Archive of Our Own ^beta

The tip of Catra’s tail twitches as she stares at the creature in the back of the pickup truck.

She clears her throat. “You said you found a dog, Sparkles.”

“I did.”

“That’s a wolf. That is a whole ass wolf. How did you find a wolf on a ‘morning walk’—which we’re circling back to, by the way, I’ve never seen you willingly be awake before noon—in Bright Moon?”

Glimmer folds her arms. “Not a wolf.”

“Glimmer, I am literally a vet. What exactly is the point of this charade?”

Before Glimmer gets a chance to respond, the definitely-a-wolf in the pickup she’d commandeered from Bow lets out a pained whine, and Catra relents. “Fine, fine. Just help me get it inside.” Catra doubts she could drag an animal this size around on her best days, and with what looks like a broken leg, she doesn’t want to try.

The both of them combined, however, make fairly quick work. In the light of the office, Catra can see the wolf more clearly, and is surprised to see that it has blonde fur.

Glimmer ends up taking the wolf home with her, a light blue cast on its leg to match its eyes. Catra mostly puts the incident out of her mind until one night, working late, when her ear twitches as she hears a scrabbling at the front door. Expecting it to be the raccoon that keeps begging for handouts—and no, Scorpia, it doesn’t matter how cute it is, stop feeding it—she opens the door without looking through the window first.

Luckily for Catra, despite weighing well more than she does and only having a flimsy screen door between them now, the wolf on the porch doesn’t seem particularly interested in killing her, just sitting there peacefully.

While she stands there for a second, trying to figure out what exactly she should be doing, she hears a slight thump behind her as Melog—who Catra insists is the clinic cat, and everybody else insists is her cat—jumps down from the counter, sauntering over. The wolf leans forwards, poking its nose into the screen and sniffing intently. Melog cautiously leans forward themselves to sniff back. Evidently finding nothing of note, they meander away after a few moments.

“Just for the record, Melog… if you get me eaten by a wolf, I’m haunting you,” Catra says under her breath as she pushes the screen door open. Melog has historically been an excellent judge of character, for both people and animals, but Catra is still understandably nervous. The wolf, however, simply trots into the waiting room and sits down in the center, looking at her expectantly.

She sighs as she notices a gash on its shoulder, blood threatening to drip onto the floor. Rolling her eyes, Catra jerks her head towards the back of the office. “C’mon. If you’re gonna come all the way here, might as well fix you up,” she says, leading the way. 

It’s a pretty short walk to the examination room, where Catra pats the steel table. “Up.” When she receives no response, she pats it again. “This isn’t a debate. Do you want stitches or not?” She feels kind of dumb talking to an animal like this, but there’s something about it that feels like there’s more under the surface.

For a second, she thinks the wolf is going to roll its eyes, but it does hop up. She quickly disinfects the wound, then grabs a needle and thread to stitch it up. 

It goes surprisingly quickly for work on a conscious animal. A pretty squirmy conscious animal it may be, but it’s managing to keep the shoulder fairly still. “Good girl,” Catra says absentmindedly as she finishes up, ruffling the wolf’s ears, and it freezes.

She stares at the wolf. It stares back, unblinking, not moving a muscle.

“…Seriously?”

The wolf whines, looking away.

All right. Definitely not a regular wolf, then.

“You are a girl, right? I’ve just been assuming.” She’d felt pretty safe in doing so, given that trans wolves aren’t really a thing, but again, this isn’t really seeming like a standard wolf. “One woof for yes?”

The wolf woofs softly, and Catra nods. “Okay. Well, if you’re going to come here whenever you get banged up, I’m gonna need a name for your file. You have a way to tell me yours?”

It just stares at her this time. Figures.

“Didn’t think so. Guess that means it’s up to me. Hmm… Balto? Blondie? Chewbarka?” The last one is the name of a Pomeranian that comes in for the occasional checkup, not a serious suggestion, but the disgusted look on the wolf’s face is absolutely worth it. Catra holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, not Chewbarka, I’m listening,” she says with a smile. “How about Princess? You certainly look the part.”

The wolf glares at her, but there’s no heat in its eyes, and it’s clear that it’s already resigned itself to its fate.

Princess it is, Catra thinks to herself, writing the name in big letters across the front of the folder.

“Want a sip?”

Catra gives Glimmer’s concoction a dubious glance. She can think of no reason something supposedly fit for consumption would be foamy, vibrantly pink, and have an almost pearlescent shimmer to it. “No. That looks like contaminated runoff downstream of the magical pepto-bismol mines.”

“I’ve seen you drink straight absinthe, you have no place to talk,” Glimmer counters.

“Yeah, well, DT was a bad influence. I’ve since grown as a person and am at least 20% less pretentious.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Still just as arrogant, I see.”

“You know it, Sparkles,” she responds with a wink.

They sit in silence for a few moments as Catra racks her brain to come up with some topic of discussion other than her shitty ex’s alcohol preferences. “Oh! Guess who stopped by the clinic this week.”

“Who?”

“You aren’t going to guess?”

Glimmer brandishes the tiny umbrella that came with her drink at her. “I will stab you.”

Catra narrows her eyes. “I’d like the record to reflect that I’m choosing to be the bigger person here, not caving to threats, but it was that wolf you brought in a month or so back.”

Glimmer’s eyes snap to Catra in surprise, but she quickly adopts a look of disinterest. “The dog, you mean? That’s cool, I guess.” She idly stirs her drink with the end of the umbrella.

Catra isn’t buying it for a second. She’d spent a while researching magical creatures that night, but while she has a few ideas—werewolf, forest spirit, and a familiar of some kind chief among them—if Glimmer wants to keep this “secret,” Catra isn’t going to pry.

Well… about Princess, at least. “Seriously, what the hell is that? Did they juice Kirby?”

“Fuck off, Catra.”

The next time Catra sees Glimmer stop by the clinic, she drags her into the back, stifling a snicker as she ignores Glimmer’s questions.

As soon as she’s inside the room, Glimmer plants her feet and comes to a dead stop. “Wait. Ado—“

Princess barks loudly, cutting off Glimmer’s question.

Catra’s ears perk up. “What was that?”

“A dog. I was saying ‘a dog?’ Because that’s a dog.”

“Yeah, gotta be honest with you, Sparkles: I’m not buying it.”

“It’s not up to me to convince you of the truth, Catra, it’s just up to you to believe it,” Glimmer says haughtily.

“Uh huh. Anyways,” Catra says fondly, as she gently slaps Princess’s haunch, “this idiot managed to sprain her tail… by wagging too hard.”

Princess lets out an affirmative woof. She starts to wag, but immediately stops with a whimper.

Catra puts a hand over her face, sighing dramatically, like she lives in the 18th century and just got a letter from her husband saying he’ll be at sea another six months. “Do you see what I’m dealing with, Sparkles? I’m at my wit’s end.” Princess nudges her with her nose, then forces her head in between Catra’s other hand and her hip. Catra quickly gives in, scratching her head. “Princess here is a handful.”

Glimmer coughs. “I’m sorry, you’re calling her Princess?”

“I mean, she fits the bill, doesn’t she?” Catra looks down as Princess chuffs, to see a very pouty wolf. “Hey. Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true.”

When Catra looks back at Glimmer, the pink-haired woman has her brow furrowed for a second, before her expression clears and is replaced by one Catra refers to as her “plotting face.”

The last time Catra saw Glimmer’s plotting face, the results had ended up on the local news stations.

Needless to say, she’s concerned.

“Why do you look like that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Also, I’m late for lunch. Have fun, you two!” Glimmer lunges for the door, slamming it shut behind her. By the time Catra rounds the table and pulls it open, she’s disappeared around the corner.

Dammit.

Catra was initially suspicious of Glimmer’s invitation to an upcoming birthday party; all she really knows about Sea Hawk is his penchant for setting things on fire. It seems a bit straightforward to be whatever she’d been plotting about, though, so Catra had agreed to come if Glimmer agreed she owed her one.

It takes about five minutes for Catra to be sure Glimmer got the better end of their deal. She’d wanted to leave as soon as she got out of the car and heard the fucking mariachi band this flamboyant jackass had apparently hired.

It’s not even a good mariachi band. Not that Catra would understand what it was doing at what Glimmer had billed as a “chill, low-key event” even if it was, but it’s somewhere between “middle school recital” and “high school recital” in quality.

All in all, though, it isn’t quite the unmitigated disaster she would’ve expected if it had been a Glimmer plot.

Well, until some blonde idiot ends up spilling her drink all over Catra, that is. But that’s not really Glimmer’s fault. Like, 25%, tops.

“Shit! Sorry, let me just, uh…” The woman looks frantically around the kitchen, then grabs a dish towel off the handle for the oven door and starts patting down Catra’s shirt and jacket.

Catra gives it a few moments, until it’s clear that the other woman hasn’t realized what she’s doing. “Blondie?”

“Yes?” 

“Not that I’m necessarily complaining, but did you have a plan beyond just feeling me up?”

The patting stops. Catra can almost hear the blonde’s brain grind to a halt as she catches up with the situation, and decides to take pity on her.

“Look,” she says, gingerly taking away the glass from the non-toweling hand and setting it on the counter. “Accidents happen. Don’t worry about it.”

No response.

“You’re worrying about it, aren’t you.”

“No!” There’s a second of silence as Catra stares at her. “…Maybe!”

Well, at least she’s honest about it, Catra supposes. “Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll just go change,” she says, jerking a thumb over her shoulder towards the bathroom as she starts to back away.

Once she gets into the bathroom, she quickly shucks the jacket and shirt off. The jacket is leather—black, with a gold ouroboros on the back—so she just wets a cloth and wipes it off. Her shirt, unfortunately, is a different story. It reeks of the cocktail that had quickly soaked into it, and it only takes one whiff for her to know that she won’t be putting it back on tonight.

At least she has a fairly conservative bralette on underneath. It’s still a bit risqué, but with the jacket on top, it’s acceptable. She gives the lapels a quick tug to get everything in place, then opens the door and runs into the blonde for the second time in as many minutes.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this.”

“Sorry! I just wanted to offer you a ride to the dry cleaner’s; it’s not too far away and that way you don’t have to deal with your car smelling like alcohol for however long that takes to fade.”

The woman must misinterpret the look on Catra’s face, because she immediately starts backpedaling: “It’s just that they close soon and I feel really bad about the shirt, if you don’t want to you—“

Catra interrupts. “You are the most high-strung thing I know, and I know, like, four border collies. And also Glimmer. Yeah, that sounds great, actually.”

“Oh, you know Glimmer too? She’s who dragged me to this. I’m Adora.”

Adora reaches out a hand to shake, which Catra accepts. “Catra. Can’t say I’ve heard her mention your name before, sorry.” Which is kind of weird, given how long she’s known Glimmer, but hey, Glimmer’s allowed to have her own friends.

Adora gives her an apologetic smile. “Yeah, I’m kind of a private person.”

Her point is somewhat proved on the drive, where Adora has pretty limited answers to just about any question Catra asks. It’s a bit frustrating, but Catra knows some people aren’t huge fans of talking while they’re driving. Something about “focusing on the road”. Also, this blonde is really hot, so somewhere between dropping off her shirt and opening the door to Adora’s truck to get back in, she decides to shoot her shot.

“Do you want to grab dinner or something?”

“Is anywhere even open this late?” Adora asks. And, well, Catra didn’t exactly mean tonight, but hey, she’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I mean… I can think of one place.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to borrow a hoodie or something?”

“Somebody’s gotta be the hottest bitch in this Waffle House, and it might as well be me.” Catra appreciates the concern, but ever since Adora finally realized that Catra not having an actual shirt on means Catra doesn’t have an actual shirt on on the way here, her eyes have spent a disproportionate amount of time pointed at Catra’s chest, and honestly? She could use the confidence boost. “Booth or bar?”

“They serve alcohol here?”

“Okay, technically it’s booth or counter, but I dunno, just doesn’t have the same ring to it. You have a preference?”

Adora shrugs noncommittally. Booth it is, Catra decides. She’s usually more of a bar person, but it’ll be a bit more obvious if she ends up staring at Adora up there than if she’s seated across from her. They're the only customers in here at the moment, so the waitress comes over to take their orders soon after they sit down.

“So. You come here often?” Catra asks, with a saucy grin.

“First time, actually. I don’t eat out much. What about you? Do you come here a lot?” Adora asks, with absolutely no indication she’s aware Catra just tried a pickup line on her.

Catra’s not exactly going to ask Adora if she’s aware she’s being flirted with, so she decides to just answer the question instead. “Not as much these days, but I went a lot in college. Can’t beat it for a hangover breakfast. Or a still drunk breakfast. Or really anything involving being hungry with low standards.”

“Wow. Is it as bad as I’ve heard? Did you ever see anybody get into a fight?”

"Oh, all the time. I've seen hundreds of battles. Frat boy empires rose and fell like the seasons.”

"Really?" 

"Nah. Did see a guy throw a ketchup bottle through a window once, though. Still kinda curious how he managed to do that." It wasn’t even one of the glass bottles; honestly, she still wouldn’t be sure it had actually happened if Glimmer hadn’t been there.

Though again, back in college, Glimmer spent most days with more cups of coffee in her system than hours of sleep the night before, so it’s entirely possible it was a group hallucination.

The train of thought and the conversation that went with it are both interrupted by the arrival of the waitress. Adora lets out a quiet “thank you” as her food is placed down.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Catra asks, before taking a sip of her drink.

“Park ranger. I guess we’re both kind of animal people that way.”

Catra raises an eyebrow. “We’re both ‘animal people’, Adora?”

Adora frowns. “I mean, yeah? You’re a vet, right?”

“Yep.”

“So what did you think I—oh. Oh! I, uh, I didn’t mean it like—”

Catra cuts her off with a laugh. “Relax, blondie, I’m fucking with you.”

Adora looks less than certain. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Eat your food.” Catra peels the top off the butter, and quickly notices Adora make a face. “Is there a problem?”

“No, just…” Adora waves her hand at the now-opened butter. “Y’know.”

Catra stops, knife hovering above her waffle. “I’m sorry, is the Waffle House Whipped Spread Trademark Symbol not to Her Majesty’s liking?”

“…Did you just say ‘trademark symbol’ out loud? Catra, this isn’t even trademarked.”

“Wow, okay. Wasn’t aware we were doing literary analysis on a peel-away plastic lid.”

“Are you always like this?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Shouldn’t you be all over this, though? It’s just margarine. You seem like a health nut.”

“What? No! They’re both bad for you!” Catra knows this, of course, but it was worth it to see Adora’s eyes almost bulge out of her head. “I mostly use olive oil and the like when I’m cooking for myself.”

“What a sad, sad existence.” Catra shoves a quarter of a waffle into her mouth, rapidly chewing and swallowing as Adora stares at her in shock. “Mmm. You can really taste the hydrogenated soybean oil.”

The next visit from Princess starts with her tail tucked between her legs, head held low.

Catra is unfazed. “What is it this time?”

Princess whines, tilting her head to reveal several quills stuck into the side of her jaw. Catra tuts a few times. “You should really know better than to mess with porcupines.”

Could be worse, at least. Catra’s seen a few dogs with an entire face full of quills, which was fun for exactly none of those involved. “C’mon. You’re letting all the cool air out.”

Princess squeezes past her, trotting to the same room as last time. Catra grabs a few things before she follows, sitting down in the chair and lightly slapping the top of her thigh.

“This is probably going to hurt like a bitch,” she warns, as Princess settles her head on Catra’s lap. Might not be the best bedside manner, but that’s just one of many reasons that she’s a vet instead of a doctor, or a nurse.

Princess tenses up with each quill, but with Catra’s quick forcep work and the relatively small number of them, they’re all done in a couple minutes, leaving the magicat and the maybe-a-werewolf staring at each other.

The last couple of times the wolf had come over, she’d scampered off pretty soon after, but she shows no sign of leaving as Catra starts packing up.

Well, if she hasn’t ripped Catra’s face off by now, she probably won’t. “Hey, Princess. I’m headed back home for the night. You can leave if you want, or you can come with me, but you can’t stay here.”

Princess yips, wagging her tail, which Catra assumes is a vote for sticking around with her. Or a car ride, at least.

The first thing Princess does after the two of them get out to the parking lot and Catra gets her in the car is start pawing at the window down button. Despite herself, Catra chuckles as she rounds the back of the car to get in on the driver’s side, and as soon as she turns the car on she rolls the window down for the wolf. Princess gives her a quick grateful look, and then sticks her head out the window for the entire trip back to Catra’s house, necessitating a furious shake of her head upon arrival to get wind-blown ears right side out again.

When they get inside, Catra quickly realizes that she doesn’t have a whole lot of things in her house geared towards social interactions with wolves. Looking around her living room, she notices her movie collection.

“Hey, Princess. You ever seen Balto before?” No woof, which is a shame honestly. It’s a good movie. There are probably better ways to watch it for the first time than “as a wolf,” but Catra decides to put it on anyway.

Princess seems to enjoy it. She watches the whole thing, at least. Catra did toss her a couple of the chicken tenders she made before she sat down, so it’s possible the wolf just stuck around in hopes of more, but it didn’t feel like it.

She is getting a bit antsy by the end, though, so Catra lets her out the front door.

“You know, if you just want to come around sometime, I’d be okay with that. You don’t need an injury for it.”

Princess yips at Catra, and her tail is wagging when she disappears off into the night.

Catra speedwalks to her closet, throwing the door open to rummage through it for something that says “I just grabbed this at random, the fact that it looks really hot on me is purely a coincidence.” She and Adora have been texting a decent amount since she’d gotten the other woman’s number after dinner, but she hadn’t really expected a followup this quickly—it’s only been a few days, after all—so she didn’t exactly have a clothing plan in place.

She shoves a pair of gray leggings out of the way—the mesh design down the side looked great on the model, but sadly significantly less great with a bunch of fur sticking out of the holes at weird angles—to grab a nondescript maroon pair and the black crop top Glimmer keeps insisting is “dark charcoal”.

She slips a couple of silver rings onto her left hand before grabbing the keys to her car, and spends most of the short drive there humming to herself.

When she gets there, though, Catra’s quick to notice that Adora looks, to put it mildly, anxious as all hell. Her arms are crossed, her shoulders are hunched over like she’s trying to shrink into herself, and as Catra steps out of her car, she can see that Adora’s foot is tapping a mile a minute, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground in front of her.

This is starting to seem less like a second date and more like Adora trying very hard not to lose her shit. Catra’s glad she went for a somewhat more low-key—and therefore, plausibly deniable—outfit.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says as she draws closer, not wanting to accidentally sneak up on her.

Adora throws her a quick glance before returning her gaze to the ground. “Hi. Sorry to bother you, but nobody else I know was still awake.”

“Do I seem like the kind of person that lets other people bother them? I’m fine.” Kinda sucks for Adora that Glimmer is in the middle of her biannual attempt to have anything even remotely resembling a healthy sleep schedule, but Catra isn’t complaining. “Do you want to go inside?”

Adora nods, so Catra pulls the door open for her, sweeping her arm towards the interior with an exaggerated motion. She lets Adora lead the way to a booth, the blonde choosing to sit in the back corner. Normally Catra’s not a huge fan of having her back to the door—she likes to see what’s going on in the rest of the restaurant, sue her—but she’s definitely not going to challenge Adora for the seat right now.

They both end up ordering the same thing as last time, though Catra’s not sure if that’s what Adora actually wanted or if she just didn’t feel up to figuring out what to get.

Catra waits to see if Adora is going to say anything, but by the time their food comes out, it’s pretty clear that the blonde has no plans to initiate conversation.

“So, not judging your choice of venue, but is there a reason we’re at Waffle House at three in the morning while you’re having a mental breakdown?”

“My therapist says I need healthier coping mechanisms.” It comes out as a mumble. Catra’s not even sure if she was supposed to hear it, but she did, so.

“I’m not sure anything in here qualifies as healthy, but hey, good on you for trying.”

Adora finally looks up, to give her a vaguely dirty look. “You know what I mean.”

Catra, unaffected, takes a bite of her bacon. “Yeah, I do. But now you’re glaring at me, instead of staring at the table all unfocused like it’s one of those weird magic eye pictures that I still don’t believe anybody has ever actually seen a giraffe in.”

Adora rolls her eyes, and might even stifle a chuckle, so Catra chances another question. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no.”

“Okay.” Catra takes another bite of her bacon.

“Just like that?” She sounds dubious.

“Why? Do you want me to pester you until you give in?”

“Well, no, but… I don’t know.”

“Then yeah, just like that. Want to see more pictures of Melog?”

“That sounds nice, yeah.” Adora smiles for the first time tonight, which Catra is going to consider a success.

Needing no more of an excuse, Catra’s quick to pull her phone out, and they’re both looking at pictures of Melog as a kitten together soon after.

“Why are we here, again, Bow?”

“Because animals are cute and Glimmer and I don’t have one for me to share my love with. Don’t lie, you like it too.” At the time, the couple had thought that “no pets” was a fair enough rule, but Catra’s been dragged to some sort of domestic-animal-related venue about once a month since their lease had started. She and Bow are currently sitting on the couch of the local humane society’s cat room.

“My day job is already mostly just dealing with people’s pets. Why would I enjoy coming here?”

“Because you’re a softie, even if you pretend you’re all big and mean.” He pinches Catra’s cheek. Catra hisses at him. The calico on the arm of the couch hisses at her. Catra resists the urge to get in a staring contest with a damn cat, even if it is being, in her opinion, quite rude.

“I’ll deny that in a court of law.”

“Sadly, we’re currently in the court of Squishy. What do you think, Squishy? Is Aunt Catra lying? Is she a softie?” Bow asks the silver tabby in his lap, scratching its chin and using that stupid annoying high pitched voice most adults seem to think will magically get animals and small children to understand them.

Catra sighs. “You’re holding Veronica. Squishy got adopted last week.”

“What was that about not enjoying coming here, again?” Bow asks, with a bit more cheek in his voice than she would typically prefer.

“Oh, shut the fuck up and tell me how you’ve been or whatever already,” Catra groans.

“Same old. You know how it is.” He pauses momentarily. “Heard you had a pretty eventful party, though.”

Catra narrows her eyes, instantly on guard. “How so?”

“Well, a little birdy told me that you ended up leaving with Adora.”

“Glimmer set you up to this, didn’t she.” Catra’s tone brooks no disagreement.

“Your options were me asking politely or Glimmer beating down your door in the middle of the night to ask what happened. I thought you might appreciate the less nosy approach,” Bow says. His tone is apologetic. His eyes are not.

“Yeah, whatever.” Catra snaps her fingers, and a small black cat—Count Catula, if she recalls correctly—hops up and quickly gets to work on the very important work of making biscuits out of Catra’s thighs. “I dunno. Asked her out to dinner. We ended up at a Waffle House, I’m not sure she realized I meant some other time as a date.”

Bow winces. “Yeah, she definitely didn’t realize that. Waffle House, though? Really?”

“I mean, I did get the vibe that if she touched too much grease she’d shrivel up like the wicked witch of the west, but yeah, it seemed fine.” Catra doesn’t bring up the second trip. That one feels too personal.

“Wow.” Bow pauses. From the look on his face, it’s to consider the facts for a second. “If Glimmer were here, she’d say Adora’s ‘whipped,’ I think.”

Catra snorts. “Yeah, right.”

Bow shrugs. “Think what you want. But I’ve never seen her inside any restaurant without a salad on the menu, or some sort of weird ‘superfood’ burger.”

“So are you saying I should try asking her out again?”

“If you want to,” he says, in that infuriating Bow way that makes it clear he has a strong opinion but also wants to leave the decision up to her.

“Ugh. Fine. Be that way, see if I care.” 

For the next few minutes, the room is filled only with the sound of a few different cats purring.

“Okay, but do you really think the apartment manager would notice if I snuck one in? I should totally adopt one.”

Catra sighs. “No, Bow.”

After yet another excellent “friend hangout with sexual tension” or whatever the fuck it is Catra and Adora have been doing, and with Bow’s advice disguised as “lack of advice” at the forefront of her memory, Catra’s had enough of trying to figure out what everything Adora does means. As the two of them heard out to the parking lot, she decides to just go ahead and bite the bullet before she can psych herself out of it.

“Do you want to go on a date? Like, to the zoo or something, I don’t know.”

Adora keeps walking for a few moments, then seems to actually process the question and freezes up. “Um.”

Oh no. No good answer to that question starts with an “um”.

Catra watches Adora’s mouth flop open and shut like she’s a dying fish for a couple seconds before she decides to put both of them out of their misery. “Never mind. Dumb idea, forget I asked.” Catra waves her hand dismissively, even as her heart sinks far further than she’d expected. 

“It’s not that! It’s just… I’ve got a lot going on right now.” Adora winces as she says it.

Yeah. Sure. Catra knows enough to recognize when she’s being let down easy. “Yeah, no, I get it. We’re better as friends anyways. Don’t want to make it weird, right?” She forces a smile onto her face, and she’s kind of scared that Adora is going to see right through it, but she doesn’t, and for some reason that just hurts a little more.

“Okay, we’ve been here for a while now and you haven’t made fun of my margarita once. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on, Sparkles. I just don’t have anything to say about it.”

“Hmm.” Glimmer takes a sip from the drink in question, which looks like nuclear waste from a children’s cartoon in almost every metric. “Bullshit. Spill.”

“I don’t know what it is you want me to spill.” Okay, so she’s been a little down for the past week. Whatever. That’s allowed.

“Did Adora do something?”

“What? No, Adora didn’t do anything.” She keeps texting Catra like everything’s normal, and that’s definitely making it a bit harder to not think about her way more than she probably should be, but that’s not really Adora’s fault per se.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “There’s not a problem, Sparkles.”

“Seeeeems kinda like there’s a problem,” Glimmer says, with a playful grin on her face.

Catra growls, pulling a couple of bills out to pay for her drinks and slamming them on the table as she stands up. “Really not in the mood,” she says, before storming off.

“Wait, Catra, I didn’t—“

Catra ignores the first time the doorbell rings.

And the second.

And the third.

By the time the fourth comes around, she figures that Glimmer isn’t going to give up on ringing until she gets an answer out of Catra—or at least a response—so she hikes her blanket up over her shoulders, walking over to the front door, only to see Princess through the glass, her nose hovering over the ringer, about to push it again.

Catra opens the door. “Hey. Sorry about that, Princess. Thought it was somebody else. Anything wrong, or is this just a social call?”

Princess shakes her head, so Catra heads back to the living room. “I was about to put on Oliver & Company, you good with that?” The wolf woofs as she pushes the door closed with her head, so Catra slots the DVD into place. She has a digital copy as well, and it might be more convenient that way, but the nostalgia of her favorite comfort movie just hits a bit different with the physical format, even if it isn’t the VHS copy that she’d watched a bunch with her moms growing up.

Around the halfway point of both the movie and a pint of sorbet, Catra is beginning to get tired of what she can only describe as the “puppy dog eyes” Princess keeps giving her. “Stop giving me that look.”

The puppy dog eyes continue.

Catra groans, collapsing back into the couch cushion, which cruelly does not swallow her whole. “Ugh. Ok. Fine, you furball.” She pauses, trying to figure out where to start. “So, there’s… there’s this girl.”

Brilliant job, Catra. That clears it all up.

She clears her throat and tries again. “There’s this girl. I guess I’ve only actually known her for a couple of months, but it feels like longer. She’s funny, and she’s cute, and she’s really hot. Like, really hot, it’s unfair. And like, I tried asking her out and it went horribly, but she keeps… sending me dog gifs and invitations to things? It’s like nothing happened and I’m fine and she just—she just keeps acting so fucking normal and it makes me want to scream.”

Princess wriggles her head into the gap between Catra’s knee and her chest and licks her cheek. Normally, she’d be a bit disgusted about the prospect of wolf drool in her fur, but it’s oddly comforting right now. She’s not really sure what else to say, so she just lays down, stretching out on the couch. A few minutes later, Princess hops down, curling up on the folded-up blanket on the floor.

As Catra starts to drift off, fingers slowing to a stop in Princess’s fur, she dimly notices the wolf side eyeing the rest of her sorbet.

Eh. Seems like a fair enough trade for the company; not like Catra was planning on getting up to put it back in the freezer, anyways.

The next day, Catra is rudely awoken at far-too-early-in-the-goddamn-morning-o’clock by a loud clattering noise coming from the kitchen. Already irritated, she rolls over on the couch, sticking her head up over the back to yell a complaint. “Princess, what in the name of fuck are you—Adora?”

A distinctly human-shaped figure pops up and gives her a little halfhearted wave. “Yep!” Adora says, popping the p, an anxious smile on her face. “That’s me. On, uh, both counts, actually. Surprise!” She waves her hands halfheartedly, like that’s going to make the situation even marginally less awkward.

A few different things suddenly click into place for Catra. She still has a lot of questions, but only one comes to mind as she actually takes a look at Adora. More specifically, what Adora is wearing.

“Is that my fucking shower curtain?”

“Well, I didn’t want to just steal your clothes. Problem solving!” Adora beams at her, like an idiot.

“You were sleeping on a blanket, Adora!” There were also towels on top of the cabinet by her now curtainless shower. She does have to admit she’s impressed Adora managed to get that down and wrapped around her securely without waking Catra up, only to completely drop the ball—or frying pan, in this case—immediately after pulling it out of the cupboard.

Adora stares at her for a few moments, looking increasingly embarrassed as time goes on. “Oh yeah,” she mumbles.

Catra closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to change and caffeinate myself so I can be less of a bitch. I’m not super attached to anything in the fridge if you’re hungry, but first you’re going to go downstairs and put on the pair of scrubs I told Scorpia I’d wash for her.” That she’s apparently going to be washing again. Fun.

“Are those the ones I threw up on after I found that tub of chocolate ice cream in the dumpster?”

“Is that seriously why you—never mind. Just put the damn clothes on, Adora.”

When she comes back out from her bedroom, she takes a quick detour to the bathroom to wash her face, then beelines to the fridge and grabs an energy drink. Adora takes a look at it, but wisely doesn’t comment on either the drink itself or how quickly Catra chugs it, instead just pulling a couple eggs out of the carton and cracking them into a pan.

Catra peers over her shoulder. “How are you making them?”

“Sunny side up!” Adora beams.

“Do you even like sunny side up?” Sure, it’s what she’s gotten every time they’ve eaten together, but she never seems particularly enthused about it.

“They’re cheerful!”

“I notice you didn’t say they’re good.”

“…Yeah, but they’re cheerful.”

Catra sighs. “Give me the pan.” She grabs a fork and starts stirring the eggs, making a (mostly) successful attempt to convert them to scrambled.

“Aren’t you worried about the nonstick?”

Catra stops stirring for a moment to glare at her. “They’re my pans. I do what I want.”

Adora holds her hands up in mock surrender. “All right, do your thing, do your thing.”

Catra keeps stirring the eggs. “So. You’re a werewolf.” It’s not phrased as a question.

“Yeah.” Adora looks a little sheepish.

“How’s that work? You’re not only transformed on the full moon.”

“Well, moon transformations are forced, but it also happens sometimes when I’m feeling stressed, or just need to let out some energy. It’s nice, honestly. I’m still me, but it’s a lot… simpler, I guess? Human panic attacks are boring. I can just run it off as a wolf.”

“I’d say you can as a human too, but given how many injuries you came to me with, you’d probably fall off a cliff and die.” As Catra speaks, she vaguely remembers a previous conversation. “Wait, is that what you were talking about when you said your therapist says you need healthier coping mechanisms?”

“What did you think I meant?”

“Honestly I have no idea, but it definitely wasn’t turning into a wolf.”

“Yeah, that wouldn’t be most people’s first guesses.”

“Oh, really. You don’t say.” Catra starts plating up the eggs and toast as she replies. She makes eye contact with Adora as she slides one of the plates over. Adora beams, which is honestly way more of an excited look than Catra’s cooking ever deserves, and Catra has to quickly look away again before she does something stupid, like try to kiss her.

Unfortunately, the thought of kissing her reminds Catra of her conversation with Princess last night, which she finally realizes was therefore a conversation with Adora last night, which causes her to instantly blurt out “Oh my god, did I really spend last night complaining about my crush on you to you?”

Well.

So much for not doing something stupid.

“Yeah, I kind of wanted to talk about that,” Adora mumbles around a mouthful of egg, setting her fork down. “I’m sorry, I really should have tried to stop you, but I wasn’t sure how to get you to realize it was me.”

“I figured, I just… god, I feel like an idiot right now.” Catra buries her face in her hands.

“If it helps, the only reason I didn’t say yes is because it would’ve felt too much like lying to go out with you before you knew about my… condition.”

Catra’s ears perk up. Her tail starts flicking as well, but Adora can’t see that from the other side of the counter. “Really?”

”Yeah. You’re pretty hot, you know.” Adora pauses, and her face briefly screws up in that way it does when she’s thinking about something. “So, I should probably get going soon so I’m not late to work, but before I do… is that zoo visit still on the table?” She asks, a hopeful expression on her face.

“Uh. Yes? Yes. Yes it is.” Oh my god, stop talking, she got the message.

Adora grins one of those big Adora grins that keep making Catra feel all warm and fuzzy inside “Great! I’ll text you?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Catra shoots a pair of finger guns Adora’s way, which she immediately regrets. Who the fuck unironically uses finger guns? “Go get your Uber or whatever,” she says, before Adora can bring that absolutely mortifying display up.

“So, where to first?” Catra asks, walking backwards in front of Adora. “Savannah? Primate house? Maybe see if any of your relatives snuck into the wolf exhibit without the staff noticing?”

Adora shushes her, suddenly looking nervous. “I don’t really talk about that much in public.”

Catra pivots, falling into step next to her. “That’s fair. My bad,” she says, a little bit more muted.

“It’s fine, just… not something I really talk about when I’m not sure how people are going to feel about it, you know?”

“Believe me, I get it. I mean, it does kinda suck that you shot me down just because you weren’t sure how to bring it up, but I get it.” She’s had more than a few people lose all interest once they found out a little too much about her.

“I didn’t shoot you down, I just panicked, and then you shot yourself down so badly I thought you’d actually changed your mind,” Adora points out.

“Oh yeah.” Catra decides to switch topics. “Let’s just enjoy our da…y.”

Adora smirks. “You were gonna say ‘date,’ weren’t you?”

“No!” Catra blushes. 

“Preeeetty sure you were.” Adora punctuates this statement with a light shoulder check, like a dick.

“I like you better when you’re less cocky,” Catra grumbles.

“No you don’t,” Adora says in a singsong voice, also like a dick.

She shoves Adora away. “Shut up or you don’t get to meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?”

“My one and only role model, of course,” Catra says, haughtily.

“How was I supposed to know that? You’ve never mentioned a Jake to me before.”

“That is distinctly a you problem.” Adora just rolls her eyes in response.

They stop at a concession cart, and briefly engage in a staredown over the topic of who’s going to pay. Adora suggests rock paper scissors to decide. Catra points at a peacock and says “Look, a peacock,” then slides her card to the vendor while Adora’s back is turned.

“That’s low.”

Catra hands Adora the bottle of water as they walk away. “You should know by now that nothing’s too low for me.” She punctuates this statement with a predatory grin.

“So are the $11 you just spent on ice cream and water at least going to a good cause?”

“What, Bright Moon Zoo?” Adora nods. “Yeah, I’d say so. Open up.”

“What f—mmph!” Adora’s cut off as Catra shoves a spoonful of Dippin’ Dots into her mouth.

Catra continues. “For starters, it’s a nonprofit. That doesn’t guarantee anything, but for-profit zoos are usually not great. The habitats here are also pretty big, plus they’ve all got features to try and mimic the kinds of environments the animals would be living in in the wild… and I’m now realizing you didn’t actually ask.”

“It’s fine. I like hearing you talk about something you’re passionate about, it’s cute. And it’s interesting.”

Catra smiles. “Well, if you’re sure… there’s also the education factor. Lots of summer programs. The keepers and vets are all top notch—I should know, I had an internship here—and they’ve got some solid breeding programs here too, which is great for conservation work.” Keeping their earlier conversation in mind, Catra takes a look around to make sure nobody’s in earshot before she continues, dropping her voice to a whisper. “I’m working one of those too, actually. Although I guess ‘program’ might be a bit of a stretch, it’s just for one specific wolf.”

Adora, having just taken a big sip of water, spews it out of her nose. “Catra! You can’t just say shit like that!”

“Awwww, but you’re so cute when you’re flustered, Princess.”

“You know my actual name now! Why are you still using that?” Adora cries out.

“Because it flusters you,” Catra says, with a shit-eating grin.

She winks. Adora buries her face in her hands. Cackling, Catra hooks their arms together and steers Adora along.

A few exhibits later, Catra leans her head over the railing and waves. “Hi, Jake.”

Adora leans over next to her. “Where is he? I don’t see anybody.”

“Not very quick on the uptake, are you?” Catra notes, before shouting “Yo! Jake!”

In the enclosure below, the tiger flicks an ear. Opening his eyes, he turns his head to look at Catra, then forcefully exhales and closes his eyes, laying his head back down on the stone ledge he’d been napping on. Catra turns to Adora. “That’s Jake.”

Adora furrows her brow. “The sign said his name was Hobbes, though?”

Catra rolls her eyes. “Are you going to let a sign tell you how to live your life, Adora?” His name is technically Hobbes, but only because Catra’s suggestion had lost the naming poll. Hobbes isn’t a bad name for a tiger, of course, but he felt like a Jake, dammit.

“No, I just assumed that your ‘role model’ would be an actual person.”

“Damn, you’ve known me this long and still think I respect other people?”

“I can think of one person you respect.” Adora wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“And there you go, being cocky again. It’s insufferable, it really is.”

A couple hours later, they walk out of the zoo together, Catra grasping a stuffed tiger half as large as she is.

Six months later

“Why do we even still come here? Don’t you hate Waffle House?”

“It reminds me of you.” Adora smiles shyly, ducking her head a little as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

At first, Catra thinks that’s kind of sweet, but… “Adora, I am literally right in front of you. The fuck do you need to be reminded of?”

“Well excuse me for trying to say something romantic,” Adora says with a pout.

With anybody else, Catra would say something about the futility of anything resembling romance in a Waffle House, but Adora’s not anybody else, so she settles for rolling her eyes instead. “Yeah, yeah, just eat your toast.”

Instead of eating her toast as instructed, Adora inches a hand towards Catra’s bacon, and Catra is forced to flick the blonde in the forehead to defend herself. “Bad dog.”

What? She’s territorial. Adora should know this by now.

“Is this animal abuse?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’d never hit an actual animal. I actually care about their feelings.”

"So I... lost value when I turned into a human?" Adora asks, a playful light dancing in her eyes.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Adora already meant far, far more than any random dog dragged through the clinic doors could ever hope to soon after the two of them met, and her place in Catra’s life has only grown since then. Her partner in crime (a title which Catra had originally used as a joke; Glimmer had fake vomited, though, so that immediately went into the rotation). Her girlfriend. And, she’s pretty sure, the love of her life.

She could say this, of course. Maybe throw an “I love you” on the end to top off the sappy bullshit. They haven’t said it to each other yet, but Catra can tell it’s only a matter of time until one of them cracks. On the other hand, she can’t be too sickeningly whipped in public; Catra has a reputation to uphold, after all.

"Don't think about it too hard, Princess,” she teases, after a few moments’ thought.

The smile she gets in return tells her that Adora knows what she meant, anyways.