Chapter Text
“And the two of you,” the man says, crossing one leg over the other and adjusting the frame of the glasses on his nose. “Just recently married, right?”
Adora swallows, nodding. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. We did.” The other, more articulate-sounding words die on her throat when she feels Catra’s hand intertwine with hers. Adora knows Catra could feel the sweat on her hand, sees the disgruntled expression on Catra’s face before it morphs into a fake smile, one that drips with honey and sweetness.
“People said it was so fast — but to us, it felt right.” Catra squeezes Adora’s hand, tight enough to make Adora think she cut off her blood circulation. “It was meant to be, so it was only natural for this to be— be the next progression.”
“Congratulations!” The man looks over the papers on his desk, then looks up to them. Adora feels a teeny bit intimidated. “How did you two first meet?”
“We met during childhood,” Catra answers before Adora could. Her words come with a fond tone and a chuckle — it may be the only true thing in their act. “There wasn’t much to it, I guess. We were both in the same neighborhood, the same playgrounds. Grew up, moved apart. But in the grand scheme of things,” Catra says, her voice dropping to something akin to a murmur, like pink roses and plastic stems, “I think there are ways that lead us back to each other.”
Catra looks back up, and Adora sees that old look in Catra’s eyes. Kind of like stepping into the great unknown — but instead of stumbling around, she’s led with the familiar pair of eyes she’s known since the day she learned to walk.
“Yeah,” Adora murmurs, “I think there are.”
(Catra looks away first.
Adora wonders if there’s some piece of truth in her eyes that Catra sees. Maybe it’s spilling from the heartbeats in her palms. Maybe it’s the quirk in her mouth. Maybe someday she’ll know.)
“Oh.” Adora looks back to see the man look at them with adoration in his eyes. Oh god, he’s buying into it. “How happy are you guys?”
“Uh,” she says, “I’m not sure about the answer.”
“Pardon?” The man asks. His eyes widen at her answer. Catra snaps her head to look at Adora, a fierce glare she knows is slowly burning holes into her skin.
“No!” Adora scrambles to save herself, “I mean — I’m so stupid. I meant like, how to answer it, you know? Like—”
“A multiple-choice exam?” Catra injects dryly.
“Oh, honey,” Adora says, the endearment sounding foreign in her lips but still comes off as smooth like rosé and silk from hours of practice. “I meant like, do we answer from one to ten or something?”
Catra stifles a laugh, hides it behind a cough. “You are so hilarious, Adora — I meant,” Catra stops, and Adora could hear the laughter in the absolute absurdity of it all in her voice, “sugar bear.”
Adora smiles at Catra in response. She brings their intertwined hands together and kisses the back of Catra’s hand. “I’ll never get used to hearing you calling me that.”
She looks back at the man who totally looks like he’s buying everything. What the freak, she thinks, he actually believes the act. I may potentially have a career in acting after all this.
“Sorry, sorry,” Adora says, “I got us off-track. How do you want me to answer that question?”
“No, don’t — I think it’s sweet. You’re a very loving couple.” The man smiles at them. “You can say anything you feel like saying.”
“Well, from one to ten,” she says, feeling Catra’s eyes on her. “One being the lowest and ten the highest. Let’s answer together?”
Adora watches Catra nod. Together, they say, “Ten.”
“That’s good!” The man says. “The next question may be something you hear from couple’s therapy, so we’re taking a page from their book. How is your sex life?”
Silence.
Adora clears her throat, shifts uncomfortably on the couch. She diverts her eyes to the walls of the office. An electric guitar hanging on the wall, classic records framed in glass. She taps her fingers on her thigh, looks over to Catra whose jaw is slightly open. Adora slowly comes to the realization that she has to save this conversation.
“Do I have to answer from one to ten?”
Adora could physically feel the eye roll coming from Catra. She continues anyway.
“You know what? It’s been going amazing,” Adora can’t help the words pouring from her mouth, knowing Catra is listening to her, “Catra and I? Great. The bed is… on fire. IKEA better be waiting. There’s—”
“Adora, sweetheart, I love you. I really do.” Catra smiles at Adora — a warning in her eyes. What the fuck are you doing? is written all over Catra’s face. “There are just some things that don’t need to be said out loud.”
“Ah, young love.” The man leans over his desk. “It was like that with my husband, you know? The feeling of sharing what you have. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.” He peers down at his notes. “But you know, there are some who really do try to fake marriages.” Adora gulps. “Sometimes they really aren’t in love — that’s why we’re interviewing you first. So do you understand why we have to make checks?”
“Yes, we have sex— checks! I mean checks.”
The man chuckles and shakes his head. “I think I’m pretty convinced. Are you ready for your vacation in Hawaii?”
Adora and Catra won’t really know but — this is how it starts.
“They’re so stupid,” Glimmer says, waiting for her order at the counter. Bow stands next to her, typing something on his phone. They’re five minutes away from the agreed-upon meetup spot at the mall.
“Who?” Bow asks, slipping his phone into his pocket.
“Adora and—” Glimmer pauses when her order comes, a caramel macchiato and a blueberry muffin, picks it up and gives the muffin to Bow, continuing, “Catra. Adora clearly still wants to be friends and — don’t you tell me you don’t see Adora’s stares when she thinks Catra isn’t looking. It’s so obvious, it’s almost physically painful to watch.”
Bow hums in response. “This is really good,” he says, taking a bite from the muffin. “And on that topic, I can feel like there’s more you want to say. What are you thinking about?”
“You know what I’m thinking?”
“Not really.”
“Bow, looking for support here.” Glimmer pushes the doors open, feeling the sun on her face. “All I’m saying is that Catra, Adora,” she says, making a gesture with her hand holding the latte and then her other, “will always stay this far away,” she moves her hands apart, “unless there’s something that pushes them together.”
“I’m not getting it.” Bow frowns. “Are you saying… you want to play matchmaker?”
“What? Is it not a good plan?”
“Depends.” Glimmer watches Bow take out his phone and send a text to their group chat. “If they’re too stubborn, what makes you think an interference will make them get together?”
“That’s exactly why I need everyone in the plan,” Glimmer says. “Are you in?”
“If they find out what we’re planning…” Bow shakes his head, a smile on his face. “Fine. I’m in.”
. . .
“Well, I guess you have to get it through your thick head that maybe there are just assholes who don’t deserve to drive cars,” Catra says, crossing her arms. Call her a bitch, but she does not want to listen to Adora talk about parking lots and reserved spots at one in the afternoon.
“I do know that,” Adora says in response, “I just wanted to make conversation. That’s all.”
“If you wanted my attention, you could’ve just said it.”
“God, Catra. What — what is your problem?” Adora asks. Catra turns around to face her, ready for a quip, but her eyes begin to focus on something behind her. “What?”
“Bow, Bow.” Catra steps and reaches out to grab something behind her, Bow’s arm, and latches on to it. “Please lead me away from this strange woman. She’s too scary.”
“Hello to you too, Catra.” Glimmer rolls her eyes at Catra’s theatrics. “Has Scorpia messaged you for the—”
“Special meals, I know.” Catra gives Adora the side-eye. “I did. I just — I don’t get how people are willing to eat shellfish. That shouldn’t be like, a fucking thing. I don’t know.”
“How articulate,” Glimmer says.
Catra’s face twists to anger. “Oh? I’m a goddamn—”
“Anyway,” Bow interrupts before the two will begin to argue, “Glimmer and I already bought tickets on the way here. Did you guys get your tickets?”
“Uh, no?” Catra asks, hand on her hip. “I wonder why — oh, wait. It’s because someone didn’t even bother to tell us.”
“It’s like, twenty minutes before the screening.” Adora looks to Catra, saying, “Do you want to get the tickets together?”
“Obviously. Unless you want to stand outside the theater and wait, which,” Catra says, then narrows her eyes at Bow and Glimmer. “Be my guest.”
. . .
If you ask Adora — she swears it’s not her fault that they got kicked out of the movie theater.
It was Catra and Glimmer’s fault, and she’s not under any trial, so she won’t partake in taking the blame of being a bystander.
When she thinks about it, she should’ve known Catra was already in a bad mood when they got the tickets and they got stuck next to each other. And the fact that offering to pay for Catra’s popcorn was, in hindsight, really stupid.
(“Oh, you think I can’t afford a fucking bag of popcorn?”
“No… what? Come on, Catra. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s a big fucking deal to me.”
“Uh, do you want cheese or—”
“Shut the fuck up, Kyle. I want three of them.”)
And when they went back to the ticket counter because Catra accidentally forgot to take her change, they got asked another question.
(“Are you two together?”
“No? Do you just assume that every two people that come here are dating?”
“She was asking about the tickets, Catra.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.”)
And when Catra had three unnecessary bags of popcorn and Glimmer was sitting in the row in front of them — god forbid. Catra didn’t make a mess but — there’s always a but — they did get kicked out.
And no, Adora doesn’t want to talk about it.
“You want us to pick a cake,” Catra deadpans, “a week before your wedding.”
“Uh,” Scorpia says, “I am? I am! It’s the cake before the real cake, you know?”
“Oh,” Adora says, scratching her chin. “Kind of like a cake appetizer?”
“Exactly!” Scorpia looks around, the three of them walking up to the counter. “Hey, Rogelio. Nice to see you around.”
Rogelio nods and points to the back. For some reason that Catra cannot comprehend for the life of her, Scorpia nods. “Great! Actually, I brought my friends Catra and Adora here. I hope you don’t mind — I’m still full from my lunch! They’ll be the ones testing the flavors.”
“Wait, what? Are you serious?” Catra asks. “What if I was lactose intolerant or something?”
“But you’re not—” Adora says before she gets interrupted.
“That’s totally not my point.” Catra crosses her arms as she walks around the counter when Rogelio motions them to go inside the kitchen. “I’m onto you.”
“Why is your phone suddenly exploding with notifications? Haven’t you heard of silent mode?”
Catra suddenly appears in front of Scorpia, and Scorpia looks up in surprise as she fumbles with her phone.
“Sorry, sorry,” Scorpia says, “I was just texting Perfuma. Totally. Uh, is there something you needed?”
“Uh, this is your wedding and your wedding cake. Why are you letting Adora taste-test the cake?”
Scorpia raises an eyebrow. “Do you mean Adora and you?”
“Not me, obviously.” Catra rolls her eyes. “I know I have good taste. But… her?” She points to Adora, who is currently sniffing the cake — cheesecake, specifically, and shakes her head. “You’ll end up with a cheesecake if you let her choose. Do— do you really want that? Proudly admit you had cheesecake as your wedding cake?”
“What’s wrong with cheesecake?” Scorpia frowns.
“Ugh, no — I mean, like,” Catra pauses. “You know what? This is pointless. I’ve seen this behavior from strange people before — I’ve binged Unsolved Mysteries last month. I’ve seen it in Sparkles the other day.”
“Sparkles? Glimmer?”
“Same thing, same thing.”
BOWWW
@meatbowl
Practicing archery today at my dad's ranch!
❤ 11 1:12 PM - August 15, 2020
Perfuma
@plumeria
A good day starts with a deep breath! #Meditation #Mornings #Mindfulness #InnerPeace #Quotes #LifeQuotes #LifeQuotesToLiveBy #Spirituality
❤ 16 1:13 PM - August 15, 2020
Mermista
@salterego
the sea looks good. or the ocean. whatever. sea hawk was moving my hand when i took this
❤ 14 1:15 PM - August 15, 2020
(Are you going on vacation? Catra asks from her desk. In Hawaii?
It’s none of your business, Catra. Her boss takes on a condescending tone. Keep working.
You’re seriously letting me keep your business up as you party out there?
Are you being clever with me?
Catra swallows. I’m not.)
. . .
“Look, I’m just saying. You should totally reconcile with her. Unless you want to, you know, mope around like this,” Mermista says as she wipes down the counter of the bar. “Don’t break any of the glasses when you bang your head on the wood. It’s expensive.”
“Ugh,” Catra says. “Make me another shot. I don’t care what it is. No, wait. Make it top shelf, chilled.”
“Because you’re physically incapable of drinking it warm.” Mermista rolls her eyes. “You’re paying for this, you know that, right?”
“No? I thought the drinks were on you.”
“Definitely not when I’m not drinking.”
“The world just wants to see me fail,” Catra says. “How come Shadow Weaver gets to go to fucking Hawaii while I’m here, alone, paying for my own drinks.”
“Don’t worry,” Mermista says, “You’re, like, next to those sad people in the bar. You’re not alone.”
“How comforting.”
“I’m here!” A voice enters their conversation.
“Not you, Sea Hawk. Go away,” Catra says. “Where’s the shot?”
“Not when you’re not paying. And this is what, your twentieth?”
“Eight. Clearly, someone here is intoxicated and it’s not me.”
“God how aren’t you dead yet,” Mermista says. “I’ll get you some water. Aren’t you supposed to be planning for Scorpia’s wedding?”
“She’s on a date night before she sleeps over in my apartment. The wedding rituals, I guess. You know, the thing about not seeing each other and stuff before the wedding.”
“And where will Perfuma sleep?”
“Adora offered her apartment. Her new, furnished one.” Catra shakes her head. “Show off.”
“It’s literally just an apartment,” Mermista says. “You have one too.”
“Yeah.” Catra sighs in exasperation. “I just can’t stand her.”
“Here goes the drunken rants. I’d love to hear those but not at like, an hour past midnight.”
“You’re not even doing anything,” Catra says. “She’s… ugh. Acting like she can come back into my life like that,” she mutters.
There’s a glass of water pushed towards her. She looks up and sees Mermista calling for Sea Hawk. “You won’t get this from me again but drink up,” she says. “Sea Hawk will drive you to your apartment. Get some sleep.”
. . .
(“So, Adora, huh?” Sea Hawk exaggeratedly winks at her.
“Shut the fuck up.”)
. . .
And no, Catra is not mad.
She isn’t, she swears.
It’s a great day for her best friend, Scorpia. She means, it’s her wedding day. Catra loves her — she really does, but it doesn’t mean her patience has to be worn as the box she’s holding right now.
“God, Scorpia, couldn't you have asked anyone else?” Catra asks. “Or you know, done it yourself.”
“Is that the one I ordered from—” Scorpia gasps, cutting off her sentence. “And you got it!” She stands up, takes Catra in for a hug. Catra wheezes, whisper I can’t breathe and why are your arms so wet oh my god. Scorpia waits for three more seconds before she drops her. “This will be so perfect for tonight!”
“Oh my god. You didn’t need to say that. That,” Catra says, putting the box down and pushes it as far as she physically can, “is something I do not want to hear. Probably ever.”
Scorpia ignores her jab — she’s gotten really good at that, Catra thinks — and instead puts her hands on her hips, looks at the mirror. “Ah, this day will be perfect. Wedding dress, check. Wipe the condensation off the chairs half an hour before the ceremony, check. Delivery box—”
“The venue is indoors — why would there be condensation? Is that why your arms are—”
“Check. Ten-tier chocolate cake, check. Wait.” Scorpia blinks, turns to her. “Have you asked the caterers about your separate meals? Can you ask Adora?”
Catra crinkles her nose. “Absolutely not. Can we continue talking about your checklist, please?”
Scorpia does that thing with her eyes — widening them like E.T. on a basket and hands pressing against each other like a prayer and oh — it’s exactly the kind that wears down the walls Catra has built around her heart. She sighs.
“Fine. Where’s the airhead, anyway?”
“You're still on that?” A voice comes from behind her. “I thought we moved past that from high school.”
Catra rolls her eyes before turning around. “And I thought we've moved past snarky remarks, Mermista.”
“Scorpia, they need you to see if the bouquet arrangement that just came was correct,” Mermista says, looking behind Catra, “and you,” she points to Catra, “are a hypocrite.”
“Whatever. You know where—” she gags before continuing, “—Grayskull is?”
“Beats me.” Mermista shrugs. “Text her.”
catra
@catrastrophe
imagine being late for one of your best friend's wedding... could never be me
❤ 2 9:38 AM - August 22, 2020
“I mean come on, at least I have an excuse — I'm allergic to shellfish — but her excuse is just, oh, I don't like buffets like, okay and?” Catra says, making her voice sound deeper when she imitates Adora.
“That was a terrible impression, just my two cents.” Mermista walks into the room, looking Catra up and down. “Is that what you're wearing?”
“What?” Catra looks into the mirror. “Does it look—”
“Weird?” Scorpia guesses.
“No—”
“Flashy—”
“What? I mean—”
“Slutty?” Mermista inserts.
"I meant hot.” Catra shoots a glare at Mermista. Catra takes a step back. “Anyway, I'm not here to be criticized by Fashion Police so I'll be searching for Grayskull.”
“You can just say Adora, you know,” Scorpia says.
“Fine, Adora.” Catra rolls her eyes.
She walks out of the room and bumps into Entrapta, who she holds by the shoulders. “Entrapta. Have you seen Adora?”
“Grayskull?” Catra nods. “She was in the reception hall. I think.”
“Thanks, thanks.” She walks by and gets to the reception hall, and bumps into Adora.
“Woah, watch your steps.”
“Have you asked if the cooks prepared your special meal?”
“Yeah. I dropped by earlier and— hey! I wasn’t even finished talking!”
“What? You answered my question.”
“This is unfair, Catra. Come on — it wasn't that—”
“Let's not even talk about this here. This wedding is not about us.”
“Ah,” Adora mutters, putting her hand down. “Fine. But I won't let you go without talking.”
“What is there to talk about?” Catra turns around. “Let's just go. There are ten minutes before the ceremony starts.”
. . .
The ceremony goes by in a blur — Catra has heard Scorpia plan it out for so long, she can almost tell minute-by-minute how everything will go. It still doesn’t take away how beautiful it was though. They were surrounded by greenery all around them — it reminds Catra of a forest, like she was walking down brick roads and seeing the Christmas lights glint at her — except the Christmas lights are the sun and the brick roads are tiled pathways that lead her down the aisle.
Catra listens to Scorpia say the vows she’s been writing and rewriting over and over, the words she asks for Catra’s advice at night (Is this good enough? Do you think I’m saying too much?) that Catra is pretty sure she can recite it next to Scorpia.
(Catra won’t admit it, but she can feel her eyes gloss over ever she hears you may kiss the bride.)
After all that they’ve been through — it’s the one thing Scorpia deserves.
Her mood only sours when they go back down the aisle again. Adora offers her arm to Catra’s, and Catra takes it. There are words she knows Adora wants to say, but she doesn’t let her.
She wonders if she could keep this up the whole night.
(She doesn’t.)
. . .
The reception was as rowdy as she thought — Catra couldn’t complain though. People are lining up for the seafood buffet like they’ve never seen real fish before. It was Catra’s third flute of champagne and honestly? It seems like it wasn’t enough.
There’s the plate of roasted chicken and mashed potatoes in front of her. There’s Entrapta beside her eating the mini cupcakes Scorpia had specifically catered for her and—
“Mind if I sit here?”
Adora.
“Sure. I mean, there’s not a note saying you can’t really.”
Adora frowns, saying, “Catra, I—”
“What do you want, Adora? Did you want to read my speech?”
“No.” Adora swallows, a lump in her throat. “I just… why are you bringing up all this stuff here, at Scorpia and Perfuma’s wedding of all places?”
“What old stuff?” Catra says dismissively.
“Ugh,” Adora mutters, “I just want to know what your problem is with me. I want to talk about it.”
“You know what?” Catra starts, lowering her voice and placing her utensils down. “I’m still mad. At everything. We haven’t really talked about it, haven’t we? So, look. I have this theory.” She stops, knowing Adora will take the bait.
Adora looks at her, a puzzled expression on her face. Bingo. “A theory?”
“A theory that hypothesizes that you should stop whatever you’re doing and let’s just leave it at that.”
Adora blows out a breath. “Is it a theory, or are you just trying to find an excuse to be mad at me?”
Catra clenches her jaw in response. “It’s a theory.” She looks away. “I think you should be eating your roasted chicken instead of talking to me — you wouldn’t want to eat it cold.”
Only a few minutes after, she’s called for the toast. It was slightly late — something about the microphone malfunctioning. Catra is the first one to make her speech, and she stands in front of the guests, the notes app on her phone opened.
“First of all, can we have some applause for them?” Catra gestures to Scorpia and Perfuma, and everyone applauds and cheers in response. When it dies down, Catra sees it to continue. “I promise I’m not like this all the time — you’ll only get this once from me, Scorpia — but I’m Catra, her best friend,” Catra could almost feel Scorpia’s eyes tearing up behind her, “and the day Scorpia met Perfuma—” she pauses when a notification pops up in her screen.
Mermista
have i told you i'm loving the color of your shirt
ugh your cleavage looks good in this angle
Catra swipes the message away. “I wasn’t really sure about the two of them. Really. I think the time I thought that Perfuma was perfect for Scorpia was when I had my first yoga class with—”
Bow
You do yoga?
Catra ignores the notification and focuses on the words on her screen, saying, “—Perfuma, and after that, we just clicked. We regularly meditated together. I can see what Scorpia sees in her, and I can see how much she makes Scorpia better—”
Entrapta
Mermista asked what your bra size was.
Is it an A-cup or a training?
Catra widens her eyes, shoots Entrapta a warning look. “—every way. Scorpia, I’m so proud of you. So—”
Frosta
your face looks kinda constipated when you do that
idk its just me
How the hell did this kid even get her number in the first place? Outside, she does a quiet exhale. “—here is to her, and her new wife, Perfuma!” She raises the champagne glass along with everyone else, and drinks it in a few gulps.
There’s a slightly bitter taste in her throat after she drinks it. She blames it on the champagne.
. . .
An hour after Catra falls asleep in the quiet of the hotel room, she gets a text from Scorpia.
Scorpia
Bad news
Everyone is sick
The vagueness of the text makes her sit upright, the brightness of the phone stark against the darkness of the hotel room. She presses the call button. Scorpia answers immediately.
“Scorpia?” Catra says. “What happened?”
“I’ve called and my parents, Perfuma’s parents, everyone else who attended the wedding — they’re all sick. I think,” Scorpia says, “I think it was in the buffet.”
“Maybe they’re just hungover.” Catra tries to hide the tiredness in her voice.
“Perfuma doesn’t drink,” Scorpia says, “She’s sick too.”
“Fuck.” Catra brings the covers closer to her chest. “What do you want me to do?”
That’s why in the middle of the night, Catra ended up driving them to the hospital, calling the ambulance for the others who fell sick. It was true — the buffet was contaminated with ciguatera. This is the first time Catra had been glad to refuse fish — it was obviously the right call.
She’s in sitting next to Scorpia in the hotel room, after she’s discharged along with the others. The next words Scorpia says hit her without a warning.
“You have to take the trip.”
“Which one?”
“The honeymoon.”
Catra turns her head to Scorpia, saying, “What? The honeymoon you worked so hard to win? I can’t.”
“She’s right, Catra,” Bow says, holding a plastic bag for himself. He’s sitting on the hotel floor, listening along to the conversation. “You’re the only one who isn’t sick.”
“They don’t care if they’re sick,” Glimmer adds. “It’s just a promo.”
“I can change the names,” Scorpia says. “I’m sure I can tell them that there was a misspelling.”
“What?” Catra asks. “It’s absurd. You should think about yourself right now.”
“It happens in two days,” Glimmer says. “You just need to do an interview and you’re good to go.”
“Come on, Catra.”
“I…” Catra trails off. “It’s not what I care about right now. You should focus on feeling better.”
“I’ll feel better if you agree,” Scorpia mutters. “Come on, wildcat. It’s a free vacation.”
Catra doesn’t really know if what she says next is just to make them stop pressuring her — or if she really wants it. Regardless, what comes out of her mouth is, “I’ll think about it.”
. . .
When she leaves the hotel room to fetch a few bottles of water, she runs into Adora.
“Did you hear about it?” are the first words that come out of Adora’s mouth.
“About them all being sick? I mean, I did drive them to the hospital.” Catra shrugs.
“No,” Adora says, “I— I… whatever. Where are you going?”
“I’m getting a bottle of water for Scorpia. How’s Perfuma?”
“She’s sleeping. Do you know where Scorpia is?” Adora asks. She looks stressed and Catra is sure she does as well. After all, they only got an hour of sleep.
“Why?”
“I need to talk to her. It’s about—”
“The honeymoon. I know.” Catra interrupts Adora, knowing the conversation will lead somewhere she doesn’t want it to go.
“Perfuma offered it to me,” Adora says. “Did Scorpia offer it to you?”
Catra blinks. “Did you accept it?”
“Of course I did,” Adora says, knotting her forehead, “I’ll be taking the off-days I need.”
“I accepted it too,” Catra answers.
“Does that mean…” Adora trails off, leaving it up to interpretation.
“We’re taking their honeymoon.” Catra purses her lips. “Together.”
. . .
“What do you mean there’s an interview?” Catra asks, her phone to her ear. She’s been pacing around her apartment’s living room for the duration of the entire call. “Like we have to act like we’re married or whatever?”
“I already called the company to change the names — you know, the last names. But the requirements were still like, a married couple because it was a honeymoon package. So kind of? You just have to act like a married couple—”
“Are you serious? Like, you’re not fucking kidding?”
“Yeah.” Scorpia sounds genuinely sad over the phone. “Sorry, wildcat. Those were the requirements. They already changed the names to Mrs. and Mrs. Grayskull. If you don’t want though, I can still cancel—”
“No!” Catra exclaims. God, she’s really doing this. “I’ll do it. Yeah. I’ll do it.”
“I don’t want you to feel pressured—”
“I need this vacation, Scorpia.”
“That’s true, yeah,” Scorpia says, “But look on the bright side! You’ll be spending time with Adora! Maybe, in the end, you’ll grow closer.”
“Definitely not looking forward to that,” Catra mutters, “I’ll text her. Anyway, text me when you’re feeling better—”
“Catra, that is so sweet—”
“I’m hanging up.”
. . .
(Catra really can’t believe she’s doing this. Looking at the email Scorpia had sent her, it’s almost laughable.
Do you want a chance for a free honeymoon with your significant other? In Maui? Submit your tickets again! You might be the next lucky couple!
I understand and agree that participation in this promo carries with it the risk to me of personal or bodily injury (including death) and loss or damage to property, and I willingly and knowingly accept that risk. I also understand and agree that Mystacor Travels does not and will not guarantee my safety during my participation in the Program. With this understanding, I, individually, and on behalf of my heirs, successors, assigns, and personal representatives, hereby release, relieve, indemnify and forever discharge Mystacor Travels, its employees, agents, officers, trustees and representatives (in their official and individual capacities) from any and all liability whatsoever for any personal or bodily injury (including death) and loss of or damage to property that I may sustain, including but not limited to any claims, demands, actions, causes of action, judgments, damages, expenses and costs, including attorneys fees, which arise out of, result from, occur during or are connected in any manner with my participation in the promo.
How is this thing real?)
. . .
They’re in a café near Adora’s apartment building. There are hanging lights around them, the scent of pastries and brewed coffee making Catra feel better. Adora’s sitting in front of her, wearing a red sweater with BRIGHTMOON written on it, and Catra can’t help but notice the way it hugs her shoulders. She takes the thought out of her mind.
“To prove the legitimacy of our relationship, we should be acting like a couple, right?”
“Yeah.” Catra crosses her arms. “Since they want to see it in an interview — not through documents. They’ll revoke this honeymoon if we don’t.”
“So we’ll have to pretend to be married?” Adora’s face twists to disbelief. “Like — like for the whole vacation?”
“Whether you’re coming or not,” Catra says, “I’m taking the trip. With or without you.”
Adora shakes her head. “I’ll be going.”
Catra hums, thinking. “Don’t we need proof?”
“Maybe we could have texts between us?”
“Texts?”
“Domestic ones. Texts like did you pick up the laundry or...”
“Or?”
“You know,” Adora says, “Texts married couples have. Those, ah,” she mutters, “personal texts.”
“You mean,” Catra raises an eyebrow. “Sexting?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” The clarification makes Catra’s throat feel dry.
“Adora, you’re such a…” Catra is a bit impressed. She didn’t know Adora had that in her. “God. I didn’t know—” Catra’s phone vibrates on the table. She checks the notification.
fucking blonde idiot
What time are you coming home?
From work?
Catra looks at Adora when she types back.
i'm in traffic
i'll be there in ten
Adora doesn’t look at her in eyes when she types the next message.
fucking blonde idiot
I can't wait to see you naked. Hurry up.
“Holy shit.” Catra does a low whistle. “Okay. Damn.”
Adora chuckles. Catra could see Adora’s face turn to a shade of red. “I think we should also prepare for the interview. Let Bow and Glimmer question us. I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
Catra shrugs, putting her phone face down on the table. “How hard can it be?”
. . .
“I’m taking a week off.”
Catra doesn’t find herself drowning in nervousness — she needs to take a break. She deserves it. She hasn’t used up much of her vacation days, and this is the perfect time to take it.
“On such short notice? And why is that, Catra?” Shadow Weaver’s voice is grating in her ears.
“I need a vacation. I’m burnt out. I’m sure you have your little interns running around to keep your company floating — I have enough vacation time anyway.”
There’s no justification Shadow Weaver could without bordering on illegal malpractices, and with a sigh and a tone Catra knows is pissed off — an achievement for her — she lets her go.
That’s one thing over.
. . .
When Catra said she thought it wasn’t hard — it really wasn’t. Whatever they had before Adora had left, it was still there. She could still remember details like it was yesterday — it irks her in some way, but that means the process is easier.
“What do you like the most about Catra?” Bow asks, a plastic bag in his hand. When they invited Glimmer and Bow to Adora’s apartment, they brought alcohol. Not for them, but for Adora and Catra but — Catra won’t complain.
“Uh,” Adora mutters, “I like her sense of drive. I like that when she wants something, she’ll really try for it. I’ve always liked that about her.”
Glimmer turns to Catra. “Will Adora ever become a good cook?”
Catra laughs in response. “If the time comes when she’s not dependent on the microwave and actually uses a pan, maybe.”
“Oh, come on.” Adora shakes her head, grinning. “Sometimes reheated dinners are good. Curry comes to mind.”
“What is something about Catra that we don’t know about?” Bow asks.
“She loves singing in the shower. Loudly.”
“We’re really going with this?” Catra asks. “I don’t say you own Spiderman underwear when you were in first grade—”
“Oh god. Don’t.”
“I think you guys got this.” There’s a smile on Bow’s face when he looks to Glimmer. “By the way, do you want me to get you another bag?”
Catra tunes out Glimmer’s answer, feels her phone buzz in her pocket. She takes her phone out and—
I miss you. Boss is holding me up.
I hope you're waiting for me.
Adora.
Catra looks up and sees Adora, confused. Adora isn’t looking at her, instead, Adora is staring at the phone like it contains every secret she ever wanted to learn.
Oh.
i'm always waiting for you
come home soon
“Do you want another bottle?” Adora asks, her voice sounding dry and throaty. Catra hears Adora clear her throat, waiting for her answer.
Catra swallows. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks.”
Adora gets up and Catra watches Adora go into the kitchen. She gets a message soon after.
I can't hear a word he says.
You're all that I can think about.
Catra can find hands trembling as she types back.
i feel the same way.
. . .
The building wasn’t huge. But there were floor-to-ceiling windows and honest-to-god metal detectors that make you think how much budget really goes into exterior design for a fucking travel company.
They’ve practiced this — why was she so nervous about getting a vacation in Hawaii anyway? Oh, wait. It’s because it’s free and anything free should be considered. It’s all worth it. Even with her and Adora dancing around and making a fool themselves — all for a trip in Maui.
“You ready, babe?” The word sounds unfamiliar from Adora’s mouth — Catra had never heard terms of endearments from her when they were younger.
Catra smiles. She takes Adora’s offered hand. She squeezes it much more tightly than she should. “Yeah, honey.” She takes a deep breath. She wonders when the words swirling around her tongue have always tasted like brown sugar and dark vanilla and molten cinnamon. “I love you.”
There’s a flash of emotion that washes over Adora’s face. Catra thinks she must have imagined it — Adora has never been a good actor. “I love you too.”
There’s a man in front of them, leading them up to the office doors where they’ll be getting their papers and their confirmation that yes, they’re about to go to Hawaii.
They’re about to go to Hawaii as Mrs. and Mrs. Grayskull.
(It’s like waking up in the today and remembering that you’re here for the first time, feeling the grass underneath and breathing in the golden roses, unbelievable and surreal and something Catra had never considered or thought about—)
The man opens the door.
. . .
Are you ready for your vacation in Hawaii?
Catra thinks she is.
It’s all an act, isn’t it? Easy like treading on water, like walking down a hill. Easy like falling asleep and waking up, like watching the sunset during the golden hour.
Catra could play along with it — things like these really are just that simple.
. . .
The first obstacle they run into happens before they even get to Hawaii. Catra wonders if she should have listened to her philosophy lecture about stoicism — because if anything really challenged her inner sense of calm, it was airline fraud and Adora. Their conversation was to-the-point and succinct.
So how will the flights go?
idk
does the all expenses paid trip cover flights
It does but it was already booked on Scorpia and Perfuma's names
Unless you want to commit airline fraud
does that mean we don't have to buy tickets anymore tho
Probably?
Do you want me to buy tickets for the two of us?
are you saying i can't afford a fucking ticket
Fine.
We'll pay on our own
what if i buy it
and you pay me back
Sure I guess
Send me the flight info when you're done
She did not want to use Scorpia or Perfuma’s passports, she wasn’t about to commit a crime. She almost bought one at another plane from Adora’s but a thought crosses her head: no newlyweds take two different flights for their honeymoon — mile-high-club memberships (gross) and sleeping on their shoulders. So she ended up buying last-minute tickets at a somewhat sketchy site — but it was so cheap, it was almost free.
“I could have bought us the tickets, you know,” Adora says, walking through security. “I just think that Thrifty Jet sounds—”
“Saved us the money, didn’t it? And a plane is a plane. It’s all the same in the end.”
She hopes the flight isn’t as excruciating as it sounds. She really does hope.
. . .
It was.
Adora’s presence is all-too-consuming and overbearing. Like, seriously. The plane was tight, Catra can agree with that, but it wasn’t stupidly tight. Not like approach your ex when you’re drunk off five shots stupid. Not like press your somewhat impressively ripped arm against Catra every fucking second stupid.
“Could you not?” Catra asks, ripping off a bud from the cheap headphones they were given in the flight. See? Amenities. It wasn’t that bad. “The movie selection is already terrible. What, are you competing for the Make Catra Go Absolutely Insane During The Flight award? Because you’re being a really convincing nominee.”
“Could I not what?” Adora asks, not looking up from the flight instructions that was in the packet in front of their seats. “I’m not even doing anything to you.”
“I can hear your sighs from over here. Your annoyance. Let’s not act innocent.”
“Oh, what?” Adora asks. “You don’t want me to breathe?”
Catra rolls her eyes. “So clever. Stop acting dramatic — a flight is a fucking flight. We’ll be going to Hawaii, one way or another.”
“Yeah but—” Catra could almost tune her out if she wanted to, “—think about how my legs are going to be freaking cramped for hours and hours.”
“If I knew you were going to whine for the whole duration of the flight,” Catra says, “I should have told you to shove it and buy yourself another goddamn ticket. You’re,” she points a finger to Adora, “the one who told me to take care of it.”
“I didn’t know you were going to take this,” Adora lowers her voice to a whisper, “kind of plane! Like, come on. I’m surprised they haven’t asked us to pay for the fuel this plane will run on.”
Catra shakes her head and looks at the aisle. Adora had to take the window seat. For what? She literally took a picture of it, complained about the lack of an internet connection, and started to read some module on her Kindle. Like, who does that? Literally no one. Catra won’t say a word though, she’s feeling a bit nicer because it is because of her they ended up on this plane.
She’s starting to wonder why she did this again. Vacation in Maui, tons of alcohol, pissing off Shadow Weaver, all of it. Catra closes her eyes. Yes. That’s why she did it. And it doesn’t matter if Adora Grayskull, her childhood friend, her fake wife, will be in the way.
She can take it.
adoragrayskull
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adoragrayskull Flying to
#Hawaii. Feeling good!
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August 24, 2020
Catra could immediately feel Hawaii the second she steps out of the plane — the humid air hitting her face, the bright sun glaring down on her, the roaring sound of the ocean waves from the thick of trees. Stepping out of the place, there’s a woman who puts leis around their necks. Thanking her, she’s hit with the thought of needing sunglasses badly — which is deep inside her luggage bag.
She looks at Adora, who’s frowning down on her phone. “What now?”
“There’s supposed to be someone who’ll greet us and take us to our hotel — I’m not sure if they’re here. Do you want to get a taxi instead?”
“Sure,” Catra says.
They walk out of the airport in silence until Adora holds out a hand and effectively stops Catra. “Wait, forget the taxi. I think I see them.”
Catra looks out and sees a person holding out a white sheet of paper, written on it was:
MRS. AND MRS. GRAYSKULL
“Hey, newlyweds! I really feel the love in the air from you two. Welcome to Maui!” They say, exaggeratedly spreading their hands out in the air. “I’m Double Trouble, and I’ll be taking you to your hotel.”
Catra, for some reason, reaches out to take Adora’s hand in hers. Adora doesn’t try to stop her. The fact soothes Catra. She’s somewhere she’s never been with only Adora as the only person she knows for probably thousands of miles.
They go into the car, Double Trouble making conversation. “The only thing I know about the two of you is that you’re here for the honeymoon, and your last names are Grayskull. So let me know,” they say, “What do I call you?”
“Uh, Adora. And this is…” Adora trails off, looking at Catra. They’re here, in a taxi that seems too hot and too tight for its own good, pretending like they’re married and oh god— they’re really doing this.
Catra swallows. She tries to put on the most loving smile she can muster. “Catra Grayskull. I’m her wife.” The words come out of her mouth easily. She doesn’t think too hard about it.
She looks at Adora, who smiles back at her. She watches Adora put her hand on her thigh, squeezing it. It seems like a familiar gesture. It’s almost as if it’s not the first time she’s ever done this, like Adora’s hand was meant to be on her thigh, like it was always there and it never left.
Catra doesn’t move her hand away; Adora doesn’t say a word.
(Catra will never admit it though but — she really doesn’t mind.)