Catra woke slowly, with difficulty, like she had to struggle through a pool of muck in order to reach consciousness. Má before bed did that to her sometimes. Usually she fixed it by smoking some more in the morning, but right now that wasn't an option. She couldn't remember why not, but the certainty sat on her chest like a rock. Grogginess weighed down her mind and made her sluggish. She tried to gather herself; tried to break through to the surface, but awareness was reluctant to come. She fought for it with growing frustration.
The first thing Catra registered as she dragged herself from the clutches of twilight was that she felt disgusting. Her eyes were caked with grit, her mouth tasting sour, her hair tangled on the back of her neck, her face pressed into—
Into what? Something soft and warm. The couch cushions? Those usually smelled worse.
Catra stirred and groaned in confusion and inhaled, trying to get a better sense of what the hell was going on before she was forced to open her eyes and face it.
Her memory came back to her in stages.
She'd taken a hit, obviously, and after that…
Her back stiffened. Mara had shown up. Here. She'd followed her from the restaurant, and they'd gotten into a fight. And then…they stopped? Catra couldn't remember much after that. But if Mara had been here, and Catra's face was now nestled into something that felt suspiciously like a human body—
This might be a problem.
Then the rest of her awareness hit her like a Satomobile, and her dread veered in a whole new direction.
"Shit! I have to go to work!" she cried, bolting upright so fast she tumbled off the couch.
Mara, ponytail mussed, eyes like clouded sky, had indeed been acting as her pillow. She now startled out of her sleep too and blurted the first question that came to her mind: "When?"
"Ten minutes ago!" Catra was too panicked to pay much thought to the situation with Mara at the moment. She could figure out that bullshit later. Right now— "I look like a fucking mess, and being late, too—Weaver will skin my hide." She could see it now: getting called up to the managerial office, Weaver closing the door securely behind her so no one could see when she withdrew her switch from her desk drawer, dreadfully slow, giving Catra plenty of time to stew, then approaching her with the bloody thing held casually in hand… Her back twinged just thinking about it. "This is the last straw; I'm going to lose my job. I can't—"
"Catra." Mara grasped her hands and the touch was so grounding that Catra snapped out of her spiral immediately. "Come clean up at my place."
Catra blinked at her, feeling her eye twitch. "Your place? You have a place?"
"Razz's guest room," explained Mara sheepishly, "but it's better than nothing."
That offhand comment might have stung Catra before, but she now knew Mara well enough that she didn't mean anything by it. Plus she had no better option. If she didn't show up fast, and presentable, she might literally be fired on the spot. It might already be too late.
"Okay," she agreed on a nervous swallow. The nausea in her gut wasn't just because of her job anymore. The thought of seeing Mara's personal living space was almost as scary. She was afraid that if she got too close, she wouldn't be able to untangle herself again. She might find out something about this girl that she shouldn't. She might fall even further into a pit she couldn't dig herself out of. She—
She still had no choice.
"Come on," Mara urged her, sliding off the couch and offering Catra her hands to pull her to her feet. When their palms made contact, a jolt went through Catra, and she blamed the má. It became harder to do so, though, when Mara kept hold of her as they hurried out the creaking door and her heart still kept racing.
The dirty street surface stung her soles as they ran through the twisting alleys toward Loo-Kee. Mara, who had apparently memorized the way in one trip, never let go of her hand, instead tugging her along faster than Catra would have made it on her own with her brain still in a fog. Catra wanted to protest I know where I'm going! but at the same time, she was kind of enjoying this against all odds.
Her breath came ragged and her feet ached from the exertion by the time they reached the stoop of Razz's restaurant, but she couldn't stop for a rest. Her livelihood depended on this. She couldn't believe she'd let herself lose track of time. Usually the sun in her face woke her in time to make it to work (since she didn't have a clock. It wasn't very reliable on cloudy days), but with her face buried in Mara's chest this morning she'd totally missed it.
She hoped being thirty minutes late would receive a lighter punishment than, say, an hour. But she doubted it. It was Weaver, after all.
So the two girls kept up a panicked pace, bursting through Loo-Kee's doors so suddenly that the early-morning patrons all jumped in their seats. Razz, however, who was back behind the counter (looking mysteriously healthy) didn't even look surprised. Rather, she just gave them both a wry, soft smile and shook her head knowingly.
Catra didn't have time to question it at this point. She just let Mara drag her past the counter and down the short hall where the restroom stood on one side and an unmarked door on the other. They pushed through the latter and raced up the stairs that stood directly within.
At the top was another crossroads where now instead of doors, a curtain stood on either side of the landing. Mara chose the left, slipped through with Catra in tow, and suddenly Catra was standing in her home. Only then did the golden-haired girl finally release her hand in favor of crossing to another curtained doorway on the left wall, which she disappeared through.
Catra lingered behind, savoring her first look around the room for longer than she should have. It was scarcely furnished, only containing a low bed, a small night table and chair, and a weathered old wardrobe. Mara's duffel bag was tossed at the foot of the bed. The floor was cushioned by a rug in the same sage green as the curtain at the entrance, but other than that there was little to see. Catra had the chance to wonder whether any of it belonged to Mara herself or if Razz had provided it all. Then she wondered how exactly Mara had chanced to end up here, and what she may have left behind.
Then, "Over here," Mara's voice drew her attention to the doorway she'd gone to, through which Catra could now pick up the sound of running water.
Her feet obediently headed toward the noise, but her heart skipped a beat. Was Mara expecting her to bathe here? In her home? In front of her? She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken an actual bath. Usually she just cleaned up the best she could in the locker area after work, but it wasn't like she ever had anyone to impress.
Well. She didn't before.
She reached the doorway and peered through into the bathroom space beyond. Mara was standing at the wooden counter beside a drawn bathtub, gathering things from the cabinet space beneath. Under her feet lay a mat the same green as the carpet in the other room. There wasn't any curtain around the tub.
"Uh." Catra found her throat tight. Mara looked up and her face was so open, so kind. It made this even more complicated. "You want me to…?"
Mara straightened, a towel and washcloth in her hand. She passed them over to Catra, who accepted them warily. "Yeah," she responded as if this wasn't weird at all. And maybe it wasn't, among the class of citizens who could actually afford to bathe on a regular basis. Catra had no idea. At her hesitance, Mara lost a little bit of the energy in her posture. "Unless—"
"No," Catra cut her off quickly. "It's fine. Thank you. I'm just not—I don't usually—" She swallowed the words that threatened to tumble out and make her look foolish. "Thank you."
Mara's eyes softened and Catra didn't resent that as much as she would have just a short time ago. Maybe sleeping on top of the other girl last night had made her go soft. Maybe it was because she was beginning to let herself consider the possibility that Mara did care; maybe she wasn't just like everybody else.
Nobody else had invited Catra's filthy ass into their living space and offered her a bath yet, or spent the night beside her when she was high on má.
She felt the rock-solid walls around her heart crumble just a little bit more.
"I won't watch," the golden-haired girl assured with a wry little smile beneath those tender eyes, sidling past Catra to allow her the bathroom to herself. "Just let me know if you need anything."
Catra almost choked on her swallow, so she just nodded rather than trying to speak. Mara pulled the curtain over the doorway, and Catra was effectively alone.
She stared at the drawn bath. The water was steaming lightly, which was at once intimidating and profoundly attractive. Catra worried, though, that if she were to get in, she'd shed so much dirt it would clog Mara's drain for eternity.
But she was still more than short on time and she didn't want to let Mara's gesture go to waste, so she had little choice but to drop the towels on the mat, strip, and climb in.
Usually, Catra hated any body of water larger than a drinking glass. This, though—
The warm bath threatened to wrap its comforting arms around her and pull her in until there was not even a sliver of a chance of making it to work today. She sat down and let the heat go to work on the tension in her shoulders as she scrubbed quickly at her dirty body with soap and the washcloth Mara had given her, anxious to finish and get out before she gave in to temptation. As she'd feared, the chronic uncleanliness of her skin turned the water a grayish hue the longer she rubbed, but the satisfaction of peeling the virtual layers of city dirt off her body was stronger than her embarrassment.
She finished as fast as she could and then pulled the plug, wrung out the cloth, and hopped out into the embrace of the towel she'd placed on the mat. She eyed her dirty clothes lying on the floor nearby and felt disinclined to ruin her freshness by climbing back into them, but they were all she had. Unless…
No. She couldn't. Right? Mara had already shown her enough kindness by letting her use her space. She couldn't start stealing her clothes, too.
Catra finished with the towel and reluctantly donned her usual blue tunic and baggy breeches. The smell of smoke and sweat hit her hard and she wrinkled her nose against it, but it was better than overreaching her welcome here. Besides, if Weaver's punishment was going to be as bad as she thought, this was much safer than risking staining Mara's clothes with her own blood.
Decent again, she cleared her throat and called out, "Mara? I'm done." That seemed a little clingy, so she tacked on, "What should I do with the, uh, towel?"
"I'll take it," Mara's voice replied, a little muffled, from the other room. A few seconds passed before the curtain twitched and bundled aside and the girl herself stepped through into the steamy bathroom interior. When she first caught sight of Catra, she stopped. She seemed a little breathless for a moment as she let her eyes roam her freshly scrubbed face. Catra felt her cheeks heat and suddenly missed the layer of grime that would normally have disguised her blush. She pressed the used towel into Mara's hands to distract them both.
Mara didn't take her eyes away. "You clean up nicely," she observed, her voice a little too rough for the comment to simply be polite.
The heat spread to Catra's ears and she looked away. "Don't get used to it."
Mara snorted a little laugh and chucked the towel unceremoniously behind her into the main room. Then, "Turn around," she directed, reaching over to the counter to pick up her own wide-toothed comb.
"Is it really—" Catra began to protest, but hesitated. She had to go if she wanted any chance to save her job, but at the same time she absolutely craved more attention from Mara. Having her comb her hair to make her look presentable for once? Having those capable pale hands rake through her wild mane of hair? Care for her? Pamper her? That was certainly worth a few more lashes of Weaver's switch, right?
"It will only take a second," Mara assured, and Catra's reservations flew out the window. She turned to face the oval mirror on the wall, which was cracked on one hemisphere so it made her face look split in two. In its surface she watched Mara arrange herself behind her and tried to school her warming face into a neutral expression. She hoped the other girl would be too intent on her task to notice that Catra was virtually bursting at the seams.
The first touch of the comb to her strands sent ripples through her, and Catra clenched her hands in her pockets to keep from shivering. There was no reason in the world such a stupid little thing should have affected her so much, but here she was anyway, digging her nails into her palms in order to avoid looking like the desperate, touch-starved orphan she was. But she could feel Mara's fingers in her hair, and she was close enough that the heat of her body—
"You can rinse your mouth out while I'm doing this if you want. Mine is always gross in the morning," Mara's low voice cut into her thoughts. Catra's eyes flicked toward hers in the mirror, but Mara was looking down, busy with her hair. "I don't have an extra toothbrush, but Razz made me some stuff that's supposed to be just as good. Don't blame me for the flavor." She interrupted the stroke of the comb to point with it toward a jar on the back corner of the counter. It was full of something blue-green and thick, and Catra instinctively wrinkled her nose. What could that possibly taste like? She wondered if it was worth a clean mouth to try.
Why not? she decided, and reached for the jar. If she was going to have an impromptu makeover in Mara's borrowed bathroom, she might as well go all the way.
She unscrewed the lid and the first whiff made her head spin. It was suspiciously similar to the smell of wet paint. "Do I just…?" she tipped the container toward her slightly so the gel inside oozed in her direction. Mara nodded, and Catra shrugged and put the rim to her lips.
The substance tasted just like it smelled and Catra barely got a dollop past her lips before she recoiled from the foul flavor and quickly replaced the lid on the jar. Mara laughed at the way she made a face and pulled her head back into her shoulders, but the nastiness on her tongue distracted her from that lovely sound for a regretful moment. Catra tried to maneuver the gel around so it coated her teeth and did what it was supposed to, but she was sure she didn't let it sit long enough before spitting it into the sink with conviction.
"What the fuck?" she cried as soon as it was clear of her mouth. She replaced it instantly with a handful of water and tried to wash out the disgusting aftertaste.
"I told you," Mara replied, devolving into a fresh fit of laughter. The action turned her cheeks pleasantly pink, and Catra opted to focus on that instead of the foul experience she'd just subjected herself to.
"Does it really clean your teeth?" she asked suspiciously, wondering if Mara had just tricked her into sucking on some actual paint or something.
Mara shrugged. Her smile was bright as her sunny hair. "Razz said it does, and she's always right, so."
"Or she's just crazy!" Catra scoffed. Mara's expression dimmed a little bit, and Catra didn't realize what had just come out of her mouth until too late. Oh. Right. Mara still believed Razz's bit about them being connected, or whatever. A little tendril of regret twisted into her gut and she tried to backtrack, "But I guess we'll find out."
Mara met her eyes in the mirror and her hands went still on her hair. A heavy pause, wrought with tension but not necessarily the bad kind, fell over them and Catra felt her breath hitch, but she didn't look away. The longer she spent with this girl, the more she thought that maybe Razz wasn't just all crazy.
"Yeah," the taller girl finally let out. "We will." She finished with the comb and reached past Catra to lay it back on the counter.
Catra, desperate for something to do besides stare at the other girl in the mirror, ventured a hand through her own hair and was pleasantly surprised when her fingers didn't snag halfway through. In fact, it felt smooth and healthy for the first time since as long as she could remember. She was taken aback by how long it looked like this. "Wow." She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but the grin it brought to Mara's face was worth it.
"I know," she agreed. She laid her hands on Catra's shoulders for a brief second and Catra resisted the urge to lean into her. "Now you've got to get out of here. I've made you even later."
"Don't worry about it," Catra said, and meant it. She was grateful for Mara's kindness, and a bath and a few more minutes spent with this intriguing girl were well worth the shit she'd face at the factory. She found that her anxiety had even lessened in her presence. She wasn't usually one to communicate things like that, but now seemed like a good time to mumble an awkward, "Thank you."
"Anytime," Mara responded with a smile. Their eyes lingered in the mirror for a half second longer, and then the taller girl reached over to hold the curtain open for Catra and the brunette slipped out of the moist bathroom atmosphere. On her way to the door, Mara called from behind, "Hey. Do you want to borrow some of my shoes?"
Catra felt her shoulders begin to stiffen, but forced the tension out of her muscles. Mara was asking because she cared. Mara was trying to help. Mara didn't pity her. She was different.
Still, Catra couldn't accept. It felt like an overstep. A sin. Like somehow it would be cheating to indulge in something she hadn't earned. To shirk the trademark of her class. And she hated that, but it was what it was.
Catra took a deep breath and let it back out in a sigh. "No," she replied, and it barely even sounded bitter. "I couldn't."
Mara's lips flattened into a thin line, but she nodded without pressing. She didn't stop Catra as she moved to the door and prepared to head out.
With her hand on the curtain, something made Catra pause and look back over her shoulder.
The scene around her sharpened and she focused in on Mara. She was hit hard, unexpectedly, with the feeling that this was somehow very familiar; extremely domestic, like she'd lived it before but far in the future. In this unknown yet familiar future, Catra somehow knew that she and Mara were something else. Something closer. Something better. She was flooded with an odd mix of longing and nostalgia, and a sudden urge made her eyes flicker down to Mara's lips for a compromising second—long enough for her to notice. Catra's chest tightened but she wasn't immediately sure whether that was good or bad.
Then she wrenched her gaze away, threw another quick, "Thanks," over her shoulder—silently adding for everything—and was out the door.
"See you tonight!" Mara called after her as she descended the stairs, and Catra wondered when exactly they'd decided that, but she was too pleased to care. All of the anger and suspicion that had boiled in her just a day past was largely dissipated. Something about Mara was just impossible to remain mad at. And at this point, Catra didn't even want to stay mad. She'd had a taste of what allowing Mara into her life might mean. She'd had the odd premonition that they had a future together, somehow, somewhere, and she found that maybe it was worth risking herself for something like that. Maybe 'you and me' did deserve a chance.
All Catra knew for sure was that her heart was lighter than it had ever been as she left Loo-Kee and ran for the factory.
She was almost able to take her mind off of the hell she knew Weaver had planned.
…
Catra walked into the factory at 8:09. Her shift was supposed to start at 7:30.
Weaver's verdict ended up being 'take a public beating or lose your job.'
She took the beating.
…
I'll see you tonight, Mara had called, and over the course of the day Catra had run those words over and over in her head, wondering if she was referring to her nightly patronage at Loo-Kee or something else.
The hope of the latter was what kept her motivated enough to meet her quota for the day despite showing up more than half an hour late. It was what kept Weaver off her back after her initial punishment, and thus what saved her from losing her job that day.
She knew it was unlikely, but she still hoped.
She couldn't wait for her shift to end so she could go and find out.
…