Nursed back to health ( shipping )

[weebsock]

Nursed Back to Health shipping meme Comment with your character, preferences, preferred role, and any information you'd like to include. Your character has either been injured/sick and had to be taken in (possibly against their will) or has been the one to help somebody like the former. Through the mending process, the two characters in a thread have fallen in love - or at least grown closer and more affectionate. Reply to others. Thread.

Comments

[runicsword]

[ Would you be interested in Catra trying to care for an under the weather Adora? 👀 LMK and I can start! Things thrown at the face are OK and expected. ]

[morethanadistraction]

[Absolutely!! I really should be going to bed soon so might not tag back for a few hours, but I am 10000% up for this.]

My hand slipped and I wrote too much. Let me know if this is okay. :)

[runicsword]

[ It starts as a headache upon waking up. A dull twinge at Adora's temples that feathers out to meet at the center of her forehead, undulating like a pulse, making it near impossible to focus on anything for longer than a few minutes before she pinches the bridge of her nose in attempt to force it out with sheer willpower alone (because Adora has plenty of that, though perhaps it's more effective on enemies compared to migraines). It turns the afternoon Princess Alliance meeting into an arduous task, and Adora can feel the eyes of all her allies—her friends—focused on her with a communal disquiet. She doesn't want to let them down, not when she's Adora, capable and reliable and depended upon to coordinate plans, and not when she's also She-Ra, instrumental to both the protection and happiness of, well, the entire planet. She tries her best to ignore it to avoid them worrying over her, because there is always bigger things to worry about, and because her problem is nothing more than a tension headache.

Because that must be it. Adora doesn't remember what she dreamed of last night, and there's a hint of relief in the fact considering how many times they proved to be an amalgam of insecurities and shadows from her past; but maybe she'd clenched her jaw during them last night, if that's what they were. Maybe she'd been fighting someone or something within her dreams and had punched herself on the head, subconscious and thrashing in her sleep, because apparently that is something she does according to eye witnesses. It is the most logical explanation, at least, as the meeting goes, until Adora's head starts grows heavy and a heat begins to rise on her skin.

Suddenly, acting on a deeply embedded instinct, Adora jolts up from her seat and stammers a excusal. She quickly marches towards and out the chamber door, though still mindful enough to apologize on her way out when she hears her name in what most definitely is Glimmer's voice. ]

I'm sorry, I just...uh, I need to see about something. Don't worry.

[ Don't worry.

Adora won't allow anyone to worry about her, not now, not when indoctrination is rolling through her like a war tank and driving her footsteps on the way back to her bedroom just as strong. A lot about her has changed since living in Bright Moon for as long as she has, but there will always be behaviors that will take more time to shake off.

A lot of things done in the Fright Zone had been unjustified and cruel, but...isolating yourself from others when you were ill might have been the one decent thing they'd taught, she thinks. The intentions are obviously different (the "don’t show weakness" approach of the Fright Zone vs. Bright Moon's sole "get better soon" concern), but in the end it serves a purpose to keep everyone else healthy and free of your ailment. And that is what really matters to Adora. That's why she'd always opted to slip away into a locker room or a closet or some remote Fright Zone hiding spot whenever she was ill growing up. Mostly because laying down a makeshift cot in the far-off corner of the barracks never stopped a certain someone from finding their way to her in the middle of the night and curling up at her feet no matter how awful she'd felt and despite all warnings. Then again, that Certain Someone always seemed to find her.

It's precisely why, when she finally crosses the threshold of the bedroom's entrance, Adora locks the door behind her. Or at least she's pretty certain that’s what she does; she isn't about to double check when there's a dense morning fog building inside her head. Finally, she closes the distance between her and the bed, lets herself fall onto it with an unceremonious plop. ]

it is perf! my hands also slipped. lmk if you want anything changed!

[morethanadistraction]

[Catra is pretty sure she knows what's going on.

She clues in when Adora fails to take any of her bait at the start of the meeting. She seems distracted and slow - more than usual - and doesn't even seem to register the hilarious (and, okay, a little mean) quip that Catra greets Bow with. Normally Adora would either snort or scold her, and the lack of a rise is at first insulting and then suspicious. Catra is not used to being ignored. Catra is especially not used to being ignored by Adora.

(Never mind that her greeting to Bow hadn't involved Adora in any way, shape or form; other than it being something that Catra was doing in her vague vicinity, and therefore was something she expected to have Adora's attention for. Because she always had Adora's attention.)

Her input is rarely welcomed at these useless meetings anyway, and to be honest she only shows up to most of them to 1) see the pinched looks on some of the princesses' faces when they find her 'mistakenly' lounging in their chair; or 2) spend the time sitting next to Adora, listening to her, and wishing they were anywhere other than in a dumb meeting. And then there was also 3) - her now-ingrained need to absorb information, to have as much precious intel at her fingertips as was necessary to keep herself alive.

It helps, as well, that she sometimes gets to be smug about pointing out flaws in the princesses' idealistic plans. It's best whenever she suggests something particularly clever and Adora's eyes sparkle at her in that proud way, and then the entire meeting gets derailed for a few minutes while the others struggle to catch up to their Horde-trained logic.

So, yeah. To say she's suspicious when Adora spends the whole time frowning at the table instead of bending to Catra's whims and satisfying her need for attention is a bit of an understatement. She lapses into quiet herself, watching Adora more than she listens to anything anyone's saying, noting her unfocused eyes and droop of her head; and when her skin begins to flush with colour, Catra's eyes narrow.

Yeah, she'd thought so.

Bow and Glimmer and a few of the others look directly at her when Adora leaves and Catra arches an eyebrow at them, remaining perfectly in place as Melog hops up in Adora's abandoned chair next to her.

For the rest of the meeting, Catra pays attention.

They're standard things, boring things. More financial aid discussions and supply negotiations. Salineas' people need food because the Horde's (Catra's) ships managed to pollute the waters a bit too well (--she grimaces, but by this point she's all too used to sitting at a table while the far-reaching repercussions of her war crimes are being addressed); Perfuma offers the vegetarian cuisine of Plumeria to help them out. The entire village of Elberon has requested help in restoring their people's morale, suggesting that perhaps a visit from She-Ra might help.

And that's why Catra's here.]

That won't work. [She says it bluntly, without any further explanation. Glimmer doesn't seem surprised, and tables it for a later meeting.

And so it goes, for the entire duration. Catra takes the meeting seriously, for once; provides input freely where Adora normally would, shoots down any suggestion of going and asking for her help. She rolls her eyes more than a few times; goads more than one person into doing the work they're trying to offload by themselves.

By the time the meeting ends, she's completely cleared Adora's schedule for the rest of the week. She'll have to do this again in a few days if she's not better by the next general meeting, but Catra doesn't think it will take that long. Their allegiance may have changed, but the two of them are still from the Horde. They know better than to be sick for long.

She is, of course, taking it for granted that the door to Adora's room will open for her when she presses on it. It is perhaps the rudest surprise of the day when it doesn't budge, and Catra's tail lashes in offense as she glares at the lock. Fine - Adora wanted to be rude? Catra could be rude. Catra was the best at being rude. (--Potentially not something she should be boasting about.)

She straightens, her back and shoulders smoothing out and feet coming in line with her hips with begrudgingly learned soldier's professionalism. She was a Force Captain, and if Adora was going to hide like a scared cadet, then Catra would draw her out like one.

She raises her fist, annoyed she's doing this at all, and bangs on the door sharply. Three times. Morning wake-up call.]

Adora! [She barks her name in a tone that is hard, efficient. Like a drill command. And then folds her arms in annoyance, and waits. If it had been Catra inside the room, there would have been a good chance that this would fail. But Adora had always been such a Force Captain's pet she'd probably have risen from the brink of death to obey a command, and Catra's relying on that deeply ingrained training to get this stupid door open without having to break the lock.]

[runicsword]

[ Retreating to her room had been the easy part, apparently. Adora was able to do that with martial trained haste, the desire to separate herself from those she cares about and protect them for her symptoms practically pulling her down the castle hallways and towards the direction of her bedroom, unyielding. It's not until she collapses onto her bed that Adora notices how dizzy she is, and that's when her thoughts begin to spin right along with the room.

Should she have left the meeting like that? Adora trusts Glimmer to finish out the meeting without issue, she really does, but in the back of her head (her throbbing, cotton stuffed head) is a voice that nags on and on about all the potential questions and concerns that might be brought up and only she can address properly. There is no doubt at least one person will request something of She-Ra, and in what kind of universe does She-Ra come down with the flu and can't help people? She has to be the first.

And what about everyone else? What about Catra? Adora hazily recalls hearing Catra say something at some point, but right now she cannot piece together what it was or to who. She knows Catra had been watching her, though, because could feel that penetrative and vigilant gaze without ever needing to meet it. Don’t worry, Adora had said on her way out, and it was meant for Catra's ears more than anyone else's in the room.

Still, she'd left Catra there, and she was sure to hear about it later.

Adora tucks her chin, burying her face against a pillow and groans into the fabric, her breath markedly hot and eyes on the edge of watering. It's not only discomfort reverberating from temple to temple now, it's guilt.

She almost goes back to the meeting. At one point, Adora musters enough energy to stand back on her feet; she fails to move, however, because now the aches have moved below her eyes and neck and can also be felt in her limbs, keeping her place like a vice-grip until she relents from the weakness and falls back down onto the bed behind her. When that fails and Adora is forced to swallow her chronic feelings of responsibility (for now), she tries to sleep. She listens to the sound of the wind from outside the nearby window, muscles slowly easing into a hint of comfort and heavy eyelids falling to blanket her glazed eyes.

Absently, Adora wishes the bed were closer to the window or the window closer to the bed so the cool breeze could sweep over her, ridding the fever. She wishes she weren't feeling this way in the first place and consequently letting everyone down. And as much as she shouldn't, she wishes Catra were here with her.

Then, as if on cue, she gets one of her wishes granted, and is pulled away from the lull of relaxation when the knocking comes from behind the door. ]

Catra? [ Adora jolts up into a sitting position when she hears her name shouted with such expectancy. And something flutters in her chest, still new but already familiar, when she fully registers that Catra had come looking for her. Yet the soldier in her, the iron-willed individual she had been molded to be, wants nothing more than to keep Catra out of risk's way of becoming ill.

But how to explain that? It’s not like her to lock Catra out of the bedroom, ever. ]

Can you come back later? I'm... [ A pause as her eyes flicker about the room, nervous and searching, before falling on a small pile of canvases set aside by a desk. Bow and Glimmer had a "Paint Night" for all of them planned, whatever that meant. And, well, it’s all she had to go off of right now. ] I'm...painting?

[ Ever the brilliant actress, it comes out more like a question. ]

[morethanadistraction]

['Painting'? She mouths at the door, incredulous. In what weird parallel universe did Adora expect her to believe that?]

It's my room too. [She complains, still in her tone of demand. And, like. The room isn't officially hers, and everyone always calls it 'Adora's room' and not 'Adora's and Catra's room'. But it's where she sleeps every single night, and it's where all of her stuff is, minimal though it is. (Personal belongings didn't really exist in the Horde. It was weird to have them in Bright Moon, and what Catra does have are mostly unrelated and occasionally broken odds and ends that usually have been pilfered. It's trash, basically. She doesn't even know why she's keeping the stupid things, other than doing it just because she can.) But most importantly, it's where Adora sleeps - and so of course it's going to be where Catra always winds up.

Honestly, the most aggravating part of being locked out is that after a literal lifetime (--with just. a bit of a break. during the whole war thing.) of hunting down Adora to stick by her sick side, she still hasn't gotten the message to save them both the effort and just let Catra be there.

(Catra might like to examine that annoyance sometime, and turn the situation around a little bit, and maybe sit down and have conversations instead of making Adora chase after her every time her feelings get hurt.)

Melog warbles something at her, and phases themselves through the wall. They'll tell her exactly what Adora's up to, and whether her idiot self is collapsed on the ground or something equally dramatic. Catra would bang her fist against the door some more, but her fist still smarts from the first round and so she does not.] You can't just lock me out! Where am I supposed to sleep?

[runicsword]

[ Adora grips at and releases the bedsheet beneath her, pensively. There's a new and different warmth that spreads through her when Catra verbally acknowledges what everyone in the kingdom likely already knows: they share a bedroom. It feels fresh and flushed and Adora doesn't quite know why when she and Catra had always shared a bed together, so technically it shouldn’t feel different now. Another symptom of her illness, maybe. Whatever the cause, it leaves Adora wanting to see Catra more than ever.

Because it can't hurt anything to open the door and see her, right? Nothing she has could be that contagious.

Adora also needs to put a stop to Catra's shouting before a troupe of guards or, worse, one of their friends arrive to investigate. So there’s that.

When Melog ambles into the room through the wall, Adora can't help but smile. The creature is ethereal and reassuring and, most significantly, an extension of Catra. They provide a visual and constant reminder that Catra will always have unconditional companionship no matter the situation, and Adora is quietly indebted. Sure, she vows to always be there for Catra too, now that she finally has her back and with her for good, but if Adora has learned anything after forging so many new friendships is that misunderstandings still and will happen; Melog, though, offers nothing but steadfast understanding.

Though perhaps, in this situation, they could offer a little assistance too. ]

Hey, Melog. Can you help me out for a second?

[ Melog tilts their head for a moment, and then fluidly makes their way to Adora's side with a soft mewling sound. She pets the top of Melog's head, hopes the creature can’t feel how warm and sweaty her palm is, and forces herself to stand again while steadying herself with their help. It's then that Melog seems to catch on, body increasing ever so slightly in size to accommodate Adora, and walks in tandem with her to the door.

Once there, Adora takes a moment of pause to wipe at her brow with the arm that is not using Melog as walking support, just to be sure she is free of sweat. She figures there are other indicators that she isn’t feeling well, but might as well try and hide the most noticeable one.

Then, after all of that, Adora unlocks the door. And she opens it, enough for Catra to see her and enough for her to see Catra, and for a moment Adora forgets to breathe. ]

Catra. [ There’s an ache in Adora's voice, a longing, but her body doesn’t move from its spot in the doorway. Catra might push Adora to focus more on the things she wanted, but right now it makes more sense to put Catra's well-being ahead of the desire to have her near. ] Catra, you can't sleep here. [ Oh, how she wants Catra to scoff, to call her an idiot and refuse to leave. ] At least not for tonight, okay?

[morethanadistraction]

[Melog is Catra's companion, and as with anything she plays the depth of their connection close to her chest. That they don't have to be looking at each-other to communicate, for example. That Melog still sometimes pushes impressions of situations against her mind when she's struggling to understand them.

So she knows when Adora is approaching the door, because Melog tells her. Not in words, but in the sensation of movement; in the feelings of compassion and helpfulness. She doesn't need much to assume what they're doing. Adora needing Melog's help means she's weak and easily unbalanced. It means that even though Catra would normally lose in a straight-up strength contest against her, right now she probably stands a chance.

It means she's ready, when Adora finally releases the lock. Catra's hand braces on the cool wood of the door, her hip and shoulder against it, and her added weight ought to wedge the door open more than the tiny amount Adora wants. It ought to be enough room for her tail to flick in, to wrap around Adora's wrist, secure and trusting in the knowledge that Adora won't slam the door on it.]

Oh? [She'd expected that, and there's defiance already alight in her eyes before Adora even finishes talking. Her eyes travel down what's visible of Adora, taking in the reddened flush to her skin, and - you know what? If Adora wanted to pretend she wasn't sick...

Catra's eyelids drop, and an eyebrow raises pointedly as a smirk curls on her lips. Ideally, she'll fluster Adora enough to be able to shove against the door and slip in before she can stop her.] Why's that, Adora? Something else keeping you busy in there?

[runicsword]

[ Adora would have been able to keep the door fixed in place any other day, but today there's fatigue and vertigo and the both of those things together strip Adora's enervate body of any control she would have liked over the situation. Even the weight of Catra's lithe body on the door overpowers her (if Adora was fighting it at all), coercing the entry gap into widening enough for the lights from the stately lit hallway outside to expose all of Adora's features just as her eyes dilate in response to Catra's tail curling at her wrist. It's all that's needed and Adora starts to unfurl.

Adora tries to conjure a semblance of bravado to stand toe-to-toe with Catra's mischievous turn in performance—teasing her back usually worked—but suddenly she's feeling hotter than before and the floor is moving beneath her feet, because no fever is a match for the way Catra makes her feel. ]

What? [ Something keeping her busy? ] No, no. [ Wait. The plan was to keep Catra away, which means Adora had to convince her that she is, indeed, busy. She needs to try harder if she does't want get distracted like she usually does. It's a type of distraction that Adora is quite certain Catra knows she's good at, honing it into a skill more dangerous than any weapon, capable of making Adora forget why she'd entered a room or causing a breath to halt halfway through her throat, all at the sight of Catra. ] I mean, yes. I'm painting.

[ Melog shifts beside her, and it feels like they're nuzzling her or telling her to drop the act or both. There was no way Adora sounded convincing now, if she ever did from the start (she didn't), so she attempts to keep up an appearance of normalcy (and snuff out the fluttering in her chest before it gets out of hand) by asking something she's been wondering this entire time. ]

Did the meeting go okay?

[morethanadistraction]

[Aww, Adora. Catra always knew the flirting got to her, but it's still gratifying to see the evidence.

The door moves surprisingly easily, and Catra has no problem sliding a foot across the cool marble floor to inch into their bedroom. All she needs is to get a hip through the gap, and then she can slip in. It should be easy, now that she's started. Adora's not going to close the door on her when she's partway through it.

She has more than a few choice comments she can make about Adora's excuse, namely a few regarding what her subject matter must be to have her going this colour; but she lets the way her eyes fall to Adora's clean hands and her smirk do the talking for her. Painting, huh? With what, exactly.]

It went fine. [She's smug and she's amused, and she doesn't hide either of them from her tone. What does Adora even think she's doing, really. Does she actually think she's fooling anyone, that she's doing a good job at pretending to not be sick? And does she actually think that somehow, Catra's not about to enter their room?] Turns out nobody needs She-Ra to solve their problems for them this week. You're off the hook.

[You're welcome.]

[runicsword]

[ Adora's mouth opens and closes and and opens again, incredulously. Then she gives up the fight, hands easing from the door. It's still there, a proliferating shimmer of guilt, but Catra supplies Adora with a welcome peace of mind. A bit of fond amusement, too, remembering how futile all efforts to rope Catra into attending a single Horde briefing had been over the years.

Biting her bottom lip, Adora looks at Catra with an apologetic wrinkle collecting at her brow. She'd like to offer Catra a similar sense of reassurance; but first, she had to explain herself. ]

I shouldn't have left like I did. I don't know what came over me.

[ Her knees almost give out, the fever protesting her. Showing weakness had grown surprisingly less daunting of a behavior with the help of such loving friends surrounding her, but there still remained echoes; like with most everything, however, it came easier with Catra. She didn't have to be anything but Adora with her. ] I haven't felt like myself, not since this morning. And I didn't want anyone to worry, or think that I won't be able to help out or become She-Ra, or for them to get sick too, and — [ she stops there for a second, lets the last statement hang in the air ] — That's why I can't have you around me right now, Catra.

[morethanadistraction]

[Once Adora eases up on the door, Catra's through it in a blink. The grazing of the wood against her front and back don't bother her at all, and once she's through she closes it again; locking it with a definite 'click'.

She'll give Adora hell over not letting her in, but nobody else needs to be here.]

Don't be an idiot. [Now that she's in, Catra's tail slips from Adora's wrist in a smooth, affectionate drag. Her harsh words are at odds with the way her hand rises to cup Adora's overly warm cheek, lingering there for a moment before brushing down to press two fingers carefully against her pulse, minding her sharp nails as she counts the beat. Her other hand goes to Adora's waist, idly checking for the presence of her belt while steadying her. Had she even thought about making herself comfortable when she'd gotten back to her room, or is Catra going to have to make her?

Melog meowls a question, and Catra silently bids them to keep close. Adora looks like she might fall down any minute, and while she would be getting what she deserves if she does, Catra's not dragging her to the bed by herself. That's the only reason why she's ready to wrap her arm around Adora, and the only reason why Melog is ready to brace her weight if she falls backwards. --Really.] I told you already, where else am I supposed to sleep? If you're here, then I'm here too. [She's grumbling, but there is also real complaint here. She's genuinely sore about this.] Stop trying to leave me behind.

[runicsword]

[ Adora is quiet for the entirety of Catra's assessment, slightly awkward but mostly exhausted, not opening her mouth until Catra's insecurity rears its head. The last thing she wants is for Catra to feel left behind, ever again. ]

I'm not leaving you. I'm — [ trying to protect you? It sounds self-denying, erring on naive, and Adora swallows the words down before they have a chance to come out. She's been working on letting her own desires take precedence in certain situations, really she has. She knows how much Catra wants that for her. Adora wants it too. ] I want you here. I promise.

[ The area of skin on her cheek where Catra had touched felt warmer than the rest of body, remaining that way for awhile after the touch roved elsewhere. First her pulse, then her waist. Ah. Adora hadn't considered removing her jacket before. Might have helped. ]

Are you going to take care of me, Catra? [ A hint of a smirk indicates Adora's attempt at bringing levity to the situation, which probably would have sounded better if not hushed beneath a feverish haze. ]

[morethanadistraction]

[Adora's almost in trouble, when her habitual denial rankles and Catra's fur begins to bristle. But then she changes tracks, and Catra huffs out a breath instead as her tension recedes.

It's nice, to know that she's wanted.

Her automatic reaction to Adora's teasing is a kneejerk "no", and her hand on Adora's waist quickly flexes as Catra aborts the urge to shove her and deny any mushy implications. Old habits die hard, but she's trying.]

Of course I am. [It's awkward to admit, and her ears flick back in embarrassment as she feels her face grow warm. She's never really held up to her end of their promise, and she still doesn't know exactly what she's supposed to be doing most of the time... but this, at least, is easy to figure out. Adora's sick, she needs to rest, and Catra can make sure she does that.] Don't turn it into a thing, okay? Just shut up and take these [her long nails pluck at Adora's jacket and the shirt underneath] off before you overheat and die.

[runicsword]

I'll try my best. [ The line of Adora's lips soften, giving way to something more fond, more adoring, as a light laugh escapes her. Perhaps there were people who could be fooled into believing Catra was never anything but cocksure wit, or that she was made of fierce teeth and claws with nothing else left, but Adora knew the other side of her too well. The true kindness veiled behind her words, the gentle touches shared when she believed no one was looking, the embarrassed swish of a tail. Bow had said it best, really: she's so cute.

Despite the coursing heat and weakness, Adora holds her smile whilst she starts to help Catra in her undress. The jacket comes off easy after she unfastens her belt, cascading off her shoulders with a languid shrug and hitting the floor to make a pile at their feet. Heat rises off her shoulders, now free from the extra layer of cloth, and it feels so much better that Adora doesn't hesitate to take the next stop and tugs her shirt over her head. Something tugs at Adora, curious and wondering if she'd feel shy under any other circumstance, but right now it doesn't matter.

A lightheaded sensation follows almost immediately, and this time she steadies herself by placing a hand on Catra's shoulder. It causes Adora to feel a little like a burden, which she hates, but there's comfort when her gaze locks with Catra's. ]

Thank you.

[morethanadistraction]

[She'll never get used to that laugh. The one that's so light, so fluttering, that it makes her chest feel inexplicably full with something that's still so unfamiliar, there are times where she almost mistakes the hitch in her breath and freezing of her heart for panic.

(It's definitely not panic. It's the feeling of being loved.)

Catra's cheeks are still warm as she helps slip the clothing from Adora, idly deciding to pick them up later once she's asleep. Adora was always more fastidious about the squad keeping their bunks and barracks clean than Catra had been, and leaving a mess might cause a conniption somewhere down the line. Best to nip it in the bud. But for now she grips the discarded clothing with a clawed foot, sliding it behind her before kicking it away towards the bathing area of Adora's room. (Which, for the record? Is way more convenient and comfortable than the cold shared showers of the Fright Zone. Being with Adora really does come with all the perks.)

And there's something different, now, about being so near to Adora in a state of undress. Not that they haven't been before, but -- they usually don't. You know. Help each-other, or really even touch that much, or whatever.

Her hands come to rest on the bare skin of Adora's stomach and back, holding her steady as she sways. Catra tries not to think about the feel of her muscles flexing beneath her palms.]

I told you not to make a thing of it. [Despite her complaint, she presses on Adora lightly; guiding her toward the waterfall that is apparently not for washing up in, but is still filled with cool water. A thought sends Melog trotting away to retrieve a washcloth, and her companion makes it there before she and Adora do.] Just--sit down and don't say anything. I can almost see your brain leaking out of your ears when you talk.

[Her grumping tone is, of course, at odds with the careful way she moves her hands to help lower Adora to sit; and again completely opposite to how she wets the cloth and wrings it out, before gently wiping it across the red flush of Adora's shoulders. First thing's first; got to get that fever down.]

[runicsword]

[ Adora focuses on matching her footsteps with Catra's as she's led to the shallow pool, so as to avoid tripping over her own feet. They feel oddly heavy, and each stride feels more and more like she's walking on uneven ground; but Catra's body is firm beside her, reassuring, allowing her to surrender control.

The next few moments are somewhat of a blur, but Adora is able to decipher the orders Catra gives her. She heeds them and goes quiet as she's lowered down to sit, then grumbles something incoherent before going quiet. Her eyes close and her body stills apart from her head, which sways back and forth in small circular motions as if trying to correct the spinning. By the time Catra raises the washcloth towards her, Adora is nearly hunched over on herself; but as soon as the cool wetness collides with her simmering skin, she jerks upright with a gasp. ]

Sorry! [ She is apologetic, looking over her shoulder at Catra with a shine of embarrassment stark in her eyes. ] It's cold - and I wasn't expecting, you know, both you and water at the same time. [ She pauses, remembering something about brain leakage linked with her talking, or whatever it was that Catra had quipped. ] I'll, uh, go back to not saying anything now.

[ While words do not come from Adora's lips, they bound within her head unashamedly - Catra's hands were being so attentive and so gentle, and why is this happening now instead of when she's feeling well and when they're curled up together in bed? Tucking her chin, Adora shivers and sighs, almost unable to ignore the strange thrill building inside her, but then tilts her head to the left in order to cue Catra into continuing. And, thankfully, letting the thoughts slide from her mind. ]

[morethanadistraction]

[Catra jerks back with a hiss at Adora's sudden movement, bristling as her claws extend and very nearly shred the cloth. Melog's now-small body rubs against her thigh, projecting a feeling of calm - and Catra grits her teeth as she dunks the cloth viciously back into the pool and vigorously wrings it out again, directing her tension into the rough move.]

It's not like I'm throwing myself into it for you. [She still snaps the words, and takes a moment to exhale sharply through her nose and retake a deep breath before shaking the cloth out, and placing it against the newly available curve of Adora's neck. And it's not like the water is anything but clear and clean; it's not like the warm pink and gold architecture around them can be mistaken for stark, sterile white. It's not viscous and thick, it doesn't cling to her fur and burn through her nerves.

It's just water. And she hates it, but this isn't the hardest thing she's done for Adora.]

What did you think you were doing, anyway? [Now that she's complaining, Catra may as well get on a roll with it as her tail lashes against the cool floor.] You're the one who's always talking about how things are sooo much better here. So why are you still hiding?

[Not like there are any training simulations to fail here, or other Horde soldiers to get one up on her.]

[runicsword]

( Things are better here, Adora wants to say, as if that statement alone would be all the explanation needed. She purses her lips despite the fact Catra can't see it, and exhales another shivered breath when the damp cloth is placed at the nape of her neck. Maybe she was trying to hide, but it was for a good reason. ]

It'd be my fault if anyone else got sick. [ Another laugh comes afterwards, except this time it's more delicate and treading on self-deprecation. ] I don't know why I thought I might be able to keep you away this time.

[ Adora wants to turn around and look at Catra properly, to search her eyes and behold her reaction, when she says: ] I'm glad you haven't learned your lesson yet. [ -- but instead she leans back towards her, ever so slightly, an invitation for Catra to give her an affectionate smack, halfway expecting it. ]

[morethanadistraction]

[She does not smack her with her hands, even if only because one of them is busy bracing against Adora's arm to keep her in place, and the other is dipping the cloth again.

But it does not get wrung out this time. Instead it flops wetly onto Adora's head as Catra drops it there, streams of water trickling from its edges.]

And what lesson's that supposed to be? [Her hand is still firm and steady on Adora's arm, and Catra's tail still curls onto Adora's lap protectively, but she is also annoyed because this is the issue. Sure, sometimes she catches whatever bug Adora's got. But Catra at least knows how to rest, and usually accepts Adora's care with - minimal - arguing. (Just the token amount. Enough to keep her pride and be able to say afterwards that she never wanted Adora's help anyway.)] That you're still going to ditch me every time you think, what, that you have to 'protect' me? [Because that's what she just admitted, isn't it? That it's her fault if somebody else gets sick.] It's my choice. If you're actually glad to have me around, then start acting like it.

[Because Catra is, of course, the absolute best at demonstrating her gratitude and desire for people to help her when she needs it.

And she's still sore about this, which is why she tacks on a still-frustrated:] Don't ever lock me out again.

[runicsword]

-- Hey! [ Adora isn't quite sure how to react when the cloth is planted atop her head at first, but as Catra goes on to voice her frustrations she concedes to water seeping into her hair and droplets sliding down the sides of her face, and listens. And when she finally goes to remove the washcloth from her now dampened head, she kills two birds with one stone and tugs out her ponytail with one raking sweep of her fingers. There's a lump in her throat that she has to swallow around, and she'd consider it another symptom of whatever was wrong with her except she knows it's because, in what she assumed was an act of chivalry, she's made Catra feel unwanted. ]

I won't. [ It's directed at herself as much as it is Catra, a resolution, because she wants to leave every door open for her. To every room, every experience, every emotion. ] Lock you out again, that is. [ Adora chuckles stupidly to herself, unsure if the clarification had been warranted; but how else to address that she'll work on "acting like she's glad to have Catra around"? ]

I really wish I could kiss you right now. [ It slips out at the same time Adora thinks it, carried by a heady sigh. But that was something they definitely shouldn't be doing right now. ]

[morethanadistraction]

[Some of the tension coiled tight in her muscles eases with Adora's assertion, and Catra heaves out an aggrieved sigh. Right before she leans forward on her knees, draping her arms around Adora and resting her chin in the crook of her (slightly wet, and Catra makes a face at her own bad life choices) neck. It only takes a moment before she huffs another irritated breath, and her drape becomes more of a hug as she wraps her arms around Adora's warm chest. Her fur might be uncomfortable for Adora's heated skin, and Catra will let go soon... but she's always been a selfish person, and she just wants to. Hold this idiot. Just for a while.

Because not that she was insecure or anything about it (--except, you know. The fact that that's a lie.), but it's gratifying to hear Adora commit. To her. To letting her help. To not doing things that make it seem like she doesn't want Catra around.]

Think about that stuff later. [And her tone is wry, now; as if there isn't a not unpleasant flutter of butterflies in her stomach. --But that'll be nice. Kissing Adora. Maybe Adora will keep her shirt off and hair loose for it, and some of those idle daydreams of the past will finally find their way into reality, and there'll be a flush on her skin for an entirely different reason.] You're way too gross to be talking about kissing right now.

[That's also a lie, but it's one that Catra's good at - convincing herself of reasons to not kiss her best friend. She went all those years without giving in to the urge to press herself against Adora's lips; she can manage, what? Three days? Piece of cake.]

[runicsword]

[ Through hazy giddiness, Adora places a hand on one of Catra's arms and begins to stroke lazy circles there, her senses inundated by the warm thrum of her body pressed flush against her back, and finds herself breathing in time with her. Adora thinks of all the times she'd wanted this, even when the space between them had been as deep and long as a gorge, after they'd fought as enemies and left both Adora's mind and heart in a state of tumult. Always, she's always wanted Catra -- it had been confusing and but a indistinguishable ember then, but now there is no mistaking the pyre that spreads out from deep inside her chest and reaches every inch of her, mercilessly. Because whilst she had been willing to die for everyone, she'd chose to live for Catra; to love and be loved, to stay. She isn't going to let go. ]

Catra. [ Her names tumbles from Adora's mouth, dulcet and just above a whisper. ] I love you.

[ And Adora can't help herself when she curls her fingers around Catra's arm, raises it until it meets her mouth and places a reverent kiss near her pulse. She lets her lips linger there on the soft, warm fur for a second longer before mumbling a sound of protest. ] I'm not that gross. [ Another kiss, travelling downwards to Catra's palm. Adora sighs into it, the sudden rush of exhaustion betraying her. ] I should be all better by morning. I think.

[morethanadistraction]

[She'd be lying if she claimed that the stroke of Adora's fingers didn't send a shiver through her, or if she said that the fur around the area didn't raise from the prickle of gooseflesh. But it's the gentle press of Adora's lips against her pulse that causes the hitch in Catra's breath, and the widening of her eyes as another brushes her palm. She has, inexplicably, the urge to jerk her hand away in defense; and it takes a lot of self-control for her body to settle for a single spasm that curls her fingers.

It's stupid. It's so stupid, and she doesn't know why that's how she reacts. (--Because gentle touches have never meant anything good for her. There's always a threat in them, they're always meant to disarm her so the real blow strikes harder. She does know it, she just doesn't want to admit it. Doesn't want to admit that even though she trusts Adora, that's still the reaction that she has.)

Her laugh is breathless when it escapes her throat, and she gently twists her hand free to lean over Adora and reclaim the abandoned washcloth. She returns to steadying her shortly thereafter, shifting to sit with her knees on either side of Adora and wrapping an arm around her to tug her gently backwards; urging her to lean against Catra.]

Morning, huh? [There's a hint of nerves buried under the amusement. Adora looks like she's all but asleep already. Idly, Catra wonders if she even knows what day it is.] You're setting a schedule for your germs?

[runicsword]

[ Adora submits to Catra's ministrations readily, reposing into her loose embrace. The sigh it elicits from her is appreciative and languorous, and her eyes close with a slow fan of her eyelashes. The room still feels like it's moving but, at least for now, and in Catra's hold, she feels secure. ]

I don't know. I was thinking maybe I won't stay sick as long as I used to, before I had all the powers of She-Ra. [ And then, with a teetered shift, her head tilts in order to rest on the dell of Catra's neck and shoulder. The relaxed skin at her brow starts to tighten at a thought, because of course Adora can't stay relaxed for longer than a few minutes. ] But what if I don't? Oh man, I can't stay in my room all day tomorrow too! Bow and Glimmer will want to check up on me if that happens, and I really don't want them to worry over me!

[ It's a far cry from the company of cadets who wouldn't so much as wish a "get well soon", that's for sure; Adora isn't complaining, though, but breathes out a fatigued murmur nonetheless. ]

I wish everything would stop spinning.