Chapter Text
They left the bunker in silence.
The clearing stood hushed beneath the weight of morning. Sunlight spilled slowly through the trees, pale and reverent, like even the forest understood what had happened here.
Entrapta was the last to emerge from the bunker. She sealed the hatch with steady fingers, her voice quiet when she finally turned.
“Secure.”
No one replied.
Adora lingered, gaze locked on the place where the ground had swallowed the entrance. Her posture was tense, but her hands hung loose at her sides like she didn’t know what to hold anymore. Her eyes were still echoing.
They began walking toward the hovertruck.
Catra turned toward it and said, “Give me the keys.”
Bow blinked, already moving toward the driver’s side. “Wait, seriously?”
“You and Glimmer pulled second watch.” Catra was already opening the door, her voice flat and not asking. “You didn’t sleep. I did. Get in the back before you start hallucinating Drones for tree vines.”
Bow looked at her, mouth half open, then closed it again and shrugged. “Can’t argue with that logic.”
Glimmer mumbled something that sounded vaguely like agreement as she climbed into the back, pulling her jacket around her and immediately curling up on the bench.
Adora hesitated for a second longer before following Catra to the front.
“Catra, will you be okay driving?” she asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
Catra gave her a sideways glance as she adjusted the seat.
“I’m pretty sure I’ve done worse with less sleep.”
Adora chuckled. She buckled in. And then she looked at her.
Not glanced. Not glanced and looked away.
Looked.
Catra could feel it—the weight of Adora’s gaze trailing over her like a warm hand. Not ogling, not teasing. Just soft. Open. Like she was trying to memorize her or something.
Catra gripped the controls a little tighter and kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. Her ears burned. She could feel it in her neck, behind her eyes. A tell-tale flush creeping in, no matter how hard she told her body to knock it off.
Stop staring, she wanted to snap.
But she didn’t say anything.
Didn’t dare break the quiet. Because this moment, this strange, sleepy calm with Adora by her side and the hovertruck purring beneath them, it felt rare. Gentle.
And because maybe... just maybe... she liked being looked at like that.
Even if it made her feel like her lungs were folding inside out.
Catra pressed her heel gently to the accelerator and let the hovertruck drift into motion. The path stretched ahead, stone and moss and sun-cut shadows weaving through the forest like a story unraveling.
In the back, Glimmer was already asleep, her head nestled into Bow’s shoulder. He was nodding off too, his hand curled loosely around the hem of her jacket.
Entrapta, by contrast, was fully alert. She sat cross-legged amidst a jungle of datapads and cables, murmuring to herself with wide, fascinated eyes.
Catra let the words wash over her like white noise.
Her focus stayed on the road ahead. But in the corner of her vision, Adora hadn’t looked away.
Still heart-eyes. Still quiet. Still there.
It made Catra’s fingers twitch on the wheel.
She could feel the words on the back of her tongue.
I love you.
She’d said it a hundred times already in her head. Screamed it, whispered it, written it on the walls of her memory like graffiti she couldn’t scrub off.
She wanted to say it now.
But not like this.
Not in a hovertruck full of sleeping friends and adrenaline still settling like ash in her chest.
No.
Not yet.
It had to be right. It had to matter.
She’d make sure of it.
Catra kept her eyes on the road. Let Adora keep looking. Let the moment breathe between them.
***
The War Room door slid open with a sigh of pressure and stone.
They stepped inside one by one. Catra first, eyes scanning like muscle memory; Adora close behind, hands curled at her sides; Bow and Glimmer, still dusted with road and silence; and Entrapta, humming a tune off-key.
The room felt colder than usual. Not in temperature. In atmosphere.
Waiting.
At the head of the table stood Angella, poised and unmoving, like she had been standing there for a while.
She looked at them as they entered.
“We received your signal,” Angella said. “You said you found something.”
Adora nodded. Her voice came out low, but steady.
“We did.”
There was a beat of silence. It felt like the walls leaned in, listening.
Bow stepped forward first. “Like we’ve established earlier, the signal was neither Hive nor First Ones tech. It was indeed Etherian.”
Catra’s arms were folded, her tone calm but edged. “Old-world tech. Buried beneath a house.”
Glimmer added, “The house was still standing. But the real find was under it. A bunker. Fully shielded. And inside, there was a pod, still running on its own power. Seventy-eight years and not even a power fluctuation.”
Angella’s expression didn’t change, but her posture shifted. Attentive. On alert.
Bow continued, “There was a woman inside. I-In the pod. Connected to a console.”
Adora stepped closer to the table. Her eyes didn’t leave Angella’s.
“We learnt that her name is Light Hope.”
The name hung in the air like a drop of water falling into silence.
Entrapta connected her datapad to the table. “We extracted her final message. You need to see it.”
She tapped the projection.
The lights dimmed.
And then, slowly, Light Hope’s hologram bloomed into the air and played until the end before it flickered once and dissolved.
The room was silent.
Entrapta glanced up. “We found something else, too. It’s... more personal.”
“Play it,” Angella said quietly.
The second hologram clicked into place, rougher this time.
Light Hope and Mara.
The projection played until the end and froze just like they’d expected.
For a heartbeat, no one said anything.
Then Angella moved.
Not much. Just enough for the flicker of something. Recognition. Disbelief. Memory. All flashed across her face like lightning.
“I know her,” she whispered.
Everyone turned.
Angella’s voice was quieter now, but firm.
“I know that woman. That’s... Commander Hale.”
Adora’s breath caught.
Angella took a step closer to the image. Her expression had gone soft with shock. “Sh-She served in the Bright Moon Defense. She was one of the most decorated soldiers of her generation. Led the forward assault during the War against the First Ones. She was brave. Reckless. Brilliant.”
She paused, hands lowering to her sides, her voice slipping into something far more personal.
“She died in that battle. I awarded her the Cross of Etheria posthumously.”
A beat.
“I remember the ceremony. Her wife accepted the medal in her place. She didn’t say a word. She just stood there, took the medal... and left.”
Angella’s gaze drifted back to the frozen projection, to the two women caught in that flicker of domestic joy.
“I never knew her name.”
Glimmer’s voice broke through, small and reverent.
“It was her, Mom. It was Light Hope.”
There was another beat of quiet.
Angella stood still for a long moment, like the shape of the past had just changed beneath her feet.
Finally, she said, softly, “I can’t believe it. Of all the people… all the stories that got erased… Her wife was the one who stayed behind. Who built something. Who started the very first rebellion.”
Angella looked at the frozen hologram again. She didn’t look away when she spoke.
“She may not have fought in our rebellion... but we can choose to fight in hers.”
The words landed like a vow.
Everyone turned to face her.
Bow stepped forward. “You mean continue what she started?”
Angella finally turned toward them. Her expression had sharpened, still laced with awe, but now edged with purpose.
“Yes. This isn’t just a relic. This is a plan. A foundation. We don’t just owe her remembrance. We owe her action.”
She looked to Entrapta first.
“I want everything she left behind analyzed. Not just the neural maps and logs. Every line of code, every single thing.”
Then to Bow.
“Cross-reference all of it with what we already know about Orbis. Especially anything related to internal disruption, sabotage or memory architecture. Anything that could tell us what she was trying to do.”
Bow nodded, “On it.”
Adora frowned slightly. “And what about her? Light Hope?”
Entrapta tapped her datapad, nodding enthusiastically. “She’s still... active. Not fully awake, but there’s background activity. Neural pings. She’s communicating with something. We just don’t know what yet.”
Angella responded without hesitation.
“Then your secondary objective is to find out what happened to her. And whether there’s a way to bring her back.”
She stepped away from the table now, more animated than they’d seen her in weeks.
“I want the three of you, Entrapta, Bow and Hordak, to lead this. Your new base of operations will be the bunker. The less we move that pod, the better. You’ll be safer there and so will she.”
Bow turned towards Entrapta. “What about the Pulse data?”
Adora’s breath hitched at the mention.
Angella replied instead. “That remains part of the mission. With this new development, see if we can find any answers to that.”
Bow sighed, “No pressure, I see.”
Entrapta’s expression brightened even further. “Triple-fronted mission? Excellent. I’ll requisition coffee.”
Angella’s voice softened now. “But not yet.”
Everyone paused.
She took a step back from the war table, folding her hands in front of her again.
“You’ve done more than I could’ve asked. You brought home something lost. You’ve reignited the rebellion with a legacy I didn’t even know we carried.”
She looked at them all. Slowly. Deliberately.
“Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
A collective breath seemed to leave the room at once.
The war room had mostly emptied, voices trailing into the corridor as the team headed off for rest.
Catra lingered at the doorway, just for a breath.
Angella remained near the table, silent, her eyes still tracing the space where the hologram had faded.
Catra turned back.
Not all the way. Just enough.
She shoved her hands into her pockets and said, quietly, “Thanks. For giving Adora a chance. She really needed that.”
A pause. Her voice softened.
“So did I.”
Angella looked at her. The edge in her face eased. And then, just a small, warm smile.
A nod.
“Go get some rest, Catra.”
Catra gave a half-nod in return, something almost like a grin tugging at her mouth.
“Yeah.”
And then she turned and walked out.
No more words needed.
The door hissed shut behind her.
***
The days that followed weren’t days in the normal sense.
Entrapta, Bow, and Hordak made the bunker their kingdom.
The console room flickered with a dozen overlapping projections. Some stable, some scrambled, some possibly hallucinated. They ran cables like vines along the walls.
Entrapta ran point, hair wild, goggles fogged, talking fast enough to spin the air around her into a current.
She hadn’t slept in nearly thirty hours. Her third coffee was gone. The fourth was cooling on the floor behind her.
Bow, running diagnostics on the pulse data, kept muttering code strings to himself while massaging his temple with one hand and balancing three datapads on his lap.
He hadn’t blinked in a while.
Hordak, calm and storm-eyed, moved from node to node, rerouting power, adjusting syncs, and occasionally glaring at the others just enough to remind them that drinking nothing but sugar and caffeine was technically a threat to survival.
But he never stopped working either.
They were running on desperation. On urgency. On what if we can bring her back.
On hope.
And the pod in the center of the room pulsed with it.
It never spoke. Never moved.
But it wasn’t still.
Not really.
The lights shimmered subtly across its surface, a soft thrum of energy looping in even intervals, like a breath being drawn in and never released.
Entrapta talked to her constantly.
At first, it was just habit. Half-directed commentary as she worked. But then it became more. A connection. A ritual.
“You know, your interface work is genius. I love it. You wouldn't mind if I stole that, right?”
She paused. Tilted her head. Tapped the casing gently.
“Mara must’ve thought you were brilliant. Or terrifying. Probably both.”
Sometimes she whispered to the pod like Light Hope could still hear her.
Sometimes, she didn’t whisper at all.
Bow would find her sitting beside it during her rare breaks, sipping whatever drink Hordak had forced into her hands, voice low and steady.
“I hope you weren’t scared when you went in.”
The pod never answered.
But sometimes its glow changed.
Softer.
Warmer.
Almost… aware.
The others helped where they could. Adora, Catra, and Glimmer offered steady hands, fresh eyes, or just moral support in the form of food, warmth, and forced breaks.
But most of the time, the three of them moved like ghosts between the Halfmoon base and the bunker, running supplies.
Catra watched it all from the edge with one eye on the perimeter, the other on the people she loved turning themselves inside out for something none of them dared lose.
When it got too much, they slipped away.
Ran patrols. Took deep breaths. Let the wind howl through the trees while the pod hummed beneath them like a heartbeat that refused to stop.
They would sweep through the forest trails, half-empty supply packs slung over their backs, and patrol the perimeter of the new sanctuary growing around the bunker. They mapped out Hive-free zones and kept lookout during the darker hours of dusk.
They made themselves useful.
They made themselves necessary.
And they kept moving.
Around Day Four, Bow cracked.
Not mentally. No.
But physically? Spectacularly.
He’d just emerged from the cot after what was supposed to be a one-hour power nap. Eyes bleary, hair flattened on one side.
He muttered something that might’ve been “Morning” but sounded more like “Mhhhrrn.”
And then, as he reached the console, he collapsed.
Straight down.
Face first.
Onto the floor.
With a dramatic thump and an exhausted whimper.
Catra nearly jumped out of her chair. “What the hell?! Bow?!”
Adora scrambled up. “Is he…? Is he unconscious?!”
Glimmer, halfway through a bite of a ration bar, just sighed and knelt beside him.
“Bow?”
A muffled voice from the floor, “My body is betraying me.”
He gave a half-hearted thumbs up, cheek still pressed into the concrete.
Catra covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook.
She was laughing.
“You idiot.”
“Respectfully,” Bow murmured. “I would rather be unconscious.”
Glimmer leaned over, patting his shoulder. “Go back to sleep. We’ll let you know when the world needs you.”
“Thank you.”
He passed out again.
***
It was six days into the mad frenzy when Adora found it.
Tucked beneath a collapsed workbench in the far side of the old garage, half-buried under rusted tarp and a collection of empty paint canisters, was a hoverbike.
Or the remnants of one, at least.
It was old. Sleek. Curves designed more for utility than style.
Adora crouched slowly, brushing dirt from the side.
Her fingers found the engraved initials, near invisible beneath years of grime.
“M.H.”
She didn’t say anything.
She just stood there for a long moment, hand pressed to the metal like it might pulse with memory.
The frame was battered, sure. One side looked like it had taken a direct blast. The stabilizer was completely fried. But it was still here. And Adora could feel the history in it. Feel that this machine had meant something to someone.
When she finally wheeled it out and brought it to Entrapta, the reaction was immediate and loud.
Entrapta let out a squeal so high-pitched that Bow nearly dropped the tablet he was holding. Catra and Glimmer turned to look at the commotion.
“OH MY STARS!”
Her hair sprang into motion like a dozen enthusiastic arms as she raced over to the battered machine, eyes gleaming behind smudged goggles.
“Look at her! She’s a beauty! Custom alloy work, manual override thrusters! This is like... finding a unicorn! That drives! And possibly explodes!”
Adora blinked, both overwhelmed and oddly touched.
Entrapta gasped, already halfway under the bike.
“Can I keep her? I mean—temporarily. To fix. For science. As a—break. A break project!”
She rolled out from beneath it and beamed up at Adora.
“I can restore her over the next week or so! When I’m not saving digital ghosts, obviously.”
Catra laughed, soft and genuine. “You really don’t stop, do you?”
Entrapta tilted her head, grinning. “Why would I? She deserves to fly again.”
Adora looked down at the scorched paint, the worn leather grips, the initials faint on the side.
And smiled.
***
The bunker had gone strangely still.
Not dead. Just… resting.
After nearly a full two weeks of non-stop work and multiple coffee-related breakdowns, the gang had finally taken a collective breath.
Glimmer and Bow were passed out together on one of the cots. Glimmer’s arm was tossed over Bow’s chest. Neither of them had moved in an hour.
Entrapta and Hordak were, shockingly, not working. She was cross-legged on the floor, building something non-lethal with spare parts and very serious concentration. Hordak sat beside her with a mug of something steaming and watching her work like he didn’t know what else to do.
Adora drifted through the room, sipping from a canteen, scanning lazily. “Hello, has anyone seen Catra?”
Entrapta didn’t look up. “Nope! Last I saw her, she was checking something in the garage. Or maybe the kitchen. Or both? I wasn’t listening. Sorry!”
Adora blinked. “...So she’s not here?”
She didn’t like that.
Catra didn’t usually go off alone. Especially not without telling someone.
Adora set her canteen down and jogged out of the bunker to the back door of the house.
The house was quiet. Every room empty, the floors creaking softly with that old, lived-in kind of silence. No boots. No sarcastic muttering.
Nothing.
Adora’s stomach gave a twist. She turned around, heading for the front entrance.
Then, a low rumble.
Her head snapped toward the window.
Then she heard it again. A soft engine, a slow whirr.
She stepped outside, blinking into the fading evening light.
And then, stopped.
Right at the edge of the clearing, just past the tree line, was Catra.
Wearing a black leather jacket.
Okay, where did she get that jacket from?
She was leaning, one shoulder against the newly-restored hoverbike.
Wind tugged at her hair. The sun behind her set the edges of her silhouette on fire.
She looked up.
Smirked.
And Adora, well. Her brain stopped responding.
It should be a crime to look this good in a leather jacket. She thought.
“Oh– uh– Cat – Catra ,” Adora managed, her voice doing a full octave jump and half-flip in her throat. “What—um—what are you—?”
She walked forward, flailing slightly. Her arms moved. Her mouth opened. Her brain had left the chat.
“Is that—? Oh—oh, wow. Is that—this is Mara’s hoverbike, right? The one Entrapta was rebuilding? The stabilized gravcore is actually functioning now?”
She stared at the bike like it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, second only to the girl standing next to it. “It looks amazing. I can’t believe Entrapta actually fixed it?!”
Catra gave the engine a gentle pat. “Yeah. She finished this morning. I tested it out.”
Then –
“Do you—” Catra asked, tipping her chin toward the hoverbike, “—wanna go for a ride?”
Adora froze.
Looked at the bike.
Looked at Catra.
Looked at the bike again.
“Oh. Um. Yeah. Yes. Yes! Let me just—uh—get my cold weather protection. In case of altitude shifts. Or wind shear. Or sudden, uh, emotional vulnerability. I mean—cold. In case of cold.”
Catra bit her lip to hide a laugh.
Adora flushed to the tips of her ears and then disappeared inside the house and returned with a jacket on.
She climbed on. Or tried to. Her left boot slipped and she had to scramble a little. Not graceful. But she got there. Settling behind Catra, one leg thrown over the seat.
She stared down at the footrest beneath her boots, lips pressed together.
“Okay. Okay, this is fine. Stable surface, relatively low inertia differential. Definitely manageable.”
Then the bike lifted.
Only a few inches.
But it was enough.
Adora immediately tensed and flailed forward, her hands flying up, fingers gripping tight around Catra’s waist with a surprised yelp.
“SORRY. Didn’t mean to. There was just a minor instability spike, okay not a spike, just me. Flinching. Totally normal.”
Catra was stiff under her hands for a second. Shoulders tight, breath caught.
Then slowly, slowly, she relaxed.
“You good?”
Adora’s voice was high and tight. “Yes! Just, you know… gravity! It’s weird!”
Catra laughed. A real one. Low and warm and just a little bit smug.
“Dork.”
Adora didn’t let go.
And Catra didn’t ask her to.
And then they took off, wind catching their hair, hearts thrumming in their chests and rode into the burn-orange sky.
The hoverbike purred beneath them.
Catra kept her grip loose, her posture relaxed but Adora could feel the tension in her back. Not fear. Not discomfort. Just awareness. A low-grade readiness thrumming through her spine like muscle memory.
The world spread before them in golds and greens and sharp streaks of light, Etheria unfolding like a page they hadn’t read in a long time.
Catra adjusted the controls with an ease that made it look like she’d been doing this her whole life. Her hands knew exactly how far to push the throttle, exactly when to coast, exactly how to lean so the turns felt like gliding instead of driving.
She was riding carefully.
Steady.
Eyes constantly scanning the horizon.
Adora caught the subtle flicks of her gaze. Right, left, back again. She wasn’t just joyriding. She was watching. Guarding. Making sure they weren’t being followed, that there weren’t any Hive patrols waiting just past the ridge.
She’s keeping us safe, Adora thought.
And that made her feel even safer.
Adora had never flown like this before. Not on anything that responded to breath and touch and trust the way this hoverbike did.
She clung to Catra’s waist, not out of fear anymore, but out of sheer exhilaration. Every gust of wind cut across her face, stole her breath, made her laugh into Catra’s shoulder like she couldn’t hold it in.
“Catra, this is amazing!”
Catra didn’t look back.
But her smirk widened.
They flew over rivers, under tree arches. Wildflowers blurred beneath them. Hills dipped into soft, green valleys. Every once in a while, Catra would lean into a turn just enough to make Adora squeak and tighten her grip. And Catra would absolutely laugh at that, loud and smug and not even pretending to be sorry.
“You said you had balance,” Catra shouted into the wind.
“Balance is relative!” Adora shouted back, her cheeks flushed with glee.
The sun dropped lower, chasing them in streaks of rose and amber. Shadows stretched behind them. Somewhere above, birds scattered in spirals as they passed.
Time didn’t exist like this.
Adora rested her forehead lightly between Catra’s shoulder blades and closed her eyes for half a second.
Just one.
Just to feel it.
This moment. This freedom. This.
And then, Catra slowed.
Not abruptly. Just enough to shift from speed to glide.
Adora opened her eyes as the world began to look familiar.
The trees parted.
The cliffs curved inward.
And there, hidden in the arms of dusk and stone, was the waterfall. The same waterfall that Catra had taken her to earlier. The same waterfall where Catra didn’t fear being vulnerable around Adora for the first time.
The same waterfall, cascading down dark rock, glowing silver in the fading light. The pool beneath it shimmered like melted starlight.
Catra pulled the bike to a stop at the edge of the clearing, just where the grass dipped into moss and mist.
The engine purred, then faded and all that remained was the sound of the waterfall. Gentle and rhythmic, folding into the curve of the cliffside. The mist drifted lazily across the clearing, kissed silver by the moonlight just beginning to rise over the treetops.
It was night now, but the sky was clear with no clouds. Just stars. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds, scattered in the black like someone had spilled them carelessly and forgotten to sweep them up.
Adora stepped off the bike slowly, boots crunching soft against the moss. Her legs wobbled slightly, not just from the ride, but from the feeling still fizzing beneath her skin. She hadn’t really stopped holding her breath since takeoff.
She took two steps forward and looked around.
And then stopped.
Because right there, just a few feet away, nestled under a tree where the grass dipped into the soft glow of the falls, was—
A blanket.
Laid out carefully across the grass.
A small lantern sat beside it, flickering with warm, golden light.
There was a basket, its lid half-open and draped with a folded cloth. A thermos, tall, dented and matte black, resting against the edge of the blanket like it had been placed there deliberately. There was even a second blanket, still rolled up, set neatly to the side in case it got cold.
Adora turned, wide-eyed.
Catra had just stepped off the bike, leather jacket catching a slant of moonlight, wild hair ruffled by the wind.
And she was watching her.
Adora could feel Catra’s gaze like a touch.
“Catra…,” Adora said, voice just above a whisper. “What... is this?”
She looked around again, brow furrowed.
“Are we—are we on a picnic? Like... an actual picnic?”
She glanced down at the blanket again, wonder bubbling in her chest. “I read about these! In that book Bow’s dads gave me… The one with the visually appealing illustrations—this is in there!”
Catra chuckled, eyes narrowing in that way they always did when she was trying not to smile too wide. Her voice was soft. Casual.
Too casual.
“I just thought we could... do something. Y’know. Nice. For once.”
Her arms were crossed, but she was fidgeting with her sleeve. That gave her away.
Adora turned to her fully now.
Catra looked away.
“I wanted to take you out. On a… on a date, or whatever.”
That word landed like a spark.
She was blushing. Fierce. Red to the tips of her ears.
But still trying to look chill about it, like she wasn’t about to explode.
“You don’t have to call it that if it’s weird. I just thought you might like it. I mean, you like food and stars”
Adora’s heart was thudding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.
A date.
Catra said this was a date.
And somehow that made everything, the bike, the stars, the food, the hand-rolled blanket she hadn’t even noticed until now, feel like more than a moment.
It felt like a beginning.
She opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Just a soft sound and the flutter of breath.
Catra turned away, half-flustered and very clearly pretending she wasn’t. She walked a few steps toward the blanket, then stopped, and turned around to look at Adora and held out her hand.
“You coming?”
Adora looked down at it.
Fingers open. Waiting. Offered.
Then she looked up.
Catra’s eyes were soft.
Adora’s heart felt too big for her chest.
She smiled.
“Yeah.”
She stepped forward and took Catra’s hand.
It was warm. Steady.
Catra led her the rest of the way toward the blanket and the basket and the waterfall.
They sat down on the blanket. Not quite close enough to touch, but easily within reach. The kind of distance that buzzed with awareness. That said, I want to be near you, even if neither of them knew how to ask for it yet.
The moon hung low now, casting everything in soft blue light. The waterfall roared quietly in the background, a steady, grounding sound.
Adora took a slow breath in.
Then turned her head.
Catra wasn’t looking at her. She was fussing with the corner of the blanket, smoothing it down like it mattered.
Adora smiled, small and crooked.
“You did all this?”
Catra glanced up, and immediately looked back down, scratching the back of her neck with one hand. “I mean, sort of? I didn’t... not do it?”
Adora raised an eyebrow.
Catra rolled her eyes, mumbling. “Okay, fine. I had a little help.”
“A little?”
“Glimmer helped me sneak the blanket and the thermos out of Halfmoon. And Bow gave me... advice.”
Adora smiled and then, “I think I like it.”
Catra beamed. Proud.
Then, reached for the basket.
“Okay,” she said, trying and failing to keep her voice neutral. “So, um. I didn’t know what to bring. Food-wise. Since, you know, the options are either ration bars or... scavenged mysteries.”
She pulled back the lid and rummaged inside, producing…
“Ration bars,” she said flatly, stacking them on the blanket.
Then, “These...are something called nay-kos? nay-chose? nachos? I’m not sure.”
“What?”
Catra squinted at the foil wrappers. “I found them in Mara and Light Hope’s pantry. They were sealed. They smell fine. Mostly.”
Adora took one gently and turned it in her hands. “This is... decades old.”
Catra shrugged, lips quirking. “So are most of the stars we’re staring at. Doesn’t mean they’re not pretty.”
Adora giggled and tucked the bag of nachos beside her.
Catra unscrewed the lid of the thermos slowly, steam curling into the cool night air like a little promise. The waterfall hummed in the distance, and the stars blinked overhead—silent, watching.
From the basket, she pulled out two battered metal mugs. They were mismatched and dented, but Catra held them like they were fine glassware.
She poured the drink carefully like she’d practiced this.
Adora watched with quiet awe, brow furrowed in curiosity. When Catra passed one of the mugs to her, she cradled it gently between both palms and blinked down at the dark liquid inside.
“What... is this?”
Catra hesitated. Then smirked faintly.
“It’s called hot chocolate.”
Adora tilted her head, confused. “Hot... what?”
“Chocolate. It’s—okay, it’s like this ancient comfort beverage. People used to drink it when it was cold out, or when they were sad. Or when they just wanted to feel... warm, y’know.”
Adora looked down at it again, more reverently this time. “Chocolate... is a drink?”
Catra made a face. “I think technically it was a solid first? Like a sweet edible bar thing. But then people melted it and drank it. For pleasure.”
Adora blinked slowly. “You’re telling me people used to drink sugar for fun?”
Catra snorted. “I know. It sounds fake. But I swear it was real.”
She held up her mug.
Adora mirrored her.
“To old world luxuries,” Catra said, voice dry but soft.
“To... chocolate,” Adora echoed, grinning.
They clinked mugs.
And drank.
Immediately, they both froze.
Adora’s face twisted in confusion. “Is it supposed to taste like... disappointment?”
Catra gagged quietly. “Okay, wow. That’s worse than I expected.”
That’s the thing about expired food. Every time they went on a grocery run, every time they brought back non-perishables, it was a gamble with the levels of edible-ness. Sometimes it may be good, sometimes may be meh.
Adora took another sip, winced. “Are you sure this was a comfort thing and not, like, a punishment ritual?”
Catra made a face like she’d just swallowed a handful of sand. “I’m not so sure now,” she sighed, “I should’ve brought soup instead.”
Adora stared into her mug, deeply betrayed. “This is false advertising.”
Catra wheezed out a laugh. “Okay. Okay, we tried. Respect to the ancestors. Never again.”
She set her mug aside.
Adora did the same.
And then, after a pause, “Back to ration bars?”
Adora nodded.
Catra pulled one from the basket with the texture of drywall and handed it to Adora.
Adora took a bite.
Chewed.
Frowned.
“Why does the chocolate drink make this taste superior?”
“Because now your standards have been violently lowered.”
Adora swallowed, made a face, and wiped her mouth.
Catra chuckled softly and took a bite out of her own ration bar.
A few minutes later, they were both lying on their backs.
The sky above them was an ink wash of stars, scattered like secrets across the night. The waterfall below caught the moonlight and flung it in silver across the clearing. The mist rose and shimmered, quiet as breath.
And Catra, without looking over, without even really thinking, spoke.
“Tonight’s one of those rare nights.”
Adora turned toward her, brows lifting.
Catra’s voice was low. Steady. A little faraway.
“The shy stars show up.”
Adora blinked. “Shy stars?”
Catra was still staring at the sky. Her eyes reflected it. Twin little galaxies. One of her hands rested on her stomach while the other pointed up at the night sky.
“Yeah. Entrapta told me that they only come out when it’s quiet. When the world’s not looking.”
Her voice didn’t waver.
But it was soft.
Softer than Adora had ever heard it.
“They’re not the brightest. Or the biggest. You wouldn’t notice them on a loud night. But they’re honest. They don’t show off. They just... show up. When no one’s expecting them.”
Adora didn’t say anything at first.
She didn’t look at the stars.
She looked at her.
At the way Catra’s lashes caught the starlight. At the soft line of her jaw, the way her mouth curled ever so slightly at the corners. The way her voice wrapped around the moment like a blanket, like something that belonged here.
She didn’t know if Catra was talking about the stars anymore.
She didn’t ask.
Catra’s voice had gone quiet, but her eyes lingered upward. One hand still stretched toward the sky, her fingers curling slightly as if she were trying to pluck constellations from it.
Then slowly, almost absentmindedly, she lowered her arm.
And her fingers brushed against something warm.
Adora’s hand.
Resting palm-up beside her on the blanket.
The touch was light.
Barely there.
But it was enough.
Catra froze.
Her breath caught. A tiny hitch. Audible only because the world was so still.
She didn’t pull away.
She turned her head.
And found Adora already looking at her.
Their eyes met in the dark, starlight glinting in the space between them, and neither of them looked away.
Catra’s hand didn’t move. But her fingers curled, just a little, around Adora’s. Not a hold. Not quite. Just contact. Just that first, trembling moment of yes, I feel it too.
She rolled to her side, breath shallow, her free hand slipping beneath her cheek.
And Adora followed.
Mirroring her.
Now they were lying face to face.
Close enough to see the shape of each other’s eyelashes. Close enough to feel the shift of each other’s breath.
The space between them had shrunk.
Not just physically. Emotionally.
Everything felt thinner here, under the stars.
Like the world had pulled back to give them a moment that belonged to only them.
They were both quiet.
But their minds were not.
Catra was trying not to lose it.
Not because she didn’t want this.
Not because she wasn’t aching for it.
But because this was Adora.
Right here.
Right there.
So close she could count every uneven breath.
So close she could feel Adora’s warmth bleeding through the inches between them and straight into her chest.
And Adora was looking at her like she meant something.
Loved.
She’s so beautiful, Catra thought, helplessly.
Her heart pounded in her throat.
Adora, meanwhile, was sure her nervous system had short-circuited.
Catra was close.
Like really close.
And she wasn’t flinching away.
She was just there.
Warm. Open. Letting her look.
Adora's eyes traced every inch of her face.
The sharp line of her jaw softened by moonlight.
The way her mismatched eyes complemented each other.
She couldn’t stop staring.
Her whole chest felt too full—like it couldn’t contain everything swelling up inside her.
And then, a gust of wind swept across the clearing.
A stray strand of Adora’s hair slipped into her face, curling across her cheek, caught in the breeze.
And Catra moved.
No hesitation.
Just instinct.
Her hand lifted, slow, careful, and she reached across the last sliver of space.
Fingers brushed across Adora’s cheek.
Tucked the strand back behind her ear.
And didn’t move away.
Her hand lingered.
Rested.
On Adora’s cheek.
A gentle, barely-there press of palm against skin.
Like she was afraid of breaking something.
Like she was terrified of being told no.
Catra’s breath hitched.
She didn’t pull back.
She couldn’t.
Please don’t let her pull away. Please—
But Adora didn’t.
She didn’t move at all, except to lean into Catra’s hand, slow and soft, like it was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.
Catra’s thumb grazed gently across her cheek. Once. Twice. A barely-there caress that sent electricity humming through both of them.
Adora let out a tiny, involuntary breath.
Then she lifted her own hand.
And placed it over Catra’s.
Warm fingers folding around hers.
Holding her there.
Neither of them moved.
The silence that settled around them wasn’t empty.
It buzzed.
With meaning. With weight. With the thousand things neither of them had said but both of them had felt.
Adora could feel the words clawing at her throat.
The moment felt like it was teetering on the edge of something enormous.
And she didn’t want to be the one to ruin it.
But she also couldn’t keep holding all this inside.
She felt Catra shift slightly—just the smallest breath, like she might be about to speak.
And Adora panicked.
“I—okay—I’m sorry, I just—can I say something? I mean, a lot of things, actually.”
Catra didn’t move.
Just hummed, amused and exasperated. “You’re already talking.”
“Right, yes, sorry, I know.”
Adora sat up, then awkwardly folded her legs, crisscrossing them on the blanket. She rubbed her palms on her thighs, nerves practically radiating off her in waves.
Catra mirrored her, sitting cross-legged in front of her, calm, steady. Watching.
Adora’s voice tumbled out in a rush. “It’s just—I’ve been thinking a lot. About you. And me. And us. And how I’m really, really bad at saying things in the moment that matter.”
“You don’t say.”
“And—hey—okay, yeah, I deserved that. But I mean it. I want to say them now. Even if it comes out weird. Even if it’s a mess.”
Catra blinked. “Okay.”
Adora inhaled sharply.
“I’m in love with you, Catra.”
Catra’s breath caught.
But she didn’t interrupt.
“I love you,” Adora said softer. “Like, actually. Not in a spreadsheet, or a flowchart, or a ‘statistically this is what affection looks like’ manner. Just... I do. Because you make the world feel like something I want to stay in.”
Catra’s eyes shimmered.
Adora kept going.
“You make me feel safe. But also like I’m on fire. But not the bad kind. The kind that melts frost off all the places I didn’t know were frozen.”
Catra rolled her eyes gently, but her smile was breaking through.
“I told Entrapta first,” Adora admitted. “And then Angella. I couldn’t say it to you because you were there and you’re... you. And you look at me like I’m something important and it makes my head break.”
Catra snorted softly. “Still not a compliment.”
“It is! It is. You make me malfunction. Emotionally. In a good way. And I just—Catra—I love you.”
She stopped.
Looked at Catra with wide, earnest, slightly panicked eyes.
Catra stared at her.
And for a heartbeat, time stopped.
Not in some dramatic, world-ending way.
But in the soft, aching pause between a wish and its fulfillment.
Because oh— How long had Catra waited to hear those words?
Not just hear them.
But hear them from Adora, in that voice, in that way.
So full of conviction. So full of truth.
Not science. Not hypothesis. Not trying love on like armor that didn’t fit.
But saying it like it was a certainty.
Like it was a decision.
Like she meant it.
Every word. Every breath. Every impossible, ridiculous, beautiful part of it.
Adora saw her.
Adora chose her.
Adora loved her.
And Catra? Catra was about to choose her right back.
“Are you done?”
Adora blinked. “Maybe?”
Catra exhaled.
Soft. Deep.
She reached forward and took both of Adora’s hands in hers.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because now it’s my turn.”
Adora stilled.
Eyes wide.
Breath hitched.
Holding on like the whole world was made of this moment.
Catra’s fingers curled tighter around hers.
“I love you too, Adora.”
She said it like it was both a secret and a truth too big to be contained anymore.
Adora’s eyes went impossibly wider, shimmering.
But she didn’t speak.
She let her have this.
And Catra... finally let herself speak.
“I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”
Her voice wavered, but she kept going.
“But I didn’t say anything. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I was scared.”
She swallowed.
Then, after a beat, she added, “I didn’t know what kind of love you were feeling.”
Adora blinked.
Catra didn’t stop.
“You were still learning what it meant, y’know? Love. Connection. You were trying so hard to understand how to feel. And I—I started worrying that maybe this was just one more thing you were figuring out.”
She looked away for a second.
“That maybe I was just a... a science project to you.”
That line hit the air like a fracture.
Catra’s voice cracked on the edges.
“That maybe one day, you’d finish the equation. You’d realize I wasn’t what you needed. Just... data. A placeholder. Something you tried.”
Her eyes didn’t shimmer. They burned.
“And that thought? That hurt. Because I already knew what it felt like to love someone and lose them. Y’know, the entire thing with my dad.”
Adora’s breath caught.
Catra’s hands trembled in hers.
“And I broke. Quietly. For a long time.”
Her voice dipped lower, like she was afraid if she spoke any louder, the memory would snap in half.
“So I told myself I wouldn’t do that again. Wouldn’t let someone matter like that. Because it was safer. Cleaner. Simpler.”
She looked back at Adora now. Straight in the eyes.
“But then you showed up. And you ruined all of it. Idiot.”
Adora’s lips parted, about to speak, but Catra gave a shaky little smile.
“You made me want again. You made me feel like maybe I could be loved the way I love. Fully. Clumsily. Desperately. Honestly.”
Her fingers gripped tighter, voice cracking under the weight of everything she’d never said.
“So yeah. I didn’t say anything. Because I was scared that if I let myself have this. If I let myself have you and it turned out to be temporary, or halfway, or something you’d grow out of...
She looked down. One tear rolled off her cheek and hit the blanket between them.
“It would wreck me.”
A long, quiet pause.
And then, “But I think... I think I’d rather have you now, even if the world ends tomorrow. I’d rather feel this. All of it.”
Her voice softened.
“I’d rather hold you now, love you now, protect you from whatever’s coming than spend the rest of my life wishing I’d been brave enough.”
She looked up again.
Her eyes were wet.
“I want to be brave for you, Adora.”
She let go of Adora’s hands, just long enough to cup her face with both palms.
Thumbs brushing her cheeks. Tender. Fierce.
“Even if the future’s a mess... I want to face it with you.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“Because I love you. Not statistically. Not like a maybe.”
Catra’s forehead now rested against Adora’s, her hands cupping her face like something precious. Her breath was warm, shaky.
“I love you like a promise,” she whispered again.
And then she added, even softer but firmer, steadier. “And I will always protect you, Adora. No matter what.”
The words weren’t loud.
They didn’t need to be.
They carried weight, not volume. The kind of weight that tethered. That anchored.
Adora closed her eyes for half a second, like the words knocked the air out of her.
Then, slowly, she pulled back.
Just an inch.
Just enough to look into Catra’s eyes.
Her own eyes were already glassy, wide with emotion she couldn’t hold back if she tried.
“You promise?”
Her voice cracked on the second word.
Catra met her gaze with no hesitation. No wavering.
“I promise.”
And something broke in Adora.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. Quiet, unannounced and unashamed.
Catra caught it with her thumb.
Brushed it away like it was instinct.
And then, without thinking, Adora leaned forward, pressing her face into the curve of Catra’s neck, her arms curling gently around her waist. Not tightly. Just enough to say I need you close.
Catra let out a soft, shaky breath and wrapped her arms around her in return.
They stayed like that, folded into eachother seated on a blanket under the stars, hearts pounding in sync.
The kind of hug that wasn’t about comfort.
It was about belonging.
Adora's voice came, barely above a whisper, muffled into Catra’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
Catra blinked. “For what?”
“For making you feel like you were just... something I was trying to solve. Some kind of—of theory I had to prove.”
Her fingers clutched a little tighter.
“That’s never what this was. You’re not some hypothesis I wanted to test.”
She pulled back, just enough to meet her eyes again. Her own voice trembling now.
Catra stared at her.
And then slowly, achingly, her expression cracked open. This mix of disbelief and wonder and something so tender it hurt to look at.
“You’re such a nerd. And an idiot.”
Adora gave a breathless laugh. “Yeah. But I’m your idiot.”
And Catra, still teary-eyed, still holding her like she might slip away, nodded.
“Yeah. You are.”
Then, Catra shifted.
Softly. Slowly. With intent.
She moved forward, the world narrowing to nothing but Adora. Her face, her breath, the gravity between them. Her knees folded on either side of Adora’s hips until she was straddling her, the blanket rustling beneath them, grass brushing the edges of her legs.
It was tentative.
But sure.
A decision.
Adora was sure she stopped breathing.
Her spine straightened instinctively, like her whole body was caught somewhere between panic and prayer. But she didn’t pull away.
She didn’t want to.
Catra’s arms slid up around her neck, elbows resting lightly on her shoulders. Her fingers threaded into golden hair, tentative and reverent, like she was trying to memorize the texture, the shape, the feel of this moment through every point of contact.
Adora’s hands moved without thinking.
One settled on Catra’s waist. The other found the small of her back, grounding her, keeping her there like if she let go, the whole world would spin apart.
They looked at each other.
Really looked.
And the rest of the universe fell blissfully, silently away.
The stars reflected in Catra’s eyes, tiny bursts of light, distant and real, but none of them shone like this. Like the way she was shining. Like the way she was looking at Adora. Like someone seeing home for the very first time and realizing it had always been a person.
“You’re staring,” Adora whispered, voice shaking, barely there.
“You’re beautiful,” Catra whispered back, like it was fact. Like it had never been a question. “I think I’m allowed.”
Adora laughed breathlessly. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me forget how to function.”
Catra smiled, barely. Her hands found Adora’s cheeks again, thumbs brushing softly, reverently over flushed skin. Her fingers curled behind Adora’s ears, her whole touch feather-light but anchored with intention.
She leaned forward until their noses touched, and the breath between them tangled like it didn’t know which heart it belonged to.
“Can I kiss you?” Catra whispered. So quiet it was almost not there at all.
Adora didn’t speak.
She didn’t need to.
Because in the next breath, her hands pulled Catra in, breath hitched—
And—
Their lips met.
Badly.
Catra’s nose bumped into Adora’s cheek. Their lips caught just slightly off. It was messy. Uncoordinated. Adora tensed. Catra startled. And the kiss broke as fast as it began.
There was a beat of silence.
Then, Adora let out the smallest snort. And started giggling.
“Catra, I think I just—your nose—”
“Shut up, you idiot,” Catra muttered, mortified. But the blush in her cheeks was catastrophic.
Adora tried to bite down a grin and failed entirely.
“We’re bad at this.”
“Yeah, well,” Catra huffed, “you’re like... tall. And I didn’t know which direction—shut up—stop laughing—”
Adora leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, still grinning.
Their breaths mingled.
Their chests rose and fell in rhythm.
“Let’s try again,” she whispered. “Slower this time.”
And they did.
They tried again.
This time, it fit.
Still new. Still learning. But slower. Softer.
Real .
Their mouths moved tentatively, then with growing confidence, then with something warmer. Deeper. Like they’d found the rhythm by trusting each other to be clumsy in the right direction.
It was sweet.
It was messy.
It was perfect.
Adora tilted her head, and Catra gasped softly into her mouth. Catra kissed her back like she was starving. Like she’d never been kissed before, because she hadn’t. Because this was the first time for both of them.
And Adora kissed her like she’d been waiting her whole life to figure out how.
They didn’t even realize when they started falling. Adora pulling Catra in, her body yielding with a soft gasp. They collapsed onto the blanket, Adora’s back landing half on the patch of grass and half on the woven cloth.
Catra followed without hesitation, lips never leaving hers, hands gripping the sides of her face like she might disappear if she let go.
Now the kiss deepened.
No longer clumsy.
No longer uncertain.
But still drenched in feeling.
Catra kissed her like she was learning her name in a new language.
Adora kissed her like she’d just discovered what it meant to want forever.
They didn’t stop.
Not really.
They paused only to breathe, panting softly against each other’s mouths, foreheads touching, their chests rising and falling in sync. Starlight in their eyes.
“I love you,” Catra whispered, barely audible.
“I love you more,” Adora murmured, breathless.
“Impossible,” Catra grinned, cheeks flushed and glowing.
“Statistic— MMHM— "
Catra kissed her again, short and firm, just to shut her up.
They stayed like that. Wrapped up in each other, kisses softening into something slower. Not desperate now. Just intimate. Sacred. Fingertips tracing the edges of jaws. Thumbs brushing over cheekbones. Palms curling around knuckles and lips pressing softly to fingers, to temples, to the corners of smiling mouths.
Every inch of them hummed with the kind of closeness that didn’t ask for more.
It simply was more.
Eventually, finally, they eased down, collapsing side by side onto the blanket, limbs tangled in the messiest, most perfect way.
Catra curled into Adora’s side, her head resting on the crook of Adora’s shoulder, one arm flung loosely across her waist. Adora tucked her hand beneath Catra’s cheek, fingers idly playing with the tips of her hair.
The stars above blinked quietly.
The world had never felt so still.
Or so right.
The temperature had dipped, so they tugged the extra blanket over themselves, both of them burrowed in close, foreheads brushing now and then as if they couldn’t stand being apart for even a second.
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Catra whispered into the dark, half in awe, half in disbelief.
Adora smiled, cheek turned into Catra’s temple. “Me neither.”
“Like, this is real,” Catra said, voice softer now. “We really... happened.”
Adora didn’t answer right away.
She just pulled Catra’s hand into hers, lifting it to press a kiss to her knuckles.
They were quiet for a while after that.
Breathing together.
Hearts syncing up.
Kisses exchanged lazily. Little things. Gentle things.
The kind of things neither of them had ever had before. The kind of things that meant everything.
Catra brushed her nose against Adora’s, playful and quiet.
“So...” Adora murmured, “does this mean we’re, like... girlfriends now?”
Catra blinked, then chuckled.
“I mean... yeah. If you want to be.”
Adora giggled low.
Catra raised a brow, smirking. “You’re such a dork.”
“You’re the one who kissed me.”
“You kissed me.”
“You straddled me.”
“You pulled me down.”
Adora laughed. Full, unfiltered joy.
Catra buried her face in her shoulder, mumbling through a grin—
“Glimmer is gonna lose it.”
They laughed until they couldn’t breathe, until the mist of the waterfall felt warmer than it should, until the ache in their ribs matched the ache in their cheeks.
And then they quieted again.
Held each other.
And the stars blinked on above them.
Witnesses to the softest, truest beginning.