Entry tags:

!: action/thread/log, she-ra: adora, she-ra: catra, ~plot: future vallo

Future Log: Catradora - Part 2 of 2
WHO: Catra & Adora
WHAT: Catra tells Adora she's going to fight + Finn time
WHERE: Darla
WHEN: April 5th, 2033
WARNINGS: Talk of death, grief, depression, etc.
STATUS: Complete
NOTES: Y'all, this was so huge I couldn't do the fancy code and had to split it in two. Godspeed if you read it all.

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Whether she liked it or not, Catra would go, and Adora would have to let her. All she could do was pray – let herself hope, maybe – that she would come home to her the next day, and the world wouldn’t finally end.

She gently wiped Catra’s face and her own, smearing across the back of her sleeve, before she wound their fingers together and led her back up the ramp onto Darla. No sooner had they stepped into the living room than a huge clattering sound came from the kitchen, and Adora’s head whipped to it.

Eyes wide, she pulled Catra in the kitchen. “Finn,” she sighed, taking in the state of the place (messy, so messy) with a shake of her head.

“I found marshmallows!” they declared, triumphant, with disheveled hair and a cooking pot on their head. Finn held up the prized possession. There weren’t a lot; maybe eight or nine jumbo ones, mushed together in a plastic bag. “And I had one, they’re definitely stale but if we warm them up and make them gooey it shouldn’t be too bad?? We have crackers! But they’re saltines. You guys are lying about the chocolate, I looked everywhere.”

Hence why the kitchen looked disassembled, stunning Catra into silence. This was–oh yeah, it was a mess. This was Finn in a nutshell, determined and chaotic, always wanting to prove a point and then getting huffy when it didn’t go their way. She didn’t want to walk out of Darla tonight, she didn’t.

The rest of the day was going to be so hard.

Catra made a noise and cleared her throat, stroking back her bangs so they wouldn’t stick to cheeks, and led Adora towards the cabinets. She could do this. She had to do this. It hurt, everything hurt, but she’d spent the last three years (after Melog, after their discussion on the twins) keeping her shit together. She couldn’t fall apart now. “We didn’t lie,” she chuckled, stepping over some baking pans on the floor. “Mind giving me a lift, princess? I gotta reach the veeeeery top of the cabinets.”

She could climb on the counter and stand, technically, but Adora picking her up was an opportunity she refused to pass.

Saltines in place of graham crackers sounded like a bad combination, but unfortunately, that was the way a lot of things went in such dire circumstances. They would make do, and the overflow of marshmallow and whatever chocolate Catra had squirreled away might be enough to drown out the salty taste of the crackers.

“Yes, ma’am,” she agreed with a soft smile. She flicked the top of the pot on their baby’s head, smiling at them and warning, “You’re cleaning all this up, child,” before she stepped up and lifted Catra easily to reach the top of the cabinets.

“How old is this chocolate you’ve been hiding from me?” she called up to her wife. “Because stale marshmallows are one thing, but I’m not sure even melting stale chocolate will make it taste good.”

Gone were the days where Catra would scoff at the idea of being hoisted like this – she had dignity! Pride! Some years ago, that is. Nowadays she gave no fucks and it was another excuse to have Adora’s hands on her in some way even if the intent was purely innocent. “First of all, ma’am,” she grunted softly, feeling up on the top of the cabinet. “It’s dark chocolate. It holds longer than milk chocolate. It’s good until – where is it.”

Her hand hit a tin, and yep, that’s where she had hidden in it.

Catra leaned back into Adora, signaling that it was time to be put down. “It’s expired but if properly stored,” she went on, opening the tin and revealing an unopened, surprisingly large bar of dark chocolate, “it can last up to two to three years. I was saving this for whatever cake frosting I could put together for Finn’s birthday.”

It wasn’t a secret that she had this weird side gig of hunting for ingredients, the most basic of things – like flour, a cup of sugar, vanilla extract, baking soda. Eggs could be found with a little more ease since there were people out there with hens. Extras, like candy and sprinkles, were a bitch. It took time to gather everything, and Catra sure as hell was always hellbent on making some kind of pastry happen for birthdays.

Finn blinked. That had them feeling fuzzy – you could see it in their enlarged pupils. “Oh.” They looked at their moms. “That’s okay. If mama wants s’mores, let’s do s’mores with it! You can find me more chocolate later.”

Oh. Adora felt a pang in her chest when Catra explained her reasoning, and she bit her lip, feeling torn for a moment. Half of her wanted to take Finn’s offer – use the chocolate now for their makeshift s’mores, knowing there was a very real possibility this could be their last night alive and together. But accepting that reality meant accepting that their baby wouldn’t make it to their tenth birthday.

She couldn’t bear the thought.

“No,” she said quietly. She reached over and scooped Finn up into her arms. She knew they were getting too big for this, but she wanted them close. “We’ll save it for your birthday, baby. Mom and I can just share a marshmallow, maybe.”

It was a little bit of hope. She still wasn’t entirely convinced they’d be able to go back to what Vallo had once been – to the world of ten years before that they’d been communicating with in bits and pieces since the time travel plan went into effect – but maybe they could beat him back. Maybe they could continue on as they were; surviving was better than nothing at all.

“What do you say we work on that waterfall puzzle together?”

“Mama, unhand me, I’m–”

Catra put a hand on her arm and softly said, “Hey. I can find more chocolate later, I promise. I know where I can find more, and…” It was two months away. Finn’s birthday was two months away, and she couldn’t fathom that milestone not being reached. They’d been looking forward to that double-digits age, teased about how that made them super mature. Her throat felt tight, and she coughed to clear it, and she wouldn’t let herself cry. “It’ll be fine. If Finn’s good with it – I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Finn will have their birthday, and there will be chocolate.

Adora will have her s’mores.

Finn looked at them with some scrutiny. “Yeahhhh,” they drawled, tail wrapping around their mama’s arm. “I am. I want s’mores now, and we can do a puzzle, and you guys are acting weird. I’m being held like a baby.”

“You are our baby.”

“Moms, I swear to god.”

“Get it all on the kitchen island,” Catra suggested, pressing a kiss to Adora’s cheek as Finn flailed. “I’ll fire up the little griddle with the propane tank and put the s’mores on. Wifey gets what she wants.”

Adora knew Finn wouldn’t want to be held like this for long. They were big, no longer their tiny little baby who just wanted to snuggle, but she had let sentimentality get the better of her, hopeful they’d be more tolerant. She tried to swallow down the sting that accompanied their struggle to get away, some of which was assuaged by the tail wrapped around her arm, however brief, but it didn’t do much to keep the floodgates from starting to crack.

She put Finn back down on their feet, a lump tightening her throat and her chest aching with a heartache she didn’t want to feel. She wanted to feel good. She wanted to give her wife and their kid all of her attention without losing control. It was a task easier said than done these days, unfortunately for her.

“Okay,” she agreed, still quiet and restrained. “Um, Finn, can you help your mom? I just… I need a minute.” She flashed Catra an apologetic smile before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

So much was happening tonight, and instead of processing it, she’d done her best to try to accept and ignore it, but it just wasn’t that easy. And all that emotion was coming back to her too hard and too fast. She needed to get it out and get a hold of herself again. She didn’t mind crying in front of Catra (not much), but she hated to cry in front of Finn, especially knowing how keen they were to pick up on her anxieties.

Finn’s ears went on the alert. “Uh, are you–”

“It’s okay,” Catra cut in, setting the chocolate down to squeeze their shoulders from behind. It took everything in her to not chase after Adora – because she knew what she was thinking, and feeling, and all she wanted to do was make it better. “Give her a moment. We had a good day, and it’s – been a weird two weeks, with everything. C’mon, help me out. It’ll make her feel better.”

They looked at her, tentative, but they obliged. Finn got the puzzle to put on the kitchen island, and Catra got their little makeshift griddle so she could warm it up, and then the two began to unwrap the goods and put together savory, expired little sandwiches.

“Is there,” they began, setting out all the crackers, “something wrong with Mama?”

“Like I said, it’s okay, she’s going to be okay,” Catra said, bumping her hip into their kid. Finn was average height for their age; maybe Adora’s genes would really pull through a little more when puberty hit. “I’ve got her. You’re not supposed to worry about us anyway, you’re the kid here.”

Finn made a face. “I can be a kid and worry about you guys too. We were having fun and then she got all… She seems sad, Mom.” What, not Mommy? Gods, was this part of growing up? Catra watched them pull apart the marshmallows, mouth pulling into a frown. “I miss how things used to be. I remember some of it. Like when Mama used to let me sit on her shoulders when we went to the zoo, and the last time we woke her up by throwing cake on her face for her birthday. I think… I remember going to the movies, too? With the big popcorn, and playing games. Mama used to smile more.”

Catra had to really bite her lip to keep it from quivering.

“I dunno,” they tapered off quietly, shrugging. “I just miss things. Are we going to keep losing everything?”

“Nope,” she replied back tightly, immediately grabbing Finn by their upper arms to face her. “We’re not. You’re not. I promise, Finn, there’s a way to fix–”

“Are you going to do that big fight?” Finn blinked up at her. Catra blinked back, a little stunned. “Everyone’s talking about it, and I saw you pack a bag this morning.”

“Were you spying on me?”

“It’s not really spying when your door’s open, Mom,” they snorted. “Promise me you’re coming back?” There was no… push towards the opposite direction. No tantrum. Finn might not know what all was at stake, but they knew that something was happening; that there was a plan, and action was taking place. They accepted it.

It took a moment to wrap her mind around the maturity of her damn nine-year-old right now, but she eventually mustered the coherency to open her mouth and say, “I promise.”

“Cool.” They smiled at her. Not brightly, and not in that megawatt Adora way – it was small, but hopeful. “I believe you. And in you, or whatever.” Finn then paused, realizing something. “Is that why Mama’s–”

Catra held a finger to their lips, shushing them softly. “Just make sure you give her all the hugs you can while I’m gone, is all.”

Adora told herself she’d only be five minutes. She didn’t go far – just out into the hallway, isolated enough that even without their soundproofing functions on, no one would be able to hear her have her meltdown again. She seethed through every moment of tears, furious with herself for breaking down again when she’d tried so hard to get herself together.

It was her fault, too. It was her fault Catra was going out into some big battle she may not come back from. It was her fault that Finn got scared and anxious. She was supposed to be her family’s rock, and while she usually carried that mantle well, the struggles weren’t as easy to bury anymore.

None of it was fair to them.

With that thought in mind, she gathered herself after those five minutes and padded back toward the kitchen, only pausing when she heard Finn and Catra talking inside. Her heart jumped into her throat when she heard Catra promising Finn she’d come back. Gods, she had hoped they wouldn’t have to know, but they were too smart, too perceptive – so much like Catra.

She forced out a breath and stepped back inside. “Sorry,” she offered them both. She was, at least, generally beyond pretending nothing had ever been wrong. It had been obvious something was; she wasn’t going to act like it wasn’t, especially not when she knew how aware their kid was. She bent down to start gathering up the mess Finn had made, stacking pots and pans into her arms.

Catra and Finn shared one last look. She pressed a kiss to their forehead, and whispered something unintelligible into their ear, and sent them along. There were s’mores to make; she would man the griddle and watch the goods melt until they were appropriately gooey. As for their child, though–

“My mess to clean up,” Finn declared, and as their Mama bent over, they bumped their face into hers to knock her off her balance a little. “I’ll clean it up later. Fluffy check? Until Mom gets our s’mores ready!”

“Heard that, Adora? Mom,” she sighed dramatically, poking the marshmallow to see how soft it was getting. “Not Mommy. Just – Mom. That’s horseshit.”

“They’re growing up,” Adora chuckled, straightening up and reaching out to stroke Finn’s hair with one hand. There was no shift for her; she had always been Mama and always would be, but Mommy to Mom was a notable shift. Yet another sign that their baby wasn’t really a baby anymore, as much as a part of her would like to pretend otherwise.

“I’m up for a fluffy check,” she agreed. “C’mon, sweetie, let’s go sit on the couch.” That sounded good right now, getting to decompress with one of her two favorite people sprawled across her lap. She had a feeling Finn was doing it because they’d been instructed to, but she wasn’t going to think about that. She was just going to try to enjoy what could be their last night together – but without focusing on that specific part.

The rest of the evening went okay.

Catra finished those s’mores, and – they weren’t too awful, actually, and the whole affair was sticky and kind of funny. Finn was definitely tickled amused, grinning until their cheeks hurt since it had been a while that they had a treat loaded with that much sugar. They did the puzzle together too, their little gremlin taking charge for most of it, bickering with them when they were sure that piece isn’t going to fit, Mama.

Finn took over near the end anyway. Catra was doing the gross thing – kissing up on Adora’s cheek, how scandalous – and they allowed it, rolling their eyes at the sight of them.

Night came, and their child was a little too old to be entertained by storybooks for the most part. They asked for photo albums instead so they could flip through the pages, full of questions, like – why did grandma wanna do butt flap pajamas and what is the point of Princess Prom again?

They asked about their first date (since, you know, pictures with little notes about how detailed Adora had been in her planning), about their toughest battles. They talked about Melog, and Adam. Marlena and Randor. They talked about Perfuma, Scorpia, and Glimmer and Bow, and about the princesses of Etheria; of a home they once knew and saved with the power of their love.

Before they knew it, Finn was fast asleep, slumped against Catra and letting out brief, quiet purrs every time they exhaled breath from their nose. Their hands were on an open page of the photo album, so she had to gently slip them off and close the book.

“We have so many of these,” she whispered, swallowing the lump in her throat as she piled the albums off to the side. The talks they had were good – even if the nostalgia was hard.

It was a good night. An actual good night – not one of those where everything was just fine enough that she could sweep everything else aside. Determination kept Adora back in that headspace she’d been thriving in earlier, and while the knowledge of how their night would end lingered in the back of her mind, it was easy enough to forget for those few hours.

Especially with this perfect little product of their love around to keep them entertained.

She gazed at Finn across Catra, lifting her hand from her wife’s shoulder to pet just beneath their ear, watching it twitch in their sleep with a soft chuckle. Her hand returned just as quickly, grip tight on that shoulder as she buried her face into soft curls. Her eyes started to swim with tears before she knew it, gazing down at the pile of albums they’d gone through with Finn. It was a miracle she hadn’t cried already.

“I want more,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to Catra’s temple. “I meant it earlier. Another forty thousand days worth of photos. Promise?”

“That’s the plan,” was her reply, the words fraught with the determination to not cry but with the complete and utter temptation to cry. “Let’s, um.” Catra kissed her wife, lips quickly landing somewhere on her face–she couldn’t tell where–and began to slowly rise from the bed. “Let’s tuck them in.”

Hands smoothing down her hair (one of those signs that she was trying to soothe her nerves), she dropped the albums to the floor so Finn wouldn’t kick them off the bed in their sleep. Their blanket was worn but well-loved – their child was one of the luckier ones to retain their childhood bedroom and belongings, and it made them really cherish all the things they got to keep.

Many of their friends weren’t lucky in that aspect.

Finn shifted once Catra removed herself as support, lazily flopping into one of the pillows. They didn’t wake, though, and she took a gamble by stroking a blonde tuft of hair from their forehead. “Love you, kitten,” she strained out, the words almost painful against her throat, and kissed their ear for what could be the last time. “I’ll see you soon.”

Finn began a low, steady purr in their sleep. Catra purred right back.

Adora’s throat went dry, and her body tensed again as she watched Catra say goodbye to their sleeping little one. That carefree happiness was quickly ebbing away again, and even as her hands smoothed across Finn’s blanket one more time, her mind was racing through contingency plans. She couldn’t let this happen, couldn’t let Catra go - not without putting up a bit more fight.

Rounding the bed to Catra’s side, she reached down to scoop up the albums. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” she murmured, carefully balancing the stack as she kissed her wife’s cheek. She knew Catra would take a few extra moments with Finn; that gave her time to enact her last ditch effort.

By the time Catra returned to the living room on the deck below, Adora had stacked all the photo albums back into the rightful places on the shelves. She’d also quietly locked Darla’s exterior doors with backup commands not to open to anyone else’s biosignature but her own.

She would break Catra down. She had to, somehow. For now, she offered a distraction in the form of two strawberries, leftover from Keith’s most recent visit with treats from Sabrina.

That was hard. Catra knew it would be. Staying there, watching Finn sleep – it was something she knew she could do forever. She had spent countless hours like that when they were little, bundled up in her arms with a pacifier and pajamas that covered their feet. Then they grew out of that, but she could still cradle them in her arms while they slept.

They grew out of that too, eventually.

She cried quietly. Not a sound, not a sniff. Finn continued to sleep soundly, and she pressed a lingering kiss to their head, and got up. She closed the door behind her. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and it all threatened to come back out as a wracking sob.

It didn’t.

Catra held it in. She went into her and Adora’s bedroom, and pulled the overnight bag out from hiding, and gave the little mural on the wall a quick glance. It was exactly what she carved out into her tree outside; Finn, Adora, her. She had plans to add the twins when they came, too.

But, well.

That never happened.

She was greeted by Adora in the living room, and she dropped the bag to the ground so she could join her on the couch – yes, that couch, the one with scandalous history. Catra still had time, and that meant she’d curl her legs in and lean into Adora’s side and chomp on a strawberry. “So that sucked,” she admitted around a bite of the fruit, the only evidence of tears being how red her eyes had gotten.

Adora could imagine how much it had sucked, but she didn’t want to. Just that moment she’d witnessed – a goodbye cloaked in see you soon – was almost more than she could bear. The very real possibility that Finn might never see their mom again made her heart ache. And even if, by some godsforsaken fluke of fate, this wild plane the wizards had come up with truly worked, Catra could still be lost in the fight. This wasn’t like what they’d dealt with back in the early days, something irksome but ultimately defeatable.

This was Interitus – and a version of him that far exceeded what he’d been in their very first encounter with him over a decade before. He could end them all in every timeline, end Vallo itself, incinerate to dust, just like Horde Prime had once threatened to do to their home universe.

“Then don’t go.” There was no hint of pleading at the moment, just a simple statement. “You can stay here, and we can see what happens together.”

Catra chewed her strawberry slowly, very slowly, before saying, “Distraction strawberries.”

Oh, she knew this tactic. They had only ever spent three years apart – and arguably, one could say they weren’t that far apart even then with how often they went toe-to-toe, claws against blade. But being so intimately involved with Adora for all their remembered lives meant that she knew her moves and countermoves, both in the battlefield and in the confines of their home.

Catra took another bite with a contemplative hum. “Did you lock the doors?” It was a hunch, and she wasn’t upset about the possibility. She actually looked amused, smiling impishly around the last bit of strawberry.

Adora was no longer young or naive enough to believe Catra would fall into her trap without realizing exactly what happened. She wasn’t surprised when she called her out on what she was doing – yes, the strawberries were a distraction, partly, she couldn’t deny that – but she played it off with a shrug and her most innocent smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, leaning in to kiss that smile her wife’s lips had curled into. Her own strawberry remained half-eaten, clutched in one hand, while the opposite slipped under Catra’s chin to pull her in closer.

Stupid, beautiful, stubborn Adora.

All that was left of hers was the little crown of the fruit, and she let it drop to the floor to focus on that kiss, to being pulled closer. Catra wouldn’t resist. She slipped onto her wife’s lap, straddling her like she was destined to do for the rest of their lives. Forty thousand days.

“I can still,” she kissed her again, purring up a thunderstorm, “get free, you know.” Then she dove in for another kiss, only to break it, and only to kiss her again.

She wouldn’t cry. She won’t. Her cheeks getting a little damp again had to be a figment of their imagination, is all.

Adora huffed into the kiss, knowing exactly what Catra was trying to imply there. Locks meant nothing with someone who had razor sharp claws for weapons. Even now, with one hand replaced with a prosthetic, her first sword’s shards were put to good use as a replacement set of claws. They could tear through even Darla’s thickest parts without Catra so much as breaking a sweat.

But she could pretend the locked doors would be persuasion enough for a little while longer. She could pretend that these tears, dampening her hand as their lips moved together, would be reason enough for Catra to change her plans and stay home.

She broke away gently to catch her breath, lifting up the remaining half of strawberry in her hand to her wife’s mouth. It was a tiny bit more squished but no worse for wear. “Don’t you threaten Darla like that, Mrs. Rainbowfist-Meowmeow. You’ll hurt her feelings.”

Catra laughed, and seized the moment to wipe her cheeks dry but her ears also took that dip down despite everything. “Wouldn’t have to threaten Darla if the other Mrs. Rainbowfist-Meowmeow wasn’t so determined to hold me hostage,” she murmured, and then sunk her fangs into the rest of that strawberry. “I mean,” she chewed a little on it, “when I held you hostage, there was rope, and some gagging involved.”

After finishing it off, she wiped her mouth. “You had the chance to get really kinky with this, and yet.”

“Other people live here now, they might get concerned,” Adora pointed out with a chuckle, her smile soft as she dropped her strawberry’s crown to the floor as well. She licked a little bit of juice off her palm before fisting both hands into Catra’s shirt. “But if that’ll entice you to stay, I’m sure I could find some stuff…”

Gods, she loved her. It wasn’t news, not by any means, but when she thought about just how much she loved Adora—it was like an epiphany each time. Adora still asking her to stay might chip at her resolve, but that feeling? It’s what kept it strong.

“You know it won’t,” Catra told her softly, apologetically, and she touched her gently with her fingertips—natural claws and claws made from an old blade stroking down her arms. “You know I’m still going. They’re expecting me, but I told them I’d be late.”

But she’d stay. For as long as she can until then, Catra would stay.

Adora wanted to keep things light. She wanted to ultimately be able to accept Catra’s decision, like Catra had accepted so many of hers, but she was having a hard time. This wasn’t a battle she knew Catra would come back from. This was quite literally life or death – as every battle against Interitus had been for a very long time now.

But she had to try again. She had to try to make a good case, something that would convince Catra that she needed her here more than they needed her in the field.

“Please stay,” she said quietly, blue eyes lifting to meet blue-and-gold. “I don’t need you to fight for me. I need you here, with me and with Finn, whatever happens. Please, please don’t go out there tonight.”

Catra sighed and didn’t say anything for a minute. She went to stroke up her arms now, over the sweep of her shoulders, hands slipping up her neck to hold her face – cradle it in a way that was reminiscent of the infamous brain damage check. “I never, like… understood why you were so gung-ho about saving the world, you know? Okay, I understood the whole self-worth thing down the line, and the martyrdom you were taught when we were kids, but…”

Sucking in her bottom lip between her teeth, she paused to think a little deeper. Words. Gods, she was better with action than words even now – but she always did try. “I didn’t care about the world. Not like you did,” she continued. “I would have rather watched the world burn down than let it take you from me.”

That had always been a core conflict between them. Adora was too selfless, and Catra was too selfish; one loved the world too much. The other didn’t understand why when the world hadn’t done anything for them.

“I still thought that way for the longest time,” Catra admitted, shrugging a little. “But then we started this family, and–then it just finally hit me that the world’s always going to be worth fighting for as long as the two of you exist in it. And maybe that’s a realization I should have had ages ago, I don’t know, but the reason I had it anyway was because of you. You always fought so hard, and too long, and you’re tired, babe. One of us needs to fight, and I want to do it. It doesn’t always have to be you.”

It had been what she told Adora way back when – she meant it then, and meant it now.

“You gave me a second chance all those years ago, and you gave me something to stay alive for, and that’s you, that’s Finn,” she told her, knocking their foreheads together. “And whatever happens tomorrow, I don’t have regrets. I’m going to fight for you just as hard as you fought for me.”

It was a little surreal to hear Catra voicing her thought process aloud like this because it opened Adora’s eyes to how much her mindset had really shifted. She liked to think she still cared, even if perhaps she’d become a little more insular with her topmost priorities and where they lie. But something resounded in her, something tired and vindictive and bitter, when Catra said those words.

I would have rather watched the world burn down than let it take you from me.

Guilt burned in her chest, but that was how she’d been feeling now, for years. She didn’t care about Vallo anymore, not really. Not the way she once had. She’d put her life on the line for this world so many times, for so many years, and still, it had done this to them. Still, it had been the reason Intertitus came to be. She had lost so many things she’d loved – the potential of their twins, some of her closest friends, visits with her mom and dad, seeing Etheria again, her twin brother, Melog.

Why should she keep caring about a world that just kept taking from her? Why should she want to expend hope on it when it had continually screwed her over?

It wasn’t right. She knew it wasn’t. She was supposed to be the hopeful one. She was supposed to be the hero. She was supposed to want to make the world right, for the people who loved it, for her family. Instead, all she wanted to do was scoop up Catra and Finn and hope to whatever gods or goddesses were out there listening that they got blipped somewhere their lives weren’t constantly threatened.

She was quiet until Catra finished, absorbing what she was saying without comment, hands slipping to her waist to hold her there. She knew there was no keeping her, but damned if she wasn’t going to have her hands on her until the second she left.

“I’m sorry I’ve turned you into the hero,” she sighed at last. “That was never what I wanted for you.”

“Gross, don’t associate that word with me,” Catra groaned, tipping her head back in a show of dramatics. Hero was stretching it, and she’d argue that her intentions might still be purely selfish – she was, after all, doing this for her own people. But there were friends that had become family putting their neck out too, risking it all to give their families a semblance of normalcy again,

The right thing to do was to fight alongside them.

“Let’s just say youuuu…” Her head fell forward again, and she bit her lip in thought. “Rubbed off on me a little bit, is all.” Catra grinned at her, the toothy sort of way that had her fang stick out. “I love you, princess. If – and that’s a strong if – the world burns tomorrow, I’ve had the time of my life with you. I love you in every universe, in every timeline. Good or bad, hero or villain.”

Adora raised a hand to snag Catra’s chin again, pulling her down to kiss that sticking out fang bypassing her lip and then those full lips themselves. She didn’t like this, and underneath it all, she was still terrified by what tomorrow might bring, but it was hard to dwell in those bad feelings when her wife smiled at her like that.

“I love you too,” she whispered, voice wavering with emotion. “Now and forever, and all the rest. You’ll always be my hero. Just come back home to us.”