#close enough welcome back early catradora

[youngjusticeslut]

Center Stage (Chapter 4)

Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power Characters: Adora, Catra, Glimmer, Bow, Mermista, Sea Hawk, Kyle, Perfuma, Frosta, Angella, Micah, Shadow Weaver Ships: Catradora, Glimbow, Seamista, Kygelio, Scorptra Rating: T+ Summary: A Catradora Ballet School AU AO3

Adora wakes up long before her alarm goes off.

First day of classes. Big day. Her phone tells her it’s a little past six in the morning, and a quick glance to the side of the room tells her that Glimmer is gone, bed unkempt. Carefully, she crawls out of bed, hoping not to wake Catra. Though judging by the girl’s soft snores, there’s not much to worry about.

Six am means she has two hours to kill before her first class. Two hours is plenty of time. Enough for a quick workout, a thorough stretch session, and maybe even a bit of breakfast. If her stomach calms down enough to eat, that is.

From her bedside table, she grabs her earphones and plugs them into her phone. Quiet as can be, she starts with a series of pushups, followed by crunches, bicycle kicks, and leg lifts. Three sets, rinse and repeat. It helps Adora work her nerves out, and lucky for her, Catra sleeps through the entire thing, unaware of it all. She takes extra time to stretch out her muscles, especially her feet. They’d be put through the ringer today, the least she can do is prepare them for what’s to come.

By the time she showers and grabs a couple of muffins from the cafeteria, Catra’s just waking up. She smiles, seeing her awake when she enters the room. Glimmer is still nowhere to be found, it seems. “Hey there,” Adora greets softly, trying not to startle her roommate. “Late start?”

“Not an early riser,” the brunette responds. “What time is it?”

“Seven thirty. Still got about thirty minutes until class.”

“Shit.” As if on cue, Catra’s stomach growls. She glances away in mild embarrassment.  

“It’s okay,” Adora says, tossing her a muffin. Catra catches it without missing a bit. “I came prepared.”

Adora tries not to relish the look of surprise on Catra’s face. Score a point to her, for being the best roommate ever. As Catra nibbles on the muffin, Adora rifles through her drawers, pulling out her black leotards and pink tights. Boring, but apparently the required uniform at Bright Moon.

She keeps her back to Catra as she’s changing, humming to herself as a distraction. At the moment, she doesn’t even remember the name of the song she’s humming. It’s a Spanish one, something Mara would sing most mornings as she made breakfast. The routine quells the little bit of homesickness that she’s feeling.

Once she’s dressed, she walks over to the mirror and starts to pin up her hair. By now, Catra’s finished the muffin and has also begun to get dressed. “Want to walk to class together?” she asks, hoping to continue extending the olive branch. She’s not great at making friends, but she promised Mara and Razz that she’d make a better effort at it.

“Uh, sure. I have to brush my teeth, though.”

“That’s okay, I’ll—wait, is that what you’re wearing?”

Catra glances up from adjusting the straps on her leotard. “Yeah?” She pauses, cocks her head to the side and gives a little smirk. “Doesn’t suit your taste?” Unlike Adora, she wears red, with nude colored tights. It looks far better than it should, and Adora can’t help the blush that tints her cheeks.

The question leaves Adora flustered, more than it probably should. It’s too early for this. “What? No. No, it’s fine. Cool actually, super— I mean…” She stops rambling and collects herself with a deep breath. “What you’re wearing is nice, but Bright Moon has a uniform.”

“Uniform?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you read the orientation packet?”

Catra’s face says that she very much hadn’t, but the girl shrugs it off and takes off the hair tie from around her wrist. “Whatever. It’ll make me stand out.”

“I don’t think it works like that. What if you get in trouble?”

The brunette pauses from tying up her hair, shooting a quick look at Adora. “Worried about me?”

Adora scoffs and crosses her arms. “I’m trying to save you from getting your ass kicked out on the first day.”

“They won’t throw me out. Trust me, once they see me dance, they’ll forget all about what I’m wearing.” Her words are strong, but something in Catra’s eyes doesn’t exactly convince Adora. It comes off more like a front, a facade to protect her. Part of her wants to call Catra out on it, but something stops her. Truthfully, it’s none of her business. Who is Adora to stop Catra from doing what she wants?

“Hey, it’s your funeral,” Adora ends up saying.

Catra finishes to tie up her hair, leaving it in a sloppy bun with bangs framing her face. It’s a stark contrast to Adora’s sleek, neat do. “I appreciate the concern,” she says with a wink.

While Catra scoots past her into their shared bathroom to brush her teeth, Adora checks the time on her phone. Class starts in fifteen minutes. She pulls at her fingers for something to do, resisting the urge to chew on her lip. They’re cutting it awfully close. What if all the good spots are taken by the time they get there? She really wants to show up early, scope out the other girls, make a good impression on the teachers.

“Almost ready?” It comes with a bit of a whine, and Adora mentally kicks herself. Now Catra probably thinks she’s such a goody-goody. It doesn’t matter, though. There’s no answer. “Catra?”

“Nearly done. If it’s getting close, go on ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll catch up.”

Permission granted, Adora grabs her already-packed ballet bag and slings it over her shoulder. She barely remembers to grab her room keys on her way out the door. Part of her feels guilty for leaving Catra behind, but she really doesn’t want to be late. Especially not on the first day.

Thanks to her strategic mapping technique from the day before, Adora is able to make it to class in less than five minutes. The dorms aren’t too far from this particular studio, and for that Adora is eternally grateful. As expected, several girls are already there in various points of preparing their pointe shoes. Glimmer stands off to the side, testing out a shiny pair of shoes. In comparison, Adora’s faded ones look abysmal. She really needs a new pair.

Adora takes her place in the center of the room, close to the barre. When class begins, she’ll be front and center; perfect for watching the teacher, and right up front to get her noticed. Easy. Almost too easy. Her pointe shoes are already broken-in, so she takes the time to prep her feet properly before slipping them on. No distractions today. She has to be at the top of her game.

Her nerves aren’t nearly as bad as they were on the day of her audition. Maybe it’s because she’s already in and the hard part is over. Or maybe it has something to do with being inside the gorgeous dance studio again. Last time she was in here, it felt like a dream. Today, it’s her reality.

“Adora!” Perfuma waves at her, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s your first day, how are you feeling? Did you eat breakfast?”

Any other morning, this amount of energy so early in the morning would have turned Adora off. She doesn’t mind it so much today. “Yeah, I got something to eat. And I’m fine. Excited for it to start, really.”

Perfuma places a hand on Adora’s shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze. “Glad to hear it. No stress?”

“Not really.”

“That’s great! I’m sure you’re going to be amazing.” For some reason, Perfuma’s encouragement actually helps Adora feel better. She knows that she’s only met the girl a day ago, but there’s something really calming about her general demeanor.

Adora’s about to respond when the doors to the dance studio open. A flock of boys enter the room, and the excitement increases tenfold. Returning students hug and squeal and group together. Off to the side, Adora finally locates Glimmer. She throws her arm around a boy, who cheers and spins her around in delight. Following right after the boys are a group of adults. Teachers, she assumes, judging by their higher air and the way they watch the students interact. Adora recognizes Angella, Spinerella and Netossa from the audition. Angella holds herself at the front of the room, standing beside a dark-haired man.

“Good morning,” she announces, bright and chipper. The energy in the room immediately simmers down, and many echo the words back to her. “We are so pleased to welcome everyone to the first day of what I am sure will be a wonderful year.”

As she welcomes the new students, Adora scans the crowd for Catra. She doesn’t find her. Biting her lip, she attempts to  focus back on Angella. Why is her roommate like this?

“You are our senior class, which means that this will be your last year attending Bright Moon Academy,” the man beside Angella continues. “At the end of the year, we will be picking the top dancers to join our company.” He scans the crowd, and offers a kind smile. “While I’m sure that all of you are incredible, this year we will only have room to add six students to the company.”

Six students? Adora clenches her fist in determination. She’s faced worse odds.

“Throughout the year, we will be observing you and your talents as ballet dancers. However, we will not make any final decisions until we see how you dance in the final workshop performance. With that said, we wish you all the best of luck, and advise you to make this your year.”

When Angella finishes speaking, the group claps. The door opens again, and Catra walks in, completely neutral, not a hint of shame on her face. The man beside Angella raises a brow. “So nice of you to fit us into your schedule, Miss…?”

“Catra.” She grins right back at him. “And no sweat.”

The class snickers at her response, but if Catra cares, she doesn’t show it. Adora sucks in her teeth. Late, again? Really. Is Catra actively trying to get herself kicked out, or does she just not care?

“One more thing before we dismiss you for classes. As you may have heard, the company gala is taking place this weekend. We always invite our senior students to attend the performance and help out at the party afterwards, so please plan accordingly. We do expect you all to attend,” Angella says. “Thank you all!”

That said, the teachers trickle out of the room and the boys bid their goodbyes before leaving for their own class. A dark-haired teacher remains at the front, hands clasped tightly. Catra catches Adora’s eye and gives her a wink, but her expression changes completely once she sees the teacher. That’s weird.

“You may call me Madame Weaver,” the woman continues. “In this class, we will be working on technique, sequences and formations three times a week. At the barre,”  she instructs, giving no pleasantries. Needless to say, the girls toss their bags to the side and scurry to their positions at the barre. Adora already has her spot, and Catra manages to grab the spot on the opposing end. Their hands are inches away from the other. Adora’s not sure why, but it makes her nervous.

“Let’s start with our pliés. First position, demi, and stretch. Full grand plié and return. Port de bras forward. Full port de bras back. The same in second, third, and fifth positions, and then rise and take a balance in fifth.” She speaks a little too quickly for Adora to fully understand what she’s asking, but since she’s good at following along, she’s not too worried.

Madame Weaver nods to the pianist in the room, who begins the opening transition. To no one’s surprise, the girls move through the pliés seamlessly. Thanks to her rigorous stretch earlier, Adora feels nice and limber.

The teacher walks around the room with something to say about everyone. Mermista needs to relax her fingers. Perfuma needs to work on feeling the support from her center. Glimmer is complimented on her technique. Adora glides through the movements, feeling confident and waiting for Madame Weaver to no doubtedly comment on how wonderful her technique is.

When she gets to her, she pauses. “Your name?” Madame Weaver asks.

“Adora.”

“You need to work on your turnout. Without it, your dancing suffers.”

It’s not the advice Adora expected to hear. She looks down at her feet and adjusts her turnout, feeling less comfortable. “Better,” Madame Weaver says before moving on. As Adora continues her plies, she watches from her peripheral as Madame Weaver approaches Catra.

“You will be on time to my class and wearing appropriate attire. You would do well to remember that your place here is subject to my approval. Do I make myself clear, Catra?”

Adora doesn’t hear a response, but she assumes that Catra agrees, for Madame Weaver moves away and proceeds onto the next student. Something about her interaction with Catra unsettles her. It’s almost like they know each other. With a slight huff, she forces the thought out of her mind. She can’t think about that right now.  

The class continues. They spend an hour on barre work alone. From there, they move on to floor work and practicing routines across the room. As much as Adora would like to admit otherwise, she struggles. She comes out of turns too slow and stumbles one time too many for her liking. Madame Weaver works quickly and she isn’t always able to catch everything she says. On the whole, she feels like she has much to improve on.

When class ends, Adora sinks down to the floor and yanks open the laces of her pointe shoes. Her feet throb and she just wants to be out of them. Lunch sounds good, too. The lonely muffin she had for breakfast is long gone, and she needs more than just a salad today.

“Hey.” Adora looks up to see Glimmer, offering her an apologetic smile. “Don’t let it get you down. The first day is always rough.”

It’s hard not to take her words personally, especially not after an entire class where Glimmer was the model student. She swallows any bitterness and smiles back. “I guess you’d know, huh?”

“Trust me, there are days I mess up too. Do you want to go have lunch?”

Adora slips into a pair of slippers and stuffs her pointe shoes in her bag before standing up. “Lunch sounds great. I don’t think I’m in the mood for salad though.”

Glimmer laughs and interlocks arms with her. The action is unexpected, but welcome. They head in the direction of the cafeteria, arm in arm. “Hard same. What are you thinking?”

“I could go for a sandwich. Grilled cheese?”

“Deal.”

In less than ten minutes, the two are in line at the cafeteria waiting to pay for their food. Adora steals a fry off her plate, nibbling at it to quell her hunger. “So, it gets better, right?”

“So much better. Weaver never gets easier though.” Glimmer chews on the inside of her cheek before looking off to the side. “She’s just very… particular.”

Adora remembers the short conversation she overheard between Madame Weaver and Catra. Note to self, stay on Weaver’s good side. Couldn’t be that hard, right? Glimmer seems to have figured it out. “She likes you, though.”

“I wish she didn’t. Believe it or not, I kind of hate being the teacher’s pet.”

“What? No way.” When it’s her turn, Adora sets down her tray and pulls out her student ID to pay for the meal. She’s so lucky that she qualified for Bright Moon’s scholarship program. Mara and Razz were more than willing to chip in, but Adora’s never been comfortable with putting more financial burden on them.

“Way.” Glimmer pulls out her card to pay for her food when she looks up and her eyes widen. “I am so sorry.”

“For what?”

“Glimmer!” Angella meets them at the cash register, a stack of papers in her hand. “You haven’t answered my texts. How was your first class?”

Glimmer flushes in embarrassment and grits her teeth. “Mom, you’re holding up the line.”

“Oh, you’re right. Here, let me pay, Dear,” she says, handing the cashier her credit card before Glimmer can argue. Once they’re all settled, Angella walks with them toward a less crowded spot.

“Adora, this is my mom,” Glimmer introduces reluctantly. “Mom, Adora.”

“Yes, Adora. I remember you, from the audition.” Angella takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “It’s so nice to meet more of Glimmer’s friends.”

“Mom.”

Angella clears her throat, smiling bashfully and letting go of Adora’s hands. “Right, sorry. How was the first class?”

“It was good. Nothing to worry about. Right, Adora?”

Adora nods, quickly trying to swallow her mouth full of a couple more fries. “Yep! Just fine,” she says, hoping that Madame Weaver hasn’t already soiled her reputation to Angella.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. I won’t pry any more, you girls go on and enjoy your lunch, I just wanted to say hello.” Angella takes note of her daughter’s tray and rests a soft hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “I thought we agreed on salads for lunch. We spoke about this, Glimmer.”

Glimmer turns as red as the ketchup on her plate. It clashes horribly with her hair. “Mom, I know. I promise, salad for dinner,” she mutters, unable to look at Adora.

The answer pleases Angella, for she pecks her forehead and lets go of her. “Good. Keep an eye on your phone, and call me tonight?”

“Yeah, Mom. Say hi to Dad for me.”

“I will. Bye girls.”

Adora watches after her as she leaves before following Glimmer to where she’d hunkered down at a nearby table. Glimmer angrily stabs a fry in some ketchup before tossing it to the side of her plate. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she warns before taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Fair enough. My family can be a lot too,” Adora says, trying to make Glimmer feel better. “Was your dad the guy standing next to Angella this morning.”

“Yeah. I may have mentioned it yesterday, but they run the school and the company. My dad takes a bigger role in the company, and my mom the school. It works out.”

“Must have been cool to grow up around all these ballet dancers. You must have been able to learn so much from them.”

Glimmer nods, swirling a fry around in some ketchup before popping it in her mouth. “Something like that.”

As Adora digs into her grilled cheese, she notices Catra sitting at a table not too far from them. She talks to a girl with platinum hair and she looks… upset. The tall girl attempts to comfort her but Catra moves away. It seems that Madame Weaver’s words really got to her. “Kind of serves her right,” Glimmer notes after following Adora’s gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“Who does she think she is, showing up late on the first day? And breaking the dress code at that! Catra’s just asking to be kicked out,” Glimmer scoffs, taking a bite of her grilled cheese. She chews, mulls it over, and smirks. “Or maybe she just likes attention.”

Glimmer’s words don’t sit well with her. Adora crosses her arms and takes a shaky breath. “Look, I know you and Catra don’t get along. But you didn’t hear what Weaver said to her. It was… way harsh. Harsher than it should be.”

“That’s just how Weaver is.”

“I don’t think so. I’m not saying what Catra did was right, and I’m not going to sit here and make excuses for her. But I’m also not going to sit here and badmouth her.” Adora looks down at her plate. “That’s not who I am. Okay?”

Glimmer reaches for her hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Let’s just talk about something else?”

“Yeah.” Adora looks back in Catra’s direction, but the brunette is no longer there. Maybe she’ll talk to her later, see what’s going on. “So, about the Gala thing this weekend… Can you wear jeans to that?”

[lucky-clover-gazette]

forrest

catradora one-shot | fluff & hurt/comfort | 2304 words

Adora and Catra are visiting the rehabilitated Fright Zone a decade after the war when Catra goes into early labor.

in other words, THEY HAVE BABEY!!!!!

read it on ao3 or under the cut:

The Fright Zone looked chillingly similar, ten years past the conclusion of the war.

“Watch your step,” Adora warned Catra, who held onto her wife’s arm as the procession from Bright Moon entered the settlement. After Hordak’s death and the Horde’s surrender, the Fright Zone had been transformed into a civilian living space, available to refugees and ex-soldiers. It was a part of Adora and Catra’s duties, along with Bow, Glimmer, Queen Angella, and few other key figures, to re-visit the area annually.

The two young women had grown into full adults, married at twenty-two, presently twenty-nine. Adora still wore her hair in that strange bumpy ponytail, her trusty red jacket having survived the war, her boots muddied and worn. She had developed slightly deeper lines beneath her eyes, age just beginning to show, although her muscles remained in peak condition from constant training.

Catra’s core attributes remained: multicolored eyes, ears, and a tail, with a wild mane of dark hair and ink-black claws. But something major had changed about her physique—she was pregnant, extremely so, wearing a loose red dress and orthopedic sandals beneath her usually-bare feet.

“Don’t baby me,” Catra muttered as Adora helped her up a step. They entered one of the Fright Zone’s main buildings, once soldiers’ barracks and now home to a lively and diverse community.

Adora smiled and stroked Catra’s bare arm. “Sorry,” she said, quiet enough that the procession couldn’t hear her. “I don’t mean to make you look weak.”

“I know I’m not weak,” Catra grunted. “I’m days away from expelling this thing from my womb, and I’m out here, far from home, working.”

“You should be tucked in bed with a book and some tea,” Adora said. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, well,” Catra said as the procession reached their desired destination. “I’d never miss an opportunity to see an old friend.”

Glimmer, who stood at the front of the procession, cleared her throat for silence. Adora straightened her back and looked forward, her military training never having quite left her.

The door of the office, formerly Lord Hordak’s throne room, whipped open, and behind it stood a large and excited woman with bright red claws.

“You’re here!” Scorpia exclaimed, immediately wrapping Glimmer up in a hug. “Aw, you guys, come on in!”

Scorpia, the leader, manager, and official hype-woman of the settlement, welcomed the procession into a large room containing public employees processing refugee paperwork (even a decade after the war, people were still without homes from the Horde’s damages). The walls of the cavernous room were lined with colorful lights and drawings by local children, and a few faun-folk Adora recognized as Thaymorians sat at a nearby desk, receiving aid.

“Scorpia,” Bow enthused, “this looks wonderful!”

“Thanks,” Scorpia said. “We’ve put a lot of work into making the Fright Zone a less frightening place.”

“It��s fantastic,” Glimmer said, holding her father’s staff at her side. As the Princess of Bright Moon, she was in charge of many important Etherian political affairs, so this trip was a welcome opportunity to relax. “Looks like we don’t need to help with much here—you’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” the white-haired woman said, smiling and rubbing her neck. “Means a lot, coming from you.”

Glimmer nodded, stepping aside to reveal Catra and Adora behind her. Scorpia’s eyes widened.

“KITTY!” she exclaimed, barreling forward. “I won’t hug you, because pregnant, but… oh, it’s so great to see you! You too, Adora, looking good, hitting the gym as usual?”

Adora grinned and flexed. “You know it.”

“Hi, Scorpia,” Catra said, a hand on her belly. “I think the baby’s kicking, wanna feel?”

Scorpia extended a claw with reverence and felt the sensation of something shifting beneath Catra’s dress and skin. “Whoah…” she said. “Hello there, kitten.”

“That nickname’s gonna stick,” Adora said, grinning at Catra.

Catra rolled her eyes. “Better than what we’ve come up with.”

“You don’t have a name yet?” Scorpia asked as Bow and Glimmer conversed with another settlement official.

Catra shook her head. “We’re stumped.”

“Do you know the gender?”

“Nope,” Adora said. “Catra’s been talking to her Magicat family, they don’t do doctor’s appointments and stuff like humans. Apparently birth is kinda different for them, more hands-off, but just as gross.”

“It’ll be a surprise,” Catra said, taking Adora’s hand. “Either way, we’ll love it to pieces.”

“Aw,” Adora purred, “what a sap.”

“Really!” Scorpia exclaimed. “What happened to mean tortured villain Catra?”

Adora laughed. “You should see her when her feet start to hurt,” she said. “Or when she has morning sickness.”

Catra elbowed Adora. “We’re at a serious political meeting representing Bright Moon, you can’t just bring up my vomit!”

“It’s super gross, and if I don’t hold her hair, it gets everywhere—”

“Adora!”

Scorpia chuckled and crossed her arms. “So when are you due?”

“Next week,” Catra said. “To plan is deliver back at Bright Moon.”

“Oh, I’m so excited for you!” Scorpia exclaimed. “But still… no name planned yet? That’s bold.”

“I think we’ll just know when the moment comes,” Adora said.

Catra smirked. “I’m gonna be busy screaming in agony, probably, but whatever.”

Adora squeezed Catra’s hand. “I’ll be there with you,” she said. “I promise.”

“I know,” Catra said, and it was the damn truth.

The hallways were the same, but everything else was entirely different.

“It’s crazy,” Adora said, leading Catra to their shared quarters. They’d be staying the night, along with the rest of the procession, since travelling to the Fright Zone was a strenuous journey from Bright Moon.

“Do you we could ever find our places in all this?” Catra asked, waving to a happy family of reptile-people.

“Like the barracks and the training room? Not sure,” Adora shrugged.

“And Shadow Weaver’s quarters,” Catra said darkly.

“Gone,” Adora said, “just like her.”

This was a reassurance, Adora squeezing Catra’s arm, but her wife still frowned.

“I still hate this place,” Catra admitted as Adora stopped at a closed door. “Even with all of Scorpia’s work, I just… the memories are too much.”

“Good things happened here, too,” Adora said, opening the door for Catra. “We happened here.”

“You weren’t around for the worst of it,” Catra said.

Adora frowned, hurt. Catra sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, leading Adora to the bed. Catra maneuvered her body to sit and Adora plopped down beside her.

“I know,” Adora said. “I’m sorry we had to grow up in a place like this.”

“Hey,” Catra said, a small smile sneaking onto her face. “Clearly we’re meant to be together, if we managed to get through all the bullshit.”

Adora rubbed circles on Catra’s hand with her thumb, looking thoughtfully around their room. It was basic, bare, with the same dull walls and lights they had known in their childhood and adolescence. In this isolated space, they could almost pretend they were back in the Horde, so many years ago…

“Come on, you must be tired,” Adora said, fluffing a pillow for Catra at the top of the bed.

Catra nodded, lying on her side. “The trip from Bright Moon isn’t so easy when you’re carrying a living being inside you,” she said as she settled in.

Adora laid on the other pillow, facing Catra. Their noses almost touched.

“You’re so beautiful,” Adora said, resting a gentle hand on Catra’s bump. “And brave, and smart, and good. I’m so happy we’re doing this together. I love you so much.”

Catra smiled peacefully, shutting her eyes. “Who’s the sap now?” she teased sleepily.

Suddenly, her eyes opened wide. “Shit.”

Adora shot up. “What? What’s wrong?”

Catra sat up slowly, face in disbelief. “Adora… I think my water just broke.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I fucking joke about this, Adora?!”

“I don’t know! You’re not due ‘till next week!”

Catra ripped the blanket away and Adora gasped. It was really happening.

“Oh, hell no,” Catra said, trying to get herself out of bed. “I’m not doing this here.”

“Wha—lay back down!” Adora cried. “I… I should go get Bow and Glimmer!”

“I told you, I don’t need an audience!” Catra insisted, standing up despite Adora’s protests. “And I’m not bringing our child into the world in the fucking Fright Zone!”

“What are you suggesting?” Adora said, incredulous. “We steal another skiff and head to the Whispering Woods while you’re having contractions?”

After a moment’s pause, Catra nodded—and Adora knew there was no point in resisting.

It was far from a hospital, but Adora trusted Catra and her Magicat kin—giving birth in nature was safe, and fine, and everything was going to be fine. That was the mantra Adora repeated to herself as she sat beside her wife, who continued to have contractions on the forest floor.

“You seriously prefer this to a bed?” Adora asked, rubbing Catra’s shaking shoulder.

Grimacing, Catra nodded. “To a Fright Zone bed, yeah,” she said. “Oh, ow ow ow ow.”

“Humans can get medicated for the pain,” Adora said. “Angella told me she had an epidural for Glimmer.”

“Good for her,” Catra said. “Hey, water, please.”

Adora nodded and grabbed the Sword of Protection from her travel pack, transforming it into a bottle. She stepped over to the nearby forest stream, filling the golden container with fresh flowing water.

It was beautiful place, really—a quiet pocket in the otherwise noisy woods, a clearing surrounded with dense and colorful trees. The skiff was parked just a minute away, with a full tank of gas for their return to civilization. The stream babbled pleasantly and the stars shone above Adora and Catra. This was the setting of new life, something holy and beautiful… and, despite her anxiety, Adora had to admit that it worked.

Adora passed Catra the bottle and forced her into a sitting position, helping her take a sip.

“Thanks,” Catra said, wiping her mouth. “Contractions are getting closer and closer, so…”

“Yeah,” Adora said, expression full of panic. She held Catra’s face as though it could disappear any seconds. “Things are never gonna be the same ever again.”

Catra smiled and nuzzled into Adora’s palm. “I knew you’d lose your shit in the moment. Breathe, baby. It’s going to be okay.”

“How are you so calm?”

“Dunno,” Catra said, leaning back down. “I just am. It’s like—aw shit, contraction, they’re getting so close—”

Adora took Catra’s hand and squeezed. “It’s really happening,” she said. “We’re gonna have a kid.”

“Yep,” Catra said, her teeth bared as she withstood the pain. “We’re gonna show this little fucker all the good Etheria has to offer. No Horde, no Fright Zone. No way.”

“Please don’t call our incoming child ‘little fucker,’” Adora said through a smile, tears of emotion running down her cheeks.

“Oh shit, I think it’s happening,” Catra cried out.

Adora squeezed Catra’s hand with the might of She-Ra. “I’m right here.”

Catra nodded, eyes squeezed shut in pain and concentration. “Little fucker…”

“Catra!”

A scream, followed by another. The babbling of the stream, the wind through the trees. And then…

The sound of a baby crying.

“Adora…” Catra muttered, holding the infant in her arms. “Water, gotta wash off…”

Adora, eyes, awed, assisted in the cleaning of the child. An impossibly tiny being, held in Catra’s arms, eyes still shut. The same peach-fuzz fur covering, ears, and tail as its mother, only in the color grey.

“It’s a boy!” Adora squeaked, placing down the sword-bottle. “Catra, we have a son!”

Peaceful, exhausted, Catra nuzzled into the body in her arms. Adora wrapped her strong arms around her wife, completing the family unit.

“I love you so both much,” Adora said. The baby still cried, but not from pain. Catra hushed him anyway.

“We’re gonna take care of you,” she reassured her child. “You’re never going to feel unloved.”

“We promise,” Adora said, like a prayer.

The baby quieted slowly, leaning into Catra’s chest.

“Hey, Adora…” Catra said, her voice dry. “We still need a name.”

“Shit,” Adora muttered. “Uh… we’re in the Whispering Woods. How about Woods?”

“Babe, I love you, but that’s the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever said.”

“So no Woods,” Adora said. “Tree? Stream? Forest?”

Catra’s eyes widened. “Wait,” she said. “Forrest. I like that. Forrest.”

“Yeah?” Adora asked, leaning into Catra’s shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Adora said, her hold around her wife and son tightening. “His name is Forrest.”

“Our son.”

“Mhm.”

It wasn’t long before Forrest began to cry again. Adora stood up, knowing that she’d need to start taking steps forward.

“Catra,” she said, tapping her wife’s shoulder. “He should get a better wash, and you need rest. Nursing’s gotta happen eventually, too. We can’t stay here much longer.”

Catra looked down at Forrest, whose eyes were half-opened, the same grey-blue as Adora’s.

“But… the Fright Zone…”

“Bad things happened there,” Adora said, “but we filled it with love too. Anywhere we go, we’ll fill it with love.”

Catra stirred slightly, and Forrest looked up at his mama. Adora stared down at both, brimming with pride and adoration.

“At the end of the day, it’s just a place. We’re what matter. Along with our friends and family, who just happen to be there too.”

Catra nodded and passed the infant to Adora, who held him close.

“Fuck, fine, you’re right,” Catra said, a small smiling sneaking onto her face. “I was being ridiculous dragging us out here.”

“I wasn’t going to argue with the hysterical pregnant woman at the time,” Adora said, “but yeah, a little bit.”

“You’re driving the skiff,” Catra muttered as she shakily stood. Her strength continued to blow Adora away.

Adora took Catra’s hand and led her out of the clearing.

They traveled in the night breeze, but they were already home.