Work Text:
It had taken 30 minutes to actually work up the courage to do so but Adora was sitting at her old table by the window, in the seat she had claimed as her own a little over a decade ago but neglected for the last three years. The seat itself was the same, worn purple leather peeling in places Adora couldn’t truthfully say weren’t her own doing, with the seat opposite in much better repair; Catra never was one to fidget with her hands under the table (rather she often toyed with the table itself, or the salt shaker when one had taken up permanent residence at their table). Little groves the surface where Catra accidentally clenched her hands too hard when they had their first-
No. Better to keep to the safer memories as far as Catra was concerned. Better to not feel for the carving she hoped was still under the table.
Adora idly traced the outline of an old stain on the table, she remembered causing it. It was the first time her and Catra had sat at their table, they had been friends for long enough that they didn’t blink at sharing a large strawberry milkshake, quite literally didn’t blink over it as an impromptu staring contest had ensued almost straight away ending only when Adora had lifted her straw with her mouth and blew right into Catra’s face. She had meant to just blow air through the straw but the speed at which she had done so ended up launching a sizable amount of their drink instead. The ensuing arm flailing from both Adora and Catra had spilled the drink and by the time they had both recovered and received a light scolding from old Razz the drink had seeped into the table enough that it was stained. Over the years it would lighten but it was still there if you knew to look for it.
Old Razz pulled Adora from the past as she slid a menu in front of her and placed herself in the booth at a diagonal opposite her. Adora smiled at old Razz and read the menu, noting the changes that must’ve been implemented over her years of absence. Razz must have employed a cook of some sort as there was now more than just a selection of cakes and drinks. Now there were sandwiches.
Standing old Razz spoke “I do like what you’ve done with your hair dearie. Almost like your ‘lizabeth with the sides,” Adora had gone still, both at Razz’s words and from seeing the name of the strawberry milkshake on the menu: ‘the table 5 by the window special’ . Razz patted her head and walked off with a “Mara would like it too.”
And that had hurt, Adora hadn’t heard Catra’s real name in a very long time, hadn't spoken it to anyone after she left. She supposed nobody would even know that the Catra she used to cry about when drunk was-
Adora caught herself thumbing at a fraying part of her seat, the sensation familiar yet forgotten enough to throw her from her almost spiral. She was reminded of when she and Catra were 16 and on their first real date after two years of mutual pining and awkward not-quite-platonic hand holding on both sides, she had been so nervous she nearly tore the booth seat an uneven stripe down its centre. Catra had bribed Razz to ‘set the scene’ and Razz had responded by finding a small pot of flowers, sprinkling heart shaped confetti over their table, and buying the largest milkshake glass she could and filling it “free of charge, dearie” before handing Catra her bribe back.
Some part of Adora knew that this memory would only bring pain for what she had left and to refocus on safer memories, but another equally loud part of Adora knew that her and Catra’s first date was safe and perhaps the happiest memory of Catra she had, and dammit she deserved to be happy even if the memory was painful.
A small part of Adora believed she should torment herself like this as punishment, that it was nothing to what Catra went through. That part of Adora was always there it seemed, it used to be louder but she had been working on quieting it with Dr Angella, which in itself was counterproductive as it invited thoughts of guilt that she had to leave Catra to sort out her own thoughts.
Before she knew it another memory came unbidden to Adora, once again it was in Razz’s but the emotions it came with were a mixed bag of happy nostalgia and numbness. It was her final year of sixth form, she was freshly 18, and she had wanted to see Catra again so she had packed what was necessary and got on the next train thinking about it for only as long as necessary before she could talk herself out of it. She chose to ignore the facts that both Gimmer and Bow had joined her without saying anything, and that she had been building to this escapade back since the moment she had left. Halfway there, on the train, Adora had texted her and Catra’s old friends to see if they wanted to catch up. Only Rogelio was able to meet, and over a drink at Razz’s they signed at length about their studies and what was happening with everyone Adora had left behind.
It was nice in a sad sort of way.
A gentle prelude to the next day, when she had to put on a brave face for Gimer and Bow as she showed them her old stomping grounds. They didn’t mention how she never took them to Razz’s even after all they’d heard about it, and nobody mentioned the texts Adora received that morning.
In the present, Adora was staring at those messages, that nostalgic numbness returning slightly, the words ‘I have plans all weekend’ and ‘sorry’ remained unchanged, after 6 years. Her eyes flicked up to the time and Adora noted she’d been here an hour and not ordered anything despite the menu. She doubted Razz would mind.
It was just as she’d had this thought that Razz herself walked over, tray in hand and on top of that tray a strawberry milkshake in the huge glass. A ‘table 5 by the window’ Adora thought with a small smile. As Razz set it on the table she spoke, “you will try not to spill this one, right dearie?”
Adora’s smile only grew bigger as she felt her face heat up slightly, but before she could answer Razz turned and shuffled off to deposit the tray behind her register, leaving a clear view of an approaching short haired woman. Adora felt her heart constrict and her palms grow clammy, near instantly reaching for something to fidget with. The woman wore a denim jacket sleeves pushed up to the elbows and a familiar pink keychain poking out its pocket. Adora’s eyes flitted across the woman's face pausing at her ears and then her lips, ‘those piercings are new’ she thought through a mental fog, before moving upwards.
She looked into two mismatched eyes for the first time in 8 years, with her mouth dry and not a word on her lips. For what felt like hours neither said anything, just taking in the differences as Razz looked on with a smug smile.
Catra liked her dry lips, and with a voice dangerously close to cracking spoke the words Adora had missed above all else for years.
“Hey Adora.”