They did do it again.

It was the middle of the week when Mara found Catra in her usual booth in the corner of Loo-Kee and slipped into the seat across from her without even asking. "Hey," she greeted, almost shyly, like she wasn't sure if the bond they'd forged the other night still applied. Plot twist: it did.

Catra, caught off guard by her arrival, couldn't hold back a pleased smile. "Well, hey."

Mara's cheeks might have turned a little pink. She cleared her throat, fidgeted with her own fingers, and leaned over the table toward Catra. "Can I ask you for a, um, favor?"

Catra was made equal parts interested and nervous by that question. "Depends on what it is," she responded in a silky tone, leaning forward too to narrow the distance between them. Her eyes caught on a light spray of freckles on Mara's nose that she hadn't noticed before. Shit. She totally had a thing for freckles.

"I know this wasn't really what you meant when we said we should do something together again, but uh, want to help me, uh…" Mara must have noticed Catra staring, because her cheeks colored further. "…train? For the tournament? The first round is in two days and my sparring partner sprained his ankle so he can't train with me tonight but I wanted to get in some—"

"All right," agreed Catra instantly. Definitely not the second date activity she'd had in mind, but facing off with a flushed and sweaty Mara was certainly an attractive option. She grinned crookedly, "but I'll have to go easy on you."

"You—?" the other girl spluttered a laugh. "Okay, I see how it is. You're on, then."

Catra enjoyed the hint of steel that entered her blue-gray eyes. "When and where?"

"The training rooms behind the arena at the Underground," Mara provided. "They're on the opposite side from the lockers. And…" She trailed off, biting her lower lip to avoid looking too excited, "Tomorrow? I usually do it in the afternoons before work."

Catra cracked her knuckles and popped her neck on either side and ignored the stutter in her heart. "Sounds good."

…

Catra felt strange going to the Underground while it was empty, but then again, it was a relief not to have to worry about a throng of potential Equalists getting on her case. She found the empty storefront, descended the stairs, passed through the tunnel to the unguarded entry door, and headed into the main cavern without a hitch. Inside, the huge room was dark except for a light glowing above an opening opposite the lockers; presumably the training room Mara had described. Catra began descending the leveled path toward it, skin crawling at the way her footsteps echoed hauntingly in the empty space. She hoped Mara was here already. She wasn't too keen on waiting around alone in a creepy underground gym (although, if Mara was here, Catra figured that's exactly what she'd been making her do). That thought made her pick up her pace, and she hurried across the floor of the arena to the lit opening.

Like on the other side of the cavern, a short hallway led her to an offshoot room with a low ceiling, but this one was twice as large as the other.

The walls were stone, as was everything down here. The floor was covered in thick matting that may have once been white, but was now a faded cream color. A row of punching bags hung along the near wall, a rack of weights and a mirror against the far one, and a padlocked floor-to-ceiling cabinet stood at the end between them. Everything looked worn and secondhand but functional.

It was much better-lit in here than the locker area. Thus, on Catra's first scan of the room, she caught a perfect view of Mara at the weights, her back to the door and her duffel bag by her feet. The girl's rippling muscles gleamed already beneath a light layer of perspiration, likely a product of the dumbbell in each hand.

Warming up for a crushing defeat, Catra joked to herself, but she actually had to swallow hard before words would cooperate. "Hey, Mara," she said, and the padded floors absorbed the sound as soon as it passed her lips.

Mara still heard her.

She spun, letting her arms fall to her sides and the weights with them, a pleased grin on her face. Catra was a little taken aback by her apparent excitement. Had she expected her not to show?

"Hey. Come to have your butt kicked?" the sun-haired girl shot back, and it was so like Catra's thought from just moments ago that she laughed aloud at the similarity.

Some team we are, she thought fondly, and then balked, wondering when exactly she'd started thinking of them as a team at all. She shook off her discomfort quickly and answered with a saucy strut toward the other girl: "I'm not sure I remember that being our agreement, but I'm up for some butt stuff." She showed one canine in a teasing half-smile and enjoyed the intensifying flush on Mara's face.

"We'll see about that," the taller girl said, bending to deposit her weights on the rack against the mirror and then turning with hands on hips. "Ready to warm up?"

"Aren't you already plenty warm?" Catra replied cheekily.

Mara snorted. "It's you I'm worried about. Come on, let's stretch out." She led the way to the center of the matted floor and began to stretch her muscles, first with static arm and leg stretches and then a few twists and swings of each for good measure. Catra wasn't well-versed in the ways of the gym goddess, so she just pulled a few basic poses until she felt limber.

Afterward, Mara returned to her duffel bag to draw out a roll of cloth strips for her fists. As she started to wrap them up, Catra switched to a more dynamic warmup.

"So…how intense a bout are we talking, here?" she asked casually as she hopped on the balls of her feet, getting comfortable with her fighting form. It had been a while since she'd needed to fight anybody, so she was slightly rusty. She was thinking of the fading bruises still lining Mara's knuckles from her last match; wondering if she was about to collect some more.

Mara shrugged, silent until she'd finished with her hands and paced over to a heavy bag hanging by the wall to throw a few warmup punches. "Usually it's full contact, but my training partner wears pads and they're locked up right now, so I'll pull my punches a bit for you," she said in the midst of a one-two-three combo. She threw Catra a quick, sly look. "Unless you want a few bruises to remember me by."

Catra's eyebrows shot up. "I wouldn't mind that," she shot back, laying on the bravado thick so Mara wouldn't notice that she was actually serious.

The other girl just gave her a laugh and a flashing glance as she continued pounding away at the heavy bag for another few moments. When her breathing began to get the slightest bit labored, she broke away and headed toward the center of the mat where Catra stood, rolling her shoulders and shaking her arms out. Catra did not start to get a little bit excited at the prospect of 'flushed and sweaty Mara' again. To focus herself, she began taking deep, steadying breaths to rein in her chi, burying it far beneath the surface so that she wouldn't lash out and burn Mara (again) by accident while they sparred.

"Ready?" asked Mara with a little smirk as they took up positions across from each other on the mat, just out of arms' reach. She fell into her fighting stance and raised her fists, and Catra felt her heart skip.

She spread her feet for a secure base and raised her own hands in a lower, more fluid version of Mara's posture. "Are you?" she returned, again showing a wicked canine.

Mara's eyes went intense, and that was all the warning Catra got before the fighter propelled herself into combat.

Mara led with an experimental combo intended more as a test than a commitment. Catra wove between her flying fists with ease and shot out a quick front kick just to encourage Mara to keep her distance. The two circled, Catra's heart pumping loud in her ears and Mara's breath coming deep and even; trancelike; totally focused.

Catra initiated their second exchange. She darted in, tried a backhanded punch that Mara blocked, and then twisted quickly to bring her other elbow around. That too was blocked, so she went for a hook and a sneak jab right on its tail. Mara dodged deftly and countered with a ducking punch toward her gut. Catra hopped back to avoid it and then sidestepped the jump kick that followed. Too late, she tried catching Mara's foot to throw her off balance, but it only put her in the line of fire of a second, quick snap of the leg which hit her solidly across the chest.

Catra stumbled back and Mara retreated to let her regain her balance.

The two went on like that for a while, each toying with each other without doing any real damage, sizing each other up as opponents. Up close, standing opposite Mara's precise, deadly fists, Catra found them even more intimidating than from across a ring. She noticed the same things she had while she was watching the other girl's match, though. Mara never moved to an extreme unless it was absolutely necessary, preferring to use her opponent's attacks against them rather than initiating any herself, but when she did, her strikes were quick and measured. Patterned. Predictable.

Mara fought smart, for an arena brawler who could afford to take her time. But she did not fight street smart.

Catra, on the other hand, had had to learn to fight street smart pretty early on. Which meant she had the advantage of unpredictability.

And she intended to use it.

She shifted lightly on the balls of her feet, to and fro, luring Mara into a false sense of security by holding a steady rhythm. At the same time, though, she was watching and waiting, analyzing the other girl for an opening. She knew she would get one if she went in for an attack and diverted her move into a feint; led Mara in the wrong direction before lashing out from the other side, but she also knew that that would probably earn her a hit in response.

She decided it would be worth it to catch Mara off guard for once.

Catra waited and circled and bounced for a heartbeat longer—two, three—and then made her move.

She sent a jab toward Mara's high line. The other girl immediately lifted her forearm to block; came around with her other arm for a hook toward the stomach. Catra twisted at the last second, opening her fist to catch Mara's defensive wrist and lunging in to bring her forward foot behind the taller girl's knee. Mara's punch landed—there was the hit. But Catra was hooking her foot around Mara's leg and kicking her off balance at the same time she wrenched her wrist in the other direction, and the sudden move sent the brawler spinning to the mat.

Mara landed on her stomach with an oof as Catra settled back into a normal stance, rubbing the place on her side where the other girl's fist had caught her. She was breathing heavy and her neck prickled at the irrational fear that Mara might be angry at being knocked down.

But when the other girl rolled over and sat up on her elbows, there was a grin growing behind her flyaway hairs. "That was good! Sneaky," she panted. Then she reached up to smooth back those bothersome strands and tilted her head. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Catra stiffened with her hand still massaging the sore spot under her tunic. "I—" really don't want to talk about that, she finished internally. It hadn't exactly been a pretty process. It had started in her early days around the triads, watching members brawl over the slightest slights and the most grievous griefs and everything in between, then practicing the forms sloppily on her own. Then, when a nasty gangster had discovered her peeking from the mouth of the next alley over, she'd had to put that practice to use. Most of her 'training' had happened that way: playing for stakes, the stakes being her health. "I didn't really learn it from anyone in particular," she settled for saying vaguely.

Mara looked confused, but rather than let her gather her thoughts to pry, Catra stepped over and offered her her hand. "Come on. That was hardly a bout," she deflected teasingly.

The other girl scoffed, but accepted the gesture and rose to her feet. Once upright she brushed off the front of her shirt, then the back of her breeches. Her blue-gray eyes flicked up and met Catra's. "Ready to go again?"

Catra allowed her a toothy smile. "Sure, princess. Are you?"

"Try me."

That phrase kicked Catra's heart into high gear as they squared up again and then launched into a second bout.

This time around, Mara was more cautious. Her counters were more hesitant, her guard always up even if it looked like Catra wasn't about to try anything. Her feet moved a little more on the mat, breaking from their usual routine of waiting and reacting. Her ponytail swung hypnotically behind her and between that and her muscles and her steely eyes, Catra was finding it hard to focus.

She surged onto the offensive to reorient herself.

Her first one-two punch was blocked, which she'd planned for. She immediately switched tack and dropped down to swing her foot out to catch Mara's ankles. When the other girl jumped over it, Catra threw herself into a handstand kick that turned into a back walkover when it too missed its mark. As soon as she regained her footing she launched forward with her elbow out. Mara caught it and pushed it to the side with one hand and lashed out with the other towards Catra's face. Catra ducked out of the way fast and let Mara's push lend her the momentum for a side flip that stopped halfway when she wrapped her legs round Mara's neck. The fighter staggered under the sudden weight and Catra used her imbalance to cinch her abs and pull her to the ground, where she rolled atop her. Mara didn't give her time to get comfortable, instead bucking up hard enough to send her sprawling off and then reversing their positions. Catra found herself pinned by the heavier girl with a forearm against her throat. She panicked, gripping with her legs around Mara's waist and locking her ankles to prepare for a reversal, but when Mara pressed down warningly against her airway she reluctantly slackened her hold.

That left them tangled together on the mat, Catra's legs loosely around Mara, who hovered over her, face flushed, hair hanging down to brush her skin. Their bodies were already hot from the exertion but pressed together like this, they positively burned. As Catra stared up into blue-gray eyes and felt her heartbeat begin to race with something other than the panic of feeling trapped, new anxiety gripped her. What was that look in Mara's eyes? Why wasn't she getting up? Why was her forearm slowly slipping away in favor of grasping Catra's shoulder with her hand? Did she just—did she just glance at her lips?

Catra couldn't really tell, because she was starting to stare at Mara's mouth, too.

Damn this girl.

Before the heat spreading up from her middle could overwhelm her, Catra cleared her throat and gave Mara a healthy shove to the chest. The other girl sat back quickly as if caught off guard, blinking away the haze in her eyes.

"Sorry."

"It's a fight, Mara. You don't have to apologize," Catra said gruffly, even though she knew that wasn't what the girl meant. She sat up and slid out from beneath her, brushing herself off where she'd been pressed against the worn-out mat. She did not miss the feeling of Mara's weight on top of her. Seriously.

She licked her lips and adjusted her belt just to have something harmless to do with her hands. "Again?" she prompted.

Mara's face relaxed into a more familiar expression: that stupid cocky smile. "What, you don't want to end on a loss?"

Catra curled her lip. "We have to break the tie, don't we?"

"Fair enough," Mara shrugged, but her lips were still graced with that dumb smirk.

Catra felt a little shaky as they returned to their starting spots opposite each other on the mat. She really was rusty at this (and that was all). It was refreshing, though—enjoyable, even—to practice her self-defense here, safe underground, with someone she trusted not to hurt her too badly. It was even better to test herself against the so-called legendary warrior goddess of the Quántóu Underground and witness her skill up close. If she lost, it was justified, and if she won it was a huge point of pride. Win-win.

The only problem was that she couldn't trick herself into believing that the buzz she felt all over was just because of the fighting. Catra liked being down here alone with Mara for other reasons, too. She just refused to acknowledge it.

She pressed her thoughts down into the recesses of her mind for the thousandth time as she and the source of her problems faced off again.

At this point, both of them were feeling the strain of holding a fighting crouch, and Catra sought a breather by striking up a conversation.

"So what are you going to do with all that prize money when you win?" she asked as she circled her opponent, eyes trained on her fists for the slightest hint of danger.

A grin spread instantly over Mara's face at her use of when, not if. She shifted her footing too and ran her hand over her hair to smooth down the flyaways again. "I don't know. Buy myself somewhere to live besides the upstairs of a noodle shop, probably," she said with a chuckle that said she was only half joking. In the pause that came after, her eyes sharpened in the slightest tell that she was about to launch a strike, and Catra tensed. Then: "and you, too."

Catra staggered in surprise and it let Mara successfully land a too-hard punch to her diaphragm.

"Sorry!" she cried as Catra doubled over, coughing. "Are you—?"

"Did you just say for me, too?" the brunette demanded as she recovered just enough air to speak. Her face was blazing and she didn't know if it was from exertion or shock or embarrassment or that other thing she couldn't name. "You want to buy me a place?"

Mara's body lost its tension as she shrank back slightly, looking suddenly less sure. "I mean, yes? The grand prize is a lot of money, Catra. It wouldn't be a problem to—"

"It's a problem for me! You can't just—" Catra huffed explosively, straightening up and dropping her fighting stance entirely. "—just give me charity. That's your money, Mara, and I'm not going to—to take it from you."

"I'm offering it," argued Mara, lowering her fists as well. "I care about you, Catra, and I want you to be comfortable. Living in some old, busted drug den can't be your normal forever."

"It has been so far!" Catra's voice came out too sharp, too harsh, and immediately she deflated in regret. "Just—please. I'm fine. Don't waste your money on me."

"At least let me buy you a pair of shoes."

"No! It's—" Catra's irritation came flooding back full force. "Why don't you get it?" She shoved her fingers into her tangled hair and then ran them down her face. "It's embarrassing enough to live like this in the first place. But having someone…pity you so much that they try to fix it all for you is even worse, somehow."

Mara gave a little sigh that certainly sounded like pity, even as she said, "It's not pity, Catra, it's just me trying to help you."

"Well, I don't need your help." Catra bristled, balling her fists and glaring at the ground because she knew how ungrateful and belligerent she sounded, but this was not something she was willing to let Mara do. For both their sakes.

For a while Mara was silent. At length she stepped forward, crossing the distance to Catra over the mat, and Catra resisted the urge to look up; to keep a bead on her opponent, because they weren't supposed to be opponents anymore. Mara stopped in front of her and Catra could feel the heat coming off her body, a product of their recent activity. Then she reached out a hand and it came up beneath Catra's chin, lifting it so she had to look into those steady blue-gray eyes. What she said was the last thing Catra expected.

"Live with me."

Catra's eyes widened. Before she could spook, Mara rushed on: "I know we hardly know each other, but I can't just leave someone I care about in a shitty situation when I know I can fix it." She paused and bit her lip. "If you don't want me buying you anything, at least stay with me so I know you're safe. You can—I don't know—pay me for some of the rent, if you want."

"Mara…"

"I know it's a lot. And I know I'm not even guaranteed the money. But please, think about it." Her hand was still against Catra's chin, so gentle, and in the pause that hung between them, she ran her thumb along her skin briefly. "You…you deserve better than the hand you've been dealt."

Catra's throat was dry. She tried to swallow and it hurt. When she spoke, her voice was scratchy. "So do you."

Mara blinked as if surprised and her lips parted, drawing Catra's gaze, and her hand refused to fall away, and they were so close and they were all alone down here and Catra was getting the urge to do something really foolish and—

"Let's, uh—" Mara cleared her throat and stepped back, turning her face away. Catra cursed herself. She must have been staring way more openly than she'd thought. Get it together, you useless piece of shit.

Mara fell back into a crouch. "Let's go again."

Catra complied, because what else could she do?

This time when they began, Catra was in such a flustered state of mind that she rushed in without gauging Mara's defense first. Thus she committed too soon to a spinning kick that ended up being her downfall, because Mara intercepted it easily midair, and just as Catra was twisting to get free she shot out her fist and caught her right in the middle of the lower back—right where Weaver had hit her the other day.

"Fuck!" Catra's legs buckled as she landed and she collapsed to her knees, hissing and writhing and grasping at her inflamed back before she could get a handle on the pain.

"What? Catra, what?" Mara questioned frantically, rushing to her side where she dropped to one knee next to her. "What's—?" She reached out, but—

"No!" Catra batted her hand away and doubled over so she could press her forehead against the ground and breathe. Her whole back throbbed, and the worst places burned where they'd been stretched by the impact. She tried to determine if she could feel any blood on the surface, but her nerves were fried by pain.

Mara hovered over her, unsure of what to do. "Did you land wrong? I didn't hit you that hard; it shouldn't've—"

"It wasn't you," Catra growled out between clenched teeth. Her fist tightened, too, jagged nails digging in to distract her from the other pain.

"Tell me what to do," the other girl begged, hands spread inches from Catra's curled body, useless if she didn't know how to help.

But this wasn't really something she could help.

"Just leave it. I'm fine." For the first time since they'd smoothed out the rocky start to their relationship, Catra really just wanted the other girl to go away.

But, "You're not!" cried Mara, panic edging into her voice. "Let me—" She grasped the edge of Catra's shirt to assess the damage, and Catra tried to twist away before she could lift it, but—

"Oh my spirits."

Catra went still. No point in struggling anymore. Mara had seen it all.

"What is this from?" the golden-haired girl asked in a trembling voice, unable to tear her eyes from the now-revealed mottled, scarred plane of Catra's back. She reached out with her other hand to brush her fingers over the newest scar gently, hardly believing what she was seeing.

Catra rolled over defeatedly, letting out a long hiss of breath as her bare back came to rest against the cool mat. The action removed her exposed skin from within range of Mara's touch and placed her belly under it instead. Now she was just lying there, the other girl kneeling above her again with her hair molten against the light and her hand burning against her abdomen, so similar yet so different from the position they'd found themselves in just minutes ago.

"Take a guess," she croaked, no choice but to come out with the truth now.

Mara paused a moment, searching her face, trying to think. Then abruptly her eyes widened and her hand tightened on Catra's shirt. "Is this what you meant about your job? About 'paying for it?'" she asked, voice rising in pitch as she realized.

Catra's silence was answer enough.

The other girl's jaw clenched and she looked away. "Yeah," she managed through her teeth as her nostrils flared to keep her anger under control. When she looked back down at Catra, there was steel in her eyes. "Yeah, you're going to let me help you."

And Catra, with her aching back to the floor and no strength left to push Mara's hand off her body or even protest, had to agree.

…