Chapter Text
“Gay what?”
Adora assumes she’s misheard. Which is a fair assumption - it is way too loud in here. She’d figured a party thrown by Perfuma would be a little bit more lowkey on the music end of things, but the latter seems to be one of those people who loses hearing sensitivity as she drinks. They’ve been blasting Enya on the boombox at max volume for about an hour now.
“Y’know.” Mermista gestures vaguely to her surroundings, her wine sloshing a bit in the glass. “Gay chicken.”
Adora furrows her brows. Everyone seems to be nodding.
“That clarifies absolutely nothing.”
“Damn. You really were living under a rock,” Glimmer mutters. Her words are muffled by her beer can as she takes another sip.
Adora tries to ignore her. Things had been weird between them for a while now - pretty much from the moment Adora had started seeing Bow. The liquor didn’t seem to be helping things.
“It’s not like we don’t have, like, civilization back home,” Adora insists defensively. “This is probably just a local thing.”
Glimmer tips the remainder of the can into her mouth. Her features are sullen. “Mermista’s from the west coast.”
Adora sighs.
Glimmer had been Adora’s first friend when she’d had to switch schools - switch states - at the beginning of senior year. Making varsity soccer as a complete unknown had been sort of a nightmare, but Glimmer had gone to great lengths to bring Adora into the fold. With her support, Adora had gone from being a random interloper to a fully-fledged member of the team in less than a month.
Of course Adora had blown it.
“Be nice to her,” a low voice to her left purrs. “Adora’s from Montana. They still send their gays to the electric chair.”
Adora feels herself flush as the room laughs; she covers with an eye roll and a sip of beer. Getting teased by Catra feels different than getting teased by Glimmer, even as she makes a conscious effort to ignore them both. Better, somehow. She doesn’t fully understand why.
“Are you guys ever going to tell me what this is?” Adora eventually gripes, once the chuckles have died down.
Mermista rolls her eyes. But eventually, she leans forward to grab her plastic wine flute - clearly preparing to deliver some kind of ‘lesson’. Once she’s settled back into the couch, she begins.
“So you know chicken?” She takes a prolonged sip. “That game that, like, douchebag boys used to play in middle school, where they’d run full speed at each other and give themselves concussions?”
Adora nods. She knows all too well - going up against those “douchebag boys”, and winning, had been one of her favorite sideline activities in junior leagues. She had a yellow card to prove it.
“Well,” Mermista continues, her voice taking on a suggestive lilt. “Gay chicken’s a lot like that. Only instead of slamming foreheads, you’re, uh…slamming other things.”
It takes a moment for the information to sink in.
“OK.” She feels her pulse beginning to pick up, for some reason. “So…just to make sure I understand. Gay chicken is two girls having sex?”
The outcry is immediate.
“Woah -”
“It’s not -”
“Jesus, Adora!”
Adora feels herself blushing. “Well, I - what is it, then?”
“It’s kissing,” Perfuma pipes up from the back, a little giggly from her wine. “If that. People don’t actually get to the point of…anything else. Someone always chickens out before then.”
“Depends on who’s playing.”
Everyone turns to Catra.
She’s always had a way of commanding the room when she talks. Maybe it’s the way she dresses - cool and punkish, her short hair and makeup in perfect disarray. Maybe it’s the way you can just tell, without even asking, that she’s seen and done more in her eighteen years of life than Adora ever will.
Whatever it is, it kind of takes Adora’s breath away. She’d kill to have that sort of effect on people.
“Speaking from experience?” Glimmer asks, a note of irony in her voice.
Catra just shrugs.
“I mean…” The corners of her lips quirk upwards. “I can’t say I’ve ever lost. And I’ve gone up against some very determined opponents.”
Adora’s mouth is suddenly a bit dry. She sips her beer; it only seems to make the feeling worse.
“Don’t know why I’m surprised,” Mermista drawls, leaning back against the couch. “What’s the farthest you’ve ever gotten?”
A careless grin spreads across Catra’s face. Adora can’t help but fixate on her eyes as she ponders the question. They’re totally different colors; one a deep blue, one a golden shade of hazel. Stunning.
Maybe it’s about time Adora switched to water.
“Sorry, Mermista.” For a moment, Adora could almost swear Catra’s caught her looking - but her eyes flicker forward a second later. “That’s a trade secret. Gotta maintain my competitive edge.”
The group lets out a collective groan. Whether it’s from exasperation or disappointment, Adora can’t tell.
“Come on, you buzzkill. No one here is actually going to challenge you to a kiss-off.” Mermista rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure no one in this room would stand a chance. And I include myself in that.”
There’s a strange feeling in Adora’s gut now as the room murmurs its agreement. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was nausea from the beer. But nausea didn’t usually spark like this, did it? It didn’t drive her to speak up in a moment where she’d normally be very, very quiet.
“I would.”
All eyes swivel towards her.
There’s an intense beat of silence. Adora can already feel her cheeks going pink, but she fights to keep herself steady. No backing out now.
In the end, it’s Glimmer who breaks the silence.
“What?”
Adora just shrugs.
“I mean, of course I’m not going to. I have a boyfriend.” She goes for another sip, hoping it comes across as casual rather than nervous. “But if I could go against you, there’s no question. You’d lose.”
There’s a charge in the room that wasn’t there before.
”She’s bluffing,” Glimmer insists, waving a hand dismissively. She looks a bit more sloshed than she was a few minutes ago; her sparkly eyeshadow’s seen better days. “I’ve seen her kiss Bow. It’s like watching someone say goodbye to their auntie at the family Christmas party.”
That stings. People laugh, but there’s a nervous edge to it - like they aren’t quite sure if they’re supposed to.
“And anyways,” Glimmer continues, refusing to meet Adora’s eyes, “I thought you guys were just ‘seeing what happened.’ Since when is he your actual boyfriend?’
“I…it’s complicated.” Adora’s definitely feeling uncomfortable now. “Complicated enough that I wouldn’t want to hook up with my teammate in Perfuma’s living room.”
Catra’s eyebrows shoot upward.
“So we’re hooking up now?”
A shiver passes through Adora’s body. She pushes it down - internally and externally. By the time she speaks again, her voice is deadly calm.
“Depends on how desperate you are not to lose.”
The group is totally silent. Enya blares on in the background.
“…Why?” Perfuma’s expression is hard to place. It seems to be hovering between fascination and concern. “Why would you do that?”
Adora has the vague sense that the question is a bit more loaded than she’d like it to be. Maybe more than she’d like to consider, right at this moment. But forfeit is not an option. She has to buckle down.
“I know I’m still kind of new here,” Adora offers. She begins to run her finger around the mouth of her beer bottle - round and round. “You’d have no way of knowing this yet. But I actually don’t lose. Like…ever.”
She has no idea how that plays with the group - she’s not looking at them. Her gaze is still locked on Catra, whose eyes seem to have taken on a new shine.
“Everyone loses,” Catra replies easily. But the keenness of her expression betrays her interest. “That’s just life. No offense, princess, but I’ve watched you fumble a few saves myself.”
There’s a round of chuckles - and a loud, unattractive snort from Glimmer. But Adora isn’t phased. She just smiles.
“I’m not talking about technique, or strength. That’s not really something I have control over in the moment.” She lifts her beer again. “But endurance? Those dumb little challenges most people tap out on? I’ll go until I die. Always.”
Adora doesn’t know what game she’s playing right now, staring Catra down like this. It’s not one she’s played before. But the liquor’s made her bold. And in spite of it all, she finds she doesn’t particularly want to stop.
Maybe Catra doesn’t either.
“Shame you won’t be able to prove it,” Catra replies. Her voice is smooth as she looks Adora up and down. “Sorry, princess. Without any followthrough, you’re pretty much all talk.”
And that finally breaks Adora’s trance - makes her blood stop humming with that strange new allure. Because she’s not going to kiss Catra, at the end of the day. Like she’s said from the start.
Her body just seemed to have forgotten that, for some reason.
“Don’t need your validation, anyways,” Adora retorts, trying and failing to keep her voice as collected as Catra’s. “I may be benched right now, but I know my abilities. You’d get trounced.”
Catra places her hand on her heart, puckering her lip in a display of false sympathy. “Of course I would. You’re the champion of all our hearts, Adora. A gay chicken extraordinaire.”
There are a few tipsy laughs around the circle; the energy in the room seems to ease a bit. Adora is prepared to move on - a little disappointed, for reasons she’d rather not analyze.
Then a voice from the corner speaks up.
“You could always ask him.”
They all turn to look.
A few of the teams’ defenders - Octavia and Lonnie - had been playing what looked to be an absolutely disastrous round of Super Mario Kart on the opposite end of the room. Now, though, it seems that Lonnie is fully invested in the conversation. She’s leaning with her arms against the chairback, eyebrows raised; a diabolical gleam shines in her eye.
“I -" Adora blinks. “What?”
“Ask Bow.” Lonnie’s face stretches into a sloppy grin. She’s definitely had a few. “As in, call him. Right now.”
“And say what?” Adora asks incredulously. Suddenly, her pulse seems to have picked up. “Hey babe, are we actually dating? And if so, can I, like…cheat on you with Catra Weaver, in Perfuma’s living room?”
Lonnie just shrugs.
“Not cheating if you get permission first.”
“Okay, everyone,” Perfuma chimes in. She’s looking a bit flushed. “While I love and support - erm - all people, I’m going to have to draw a few lines here. As in…sexual ones. In my mother’s living room, specifically.”
“Sounds pretty homophobic to me, Perf,” Catra replies, without missing a beat. She’s looking at Adora again. “You sure you’re not allowing your worldly biases to hamper your connection to the wider universe?”
Everyone snickers as Perfuma begins to sputter. “I - no! Of course not! I am not - I would never dream of -“
“It’s not like she’d get that far anyways,” Glimmer interrupts. There’s a definite slur to her voice now. “Even if Bow allowed something like that, she’d never actually do it.”
And oh - Glimmer must have known what that statement would provoke in her. Adora’s way too tipsy to let such a blatant challenge go unheeded. And she can’t help but notice that Catra is still staring at her, and she has this look on her face, and the energy that’s been coursing through Adora’s veins these past few minutes is very quickly reaching a boiling point.
So she turns to Perfuma - as composed as humanly possible - and asks, “Can I use your phone?”
You can practically hear the gears freezing in everyone’s heads.
“Adora.” Her eyes flicker to a spot over Adora’s shoulder - towards the phone on the wall, if Adora had to guess. “Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?”
When she puts it like that, it makes the whole thing sound pretty serious. And for some reason, Adora likes that. It feels serious, what she’s doing. She just wishes she understood why.
“I am,” she says confidently. Then she lowers her voice. “I’m not gonna have aggressive lesbian sex in your living room, Perfuma. I’m not a total psychopath.”
This seems to reassure Perfuma - somewhat. But there’s still a beat of pause. She narrows her eyes slightly at Adora, as if assessing her.
“On one condition.” Her eyes flicker to the telephone, then back. “You have to walk all the way to the phone in a completely straight line. Like you’re on a tight rope. Then, and only then, will I grant you my blessing.”
There’s a round of “oohs” and chuckles. Adora rolls her eyes.
“I’ve literally had two beers,” she mumbles. “But fine. I accept your challenge. You have to turn down Enya, though.”
Perfuma grins. Then she stands up, and heads toward the boombox without another word.
Adora turns toward the phone, steeling her shoulders. The rest of the group is regarding her with looks ranging from exasperation to glee. Catra has her arms crossed, an amused expression on her face. Adora feels the strange need to impress her.
She takes a deep breath. Lets it out. And begins to walk.
It’s a short distance to the phone. Probably about ten steps, at most. But it’s long enough for Adora to finally start to question things. To realize exactly what she’s gotten herself into with all of this.
The game itself is fine. The game itself, she wants - even if she’s not ready to ask herself why that is. But there are obstacles to be overcome in the process that she’s significantly less confident about. And they become more and more real with every step towards the phone.
She’s been seeing Bow, semi-officially, for about three weeks now. And it’s been…good. She likes him a lot; likes his kindness, and his determination, and his dorky sense of humor. It’d seemed almost inevitable that they’d wind up dating, with all the time they spent together beforehand. Outside of Glimmer - and really, who knew what they were anymore - he’s probably her best friend.
Why is she doing this?
It’s almost enough to make her back down. Even this call alone might be enough to hurt him, if she didn’t play her cards right. And her pride didn’t extend to throwing him under the bus just to secure some sort of personal glory. She wasn’t that big of an asshole
But then, she’s at the phone - having crossed the floor in ten perfect, steady strides. Enya has finally been turned down enough that she can hear the group cheering behind her. And when she glances back, Catra is still looking at her. Her bright eyes pop beneath the dark smoke of her eye makeup. They make Adora weak.
She picks up the phone from its receiver, and dials the number from memory.
It doesn’t matter anyways, Adora thinks, as the phone begins to ring. Bow will never be OK with this. And when he isn’t, Adora will apologize incessantly for even thinking to bring it up, and everything will be fine, and they can all go back to getting wasted on Miller and gossiping about Coach Huntara’s love life.
Maybe he wouldn’t even -
The ringing stops.
“Hey, Perfuma. What’s up?”
Her heart warms a little at the words. Of course Bow, of all people, would have his friends’ numbers memorized. He’s just that kind of guy.
“Hey babe,” she says, her voice a little strained. “It’s me. Adora.”
Behind her, the group begins to cheer - mostly just whooping, with a few random babe’s thrown in for good measure. Adora feels her face go red.
“Hey!” The genuine excitement in his voice makes her heart fall. “What are you doing at Perfuma’s?”
“Oh, that’s - it’s nothing,” Adora stammers. “Practice let out early today, so a few of us decided to have a little, uh…party. Thing. It’s just -“
“ADORA HAS A QUESTION.”
Lonnie had appeared behind her out of nowhere; she shouts so close to Adora’s ear that she jumps.
“Jesus!” Adora hisses.
“Is that Lonnie?” Bow laughs on the other end. “Hey, Lonnie!”
“Heeey, Bow,” Lonnie says, in a singsong voice that absolutely would not be there if she wasn’t already about four drinks in.
Adora shoos her away like an annoying gnat, earning a few laughs from the group. She huffs out a breath and turns her attention back to the phone.
“You had a question?” Bow’s voice is painfully genuine.
Adora swallows.
“Right. So - question.” Suddenly, it’s as if her brain has turned to mush. “Do you know - uh - have you ever heard of gay chicken?”
A beat of silence.
“Yeah?” Bow’s voice is cheerful, but there’s a slight nervous edge to it now. “Of course. Why?”
Adora takes a deep breath. When she speaks, the words come rushing out of her.
“So you know how I have to win, right? Like, no matter what. Have we talked about that? I feel like we have.”
To Adora’s surprise, she hears a low chuckle coming from the other end.
“Someone challenged your honor again, didn’t they?”
Relief - and affection - swell in Adora’s heart.
“Yeah. They did.” Her voice sounds a bit whiny. “They don’t believe that I can win. Just because I’m from Montana - like that’s my fault. It’s totally unfair!”
She can hear the smile in Bow’s voice when he speaks, even through the concern.
“Adora, how tipsy are you right now, exactly?”
Adora pauses a moment. She focuses all her energy on articulating the syllables that come from her mouth.
“Not enough to jeopardize my consent.”
Lonnie is back now - along with a few others, Mermista included. They are leaning obnoxiously close to the mouthpiece in an effort to hear both sides of the conversation.
“That’s good,” Bow says, as Adora tries and fails to scare them away with an intimidating glare. “So, you’re calling me…what, to ask my permission?”
Adora’s heart falls a little. “Of course I’m asking your permission. I’d never do something like that without it.”
“I know, babe,” Bow says quietly. “I trust you.”
There’s a weight like a stone in Adora’s gut.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Adora begins. “This was dumb. I - I’ll talk to you -”
“I’m cool with it.”
Adora’s eyes widen. Behind her, Perfuma makes an undignified little squeak.
“Wait - really?”
Bow chuckles. To Adora’s relief, his voice is light.
“Yeah, babe. I mean, we never technically made things official anyways. So as far as I’m concerned…take home the gold.”
An excited rush of murmuring breaks out behind her.
“I - wow.” Adora seems to have forgotten how to breathe. “OK. I mean -”
“Wait.”
The voice comes from one of the warm bodies pressed against Adora’s flank. She’d known a lot of the girls had gotten closer, but she hadn’t thought to label who was who. Now, the identity of the girl behind her - the girl pressed firmly against her back - was revealed.
Catra.
She reaches over to take the phone before Adora can even process. Her other arm comes to drape casually over Adora’s shoulder.
“Before you say anything else,” Catra asks. “How far can she go?”
A warm thrill travels down the length of Adora’s body. Catra’s arm is snug on her shoulder.
“Is this Catra?” Bow asks, as the other girls snicker behind them.
Catra’s breath tickles her neck. “Nope. It’s your mom.”
“I literally don’t have a mom.”
“Then it’s your dad.”
“Which - OK, never mind. What do you mean?”
Adora can practically feel Catra smirking behind her. She’s suddenly hyperaware of the other girl’s chest pressing against her back, right beneath her shoulder blades.
“You heard me,” Catra drawls. “How. Far. Can. She. Go?”
There’s a flurry of nervous laughter behind her, but Adora isn’t focused on them. This has become a conversation of three.
Bow doesn’t answer right away. It sends Adora’s heart plummeting straight to her stomach. This was a mistake. It was totally inappropriate, and downright cruel, and she should’ve never -
“I mean, as far as it takes to win, I guess.”
Adora’s mouth drops open.
For once, Catra seems surprised. Adora can feel her body still. “No shit?”
“Yeah.” Bow sounds a little worried now. “I mean, to be honest, my main concern is what she’s comfortable with. I don’t want her to push herself too far over some stupid game.”
A rush of fondness overtakes Adora’s body. Of course he’s prioritizing her right now, when she’s on the cusp of being intimate with someone else. Typical Bow. Typical, amazing Bow.
Suddenly, the fondness curdles into shame.
“Alright, back up,” Adora barks suddenly, turning to seize the phone from Catra’s grip. “I need to have an adult conversation with my - er, Bow. Go gossip somewhere else.”
The crowd disperses quickly, seeming to understand Adora’s sudden need for privacy. Catra hands the phone over without a fight; the brush of their fingers leaves a funny feeling in Adora’s chest.
As they all return to their seats, Adora stretches the mouthpiece as far as the chord will allow. Fortunately for her, there’s a half-bath just a few steps away. Adora moves over the doorway and sinks to the ground, threading the wire beneath the door as it closes.
She can feel Bow waiting patiently on the other end when she brings the phone to her ear.
“Hey,” she says, a bit weakly.
Bow chuckles.
“Hey.” A pause. “You doing OK?”
Idiot. Adora was an idiot, for suggesting this in the first place. For bringing Bow into it.
“I’m fine, Bow,” she insists. “I’m worried about you.”
“Adora, we’re not even official.”
“I know that,” Adora says quickly. “But still, I…are you absolutely sure about this? I don’t want to hurt you.”
There’s a pause at the other end that makes Adora feel sick. But when he does speak, it’s not what she thinks it’s going to be.
“Adora, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
All the thoughts in Adora’s head seem to still at once. She doesn’t know why.
“Yeah.” She grips the phone a bit tighter. “Of course. So can you.”
Another pause. Then -
“I know we’re going out right now. But I…I want you to know that you were my friend before all of that. My best friend. And that always comes first. You get what I’m saying?”
Somehow, she thinks she does - and it makes her stomach feel hollow.
“I don’t deserve you,” Adora murmurs. She’s embarrassed to find that tears seem to be forming at her eyes. “I never have.”
“Adora, that’s not true.” He sighs. “You’re a good person. You’re one of the best I know.”
A tear runs down her face. She brushes it aside, embarrassed despite the lack of audience.
“I think we should probably talk about some things, soon,” Bow continues. “Tomorrow, if you’re down. But I don’t want you to worry about any of that tonight. Just…go kick Catra’s ass, yeah?”
Adora feels her pulse begin to race.
“How’d you know it was against her?”
To her surprise, she can hear Bow chuckling on the other end.
“Lucky guess.” He pauses. “I love you, ‘Dor. No matter what. OK?”
Adora swallows. Even through her haze, she knows this conversation has passed beyond the realm of what it was intended for. They’d always been good at that, her and Bow. Talking about something without even needing to say it.
Bow was wrong. She didn’t deserve him.
“I love you, too,” Adora murmurs. She fights to keep the shakiness out of her tone. “I mean it. Thank you for…being you.”
Bow laughs. “Any time. Just take care of yourself, yeah? Don’t push yourself too far.”
Adora can’t help but chuckle at that. “No promises.”
Bow scoffs.
“Whatever, nerd. Just drink water. Let me know when you make it home.”
“OK.” Adora lets her eyes fall shut. “Bye, Bow.”
A brief, warm pause. “Bye, Adora.”
The line goes dead.
She takes a moment to ground herself on the cool tile while the music pulses on the other side of the door. She feels a bit like she’s hovering on the border between worlds. Everything seems more hazy, yet more real, than it did a few moments before.
She finds her mind drifting, for no reason in particular, to a moment from a few days ago; about two hours into a scorching-hot Saturday practice. Coach Huntara had pulled the defensive line for a minute, instructing them to break into pairs while she ran a few plays with the forwards. Adora hadn’t done much passing, though. She was too busy watching the center forward - watching Catra - in motion.
Adora was no stranger to aggression, as a center-back. But watching Catra handle the ball was something else. She was an animal on the field; an apex predator, striking without mercy and throwing everything into her pursuit. Catra played like she acted, and she acted like she was. And it made Adora wonder - was Catra born like that? Or did she choose it for herself?
Could Adora be like that, too?
She’s on her feet before she even really notices. The music swells to its original volume as she pushes the door open in front of her. They’ve arranged themselves on the couches again, ostensibly mid-discussion, but they all turn to look when Adora appears. The question in their eyes is obvious.
Adora smiles.
“Get me another drink,” she orders. “We’re doing this.”
The room bursts into cheers.
Immediately, there are eager bodies all around her, asking questions she can’t hear. One arm - Lonnie’s - hands her an unopened can of Miller Lite. It’s still cold from the fridge, rimmed with condensation.
Possessed by a sudden, anxious fever, Adora points the tip of the can downward. She’s never actually done this before. But without thinking - without allowing the possibility of failure - she uses her thumb to pierce a hole in the bottom of the can, sending foam spilling out the sides.
“Adora!” she hears Perfuma shriek indignantly, as drunken cheers ring out around them. “The carpet!”
Adora doesn’t respond - there’s no time. She just lifts the can to her mouth, pops the top, and lets the liquid surge straight into her mouth. Like she’s done it a hundred times before.
In seconds, the beer is drained. And the room has exploded into loud, frenzied cheers.
She passes the can off to a downright reverent Lonnie, giving Perfuma the most apologetic look she can muster. Fortunately, Perfuma seems to take it in good faith - probably because Adora hadn’t spilled that much, in the end. She just gives Adora an exasperated eye roll as she makes her way towards the couch.
Glimmer and Catra are sitting alone on the main sofa; Glimmer has pushed herself into the farthest corner. She seemed to have cracked another beer while Adora was gone. As Adora approaches, she’s alarmed to see undisguised contempt in Glimmer’s eyes.
“Don’t mind me,” she mumbles, getting to her feet. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Enjoy your freebie.”
Adora’s heart sinks as Glimmer heads to the other room. She’s wobbling a bit as she goes.
There’s a definite awkwardness in the air now. Everyone seems to be questioning whether or not to continue. After a moment, Perfuma quietly steps towards the kitchen, ostensibly to check on Glimmer.
Not knowing how to proceed, Adora takes an awkward seat next to Catra on the couch. Her gesture with the beer feels obnoxious, now; crude. All of her confidence seems to have flown out of her like air from a balloon.
Fortunately, Catra is there too - and she’s pretty adept at smooth recoveries. She turns towards Adora on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her seat.
“Cute trick,” Catra drawls, gesturing vaguely towards Lonnie and the discarded beer can. “Was that part of your mating ritual?”
A few people make suggestive “ooh”-ing noises. Adora can’t help but grin, even as her cheeks grow pink. “Sort of. Why, is it working?”
Catra laughs. It’s a sweet, rich sound; more genuine than Adora was expecting. She kind of wants to hear it again.
“Maybe.” Then she grins. “My turn.”
Adora’s heart skips a beat.
As the whole room murmurs their interest, Catra leans slowly and effortlessly towards her. She slips a leg over Adora’s waist and braces her arms around her neck. When she leans in close, a few shrieks and whistles tear through the crowd.
Just like that, Catra is straddling Adora’s lap. And Adora seems to have forgotten how to breathe as a result.
“Place your bets!” she hears Lonnie call drunkenly over the buzzing crowd. “Catra or Adora? The lesbian battle of the ages!”
“There is literally, like, zero contest here,” Mermista drawls. “All of my money goes to Catra. Or it would, if I had money.”
Someone seems to have turned the boom box to R&B slow jams in the last few minutes. It’s the only thing Adora can possibly imagine that’s worse to make out to than Enya. But for whatever reason, she’s finding herself relatively unbothered by it all. She thinks it’s Catra’s fingers combing through her ponytail, tugging lightly at the band and letting her hair spill around her shoulders. For some reason, it’s making all the other little annoyances around them fade away.
Fortunately, Catra is not nearly so enamored. With her fingers still in Adora’s hair, she turns away to call out. “Lonnie, turn that shit off! It’s such a boner killer!”
A snicker is heard from behind Catra. But after a moment, she relents; the music changes to something normal for the first time all night. Catra turns back to look Adora in the eyes
Adora isn’t sure what she finds there. Whatever it is, it makes Catra smile.
“Just a reminder that there will be no lesbian sex in my living room!” Perfuma squeaks, barely heard above the chatter. She seems to have returned to the fray. “Anything past first base is strictly bedroom-only!”
“Don’t worry, Perfuma,” Catra says, her voice low and sweet. She runs the backs of her knuckles, teasingly, over Adora’s cheekbone. “This’ll be over quickly.”
It’s a bit alarming, the way Adora’s body seems to be humming to life at her touch. Is this anxiety she’s feeling? Yes, of course it is - the most beautiful girl on the soccer team is straddling her waist right now, while four of her closest friends watch. And she really wants to win, doesn’t she? That’s why her blood is pumping hot beneath her skin right now. Why her breath is quickening alongside her pulse, both racing forward in eager anticipation.
They’ve stalled long enough.
“You gonna make good on that legendary reputation of yours, Weaver?” Adora asks, a bit breathless. “Or am I gonna have to do it myself?”
Maybe there are more jeers. A few whistles here and there. But Adora can’t hear them anymore. Her world has narrowed to the girl in her lap - her dusty freckles, and mismatched eyes, and soft, full lips that are closer now than they’ve ever been.
“I’m glad you’re excited,” Catra murmurs - too low for anyone but her to hear.
Seconds later, their lips meet.
This will be easy. That is Adora’s first thought as she feels Catra’s mouth slide perfectly against her own, and the room bursts into frantic cheers around them. This will be the easiest game Adora has ever won. Child’s play.
She is never going to stop.
It is Adora who presses first into Catra’s mouth, grazing her lips gently with her tongue to nudge them open. The gesture earns a passionate shriek from the audience - from Perfuma, surprisingly - but Adora pays them no attention. She can’t risk getting distracted; forfeiting by mistake. She wants to win. She wants to keep going.
She needs to keep going.
Catra’s hands are in her hair now, fingernails scraping lightly over her scalp as she kisses deep into Adora’s mouth. She has to suppress the moan that rises in her chest as a result. Which is strange - because wouldn’t making a scene help her, if this really was just a battle of wills? Adora’s having trouble remembering how this game is supposed to work. It’s a little hard to focus when Catra is tasting her so eagerly, making soft little sounds of pleasure against her mouth that only Adora can hear. Maybe this is why Catra always wins. She makes you forget you’re even playing.
Right. The game. She should probably start trying to win that, now.
Without warning, Adora grasps roughly at Catra’s waist, tugging her forward until their hips are flush. The gasp Catra gives in response sparks something deep in Adora’s gut. She begins to kiss Catra with renewed passion, hot and breathless and incredibly sloppy - nothing like how she kisses Bow. Not even close.
Around them, someone has started up an opposing set of chants. Half of the group cheers for Catra, while the other calls for Adora, their voices mingling into an indecipherable mess of rabid shouting. The energy between the two seems to have carried the entire team along with them. It’s totally overwhelming.
And it’s in that moment that Adora realizes, quite suddenly, that she wants them to be alone - alone, together. She wants to take Catra behind closed doors and kiss her senseless, again and again, far away from the leering crowd. And as much as she tries to convince herself the desire stems from shyness, a growing force inside her - the one screaming with pleasure at every stroke of Catra’s fingers or gentle lave of her tongue - knows better. They are playing a different game now. Adora wants to learn its rules, one by one, until they break her.
She wants Catra to break her.
She’s grinding against Adora’s abdomen now. The denim of her shorts is rough against Adora’s soft tee. Adora feels herself falling into a trance, her body tensing and releasing with every slow roll. This is good. This is so, so good - better than anything she’s ever known. And it’s no big step whatsoever to slide her hands onto Catra’s bare thighs and push up, up, slowly and steadily, until her thumbs finally edge beneath the cuffs of Catra’s shorts. Now she can feel her heat as Catra moves against her, thumbs brushing underwear over thin, hot skin, and Catra is whining into her mouth in a way that sets her body on fire, and if she can just push a tiny bit farther she can -
“Time out!”
Adora pulls back with a wet pop, adrenaline surging through her body. Catra’s eyes are glazed; her lips are swollen and slightly parted. Both of them are breathing hard.
“We have reached the official limits of our contest!” Perfuma’s voice is shriller than Adora’s ever heard it, even on the field. “Round two will be happening in the bedroom! Privately!”
There’s a groan from the periphery - probably Lonnie. But the rest of the team is staring at them with a look Adora’s never seen before. Shock, she guesses - or maybe a little confusion. Like they’d all been woken out of a trance of their own.
Adora realizes quite suddenly that her hands are still in Catra’s shorts.
“Right!” she blurts, removing her thumbs like she’s been burned. Catra snaps to attention herself, untangling her fingers from Adora’s hair. “Got it. Haha…sorry.”
A nervous chuckle passes through the crowd as Catra slides off Adora’s lap. Adora can already feel her face beginning to heat, even as Catra’s absence leaves her body cold.
She’d gone too far. She couldn’t articulate how, but she knew it - she’d crossed a line. And once again, she has no idea what to do next.
There’s a brief, awkward lull in the room as Adora climbs to her feet. She distracts herself by offering a hand to Catra, who’s still looking a bit shell-shocked as she accepts. There’s a faint blush in her cheeks that’s only highlighted by the pinkness of her lips. Adora can’t imagine she herself looks any better.
It’s almost too much, the silence; it sends Adora’s already-racing heart into a frantic rattle against her rib cage. She’s a few seconds away from fleeing out the back door and running, all the way to Montana if she has to, just to escape it all.
Fortunately, Lonnie is there. And Lonnie is still extremely drunk.
“That was hot as shit!”
The room bursts immediately into nervous giggles as the tension spills over. Adora can’t help but grin as she drops her gaze to her feet.
“I told you I was good,” she says, a bit too worked up to pull off her cocky facade.
“I stand corrected.” Catra seems to have recovered now; her voice is as calm and disaffected as ever. “You northerners really are a different breed. Guess it’s all the sexual repression.”
That earns a laugh from the group. When Adora turns to meet Catra's eyes, she sees none of her previous fluster. The old charismatic nonchalance is back in full force. It’s almost like it never happened.
Adora needs to calm down. Fast.
“We have a guest bedroom down the hall,” Perfuma offers. Now that the risk of public indecency has been eliminated, she seems a little more willing to play ball. “You can lock the door from the inside for, erm…privacy. Unless you’d like to call a truce?”
Adora is terrified to meet Catra’s eyes. She doesn’t want to see the things she’s afraid of most - the discomfort, the suspicion. She feels like everything she’s ever thought or felt is written all over her face for everyone to see. Exposed for the truth of what she is, whatever that may be.
But when she does look up…Catra is smiling. And in an instant, Adora’s anxieties seem to melt away.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Catra says, without hesitation. “Death before dishonor. You?”
Adora thinks she might be grinning a bit too hard when she replies.
“Death before dishonor.”
The room bursts out in cheers once again. Adora feels herself finally begin to relax. Whatever she’s done, it’s not going to end her life. Maybe she can still pass this off as yet another bizarre side effect of her hypercompetitive spirit.
It’s a shame she’s having so much trouble convincing herself.
There are plenty of whoops and pats on the back as she takes Catra’s hand and pulls her gently down the hallway. You’d think they’d just won nationals, by the way everyone was carrying on.
“No cheating, you two!” Mermista jeers. “I want a full summary when you get back.”
Adora feels Catra turning and giving some sort of gesture. “Scout’s Honor.”
Adora smirks. When Catra turns back, she mutters, “Pretty sure the Scouts wouldn’t approve of this.”
She reaches for the doorknob and pushes it open to a dark room. When she looks back, Catra has a sly grin on her face.
“I did a few years of Scouts,” she replies, hitting the light switch on her way in. “Trust me. Those summer camps were a lot gayer than you’d think.”
She closes the door behind them.
The moment they’ve shut themselves off from the rest of the group, Adora’s heart rockets into her throat. Even the creeping effects of the third beer, only just making their way into her system, can’t completely quell the ungodly terror of being sequestered in a room, alone, with Catra Weaver. That would be terrifying even if they weren’t about to do unspeakable acts on Perfuma’s bed.
Catra notices the panic in her eyes. It’d be impossible for her not to. But instead of leaning into it - using it as an intimidation tactic - Adora sees her expression soften.
“Hey.” She gives Adora’s hand a quick squeeze. “Come sit with me. I promise not to stick my tongue down your throat.”
Adora giggles a little at that. She can’t help it. “OK.”
Catra’s smile is soft.
They settle on the edge of the bedspread as Adora tries to get her bearings. The guest room is nice enough - plain, but homey, with a pink knit bedspread Adora’s pretty sure is handmade. Her mom’s side of the family would probably know exactly what kind of fabric it is, but Adora hadn’t inherited that gene. It all looks the same to her.
Catra’s sitting close, but not abnormally so. Just enough that Adora can feel the warmth of her skin against her own. They’ve let go of each other’s hands; Adora finds herself missing the contact. It kind of scares her.
“We don’t have to keep going, you know.” Catra’s voice is strangely artless. “We can just sit here and make fun of the interior decorating for ten minutes, and then rock-paper-scissors on a winner.”
Adora looks at her curiously. She seems to genuinely mean it; there’s no trace of mockery in her expression. “What happened to ‘death before dishonor’?”
Catra rolls her eyes. They’re really pretty. Adora needs to stop thinking about that, probably.
“I just said that to get those losers off our backs,” she says dismissively. “But we don’t actually have to lose our lesbian virginities in this room right now. No one’s gonna know either way.”
Adora raises her brows. “You’re a lesbian virgin?”
Catra laughs. It’s a sweet sound.
“Please. That ‘reputation’ of mine is total bullshit. I’ve never actually gotten past second base in one of these things.”
It’s a pretty big relief, to be honest - more than Adora thought it would be. But somewhere below the surface of her drunken, soupy brain, she sees a red flag waving.
“Why are you being all nice to me?” Adora asks, voice heavy with suspicion. “Think I can’t handle the pressure, or something? ‘Cause if you think I’m gonna forfeit, you’re dead wrong.”
Catra chuckles. She scoots backward a bit, then sinks into the bedspread, adjusting until she’s laying lengthwise. “Of course not. I want my victory to mean something. And honestly, I’d say you handled me pretty well back there, all things considered.”
Adora laughs, even as she feels the blood rushing to her face. She leans back to join Catra on the bed; they both keep their gazes trained on the spackled ceiling. “Thank you. You’re, uh…not so bad yourself.”
Catra hums her amusement.
They lay like that a while. Adora feels comfortable beside her, despite the nervous energy still buzzing between them. If they were somewhere else - doing something else - Adora might curl in and rest her head on Catra’s shoulder. Count the bumps on the ceiling, and let the buzz of liquor and body heat lull her into a stupor.
But they’re not somewhere else. And when Adora turns to look, Catra has a contemplative look on her face.
“I don’t want to mess things up with your boyfriend,” she admits quietly. Her eyes are trained upward. “Not more than I already have. That’s why I asked.”
Adora turns onto her side to face her, her body curled in a loose ball. She lets her eyes travel lazily over Catra’s face. “He’s not my boyfriend. Not really. And to be honest…you’re not the one who’s gonna mess that up.”
Catra’s brow furrows. She turns her head until they’re looking each other in the eyes; she seems suddenly much closer than she was before.
“What do you mean?”
What did she mean? Adora’s not sure; the words had come to her unbidden. She should probably just keep her mouth shut. But the liquor’s making her mind fuzzy. Whatever filter she’d had before entering this room seems to have melted away.
“I think we’re going to end things tomorrow.”
She shouldn’t have said that. Not out loud. It’s such a big, terrifying statement, and it shouldn’t have entered the world like this. But she can’t take it back - and now, Catra’s upset. Adora can see it in her eyes.
“Because of me?” Her brow is scrunched with concern. The last thing Adora should be thinking of right now is how cute she looks like that. Her brain is rebelling against her.
“No,” Adora says firmly. “Not because of you.”
Catra seems to relax at that - a little. “Then why?”
Adora’s eyes trail over Catra’s face against her will. This close, she can see all the individual hairs of her perfect brows. The light layer of peach fuzz on her cheeks. She thinks she might enjoy the feeling of all these things beneath her lips. Then she thinks she might enjoy never having to think at all anymore, ever again.
Catra’s eyes are dark and concerned when she meets them again. She sighs.
“I love him,” Adora admits. “So much. I guess that’s why I was so sure this would work. But I…I don’t feel the way I’m supposed to. And I think he knows.”
Catra’s eyes flutter shut. Her features look anxious.
“I’m sorry if I made things worse.”
Adora is struck, quite suddenly, by the change in her demeanor since they entered the room. She wasn’t sure what to expect when they shut that door - besides the obvious - but gentleness wasn’t anywhere on the list. It’s surprising. Somehow, it makes everything feel much more dangerous than before.
But Adora can’t seem to stop herself from taking Catra’s hand anyways, bringing it to rest lightly on her stomach. Their fingers fit so perfectly together. She wonders why no one else’s hand has ever felt quite so natural to hold.
“You didn’t,” Adora says firmly. “I promise.”
Catra’s eyes blink open. They settle for a moment on Adora’s, looking straight into the heart of her. Then they flicker, undeniably, to her lips.
Adora feels her breath catch.
“You’re a good kisser,” Catra says simply. Her voice is quiet. “I like playing chicken with you.”
Adora swallows as she tries to keep her pulse steady. She’s not sure why the statement makes her feel excited and disappointed all at once. “Does this mean you’re back on for round two?”
Catra chuckles softly. She finally turns until their bodies are mirroring each other; dangerously close. “I was never off. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t homewrecking first.”
Adora’s stomach squeezes at that. She fights the urge to glance at Catra’s lips as she speaks. “Don’t worry. I’m more than capable of wrecking my own home without your help.”
Catra laughs, wincing a little in sympathy. Then her arm slides gently over Adora’s waist, tugging her close - and Adora feels her mind go quiet.
“Don’t think that’s gonna make me go easy on you, Grayskull.” Her breath tickles Adora’s cheek. “I’m still the gay chicken champion. And I’m still gonna kick your ass.”
There is so much Adora should be worried about right now. So many potential dangers lurking behind this corner. But right now, with the buzz coursing fully through her system, she can’t see them. There is only this warm, pretty girl, and her warm, pretty lips, and the vague sensation that the answers to all her questions lie somewhere in between them.
So instead of saying what she’s supposed to say - whatever that is - she places her palm on Catra’s cheek, cupping lightly against her jawbone, and whispers, “Good.”
She leans in to kiss her before the word has a chance to take hold.
Adora was right. There are answers in these lips, even if she’s not quite ready to hear the questions yet. She licks gently into Catra’s mouth, letting their tongues graze again and again, and it is the sweetest thing she has ever known. Her fingers thread through her short, choppy hair and come to rest against her scalp like they are meant to be there; Catra sighs beneath the warmth of her palms.
When Catra’s hands travel under the hem of her shirt, Adora expects another bold movement in their game. Instead, she brings one to rest on Adora’s bare waist while the other finds her spine. Her fingers trail languidly up the ridges, then back down again, slow and exploratory. Every lingering touch sends a thrill of sensation through Adora’s body; she has to fight the moan that threatens to escape her lips, channeling it as much as she can into their kiss.
Adora’s shirt comes off soon after, but it does not feel like strategy. It is simply the next step - a natural evolution she barely questions. Nor is she concerned with gameplay when she slides her hands gently up Catra’s torso and finds that she is braless, her chest free and unbound. Of course she will tease the delicate outer skin of Catra’s breasts with her fingertips. Of course she will bring her hand to rest in the center of Catra’s chest and feel her heart beating, firm and heavy, against her palm. Of course, of course, of course.
She has heard that some people are only lesbians when they drink. That they take pleasure in the company of women while under the spell of intoxication, snapping out of it the moment they’re sober. If this is true, Adora thinks that she will drink a lot more often than she did before. She thinks that maybe being an alcoholic would not be so bad, if it meant she was allowed to do things like this.
She has started moaning into Catra’s mouth now, just a little. It is gentle enough to be mistaken for simple exhaling, she thinks, and so she keeps doing it. And maybe Catra is having the same thought, because Adora can hear her moaning softly too; louder, every time Adora strokes the skin of her chest with her thumb. Maybe it is just breathing. Maybe it is a figment of Adora’s drunken imagination. Or maybe it is just the game. They are still playing, right?
Adora’s not sure she cares anymore.
When Catra’s shirt comes off, Adora nearly loses on the spot. It is almost impossible not to marvel in the sight - those perfect, dusky nipples, standing erect against a canvas of warm, dark skin. But she cannot lose - losing is stopping, she will not stop - and so she contents herself with running her fingertips lightly over the peaks while she mouths a kiss against Catra’s jaw.
Something seems to finally break in Catra at that. Her heavy breaths become quiet gasps, her body arcing abruptly into Adora’s touch. It makes Adora even bolder with her own want. She begins to kiss her way down Catra’s neck, suckling lightly on each bit of exposed skin before releasing it with a gentle pop. With every inch lower, she bites a little bit harder. And with every inch lower, Catra’s breathing gets a little bit louder.
By the time Adora makes it to her nipples, they are straining violently in the cool air, and Catra is keening wordlessly beneath her. Her fingers are in Adora’s hair now, combing through her waves with one hand while the other begins to curl into a desperate fist. And it collapses the last of Adora’s restraint. She loves feeling Catra’s hands on such a sensitive part of her body. She loves having Catra’s soft skin under her lips. The tastes, and the sounds, and the feeling of it all - she loves every second.
She throws caution to the wind and sucks Catra’s nipple directly into her mouth.
“Oh my God,” Catra whimpers. She begins to rock against Adora’s hipbone, seeking pressure. “Oh m - fuck, Adora.”
And if Catra is still playing the game, Adora thinks she must be the greatest actor on the face of the planet. So it is only right that she responds to that performance with heat of her own, wrapping her arms around Catra’s waist and yanking her upwards, pressing their lower bodies as close as they can get while she takes the other nipple into her mouth and suckles her into oblivion.
She thinks she’s going to fuck this girl, now. She has never fucked anyone before, let alone a woman - but Catra is grinding hard against her pelvis, and her fingers are tugging painful bursts of pleasure against her scalp, and Adora cannot imagine a universe where she won’t dip her fingers between this girl’s legs and rub her until she feels good. And if she’d known she was going to love it this much she would’ve never started, but they’re here now, and she’s drunker than she meant to be, and she will end things with Bow tomorrow, she swears, and -
BAM BAM BAM
Adora leaps off of Catra at almost the exact time that Catra rolls out from under her, nearly falling off the edge of the bed in her haste. There’s no reason to it - it’s a pure, unadulterated panic response from the depths of Adora’s being. She is on her feet in an instant, panting and wide-eyed and dreading discovery.
A voice calls out from behind the door.
“Adoraaaa.” Lonnie; still shit-faced. “Catraaaa. Catra-doraaaa.”
Adora blinks about five times, trying to clear her stupor.
“You good, Lonnie?”
Lonnie snorts.
“Are you done yet?” Her voice is obnoxiously suggestive. “Are y - are you still kissing?”
Adora groans, burying her face in her palm. Behind her, Catra speaks up.
“Fuck off, Lonnie.” Her voice sounds strained, despite its edge. “Go play - fucking Mario Kart, or whatever. Leave us alone.”
“I caaaan’t.” Now she sounds obnoxiously whiny. “No one will play with me. They’re all just talking about…stuff.”
Adora finally risks a glance in Catra’s direction. She’s seized her shirt off the ground now, pressing it against her chest for modesty; her makeup is slightly smudged. Adora’s never seen her so bright-red in her life, even in the middle of practice.
“Lonnie.” Catra’s voice is deadly calm, on the brink of meltdown. “If you don’t go away right now, I’m going to re-rupture your fucking Achilles. And this time, it will be a career ender. Got it?”
In the silence that follows, Adora makes the mistake of looking over again. Catra still looks mortified, but she’s biting her lip now. When their eyes meet, they are both overcome by a fit of hysterical laughter; they have to fight to suppress it, though not before Adora releases an undignified snort.
“Fiiiiine,” they hear Lonnie gripe. “Geez. Enjoy your les-bi-an-ing, I guess.”
Heavy footsteps pad away from the door; they are alone. Adora feels her laugh die in her chest.
There’s a tense silence as they both slip into their shirts, facing away from each other on the bedspread. Adora’s anxiety, previously quelled by the beer and the heat of the moment, has roared to life in her chest. The moment prior feels almost like a dream to her; she can’t allow herself to consider it for longer than a second. Her mind is completely paralyzed.
Catra isn’t saying anything. Adora doesn’t dare to look up, but the tension in the room chokes her regardless. She did something wrong. This was all too much, despite their agreement - and somehow, it is all her fault. She knows it.
“I’m sorry,” Adora manages after a moment. Her voice is painfully choked. “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”
Catra stills behind her. The music continues to pulse behind the door, but the space between them is dead silent. Adora has never felt so sick from nerves in her life.
“Why are you apologizing?” She thinks there’s genuine curiosity in Catra’s voice, but she honestly doesn’t know. Everything is starting to blur.
She closes her eyes.
“I don’t know.” Adora’s voice sounds unbearably small in her own ears. “I don’t know. I just am.”
Tears - stupid, drunken tears - prick beneath her eyelids. She forces them back.
When she hears Catra padding forward, she thinks she’s about to leave. Instead, the bed creaks beside her as the other girl takes a seat. Adora opens her eyes, but keeps them trained on her lap.
“Adora.” The voice is soft and kind.
Adora fidgets with the hem of her shorts. She doesn’t know how to do this.
“Adora. Look at me.”
Finally, she lifts her gaze.
Catra is sad. Adora isn’t sure how she knows it, but it’s undeniable. She can see it deep in her eyes. She’s also smiling a little. Neither of those things are what Adora expected.
A small amount of tension leaves her body.
Catra reaches out to take her hand. Adora is struck again by how small her fingers are, compared to hers. Catra had seemed so larger-than-life before all of this happened. But there’s a gentleness in her, too. Adora sees that now.
Catra rubs her thumb once over Adora’s in a comforting stroke. Then, before Adora can respond, she leans in and presses a gentle kiss onto her cheek.
Adora’s eyes flutter shut. It’s a brief, soft moment, over too quickly. When she pulls back, Adora can still feel the ghost of her lips on her skin. She meets Catra’s gaze, her brow furrowed with surprise.
“You win,” Catra whispers. She gives a small smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Then, after one more light squeeze of Adora’s hand, she stands and heads for the door.
Adora watches her leave without saying a word. The moment the door closes behind her, she’s greeted with a flurry of jumbled questions. Adora can hardly make out Catra’s response, but her tone is light-hearted. She’s already back on.
Adora isn’t so quick to recover. She takes a moment to stare at the wallpaper - a subtle rose pattern she hadn’t noticed when she came in, given how unobtrusive it was. Her heart beats almost painfully hard in her chest. She can’t help but feel that her entire life has changed in the blink of an eye.
But the world awaits. There isn’t time to linger - not if she wants to avoid the sort of questions she really can’t afford. So Adora takes a deep breath - in for four, hold for four, out for four - and rises from the bed.
She makes sure her mask of victory is well-secured before she opens the door.
. . .
“You don’t understand.”
Adora is sitting on Bow’s living room couch, arms wrapped tight around her stomach. It’s a warm, familiar space, rendered cold by what she’s here to do. A wall clock ticks steadily in the background.
“What don’t I understand?” Bow furrows his brow. “I gave you permission to play gay chicken. You played gay chicken. And now we’re mutually deciding to see other people. Still not understanding the ‘horrible betrayal’ part.”
Adora buries her face in her hands. This will be even more difficult than she thought. She is going to have to put things into words she can’t even describe to herself yet.
“OK, yes. That’s technically what happened. But it wasn’t…” Adora sighs. “It’s more complicated than that.”
Bow looks at her with genuine confusion. “How?”
Adora just closes her eyes. She knows how. She’s been thinking about it non-stop, from the moment she woke up this morning to the moment she landed on Bow’s doorstep. But saying it out loud feels impossible. She can’t form the words.
Bow misreads her hesitation. His expression softens. “Adora…did everything go OK for you that night? You didn’t feel taken advantage of, did you?”
Something in Adora finally spills over.
“Of course not,” she snaps, before she can stop herself. “Why do you keep asking me if I’m OK? I - it doesn’t matter if I’m OK, Bow! I’m the one who fucked up. I’m the bad guy!”
“Adora, I genuinely don’t understand.” Frustration is finally creeping into his tone. “It wasn’t a fuck-up. We weren’t even -“
“I know we weren’t official,” she interrupts, hysteria rising. “I know that. But you weren’t…you’re not just some guy I met in a bar, Bow. The only reason we weren’t official is because we really wanted it to work. And I knew that, and I still did all that stuff with Catra, even though I knew that…”
She trails off. Her heart is pounding too loud to think.
“…Knew what?”
Adora just shakes her head. She’s too close to a breakdown to speak.
The silence afterward makes her sick with shame. She can do nothing but bury her face in her hands as her adrenaline fades. She shouldn’t have come here - shouldn’t have made things worse than they already were. The world really would be better off if she just stopped talking for a while.
She hears Bow take a deep breath.
“OK. So before I start my speech…is there anything else you did with another person, besides gay chicken, while we were together?”
Adora has to look up at that. Bow’s expression is oddly neutral.
“Of course not.” She leans forward urgently in her chair. “I would - no. I would never do that without asking.”
For some reason, the answer makes him smile.
“OK.” Bow looks up at the ceiling fan for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. Then he meets her gaze again.
“So I think we’ve both suspected for a while that this, um…hasn’t been working out.” He winces a little. “Am I right about that?”
After a brief moment, Adora nods.
“Yeah.” Her tone turns pleading. “I wanted it to. So bad. You have to believe me -“
Bow holds up a hand.
“I know.” His eyes are warm as he puts it down. “So did I. But it didn’t.”
Adora sighs.
“It didn’t.”
Bow nods. He leans forward a bit on his ottoman, bridging the gap.
“Can I be honest with you?” He gives a small, awkward smile. “When you called…I think a part of me kind of wanted you to play.”
There is a sudden flow of ice into Adora’s gut. She has the faint suspicion that she knows where this is going.
“This talk…was always going to happen,” Bow continues. He seems to be choosing his words carefully. “And maybe I should’ve brought it up sooner, or maybe you should’ve - who knows. But when you called me last night, all I could really think at the moment was that…this might be good for you. You know what I’m saying?”
And now, there are tears welling in Adora’s eyes.
She pauses to take some slow, deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. Bow deserves so much better than a blubbering mess of an apology right now. But she’s too overwhelmed with fondness and shame, all at once, to hold herself together.
“I didn’t know I was going to feel that way,” Adora whispers finally. She wipes quickly at the tears spilling over. “I wouldn’t have done it, if I had.”
Bow’s gaze is overwhelmingly kind.
“Well, I had a feeling you would. And I still wanted you to do it,” he jokes. “So what does that say about me?”
She can feel her bottom lip starting to tremble; she bites it hard enough to cause pain.
“It means you’re an amazing person,” she replies, trying and failing to keep her voice steady. “And I really, really don’t deserve you.”
Bow sighs.
“OK, Adora.” He drops his head in apparent fatigue, then lifts it. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this. But if it’ll stop you from kicking the crap out of yourself, then I think it’ll be worth it.”
The curiosity is enough to break through her downward spiral for a moment. She sniffles, then nods.
Bow sighs, long and deep. Then -
“I’m like…kind of, sort of, in love with Glimmer. Just a little bit.”
Adora’s mouth literally drops open.
“…What?”
Bow winces.
“Yeah, it’s - I’m sorry. It took a while to figure out.” He scratches nervously at the back of his head. “But I’ve been, uh…pretty certain, for about a week now. So if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. Not you.”
Adora blinks. A few tears leak down her face, their cause long forgotten.
“You love Glimmer? Like…love love?”
Bow sighs. He hangs his head again. “I’m sorry, Adora. I shouldn’t have -“
“That’s great!!”
Bow’s head pops up in surprise.
“What?”
Adora can’t keep the smile from spreading across her face.
“Bow, she - OK, she really likes you.” She can feel herself beginning to gesture excitedly. “Like, you have no idea. She’s been acting so weird since we got together, and I could tell last night was hard for her, too -“
“What?”
“- and this is amazing!” She grins hard. “You’ve got to tell her!”
Bow looks like he’s been struck by a freight train. His mouth opens, then closes again.
“Adora…” A slow, incredulous grin spreads across his face. “Are you wingmanning me mid-breakup?”
The smile drops off of Adora’s face. She buries her head in her palms again, groaning.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry -“
Bow is laughing now.
“Shut up, Adora.” He can barely speak. “Literally, I - why are we like this?”
Finally, Adora cracks up too.
They laugh for a while, letting the stress of the last few hours drain from their bodies. Adora’s a little closer to crying than she’d like - maybe she is crying, at some points - but it’s still a welcome relief. She feels lighter when it’s done.
But when the energy between them settles, she realizes there is still more to be said. She makes sure her body is as relaxed as it can get, and then speaks.
“Bow, listen.” Adora sighs “I messed up. And you could blame the alcohol, or the communication issues, or whatever you want, but I…I still feel like I crossed a line. And I’m sorry.”
Bow looks like he wants to interrupt. But to his credit, he manages to hold his tongue. Adora can only hope the message is sinking in.
“I guess I just want to say…thank you.” She gives him a sad smile. “I meant what I said, about not deserving you. Glimmer is the luckiest girl on Earth.”
Bow blushes again at that. He glances at his feet, suddenly shy. “So…how sure are you, exactly, about the liking thing? Like, is it just an educated guess, or -“
“Oh my God, Bow, stop being dumb. She is completely obsessed with you. I’m pretty sure she has been since, like, fourth grade.” Adora leans forward and shakes his shoulders for emphasis. “Go - call - her. Right now.”
“Alright, alright!” Bow laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “Geez!”
Adora relents, still smiling. After a moment, she rises from the couch.
“I will leave you alone now, because I’m pretty sure Glimmer already hates me enough.” She lifts her eyebrows dramatically. “But go call her, the second I leave, and tell her you love her. And then go cuddle with her. Because she is probably really hungover right now.”
Bow laughs, still a bit flustered. But after a moment, he nods.
“OK. I will.”
Adora heads for the screen door, chuckling quietly to herself. She’s never felt such a strange mixture of emotions swirling in her body at once - it makes her want to crash on her couch and nap for twelve hours. But she thinks there’s a kernel of hope beneath it all. And that’s more than she thought she’d be able to say when she got here.
Right when her fingers hit the handle, Bow speaks.
“Adora?”
She turns. Bow’s expression is serious, but determined.
“Don’t be a stranger,” he says finally. “I mean that.”
Adora loves him. It’s so easy to see, now that she isn’t bogged down with all the rest. But it’s not the right time to say it. She hopes that day will come soon.
Instead, she just nods.
“I won’t. Promise.”
Bow smiles. Then he turns - towards the phone on his end table, she can’t help but notice - and Adora pushes through the door.
She feels closer to herself, in that moment, than she’s ever been before