Archive of Our Own

For the first time in her life, Catra found herself missing summer.

Rays of early autumn sun filtered through the window, bathing the classroom in a light so bright that no one had even bothered to turn the miserable fluorescent lights on. Catra leaned on the desk with one hand propping up her chin, fighting to keep her eyes open. It was so warm — it reminded her of summer, already three weeks gone. The nostalgia no longer filled her with the dread and fear of three months blocked off from school, her friends, the world. It reminded her of the wind whipping through her hair as she cruised through town in Scorpia’s skiff, and of wanting to pass out in a crumpled pile of exhaustion after long days of suffering through cheer camp in the August heat. 

It reminded her of dozing off (or pretending to) on Adora’s back porch after long days of doing almost nothing but eating ice cream and complaining about summer homework. If she closed her eyes, Catra could just see Adora’s long, blonde eyelashes illuminated by the summer sun, blue eyes fixed on Catra when she thought she wasn’t looking...

“Miss Weaver?”

Mr. Jager’s voice cut through the classroom, followed by a bang as Catra’s arm gave out from under her and her forehead smacked against the desk. 

If anyone in the classroom hadn’t been laughing, they sure were after Catra’s yowl of pain. Pushing herself back up, she rubbed at the forehead and narrowed her eyes out at the room. A few years ago, that glare would have been enough to shut most of them up. Now, if anything, it simply set off a round of snickers. 

“Miss Weaver,” repeated Mr. Jager primly, as if Catra hadn’t spent half the summer being dragged in and out of his house by his son, Glimmer, and Adora while being made an accessory to their incessant shenanigans. “Think you can stay awake for another fifteen minutes?”  

It took every fiber of her being not to roll her eyes and dig her claws into the desk in front of her, but Catra nodded. She could feel her ponytail bobbing, and she resisted the constant urge to tear out the stupid red ribbon tying it up. Another round of half-concealed giggles bounced off of the walls of the classroom. 

“Okay, okay,” said Mr. Jager. With a jerk of his head he indicated the holo-screen humming at the front of the classroom, the First Ones’ geographic script stretching out across it. “Back on topic. Can anyone tell me what this one says?” 

From somewhere not too far from Catra, someone muttered “ Lunch?” and Catra’s stomach growled in agreement. It set off another chorus of laughter, this time focused on something other than Catra. She found herself slouching back into her chair again and her gaze drifting to the open window, able to relax again now that there weren’t twenty pairs of eyes watching her. 

Just one. 

When Catra looked back to the front of the classroom, Adora’s head was still inclined towards her. One letterman-clad arm was propped up on the back of her chair. Her wheat blonde ponytail gleamed almost gold in the afternoon sunlight. Catra arched an eyebrow — and when Adora realized she had been caught, her mouth slipped into a fond, lopsided smile.

Catra stuck her tongue out. 

Adora’s face broke into a full on grin, lighting up her face like the first rays of sunlight on a dark morning. The all-too familiar drumbeat of her heart pounding in her chest roared in Catra’s ears, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Miss Prince? Did you have an answer?” 

It was now Catra’s chance to snicker. 

Hoping the warmth spreading through her body didn’t show on her face, Catra turned her attention back to the open window while Adora flawlessly rattled off a translation at the front of the room. She had always been good at that, ever since they were back in grade school. It was one of the only topics that she actually had to help Catra work through, instead of the other way around. 

A sudden, cool breeze wafted through the open window — and for the first time, it hit Catra that summer really was over.

“I thought I’d find you up here.” 

Catra looked up from where she sat, legs dangling over the railing of the out of use fire escape. She didn’t have to look up to know who it was — she had known from the second the handle of the door started rattling who it would be. 

Adora’s hands were jammed into the pockets of her white and red varsity jacket, a blue backpack slung across one shoulder. She smiled when Catra turned her head and slipped the backpack off of her shoulders, abandoning it on the platform next to Catra’s black one. Her hair was down for once, and the occasional breeze sent it wafting about her face. 

“You know that’s dangerous, right?” said Adora, resting her arms on the railing as gently as possible so as not to disturb Catra’s perch. 

Catra shrugged, and kicked her legs back and forth. She resisted the urge to pull her knees up and hug them to her chest. She wasn’t the head cheerleader for nothing — her balance was impeccable — but the stupid little skirt of her cheer uniform left less to the imagination than her usual ripped skinny jeans, and she had no desire to flash half of campus below her, even with shorts on underneath. 

She leaned to the side, knocking her elbow against Adora’s shoulder. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Adora,” she all but purred, “A cat always lands on her feet?” 

Adora tipped her head back and laughed. In this position, Catra was taller than Adora for once — and she used the leverage to take in all that she could. The way Adora’s dark eyebrows creased with laughter, the slope of her jaw as she laughed, the way the breeze brushed a lock of hair across her mouth. Her fingers twitched with the urge to brush the lock back. Instead, she clenched them around the railing until her knuckles went pale. 

Don’t ruin it, Catra, she told herself, repeating the same mantra she had been chanting in her head for well over a year. 

“I’d prefer if you didn’t fall in the first place,” Adora said. She propped her hand up on her chin and looked out at the world below them. Campus spread out like a toy city before them, the green of the many lawns cut through with pale pathways and towering buildings. It was a hodgepodge of different architectural styles, from the ornate historical buildings of the Old Etherian style to the blocky, Neo-First Ones style that comprised the more modern ones. The difference was stark from up here. 

For years, this had been Catra’s place. Where she came to eat her lunch alone, on those days when she was too mad at the world or her own friends or — most frequently — herself to do anything other than sulk alone. It had been easier to watch campus at a distance back then, too high up to hear the laughter that she could never take part in. Up there, she hadn’t had to see Adora joking around with her new friends. She could ignore the petty things the other cheerleaders whispered to each other behind her back, she could ignore the way her foster mother blew up her phone bitching at her all day. It was a place to go to numb herself to all of it, high above the crowd. 

And then Adora had showed up. 

And of course, they had argued. The same way they had always argued, ever since the dramatic blow-up that had cost Catra their friendship the summer before high school started. After that, it had been incessant. They couldn’t be in gym class together without someone taking a dodgeball to the face, couldn’t be paired together for a lab without shattering a beaker. Even on the football field Catra had antagonized her, to the point she had almost been kicked from the cheerleading team. 

“Why don’t you just leave her alone, wildcat?” Scorpia had once asked Catra with pleading eyes, even though they both knew the answer. Even though both knew the question would make only make her push Scorpia away. Catra would never say it out loud — and had instead spent the first few years of high school getting a rise out of Adora in that masochistic place between flirting and fighting, riling her up through any means possible just to get those blue eyes on her, even if it made Adora hate her. 

After all, it would have been easier if Adora had just hated her. 

And then, one day at the beginning of junior year, Adora’s characteristically abysmal sense of direction had taken her down the wrong corridor while making copies for one of her seventeen million extracurricular activities. She had always had a bit of a hero complex — always the first to offer a bandage for Catra’s scraped knees in grade school — so of course she couldn’t leave it alone when she heard muffled tears through the fire escape door… 

If Catra closed her eyes, it was that day again, just over a year ago.. She still remembered the sound of the papers as they scattered across the platform, the way they had fluttered in the wind and streamed across campus. The way Adora had hugged her, even as Catra thrashed and shook against her until finally she had given in, crying into Adora’s shoulder the way she had when they were kids. 

After that, everything had changed. 

She had let Adora draw her into her circle, had let her guide her to her and her friends’ lunch table even through some mind blowingly awkward initial silences. She had opened up to her own friends, making apologies for the way she had treated Scorpia and Entrapta alike. After that, she hadn’t come up here as often — and when she had, she hadn’t been alone. 

“Figure out what you’re wearing to homecoming yet?” 

Catra let out a derisive snort. “This again?” She shook her head. “I told you, I’m not going.” 

Adora raised her eyebrows. “It’s senior year.”

“Yeah, and? What am I supposed to do, wear some stupid dress and dance around to bad music?” 

As if in response, Adora’s gaze flicked up down Catra’s body and then up again, slowly moving from the stupid white tennis shoes (and stars, did Catra hate wearing shoes) to the stupid little cheer costume to the stupid red ribbon in Catra’s hair. Catra curled in on herself, folding her arms over her chest and scowling. 

“It’s different,” she snapped. 

If Catra had had it her way, she would never have picked up the pom-poms. It had been the easiest extra-curricular to channel her years of gymnastics into, though, and the murderous training schedule meant that she spent the majority of her day during the school year (and during the month of absolute misery known as summer cheer camp) as far away from home as she possibly could. Nothing was going to stop her from getting out of that house the second she graduated high school, and as stupid as cheerleading was, it was one more thing to pad her college applications with. She would put on the stupid dress on game days like today and do the little dances if it would get her out. 

She had spent the last three years of school toeing the line between absolutely working her ass off for the cheer squad while appearing not to give a shit. Being voted head cheerleader meant more to her than she would ever let on. 

But it didn’t mean she liked the dumb dress. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“It is!” 

“Mhmm.” 

“As soon as cheer season is over, I’m going to burn this stupid thing.” 

“But it’s so cute!” 

Catra wanted to vault over the railing. She wondered if Adora realized how hard she made things. Slowly, she drew her legs up. 

“You did not just call me cute.” 

Before Adora could say anything else that might send Catra into a downward spiral, Catra pounced. Adora stumbled back, laughing, a blur of blonde hair. She was still squawking with laughter when she tripped and went flying to the ground, arms flailing in an elegant downward descent. 

Catra was far more elegant, landing with her bent knees straddled over Adora’s hips. She fumbled slightly with Adora’s legs between hers, and had to shoot one hand out to catch herself and keep their heads from smacking together. 

She laughed, feeling suddenly like a child again. Despite those years of bickering, she had known Adora most of her life — two children tangled together in a failing foster system, who just happened to be lucky enough to have their paths cross in elementary school. This was how they had wrestled and pushed one another around as kids, when chasing each other around the playground had been the highlight of Catra’s day. 

But when she looked down at Adora, vision slightly blurred by tears of laughter, warmth flooded her chest and fluttered her stomach — and that felt nothing like those harmless years of child's play. 

Adora smirked back up at her, pushing herself up slightly on her elbows. The action brought their faces closer together. Catra could see every fine detail on Adora’s stupid, perfect face, from the pale lashes sweeping across her cheeks to the ever so slightly crooked set of her teeth. Any closer, and Adora would probably be able to feel the pounding in Catra’s chest. 

Thankfully, Adora had to go and ruin the moment. 

“Thought you always landed on your feet?” 

With a roll of her eyes, Catra gave Adora a rough shove. It only made Adora laugh harder when her shoulders hit the ground again. 

“You’re the worst.” 

“What if you went with me?” 

Time and space could have collapsed inward on themselves and it would have made more sense to Catra. She stared as Adora as if she had grown a second, certifiably insane head. “Huh?” 

“You could go to Homecoming. With me.” Adora’s gaze up at her was so… intent, brimming with characteristic determination. Catra wanted to sulk away from that gaze as much as she wanted to sink into it. “You could wear whatever you want, it wouldn’t have to be a dress…” 

Her voice trailed off, pitching high on a note that something deep within Catra, something both desperate and cruel, wished was hopeful. 

She tried to picture it. Catra had spent years avoiding dances. Scorpia had dragged her to their freshman homecoming, and it had been a disaster — just one more chance for Catra to stand on the outside looking in, watching Adora have fun with her new friends while knowing that she had messed everything up between the two of them. She didn’t need that, just like she didn’t need to stand in the bathroom stall and listen to her fellow teammates whispering about her while they reapplied lipstick and didn’t need the lecture she got from her foster mother for coming home late the next morning. It had been almost a relief when she had been baselessly grounded during junior prom. At least then she had a valid excuse for Adora and her pleading eyes. 

But this… could be different. Catra had friends now. Catra had Adora now. She imagined herself crammed between Glimmer and Bow and Adora at the photo booth and sharing plates of finger food with Entrapta and Scorpia while sipping definitely-not-spiked punch. 

She imagined herself dancing — dancing with Adora, her hair loose like it was now, athletic form clad in that short, white and gold dress that Catra knew Adora had bought months ago… 

“...I could come over and get ready with you and Glimmer, we could meet everyone else there...” 

Don’t ruin it, Catra. 

Her stomach tightened. She had spent the last year mending what she had broken. She wasn’t going to ruin that now, with all of these stupid feelings. She was Adora’s friend, just like Bow and Glimmer were Adora’s friend. That was the only way Adora was ever going to see her, going to want her. 

In a fluid movement, Catra stood. She barked out a laugh that she hoped sounded at least somewhat casual. “Yeah, sounds great, I’ll spend two hours getting ready just to see you and Sea Hawk crowned homecoming queen and king.” 

She held out a hand to help Adora up, and Adora took it. Her brow wrinkled. “Don’t even joke about that.” 

“He had my vote,” said Catra breezily. 

“Catra.”

“What? It’s just a stupid dance.” She hugged her arms close to herself, and looked out at the campus stretching out in front of them. Another treacherous gust of early autumn wind tousled her hair, and she shivered, rubbing her hands over her bare arms. It was much colder up here, in the shadow of the building. 

When she looked back, Adora was scrutinizing her again — and shrugging out of her red and white jacket while she did it.

“Here,” she said abruptly, holding the jacket out in front of her. 

Catra blinked. “What, are you bullying me now? I’m not doing your laundry, princess.” 

“You’re cold.” 

“Uh, yeah, it’s col—”

Adora stepped closer — bringing their faces even closer than they had been when Catra had been practically sitting on her. She draped the jacket over Catra’s shoulders, using one gentle hand to pull the length of her ponytail from the collar where it was trapped. Still warm from her Adora’s skin, the fabric of the jacket even smelled like her. 

 Hands still resting on Catra’s shoulders, Adora blurted, “Let’s make a bet.” 

Catra straightened, ears perking up. She liked bets. She liked winning them. She also liked the weight of Adora’s hands on her shoulders, as much as she hated herself for it. 

“If we win the game tonight, you’ll go to the dance with me tomorrow.” 

Laughter ripped from Catra’s throat. She tossed her head back, fangs bared in open-mouthed giggles. “Wow, you really don’t want to go with me. The Rebels kick our asses every year.” 

“That’s not true!” Indignation sparked and died in her blue eyes. “Well, we almost had them last year.” 

“Almost isn’t winning, Adora. Besides, if we don't win,” asked Catra, shuffling to fit her arms into the sleeves of the jacket as discreetly as possible, “what’s in it for me?” 

Adora blinked. “What do you want?” 

You. 

Not that she was stupid enough to say that. 

Catra shrugged. She jammed her hands into the pockets of Adora’s varsity jacket, relishing in the way they still felt warm from Adora’s hands. It was slightly big on her — Catra maintained that Adora wasn’t that much taller, but she still had a few inches on Catra and considerably more bulk in the biceps. “I dunno. I kinda like this jacket. Maybe I should keep it.” 

 Adora blinked — and then, instead of balking at losing the jacket she had spent years earning, she smiled. She plucked at the hem, teasing. “Maybe you should. It looks good on you.” 

“Red is my color,” agreed Catra, suddenly standing on level ground again. This she could do. The banter, the kind of friendly jabbing that had been the basis of their newly reformed friendship. She could do what she had been doing for years — bury the feelings underneath a cocky smile and quirked eyebrow, and hope they came clawing their way back up later rather than sooner. “But I’m not wasting my one wish on a jacket. I’ll think about it.” 

“Don’t think about it too hard,” said Adora, the sweet tone of her voice a sharp contrast to the wicked smirk on her face. “We won’t lose.” 

“We’re so going to lose.” 

Catra raised an eyebrow, water bottle lifted halfway to her mouth. She leaned back against the bleachers, Adora’s jacket pooled underneath her, and said, “Yeah?”

“Uh, yeah,” moaned Glimmer. Her pink hair was full and fluffy around her face, yet to be wrangled back underneath the ridiculous , plumed hat of the marching band. She held her phone in her hand, a holographic display of team rankings floating in the night air just above the device. “I mean, I still think we’ll get pretty far this season — but they’re undefeated so far.”

Catra blinked. “Uh, so are we?” 

“They beat us last year! Why aren’t you worried about this?” 

With a shrug, Catra kicked her feet up against the bleachers in front of her. She scanned the football splayed out before the two of them, scanning for Adora’s familiar form. Any moment now, the rest of her cheerleading squad would start dragging their lazy asses out to get some warm ups in before the pre-game crowd started amassing. As it was, only the most fervent of fans and annoying of parents were dotted through the bleachers around them. Glimmer should have been with the rest of the marching band in the cavernous band room — but she had been kind of enough to bring the water bottle and bag of snacks that Catra had left on the kitchen counter that morning, so Catra couldn’t give her too much of a hard time. 

“Does anyone actually care about high school football?” 

Glimmer groaned. A PTA mom with horns peeking from her bad haircut and a cushy seat warmer turned to give her a dirty look, and Catra winked in response. 

“You’re a cheerleader, you’re supposed to care the most.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t. I only care for Adora’s sake.”

Glimmer muttered something under her breath, and pushed herself up from the bench. She had yet to change into her marching band uniform, which Catra found disappointing — it made her feel marginally better about her own ridiculous cheer costume to know that someone else had an even stupider get-up. Catra considered it reparations for the sheer amount of flute practice she had had to listen to through muffled walls all summer. 

She scrutinized Glimmer for a moment. It was strange — she had hated Glimmer so much when they first met. For taking Adora from her, for being what she couldn’t be. That hatred had simmered inside Catra for years, threatening to overwhelm her whenever the two had been put in contact. Glimmer hadn’t liked her too much either. Catra hadn’t fought more with anyone else at the school than Adora, but Glimmer was pretty high up there. 

If someone had told Catra in freshman year that she would be living with Glimmer by senior year, Catra would have laughed and then scratched their eyes out. 

The night she finally left, Catra had walked the entire way to Glimmer’s house. No cell phone, no wallet, nothing. It was closer than Adora’s, and besides — her foster mother wouldn’t have known to look there. It had been two weeks since the end of junior year, and Catra had spent them completely isolated. 

She would have walked halfway across Etheria to get away. 

Glimmer had opened the door, taken one look at Catra’s face, and let her in. Twenty minutes later, Adora had been there. They had curled together in the guest bedroom that would, over the coming months, come to be Catra’s room. The night had been spent alternating between giggling and launching the overabundance of pillows at one another and speaking in whispered, shaking voices. About Adora’s past, the things she had faced before mercifully being yanked from the foster system in middle school when her real family found her. About Catra’s past, which she could maybe, finally put behind her. About all of the stupid things they had done when they were little, tiny acts of defiance that could have gotten either of them in trouble — all of them worth it to have had a chance to see each other. 

A hand waved in front of her face. Catra batted it away on instinct. 

“Hellooooo? Are you okay?” Asked Glimmer, eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

“I’m fine, but some band nerd won’t get out of my face.” 

 Glimmer snorted. “Becoming head cheerleader really didn’t change you, huh?”

 “I’m actually meaner now, ask any of my squad. Here they come now.” Catra jerked her chin in the direction of the track circling the football field, where a small group of red-and-white clad students had started assembling. With a sigh, Catra pushed herself up off of the bleachers and slipped her arms back into Adora’s jacket. She slotted the water bottle into the holder on her duffle back and swept it onto her shoulder. “Guess I better go work on teaching them how to walk in a straight line.” 

She didn’t make it more than two steps before she was yanked back by her jacket. 

“Hey—” 

For someone so short, Sparkles sure packed a punch. She manhandled Catra for a moment, whirling her this way and that, looking at the red detail of the jacket, the crimson “13” emblazoned on the front and the blocky “PRINCE” on the back. She looked up at Catra with a knowing smile and said, “Is this Adora’s jacket?”   

“No, I stole it from the other quarterback,” said Catra, yanking herself free “This is collateral.” 

“So? Did she, you know? Ask you?” 

Catra quirked an eyebrow. “Ask me what? If I was going to go to that stupid dance with you and Arrow Boy?” 

“It’s not just a dance, Catra, it’s our final homecoming!” Her hands clenched together, eyes dancing with excitement. “It’s going to be so fun! We can get ready together, and go to dinner, and—”

“Yeah, well, have fun without me,” said Catra, taking the moment to make her exit. “I’m not doing any of that shit.” 

In order to get to her team, Catra had to walk one way. In order to get to the band room, Glimmer had to walk the other way. 

Glimmer went the wrong way. 

“Wait—” she said, moving to cut Catra off with a speed that never failed to surprise her. “— you said no ?” 

Catra tried to veer around her. It didn’t work. “Uh, yeah?” 

“But I thought you liked her?”

Catra blinked. Every thought in her head came to a skidding halt at the way Glimmer stressed the penultimate word. Out of reflex, she said, “I do not like Adora.” 

It was the same kind of bold faced lie she told all the time, that familiar refrain of, “ This is not because I like you, ” that inevitably slipped from her mouth whenever the universe was both kind and cruel enough to throw her and Adora together. When she slid a math assignment across the table so that Adora could check her answers against hers, or when she stayed up late into the night trying to get some kind of physics concept through Adora’s thick skull. When she inclined a bag of chips so that Adora could take one because she knew it was Adora’s favorite. A quick, half-hearted lie to cover the trail of devotion that she had spent years treading. 

“What are you talking about? Yes, you do.” 

Warmth flooded Catra’s face. She could feel her tail bristling with anxiety. She hadn’t exactly been subtle, she knew, but it was completely different to have someone — Glimmer , of all people — calling her bullshit. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” insisted Glimmer. Her eyebrows knitted together, forbearing the kind of stubborn determination that could level cities if left unchecked. She stamped a foot, childlike. “Catra, why did you say no? How do you think Adora feels right now?”

Catra blinked. “Um. Fine, because she’s still going with you and Bow?”

“And what, third wheel the whole time?”

Things were happening far too fast for Catra’s liking. “Wait — are you and Bow— ”

Glimmer let out a strangled scream. Her hands clenched and unclenched, as if seeking something to wring between them — Catra had a feeling that had she not had the height advantage, that something might have been her neck. “You really don’t pay attention to anything except Adora, do you?” 

“I—”

“Adora was asking you to be her date, Catra.”

The fragile thread of Catra’s sanity snapped. That was the only answer. Her blood roared in her ears, almost loud enough to overpower the rapid fire procession of thoughts cycling through her brain as she tried to replay the earlier events in her mind, trying to glean any kind of sense of from Glimmer’s words. 

A soaring, euphoric feeling rose in her chest. 

Catra immediately tamped it down. 

It was all she knew how to do — the same reason she had lashed out at Adora all those years ago, so full of rage and suffering and hurt that she had pushed away the one good thing in her life. Catra didn’t get good things. They were taken from her. It was easier to push them away or destroy them completely on her own terms first. Growing up, the flight of hopefulness had never done anything for her except leave her in pieces when things finally came crashing down again. It was better not to get her hopes up in the first place. 

That’s not true, a treacherous voice in the back of her mind reminded her. So much had changed in the last year. She had carefully mended her friendship with Adora, had made new friends and reconnected with old ones. She had gotten out. For the first time in her life, she looked forward to coming home from school, where she was met with laughter and jokes instead of a cloying silence broken only by harsh words. For the first time in her life, things were… good.

But it was all so delicate — too delicate for her to allow it to be broken to pieces by the cruel hands of hope. 

Shoulders tight, ears and tail standing in agitation, Catra stormed past Glimmer. Glimmer darted to the side just in time to avoid being bowled over in the process. 

“I have to go,” said Catra. 

She raced down the bleachers, thudding down the aluminum stairs that led past their fenced-off underbelly. It was only once her feet hit the dirt ground below the bleachers that she felt she could breathe. 

That, of course, was ruined when a familiar set of footsteps came thundering after her. Glimmer was nothing if not stubborn.

When she made it to the base of the stairs, Glimmer reached out and caught Catra’s elbow in hers. “Catra—”

“Don’t touch me,” snapped Catra, whipping her arm out of Glimmer’s grasp. Glimmer stared up at her, open hurt in her mauve eyes, and guilt lanced through Catra. She forced herself to breathe — slowly, in and out, the way the school counsellor had taught her. Through gritted teeth, she managed to bite out her two least favorite words. “I’m sorry.” 

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you,” Glimmer said apologetically. “Are you… okay?” 

“I’m fine,” said Catra. 

The two stood in charged silence for a moment. It was probably the first time in her life that Catra had managed to make it down here and not encounter a huddle of poorly hidden stoners passing around what they assured were cigarettes (as if that made it any better) or random girls crying over whatever drama had happened at that night’s game. She was grateful for the privacy, but if anything it seemed to magnify the awkwardness of the moment. 

“You should talk to Adora,” said Glimmer finally. 

Catra choked back a wet laugh. “Oh, Sparkles,” she said sardonically, leaning back against the chain fence separating her from the thousands of personal items that had doubtless fallen under the bleachers over the years, “Adora doesn’t like me like that.” 

She waited a beat, and then — because she had been holding it back for so long, because she had to say it to someone else, at least once, “Not like I like her.” 

“Catra…”

Catra shifted her bag on her shoulder. “If I don't get in that track now , Netossa is going to kill me.” She knocked a hand against Glimmer’s shoulders, and prayed that Glimmer didn’t say anything about how it was trembling. “See you out there, Sparkles.”

The absolutely brutal warm up that Netossa, physics teacher and cheer coach extraordinaire, put them through was a welcome relief to Catra. She gave in to the familiar routine, pushing herself hard enough that she didn’t have to think about anything — not the pile of homework waiting for her at the end of this long weekend, not the stupid outfit she was going to wear to the stupid dance the rest of the squad kept giggling about, and definitely not Adora. 

Easier said than done — especially when Adora was just across the football field from her, racing through practice plays on the brilliant green turf. She tried to keep her head down, running through her own warmups on the black asphalt track orbiting the field, but she couldn’t help looking up every now and then, wondering if Adora was looking for her. 

Night seeped over campus, chasing away a red-orange sunset and leaving a net of stars in their wake. They were washed away by the floodlights, illuminating the football field and leaving only the moons of Etheria naked to the bare eye. It was surprising how early the night seemed to come, another reminder of the autumn and winter to come. 

With the darkness came the familiar smell of buttery popcorn and fried food wafting from the concession stand, the familiar sound of chatter as red and white clad teenagers packed the student section of the bleachers. Catra whirled her pom-poms with a smile, feeling like an absolute tool. 

The familiar swell of the school fight song crested, breaking across the field with the thrumming of seemingly countless drums. The marching band teemed down the length of the track, their arrival and slow ascent up to their pit in the bleachers bringing with it the first hint of anticipation. Catra did the dance and twirled her pom-poms with the others, back turned on the field to face the roaring student section instead of camping out on the edge of the track and watching for Adora’s arrival the way she really wanted to. 

She didn’t have to look to know when the football team broke through the banner and raced across the field — the student section absolutely screamed, their feet pounding against the bleachers hard enough to rattle Catra’s teeth. 

It wasn’t until she was cheering along with the rest of them that Catra realized how much she wanted their team to win.

Other than a few bouts of cheering throughout innings, Catra was mostly free to watch the game. She did so intently, even though she spent the whole time rolling her eyes at the sheer stupidity of the game. Everything she had learned about the rules had been against her will, and she actively spent the period after football season trying to purge the memories from her mind. She had spent the last year begrudgingly caring because of Adora, but that didn’t change the fact it was a pointless sport. 

And violent. Adora could take care of herself, that was for sure — but it didn’t mean that Catra’s fingers didn’t curl in annoyance at seeing another football player slam into her, or that she wouldn’t have scratched their eyes out when given the chance. 

The scores were nearly tied by the time halftime rolled around. Catra did her bit — a frenzied routine at the beginning of the show — and then she and the rest of the cheerleaders slunk away to allow the marching band to take center stage, half wishing she could actually see the band’s formation and the dazzling array of flags from the ground. 

She hovered back at the edge of the track, downing her water bottle and watching the football team huddle together. Eventually, they broke rank — the helmets started to come off, and she felt her heart pound in her chest when she saw a familiar fall of blonde hair slipping from a helmet. 

She watched Adora scan the crowd of cheerleaders and water boys and random students who had managed to meander down from the track. When Adora's eyes landed on hers, she broke into a smile. 

Catra rolled hers in response. She folded her arms, but still found herself crossing the expanse of the track to get to Adora. 

“Would you look at that,” said Adora when Catra was close enough to hear. She inclined her head to the far side of the field, where a holographic screen blinked bright against the night sky, the home team's four point lead in clear display. “Guess you're going to the dance after all.”

Catra scoffed. She slouched against a blue cooler. “You haven’t won yet, princess,” she said, running her fingers across the surface of the table, letting her claws dig in just deep enough to leave the thinnest trail of scratches. It was a nervous tic, one she hoped Adora wouldn’t notice. She had been somewhat successful at shoving Glimmer’s words from her mind while focused on cheering — but now, with Adora smiling in front of her, they seemed to reverberate through her head. 

Adora — pretty, kind, stupid Adora — must have seen something in Catra’s face. She tilted her head, eyebrows creasing and said, “Hey, Catra, is everything okay?” 

“I’m fine,” said Catra, far too quickly. And then, because she would use any distraction she could get, “What happened to your hair?”

Adora raised her eyebrows, unconvinced. She ran a hand through her blonde hair, tousled from the helmet and matted to the side of her face with sweat. It was annoying how good she still looked, regardless. “My hair tie snapped,” she said sheepishly. “You wouldn’t have…”

Catra rolled her eyes. “What kind of stupid question is that?” While she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing her hair up on a normal day, the red elastic stretched around her wrist was a permanent fixture on game days. 

In the flash of a second it took Adora to hold out her hand, Catra was already clambering onto the cooler at her side. 

Adora’s eyes went wide. “What—”

“How are you supposed to put it up with all of that padding on, dummy?” For the second time that day, Catra hovered over Adora instead of the other way around. She flicked one of the bulky shoulder pads for emphasis and said, “Stay still.” 

Adora did as she was told, and Catra set about slowly gathering her hair up. She slipped her hand underneath its smooth bulk, her fingers brushing against the nape of Adora’s neck as she swept it up. She carded through the sides with careful fingers, trying to smooth it down. Adora’s hair was finer, neater than hers. Even after hours of being ruffled and smashed under a helmet her hair was easy to maneuver into a moderately tame shape. 

As she wound the hair tie around the hair bunched in one hand Catra said, “You’re welcome. I’m not doing your stupid little poof, either.” 

Adora tipped her head back and laughed. 

“Stop moving, I don’t want to do this all over again!” 

When she was done, Adora gave a few experimental tugs, tightening the ponytail. It made Catra’s head ache to watch. Her own hair, pulled up into a vice grip and held in place by a red headband, had been pulling her brain out by her hair follicles all day. The second the game was over it was coming down.

“Thanks,” said Adora, turning to look at Catra. She had to tilt her head upward to look Catra in the eye, and when she did Catra caught a mischievous grin playing on her face. “Careful, Catra. People might think that you like me.” 

If maiming the quarterback on homecoming day wouldn’t make her more of a social pariah than she already was, Catra would have kicked Adora right then, punted her halfway across the football field. She could taste that familiar lie on her tongue as she rolled her eyes, saying, “This is not because I—”

Catra didn’t know why she cut herself off. Maybe it was because she had already said it to Glimmer, or maybe it was because she was tired of lying. Maybe she was sick of breaking things before they could even begin. 

Maybe it was because she could see the hint of resignation hiding behind Adora’s smirk — and for the first time, Catra realized that maybe she wasn’t the only one affected when she set out to hurt herself. 

“Good luck,” she said abruptly instead. 

Adora’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something and stuttered dumbly instead. She couldn’t get a single coherent word in before another one of her teammates, Lonnie, looped an arm around her chest and started dragging her off to the huddle. 

“Wait—”

Catra watched as Adora was manhandled away, heart pounding in her chest. Overhead, the holographic scoreboard inched closer and closer to the third quarter, that four point lead glowing promisingly in the dark night. 

“Hey, Adora,” shouted Catra at the last moment, just before Adora could be absorbed into another huddle. Adora’s head shot up, her helmet clutched between her two hands, and their gaze met across the field. 

Catra’s mouth curved into a wicked smile.

“Win.” 

They didn’t win. 

The third quarter was an uphill battle, the team doing everything they could to desperately keep their lead. By the time fourth quarter hit, the teams were neck and neck. Catra found herself watching more intently than any game she had ever attended before, feeling hope swell in her chest even as the board counted down the final minutes in the game. This time, she didn’t push it down. 

The band still roared the fight song on the bleachers behind her, students still came teeming down from the bleachers behind her. Catra watched as they surged past her, listened to the sound of the band playing proudly at her final homecoming game. Glimmer would be up there, she knew — still glowing from the halftime announcement that the homecoming Queen and King weren’t Mermista and Sea Hawk,  weren’t Adora and some random boy, but her and Bow. 

Later, Catra would congratulate them. Once Catra had the chance to let down her hair and change into the ripped jeans and metal band T-shirt just waiting for her in her duffle bag, she and Glimmer and Bow and Adora would eschew illegal alcohol soaked after parties to pile into Bow’s beat up skiff and spend the evening drinking milkshakes and speeding around town like they always did. It was one of the things Catra had been looking forward to all night.

But not the only thing. 

She wound through the masses of students spread out across the football field, swathing the green turf in the red and white of their school colors. She rolled her eyes at the teenagers around her, alternately screaming and sobbing over something as silly as a game. If she didn’t find Adora soon, she was going to start kicking at kneecaps. 

And then, she saw her. 

Surrounded by a gaggle of teammates, inhaling the contents of a water bottle like she had just emerged from the desert. She had already peeled off her helmet, jersey, and shoulder pads, and the sight of her in her in the white compression shirt underneath made something in Catra’s stomach stir. She looked smaller like that, less like the school’s star football player, their golden girl, and more like the girl that sheepishly copied Catra’s homework when she left her own at home or spent entire weeks scheming elaborate pranks for their friends’ birthdays. More like the girl that Catra had met as a child years ago, and the girl who had opened the fire escape door on a windy day. 

She watched as Adora wiped at her mouth with the back of the sleeve, then said something to one of her teammates that sent the group of them laughing. Catra could have watched Adora like that forever — but then Rogelio swiped Adora with his tail and tilted his spiky head in Catra’s direction, and Adora cut herself off mid sentence. The smile she sent Catra’s way was beautiful, even more so for the touch of sadness in her pretty blue eyes. 

Catra let Adora half-jog the last few steps toward her, watching with an arched eyebrow and a smirk as Adora carefully tried to deflect the cheers and comforting words of their classmates as she threaded through the crowd. 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” commented Catra when Adora finally made it through a gaggle of giggling girls, their throats left intact only because not even Catra was going to kick a bunch of freshman’s asses. She had come very close when one of them squeezed a hand Adora’s bicep, however, but it wasn’t worth risking her role as cheerleader for. 

Adora flushed. She ran a sheepish hand through the back of her hair, the messy ponytail Catra had fashioned for her miraculously still intact. A few strands were matted to the side of her face with sweat, and Catra resisted the urge to smooth them away. She didn’t look much better, she knew. “That would be Glimmer, actually.” 

“I know,” said Catra, kicking and the vibrant turf beneath their feet. She gave a dramatic sigh and said, “Guess it won’t be you and Sea Hawk after all.”

“My loss,” said Adora, rolling her eyes. Her playful smile fell, replaced by an apologetic one. “I’m sorry. That we didn’t win, I—” Adora swallowed. Her voice dropped low, filling the meagre space between the two of them. “I really wanted to.” 

Catra’s heart pounded against her ribs. “It’s okay,” she said. Usually she would follow it up with some kind of flippant remark about how it was just a stupid game. She bit it back, this time — they both knew Adora was talking about something else. 

Defeated smile still in place, Adora reached out and tugged at her varsity jacket, too big on Catra’s small form and long enough to almost brush the hem of her short skirt. She rolled the fabric between her fingers and said, “Did you decide what you want?” 

“Yeah,” said Catra, hand slipping to pull Adora’s fingers from the jacket, “I did.” 

Before she could talk herself out of it, before she could hear that treacherous voice at the back of her head telling her not to ruin this, Catra pulled Adora in for a kiss. 

For the span of a few terrifying seconds, Adora was still — and then she gave a soft, surprised “ Oh,” against Catra’s lips. Her hands came to rest at Catra’s waist, pulling her in closer, and she kissed back with all of the inelegant eagerness of someone who had never really done it before. The thought filled Catra with a sense of guilty relief. 

She threaded her hands up into the base of Adora’s ponytail, ghosting the pads of her fingers from the nape of her neck up her scalp in the kind of soothing circles Adora would trace over Catra’s skull if she complained long enough about having to wear her hair up. She used the movement to guide Adora closer and Adora complied, melting into the embrace. 

It took every fiber of Catra’s restraint not to put her years of gymnastics to good use and jump up, knowing that Adora’s capable hands and strong arms could easily hold her. She could already hear the roar of whistles and catcalls around them. 

It was probably for the better — even someone as strong as Adora would probably have dropped her when something cold and wet cascaded over their heads, the contents of half a keg of water opened directly on top of their heads. 

Catra sputtered. She furiously wiped water from her eyes, the only thing able to wrench her from Adora’s arms the ripple of rage shooting down her spine. Her hands fell from their place at the back of Adora’s shoulders and she shifted, ready to charge at Adora’s laughing teammates, but Adora’s hands on her waist kept her firmly in place. 

Laughing, Adora slipped her hands up to sweep wet strands of hair back from Catra’s face. Her own ponytail, drenched a dark blonde and dripping with water, sagged with the additional weight, but it was Catra’s hair she focused on — gently tugging the curly red ribbon free and then the hair tie after it, so that Catra’s mane of hair came falling down her shoulders, held back only by the headband. 

“So,” teased Adora, her fingers carding through Catra’s messy, drenched hair, chasing away the ache of a long day with small circles. One hand brushed by the base of one of her velveteen ears, and Catra leaned into the touch. “Does this mean you do like me?”

Catra dropped her head forward, burying her face in Adora’s shoulder. “I’ve always liked you, you idiot,” she said, voice muffled against the soaked fabric of Adora’s shirt. Not just like, either — there was something else, something deeper, a kind of love for Adora that had permeated through her entire life. Ever changing, never gone. She curled her fingers into the bottom of Adora’s shirt, holding on for comfort. 

She couldn’t say it. Not now, not here, surrounded by a million idiots wearing Horde red and crying as if there weren’t worse things in life than losing a stupid football game — but one day, she would. 

Instead, she said into Adora’s collar bone, “Will you go to homecoming with me?”

Adora went still. It was mortifying, but Catra forced herself to lean back, to look Adora in the face and see the dazed smile spreading across her face. 

“Really?” She breathed. 

“Yeah,” said Catra. By this time tomorrow, she knew she might thoroughly regret it — once she was jammed into Glimmer’s bedroom with her and Adora, watching the two of them spend hours getting ready and listening to Glimmer’s bubblegum pop playlists from Hell. Being packed into a poorly decorated gym like an overdressed sardine with a bunch of her classmates had never been Catra’s idea of a good time, but she had seen the pictures from years past littering the walls of Adora’s and Bow’s and Glimmer’s walls, and she couldn’t deny that she wanted that. She wanted to experience all those stupid, pointless, cheesy high school things that she had been denied for years. She wanted to experience them with Adora. 

She wanted to experience everything with Adora. 

“But I am not wearing a dress.” 

Adora beamed at her, fingers drumming against the base of Catra's skull. “Deal.” 

Catra let Adora pull her in for another breathless kiss, this one broken only by a treacherous need for air rather than the sick joke of their classmates. 

“Oh,” said Catra when they finally pulled apart again. “And I’m keeping the jacket. Red’s my color.”

If anything, Adora smiled even harder. Even under the harsh flood lights illuminating the field, she seemed to glow. “Keep it,” she agreed. “Never take it off.” 

Catra didn’t plan on it. 

She let Adora kiss her — again and again, until she was dizzy with it, until most of the students and parents had stumbled off of the field in defeat. The sky was almost clear overhead, but a soft breeze danced across the dark campus. Catra shivered in her soaked jacket and cheer costume, knowing that soon — maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow — the heavens would cloud over and wash the final remains of an amazing summer away in a sheet of rain. Hand in hand with Adora, she would welcome it with open arms.