiently less water-logged, she flipped that mane all behind her shoulders. “Can’t blame you though,” she said, kissing her cheek and snagging a towel for herself. “I do the same.”

It took Adora less than half the time Catra needed to dry herself off - one of the benefits of not being furry. Her hair was tied back into a loose, lazy bun by the time Catra had wrung her hair out sufficiently. After hanging her towel, she was quick to return to her wife’s side and help her start toweling herself dry.

“You are very smooth and graceful when you fight,” she agreed. “And even if you ended up smelling like sewage this time, there is something disturbingly hot about watching you behead a rotting ghoul.” She kissed the side of Catra’s head and began guiding her out of the ensuite and back into the bedroom. Here, at least, they could still be naked without interruption.

“Hair first,” she decided, pulling out the proper brush to run first through her hair (quick and easy, it was thick but not nearly as much as Catra’s) before sliding it gently into that mane of curls. “Thank you, again. I still think it was kinda dumb, but I appreciate you watching out for me. My hero.”

Catra would be naked for a while. It was her preferred method of getting dry - like, airing out and stuff, which she didn’t always have the leisurely time for but considering the rest of their day was fuck all nothing after that annoying shift, she had the time. She was comfortable in the nude anyway, and would probably hang around their bedroom as much as she could like this.

“Gross,” she scowled, moving away to take a seat on their bed - legs crossed as she leaned back against her hands for support. It was a very come hither pose, somehow both teasing and revealing. A thorough brushing was going to take some time and she was going to sit for it. Adora could come over and dote on her. “You had me at ‘disturbingly hot’ and then lost me at ‘rotting ghoul’ and ‘hero.’ Actually, hero is worse. Don’t lump me in with your kind.”

Adora didn’t so much as blink when Catra moved away. She could be just as finicky as her domestic counterparts; she liked things done on her terms, the way she wanted, and Adora was happy to oblige. But the brush was tossed onto the bed beside them as Adora slid on top of her wife and pressed her down onto her back.

“You are a hero,” she murmured, leaning down to brush a kiss to her wife’s lips. “You’re my hero, and that’s the most important kind of hero.”

Catra narrowed her eyes into slits, and allowed her back to meet the mattress - slowly, though. Her hand pressed flat into her wife’s chest, keeping her weight off her as a light show of rebellion.

But the kiss, fine. That was allowed too. Reciprocated, even. Don’t mind her purring, it was soft and practically non-existent.

“Absolutely,” she huffed, head falling into the bed with her hair splayed around her - a messy, damp halo of curls. “Not. What did I do to make you hurt me like this?”

Adora let out a thoughtful hum, tilting her head to the side. “Saved me from a ghoul, just now. Jumped into fire for me, too, at least once.” She grinned, slipping one hand between them to wrap light around Catra’s wrist, the one obstacle keeping her from laying flat out across her. “Told me you loved me when I needed to hear it most. Brought me back from almost dying. I can find more, if you want.”

“Don’t,” she hissed heatlessly, wishing the mattress would open up and swallow her whole because this was embarrassing. How dare Adora list all the nice, stupid things she’s done fo her, it was the worst. But Catra didn’t push her away, either. She just - turned that hold on her wrist until actual hand holding, because what was she supposed to do? Reject her? Pfft, as if.

Instead she pulled her wife on top of her, wearing a glare that held no promise of a threat - they were past that now, way past that. “Keep sassing me, Mrs. Meowmeow, and I won’t even let you brush me.”

Adora grinned but relented easily enough. She could shower Catra with compliments and list all the good things she’d done all evening long, but she’d refrain, for now. She knew it embarrassed Catra, and while that was part of the fun, she wasn’t going to let her brushing privileges be stripped away just to see those freckled cheeks get all red and hot.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” But sigh - back to Mrs. Meowmeow. Damn tiny Adora and her ridiculous choice of last name. She was never going to live down giving Catra the most cat name imaginable with ‘Applesauce’ just jammed there in the middle.

“But I was thinking…maybe I can get you extra fluffed up first?” She pressed a kiss to the side of Catra’s jaw, then did that over-the-top eyebrow waggle coupled with a lascivious smile. It always got her hands in her face, but her hot wife was naked and wet beneath her. Could she be blamed for wanting a little action?

My god, those eyebrows. Adora was so obnoxious. Unfortunately for Catra - she was into it, eyes rolling so far back into her head she swore she saw the inside of her own skull. “You’re so stupid,” she mumbled softly, fondly, turning her head to nuzzle and scent the side of her wife’s face.

Since, y’know, she was apparently her ‘hero’ Catra wouldn’t mind being shown some appreciation. It worked out.