WHAT: Catra's got insecurities about how they're going to explain their past to Finn, and Adora is Soft WHERE: Darla WHEN: Late tonight WARNINGS: Pregnancy talks STATUS: Complete
There were a lot of different reasons for that. Pregnancy insomnia, which was an annoying symptom that plagued now that she was at the homestretch, was the usual culprit. Finding a comfortable position was almost impossible and if she couldn’t get comfortable, she couldn’t sleep. Her womb occupant was also apparently nocturnal and found joy in tumbling around during peak shut-eye time, and there was a constant beatdown of her ribs by what she was pretty sure were tiny feet. Then, of course - the anxiety.
Like the causes for sleepless nights, there were also plenty of different causes for the goddamn anxiety. They were inching closer towards their due date and that came with the dawning realization that childbirth was a process she would have to (very soon) endure. That was overwhelming even with the classes Adora was determined for them to attend.
But other things nagged her too; intrusive thoughts that danced along the edges of her mind, shoving themselves into the forefront when she found herself becoming too cozy with this happiness they had. It always worsened when Adora was shirtless, and she saw the evidence of war scarred onto her back. The ones on her thigh, too.
“Why do you have so many scars?” she remembered inquiring, too observant at the small age of five to not ask that. And that begged the question - how old would Finn be when they asked about them?
Yeah, no - sleep wasn’t happening tonight. Her throat felt too dry, lined up in what felt like barbed wire. There was a weight in her chest, in her gut. Adora had an arm around her and she should feel nothing but comfort. She didn’t. It took a very careful, very strategic way to disentangle their limbs and not disturb her wife’s sleep. Adora should get all the sleep she could, gods know she always suffered with that.
As for Catra? Well. Fresh air wouldn’t hurt. Throwing on one of Adora’s baggier night shirts and tightening the strings of her sleep shorts, she silently maneuvered her way out of their quarters and out of Darla with Melog right at her heel.
Outside, within the confines of their fenced yard was a hammock Adora had put up for her months ago - comfy seating and an equally comfy nap spot with perfect direct sunlight. Catra took naps in the sun. Figures her wife would know her too damn well and be that thoughtful, aware it would be her favorite outdoor spot.
That’s where she climbed into, a little awkward but successful. The sun wasn’t even close to being out. Stars were spread across the sky, and there was a sliver of moon, and the air was crisp and cool and she thought breathing it in would calm her nerves. Melog had curled up on the grass next to her, vigilant to what she was feeling. They had hoped being outdoors would make a difference.
It did not.
They could feel it - how stuck she was on the guilt, the fixation of her shame, the swirl of hypotheticals (all of them awful), the fear (Finn would hate me). They could hear the attempts for deep, calming breaths. They listened to the small, rattling sobs that came after them too. They could feel the internal struggle of trying to get over it, and they could feel her fail.
Catra didn’t notice when they left her side. She wouldn’t know that they sped up the ramp, went up the elevators, and climbed up back into their bed to nudge her wife awake - a nuzzle to her face first, then a gentle nip on her arm to show their urgency.
For years, Adora had been a light sleeper. She was often plagued with anxiety, nightmares, that nagging feeling that she needed to be up and productive that carried over from years with first the Horde, then the Rebellion. That pattern had persisted in Vallo, although she went through periods of deeper sleep when she was more level emotionally. It was a wonder what not stressing out about every little thing did for her sleep, honestly.
She’d been a little more up and down since Catra got pregnant. Her wife had taken to tossing and turning, especially lately, as she struggled to get comfortable with her belly so much bigger. Adora did everything she could to help her get comfy: building her nests of pillows and blankets, allowing herself to be used as a mattress, even setting her up down in the living room if that was what she needed. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but she did everything she could to help.
But there were bound to be times she slept right through Catra having a difficult time. Her wife was crafty; no matter how tangled up they were, when Adora slept deeply, she could miss the detangling process completely. That seemed to be the case tonight. It wasn’t until Melog jumped back into bed to get her attention that she stirred, stretching out her arms and blinking into awareness.
Melog’s urgency, insistent mrowls and paws batting at her, snapped her fully awake in seconds. She sat up in bed, hastily pulling her long hair back into a messy bun just to keep it out of her eyes, then climbed out of bed to let Melog lead her where she needed to go. She was hoping Catra wasn’t hurt, but Melog’s mane didn’t seem to have gone to any extremes — that was comforting.
She barely even registered the chill as she made her way down the ramp and followed Melog back behind Darla. Even with the stars as her only illumination, it was easy to spot Catra curled up in the hammock Adora had rigged up for her sunbathing sessions.
“Babe,” she called softly, voice full of concern as she padded over to her. She crouched down beside the hammock and peered in at her with furrowed brows and a worried frown. “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
Oh my gods, traitor.
That’s the emotion Catra was expressing towards Melog. Adora suddenly showing up when she was supposed to be asleep wasn’t part of the plan tonight. Catra was fine. Or would be fine; hormones were a bitch, this was just that, she had it completely under control. “Hey Adora,” she whispered, and the words didn’t come out with the confidence she had hoped for - they were broken, choked up. Totally under control, right? (Not.) “Everything’s fine, I’m just…”
She sniffled, tried to sit up a little straighter but since it was a hammock it didn’t work that way. There was a smile she tried to offer, though, after wiping her face - which didn’t do much, she was still crying. “Can’t sleep. I’m okay.” Melog made an irate noise of disagreement. “Go inside? I’ll follow you… soon, or something.”
The falling tears, the way those words came out choked up amidst these little sobs, combined with that noise out of Melog made it very clear that this was more than just Catra not being able to sleep. Adora knew very well that her wife tried her best not to cry. Sure, there had been more of it since the pregnancy hormones started taking their toll, but this felt like more than that. Maybe exacerbated by them but not just a hormone-fueled crying jag.
“Catra, you’re crying,” she pointed out, a little obviously but so tenderly. She knelt on the grass beside the hammock, reaching in to wrap her hand around her wife’s and kiss her knuckles. “I don’t want to leave you out here alone. Talk to me? Please?”
Oh, goddamnit. Catra didn’t have it in her to push. Things would be easier if she did - if she were able to tell Adora to go away, leave me alone. This was dumb, and it was something she distinctly categorized as not Adora’s problem. That was how she compartmentalized; there were things they could deal with together, and things her wife had no business helping her with.
Choices had been made. She was still trying to learn how to live with them.
“It can wait until morning,” she argued weakly, knowing it was futile anyway - Adora probably wasn’t even going to try and go back to sleep until she fessed up. Catra dug a palm into her eye and sniffed again. “It’s dumb. But, um. Whatever. You can get in with me. If you want.”
The hammock could accommodate. The material was stretchy, and the foundation was solid to support them.
Yeah, there was no way Adora was buying that. She knew how Catra liked to categorize her problems and decide what was her own problem and what was their problem as a couple. And Adora got that and tried her best to no longer attempt to fix everything for her. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be her sounding board or that she was going to let her deal with something that had clearly upset her so much all by herself.
She wasn’t going to let this go easily. She was awake now; she could be patient.
The invitation to join was taken without hesitation. She stood up and did her best to climb into the hammock nimbly. It could take their weight combined without any trouble, but she didn’t want to be this big, uncoordinated blob and make Catra uncomfortable. She managed to slide in smoothly, thankfully, and settled onto her side to wrap around her wife, one arm immediately winding around her shoulders.
“How long have you been out here?” she inquired, nuzzling into that messy chocolate brown mane with her nose.
“I don’t know,” Catra admitted, sounding nasally and stuffed up there - fucking crying - but she did manage to suck in a steadying breath once Adora joined her. Warm muscles, soft skin, a scent that soothed her nerves; maybe moving from their bed was a stupid idea. Melog settled back into the grass, adamant about staying. “An hour is my guess?”
She hadn’t thought to bring her phone. Reading nonsense might have been a nice distraction.
Ears pinned back, her tail wound up around one of Adora’s legs and she made sure they had clasped hands over the side of her stomach. There was some strong wriggling going on. It was soothing. It also made her cry a little more. “Melog should have just let you sleep.”
Melog made a noise, again.
“No, Melog did the right thing,” Adora countered, raising an eyebrow. There was nothing harsh about her tone but maybe a tiny bit scolding. “I wish you’d woken me up. That’s supposed to be the deal. I don’t want to be asleep when you’re having a bad time.”
She spread her fingers open across Catra’s belly, rubbing her palm in slow, steady circles. She smiled when she felt Finn squirming around in there. They had been most active at night for a while now, and as cute as it was, she hoped it didn’t last forever. She wasn’t much of a night owl herself.
She freed her hand briefly to reach up, scrubbing carefully at the tear stains on Catra’s freckled cheeks. “Please tell me what’s going on,” she requested, lifting her head to kiss the side of her ear. “What’s got you crying, baby?”
Yeah. Catra should have been the one that had woken her up. It was a promise she’d made, and had clearly sucked at upholding despite the mental gymnastics she had conjured up to justify it. Ugh. Fuck. Time to fess up.
“It’s dumb,” she repeated uselessly, voice thick with the threat of tears. That infamous second trimester energy was gone, she was exhausted despite being wide awake, and she nuzzled tiredly into her wife. “I was thinking - remembering - when Scorpia hit me with that weapon. The one that made me little. You know that conversation we had when you took me out for ice cream? And I asked you about your scars?”
Adora had handled it well, and she recalled being so angry that someone had hurt her best friend. That Adora was friends with the person that scarred her.
Joke’s on Little Catra, even now.
“I know,” she swallowed nervously, “that Finn’s going to ask. Some day. They’re going to see them, and they’re going to wonder about who hurt you. And we’ll have to tell them it was me.”
Oh. Wow, that wasn’t what Adora had expected. Well, she hadn’t known what to expect, but on her hypothetical list of hypothetical things that could be making Catra so sad, this wasn’t even in the hypothetical top ten.
It made a lot of sense when she considered it, though. Catra had been sensitive about her scars since they started living together here in Vallo and they were more visible to her. (Even before they started their romantic relationship, Adora had absolutely no modesty; neither of them did, really, after growing up with so many other cadets in the Horde.) She knew Catra had a lot of guilt and regrets associated with her scars, while Adora had sort of taken them as exactly what she’d told Little Catra: a reminder that they could get through anything together, even the bad times.
That was what she’d tell Finn, too, whenever it came down to it. Because she couldn’t disagree with Catra — it would, eventually, come up and be something they’d need to talk about. But not now, probably not for years more. She was concerned that Catra had made herself so upset thinking that far into the future; that was more of her move when her anxiety was high.
“We’ll tell them the same way I told you when they’re little,” she said quietly, meeting Catra’s gaze with her own. Her thumb trailed a path down that damp cheek to stroke the corner of her lips. “And when they’re bigger, we can go into it. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. We were at war. I did a lot of things I wish I could take back, too, but those were the choices we had to make back then.”
“It’s easy for you to say that!” Catra shot back, emotionally heated and hiccuping and if her tail wasn’t stubborn enough to stay wrapped around Adora, it would be lashing. “In every story - you’re the good guy. You’re the hero. You always have been. And I’m the one who…”
Gods, did she have to say it? Adora knew everything, every single terrible thing she’s done - how she led the Horde against Brightmoon, raided villages to weaken the Rebellion stronghold, took down Salineas, how she kidnapped people for leverage and how she damaged reality to the brink of total fucking collapse. Those were her greatest hits, anyway. Plenty of other instances came to mind.
She remembered every single one of them. She had hurt Adora with most of them.
But she was glaring now, and it was possibly the most non-threatening look - her eyes were too glassy, she looked too sad, she looked too kitten. “It’s - it’s just my shit, okay? And Finn gets to make the decision to hate me or not because of it and that’s fair. So it’s nothing you can fix or make better, and you should go. I’ll deal with it.”
In any other circumstance, Adora probably would have bristled at what was very obviously meant to be a glare being aimed in her direction. As it was, Catra just looked sad. It broke Adora’s heart to see her so obviously hurting and know there was very little she could do about it. These were feelings Catra had dealt with for a long time and probably would deal with for a long time more, and all she could do was be there.
And she was going to be there, no matter how many times Catra tried to send her away.
In her head, she ran through a thousand things she wanted to say. She wanted to tell Catra she wasn’t the villain she thought she was. That she’d been put into a terrible position she never should have been in. That she’d been hurting and made bad choices because of it. But she knew her wife well enough to know, nice as the words may be, she’d disagree with every bit of it and say none of that made what had happened okay. And it didn’t, but they were so far past all of it now. Weren’t they?
“I’m not trying to fix, just help,” she clarified. Maybe the two were so intertwined in her that she couldn’t peel them apart, but she was trying. She tried to provide comfort and be an ear without immediately offering solutions. She never wanted to make Catra feel like some sort of project, and she had been much more conscious of that in months past.
“No matter what,” she offered at last, tentative but sincere as she rubbed Catra’s belly again, “I love you. And Finn, they love you so much. You’re gonna be their hero, and you’re already mine.”
Dammit. Adora really had to do the sappy thing, didn’t she. The I love you was water splashed over the flames of her temper. It didn’t make her any less emotional because - gods, her eyes kept leaking, and Catra kept wiping them. “Ugh, don’t call me that,” was her feeble retort, ducking her head beneath Adora’s chin. It was an attempt to avoid her gaze, always so tender in a way that felt undeserving right now.
This was the part of the pregnancy she hated. The sensitivity; how easy she was to upset. She had gotten good at schooling herself into keeping her shit together - that no matter how hard or deep her mind spiraled, she wouldn’t lose herself into a mess of hysterics. That progress felt like it had gotten hurled out the window.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, letting out a breath that caused a shudder to zip through her. It was hard to curl up the way she liked to on the hammock - especially with her stomach in the way - but gods, she tried. “I miss not crying over everything.”
“You don’t cry over everything,” Adora assured. She fastened her arms around her wife as best as she could and let her eyes fall closed while she held her. Yes, Catra was easier to cry, but it wasn’t that bad. Although it was also distinctly possible that Adora just didn’t mind too much.
“Whatever happens, we’re going to figure it all out together. I can at least promise you that.” That meant the tough stuff, too. If Finn heard what had happened during the war and decided they hated Catra, they would deal with it. She didn’t see that happening, though. Finn was a good kid, and it wasn’t like Catra was the same person she’d been back then — not even close, in Adora’s very biased opinion.
“You’re too nice to me,” Catra mumbled into Adora’s chest, unreasonably pouty about it. Her eyes squeezed shut to keep the threat of tears away this time because she was over it; over the crying, the dumb feelings. She was also over the shit amount of sleep she was getting but that came with the territory of her current state - and, really, she had a feeling she wouldn’t be sleeping much ever again.
One arm stayed between them (there wasn’t much space to where it could go), but the other hand had more freedom and slipped under Adora’s shirt towards her back. Her claws were out, and the way she traced the scars on her skin was so achingly soft it might have even tickled. “I’m sorry,” she said again, quietly whispered, and it was hard to tell if it was for her mood or - well, those. The permanent proof of her hurt on Adora.
They vowed not to apologize for the past anymore. Kisses in place of I’m sorry, right?
But maybe she had to say it one more time.
“No sorries,” Adora murmured. She did wriggle a tiny bit at the ticklish feeling of a claw tenderly tracing down her scars, but she settled down quickly. She didn’t mind having them touched, not by Catra. She had never once been afraid of her wife, even when she’d inflicted those wounds, and that wasn’t going to change now. “No more grudges, remember? I meant what I said about these scars. I like ‘em.”
She really meant that, too, and if Catra needed reassurance, she didn’t mind giving it. Not only were the scars a good reminder of what they’d been through and what they’d overcome together, but they looked badass, too. The ones on her jaw looked even more badass, but not once in the going-on two years she’d had them had she been able to convincingly tell a badass story before her wife interjected to tell the truth about the turkeys.
“Yeah, I know you do - freak,” Catra retorted fondly. It was time she resurfaced from tucking herself into her wife so she could look at her again, all puffy eyed and red around the edges. Hideous, clearly. But she looked a little better? Not on the precipice of crying anymore at the very least.
So that was an improvement.
She sniffed. It sounded annoyingly congested. “But… thanks. You do help. You did.” Adora always did even if she came off as a colossal pain in the ass in the beginning, though that was the usual song and dance with Catra; defensive at first with the hisses and the scowls and Adora needing a minute to pick away at the walls to get to the heart of the problem. At this point in their lives it never really took much else. “This is what you get for marrying a shit like me though, just saying.”
“I knew exactly who I was marrying, and I have absolutely no regrets,” Adora replied with a grin. Her hand lifted again to brush at the dampness on Catra’s cheeks. The tears had stopped, at least, and even though she looked a tiny bit worse for wear around the eyes, Adora would still steadfastly declare her wife the most beautiful creature in all the worlds.
“You’re gonna be a good mommy,” she continued, dipping her head to press their foreheads together. Her thumb slid down the curve of Catra’s nose. “The best, we already know that. Those chocolate chip pancakes could win any kid over.”
Oh no. Adora was going to make her cry again. Shit shit shit. Catra made this little noise that kept itself stuck in the back of her throat. “Shut up,” she whimpered, blinking wetness from her eyes before her cheeks got all damp and shiny again. “I love you, dummy, so much, like a ridiculous amount, I would literally send the world to hell for you but I think I need to go inside ‘cuz…”
Oof, she put a hand against her breastbone and rubbed it with a wince. “I’m getting stupid heartburn,” she laughed scratchily, still a little choked, “and I need some milk before it gets worse.”
Plus she was getting hungry and she didn’t know if she wanted a sandwich or chocolate cake.
Maybe the extra helping of sap could be considered a little overkill, especially when it made Catra start tearing up again, but Adora wanted to make sure she nailed that message home. No matter what badness lived in their past, she knew that Catra was going to be an incredible mom. She may struggle to believe that, but Adora didn’t, not for one single second.
“Let’s go then.” She pressed a kiss on the bridge of Catra’s nose and disentangled herself from her wife to get to her feet. And as soon as she did, she reached back into the hammock to scoop Catra out and into her arms. “And I’ll make you something to eat, too. If we’re gonna be up at this hour, we might as well get a midnight snack out of it.”
Well, there was one comforting thing - Catra hadn’t reached a size yet that Adora couldn’t carry so being hoisted up into her arms was a nice self-esteem boost, thank you. “You’re perfect,” she mumbled, wrapping an arm around her neck and nuzzling into her cheek. Her other hand flattened against her chest. “I am hungry, but you need to go to sleep afterwards. One of us needs to know what that’s like since we’re about three weeks away from losing it completely.”
Three weeks until the approximate due date, anyway. Finn could come earlier than that, or Finn could come a little later. Regardless - the clock was ticking and what the fuck was even time.
Adora shook her head. “I’ll sleep when you sleep,” she retorted, making sure her tone made it clear she would accept no arguments at this time. She followed right behind Melog as they padded back around to the front side of Darla where the ramp awaited them. One short elevator ride later, she deposited Catra among her fluffy pillows and blankets on the living room couch.
“Milk and…cookies?” she asked, smiling down at Catra. “Or pudding? Pickles? What’re you craving?”
The hammock was nice, but this - this was better, a cloud of literal softness. Catra didn’t need to adjust much. Maybe a shimmy of her hips, a hand on her stomach to catch any kicks; she was good. “I don’t think we have chocolate cake,” she sighed, genuinely disappointed as she tipped her head back into a pillow, “but I could also kill for a sandwich. A normal one. A turkey and cheese one.”
Something simple to take the edge off the hunger pangs. Gods, she was in a constant state of hunger and that was annoying too. If she ate something that wasn’t specifically what she wanted, it was the beginning of a Bad Time when it came to her moods. Stupid, sensitive, fluctuating, chaotic moods. “And maybe cookies,” Catra amended with a thoughtful look. “I can’t remember if we have the soft Chips Ahoy ones or not. I hate the crunchy kind.”
Chocolate cake. Adora made a mental note to add that to the grocery list on the app they shared once they got back upstairs to their phones. Sweet stuff seemed to be very in-demand with Catra’s pregnancy cravings, and she’d been doing her best to keep it just as stocked up as their regular grocery runs.
“I think we have the soft cookies,” she mused, tucking a blanket around Catra’s legs. That late-night chill had to be getting to her a little. “I’ll go grab your milk then get some sandwiches and look for cookies. I think we have Twinkies if nothing else? I’ll check.” A parting kiss to the forehead and off she went.
She returned with milk in a mug and two soft Chips Ahoy cookies wrapped up in a paper napkin just a minute later, absolutely beaming. “Sandwiches coming right up, but I figured dessert before and after would be okay.”
“You just get me,” Catra said with a sniff and sounding like she was going to cry again. She wouldn’t. But if she did it was because Adora was perfect for not being a cranky-pants about being up in the middle of the night to tend to her weepy bitch ass. A sip of milk was taken first to ease the annoyance in her chest (heartburn, you’re the worst) before sinking her sharp teeth into a cookie (her tail even did this happy swish). A soft cookie that didn’t crumble and make a mess all over her because she hated that.
And it was such a damn good cookie. She sniffed again. “I’m going to divorce you,” she said after swallowing and looking up at Adora with pupils so large they eclipsed her irises. “Just so I can marry you a second time.”
“Hmm, I think you can still marry me again without the divorcing part.” Adora settled down on the couch; she still had sandwich-making to do, but she figured it could wait for Catra to polish off her pair of cookies first. She reached out to take Catra’s covered feet into her lap and gently began rubbing the soles.
“I don’t remember where I read it, but this one time I saw something that said every morning when you choose to wake up and dedicate yourself to the person you’ve committed to being with, it’s like marrying them all over again. So, technically, I’ve married you, like, five hundred times. Maybe more.”
She didn’t have the exact math in front of her, but it was around that, okay. It was more the sentiment that mattered, right? And she really did feel that way. She loved Catra more and more every day, and good times or bad, she would always keep choosing her — marrying her.
“What the,” Catra coughed, half-choking on some cookie for a split second, “fuck.”
Her airway was clear, she was fine. Surprised, but fine. She patted her chest, and stared at Adora with the most bewildered eyes, and then - then she cried. Yes, she fucking cried, for the millionth time that night. “Adora,” she exhaled with a rattling breath, shoving her foot at her. “You can’t just - you can’t just spring up romantic shit on me like that! I’m nine months fucking pregnant.”
Wherever she read it from? Fucking beautiful. She hated it. “I love you,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes with the back of her cookie-holding hand. “You’re such an idiot. Go make me a sandwich.”
Look, Adora couldn’t help how overflowing with sap and emotion she was right now. It was the middle of the night, after all. She didn’t have much trouble being vulnerable with Catra these days, but there was something about being the only two (well, of three, counting Melog) awake on the ship that made it even easier.
Plus, Catra loved it, even when she kicked at her and gave her crap for it. The tears made that very clear.
“I’m not sorry,” Adora laughed, leaning in and kissing her wife’s chin, then raised her head so their eyes met. “Well, maybe just a little sorry. How pregnant you are isn't gonna make me less romantic.” If anything, it had made her more romantic because that baby her wife was carrying was the most concrete proof she could imagine of how much they loved each other.
“But,” she sighed dramatically, lifting Catra’s feet off her lap and getting back up. “Two sandwiches coming up. Or should I make it three? How hungry are you?”
Yes, fuck, fine. Catra loved the overflow of sap. For the first time that night she was purring - and it was miraculous that she was able to finish off the rest of her milk despite the sniffles, the hiccups, the shaky breaths. “If I don’t eat the second sandwich,” she swallowed, looking at her wife with heatless grump and lots of adoration. “You can finish it for me. But I need you to hurry up and make them so you can come back here, I need to kiss you a lot.”
She had a lot of needs right now, okay, fucking sue her. Adora was too damn cute and Catra was too damn clingy.