Chapter Text
All Catra wanted was some peace and quiet.
As if it wasn’t enough that her homework kept her up until midnight and the people next door kept her up longer, her roommate was making her go to some stupid hockey game that night, and she was dead tired from busting ass all week to get into the honors program she was hoping to start the following Monday, there was someone on her goddamn rink.
Okay, well, obviously it wasn’t her rink in, like, legal terms. But at 6:30 on a Saturday morning, it wasn’t supposed to be occupied.
This, the Bright Moon University Ice Arena, was where Catra went to solve her life’s problems. There was something calming, something meditative about a clean sheet of ice and an empty rink, with the only sounds coming from her skates carving neat lines through the smooth surface below her.
Catra’s figure skating days were largely behind her (though she’d cleaned up more than a few competitions in her time), but there was part of it she could never quite leave behind. Normally, she’d spend a good hour or so doing laps or old, half-remembered routines before leaving to take a shower and sleep for another few hours.
The absolutely crucial part of this tradition was, of course, complete and utter solitude.
Today, all hope of that flew out the window the second Catra saw a person at center ice. From the distance, all she could make out was a blonde mass of hair, black skates, at least three dozen pucks gathered near a bucket, and a stick. Combined, these facts only added fuel to the fire that just ignited inside her.
If it had been a fellow figure skater, she could get by with a few cold glares and a good amount of space. But a fucking hockey player?
Her eyes narrowed to thin, furious slits of blue and yellow. Storming over to the glass, she slammed her hand on the wall. “HEY!” She yelled, trying to get the person’s-- woman’s, she corrected, noticing a long ponytail -- attention.
The woman turned towards her, face wrinkling into a confused frown. She skated over, coming to a well-practiced stop at the bench before walking over to let Catra in. She seemed vaguely familiar, though Catra couldn’t place where she knew her from. “Uh, hi? I’m sorry, is there something you need?”
“What I need,” Catra seethed, “Is for you to explain what you’re doing here this early.”
The woman made that same confused frown, and cocked her head a bit to the side. If Catra wasn’t so tired, she might have found it endearing, especially with those silvery-gray eyes and that ridiculous jawline she sported. “Practicing? Why else would I be here?” Her eyes widened. “Hey, aren’t you in my history lecture? It’s Catra, right?”
“Uh. Sure.” So that’s why she looked familiar. Catra racked her brain for a name -- now that she brought it up, Catra was sure she’d heard her name before. It started with an A -- Amy or Anna, maybe?
She smiled and stretched out a hand. “Adora.”
Adora! That was it.
Catra made no move to shake the offered hand. “Adora. Got it. Listen--” She cut off with a long, deep yawn. It was too early in the morning to do this. “You know what? I don’t care.” Catra pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just- try to stay off to one side. I don’t want to get hit by a stray puck.”
The woman -- Adora -- scoffed, crossing her arms in front of her. Her hair, Catra noticed, had this stupid little poof sticking up at the front. “Please. My aim is way too good for that.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not betting my teeth on it,” Catra said, shifting the bag on her shoulder. “Move it, princess.”
Moving aside, Adora looked her up and down with a raised eyebrow, arms still-- holy shit, she was ripped. Her shirt, white, long-sleeve and far too tight for Catra’s personal early-morning comfort, did nothing to hide the toned, defined muscle of her arms. She began to tap a finger on her bicep, and Catra tried really hard not to fixate on the forearm muscles she saw moving underneath. “Princess, huh? A little early for pet names. I mean, we barely even know each other, Catra.”
“Yeah? Tell that to the hair poof,” Catra said, nodding in the middle of tying her skates to the lump of hair on top of the hockey player’s head. “We’re old friends. I think I met it in a pet store when I was a kid.”
Adora tried to hide a chuckle, shaking her head in fake hurt. “You’re breaking my heart, you know that?”
“You’ll be fine.” Catra finished her laces and stood up. Finally on equal height with her newfound nemesis, she crossed her own arms, mirroring the other’s stance.
Turning, Adora shrugged. “Whatever. I’ve heard worse. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” She said, walking back to the ice with a sarcastic, exaggerated bow, “I have business to attend to.”
“Wait.” Catra was surprised she had spoken, if she was honest, but she had to admit that Adora was... growing on her a little. Only a little. She admired people who could take a chirp well.
(The rock-solid jawline, broad shoulders, and absurdly well-muscled arms and legs had nothing to do with it.)
Stopping at the edge of the ice, Adora turned towards her with that same confused frown. “What now? I thought you wanted me gone.”
“Yeah, I mean, I do.” Catra looked her up and down, lingering on the shiny gray-black skates on Adora’s feet. From what she knew of hockey skates, they were a model near the top of the line. Someone with skates like that and a self-prescribed call time of 6am has to be competitive, she thought.
An idea popped into her head. “But…” She said, dragging the word out, “I still need to warm up. Feel like a quick race?”
She knew her hunch had struck home when Adora’s eyes widened and the frown on her face grew into a deadly grin. She poked a (long and callused, not that Catra noticed) finger at the center of Catra’s chest. “You’re on.”
Unfortunately, the doors to the rink chose that time to swing open with a clash. A voice, deeper and more masculine, filtered out from what Catra figured must be the locker rooms. “--Adora! I knew you’d be here.” More of them? Are you fucking kidding me? She swiveled to see a tall man wearing a crop top with BRIGHT MOON HOCKEY splayed across the front with an arrow shot through it. Judging by the jagged bottom edge, it started its life as a normal shirt.
“Don’t listen to him. He thought you were asleep until about two minutes ago.” A shorter woman came out and stood next to Crop Top. She had short purple hair (which, Catra had to admit, looked pretty dope) and wore a glittery pink shirt emblazoned with their school’s logo -- a crescent moon -- over a pair of athletic shorts. “Finish up quick, though, okay? Coach wants to talk to us.”
Adora flashed a toothy, near-blinding grin and gave a thumbs-up before turning back to Catra, who was still just as tired and just as uncaffeinated. “Duty calls. I’m holding you to that race, though,” She said, stepping onto the ice to pick up her pucks with a grin. “And I don’t intend to lose to some punkass figure skater.”
Catra narrowed her eyes and flashed her canines. “Well, I don’t intend to lose to some muscled-up jock. I guess we’ll have to see, huh?” It came out with a bit more of a purr than Catra had intended, and she groaned internally. That was not supposed to come out as flirty as it did. She hoped Adora hadn’t noticed it.
Returning with her bucket and stick, Adora raised an eyebrow and gave her a look that told Catra she had definitely noticed it. “I guess so.” With a wink and a yell to Arrow Boy and Sparkles, she left, and Catra was left with carved-up ice and a weird, warm feeling running through her.
On the bright side, she was finally alone. That alone gave her some peace of mind. Shaking off the assorted feelings the previous encounter had inspired in her, she took her first step onto the ice and closed her eyes, letting herself be lost in the graceful arcs and spins her body created in rhythm to the song playing over her headphones.
Time passed, and the first true light of the sun began to shine through the impossibly tall windows that framed the rink. Catra felt its warmth flow through her. This was her favorite part -- the moment when the sun rose, the world fell away, and she could just be.
Just as her song ended and the next began, she thought she heard a door slam shut. Frowning a little, she tried to figure out where it had come from, but all she was greeted with was an empty ice rink. While she was looking at the bleachers trying to find the source of the sound, her earlier promise to her roommate popped into her head. She groaned.
Apparently, Scorpia was the backup goalie for the campus hockey team (Catra still wasn’t super sure which one, as there were several), and their starter had gotten an injury that would keep her out for the rest of the season. Tonight was Scorpia’s first game, and Catra had promised her she’d come.
Well, sort of. Her memory of the event was that she was half-listening (Scorpia tended to ramble) and had just agreed mindlessly when she thought she’d been asked a question. Turns out, she had, and the next thing she knew Scorpia yelled in excitement and hugged her so tight she thought her ribs would break.
She looked at the time. It read 7:02. Already? Taking a few last looks and debating on taking a few final laps, Catra sighed. Before long, the D1 team would be here for their 8am practice, and if she was anywhere near the Bright Moon Rebellion’s precious morning skate, they would probably rip her to shreds. Time to go, then.
Well, at least by the time she was showered, fed, and had slept for a few more hours, she’d be in a better mood.
* * *
Adora hadn’t been expecting the morning to go the way it did.
Game-day rituals were sacred among hockey players, and hers was always the same: go to the rink at 5, stay for the sunrise, go on a quick run with Bow and Glimmer, show up 10 minutes before morning skate started to get in the zone, and do her 15-step handshake with Swift Wind before the game.
Today, due to some combination of sleep deprivation and the foolish notion that she would wake up on time without one, she had forgotten to set her alarm, and ‘go to the rink at 5’ turned into ‘go to the rink at 6.’
Adora did her best not to worry about the possibility that she had broken her routine. Superstition was no stranger to her, and she felt overrun with worry by the time she made it to the rink, panting a little from the exertion of running halfway across campus with a stick and a full bag of hockey gear. Just the sight of the building put her at ease -- the purple and silver of their school’s banners caught the early morning light with such ease and beauty they were hard to look away from -- and she felt like she could finally take a breath.
Unlocking the rink with the keys Mara, who graduated just before her freshman year, definitely hadn’t passed down to each new captain, she made her way towards the pristine sheet of ice calling to her.
Every time, that first step out was transformative. She became a completely different person when she set foot on the ice. Her focus sharpened and narrowed, distractions left her mind, and it was as if she could feel her eyes glowing as she scanned the ice from side to side with lightning speed.
Adora had as good a shot as anyone else, but her real strength lay in her ability to read plays and get the puck up the ice. She’d been told it was uncanny. Somehow, she always knew the right place to pass, and always found the perfect weakness in the defense to exploit with her linemates. Ever since her freshman year, she’d led the team in assists. It was one of the reasons her coaches had chosen her for this year’s captain, she remembered proudly, dumping a bucket of pucks on the ice.
As she began to fire them on goal from different points, she let her mind continue to wander.
Speaking of her coaches, it helped that this team wasn’t being coached by a lame misogynist. In all the time Adora had spent playing for high-level teams -- not all of which were fully co-ed, mind you -- she’d only had a few good coaches. She was especially grateful to Micah and Angella for how well they’d handled--
Adora stopped her slapshot wind-up abruptly.
Well. She didn’t want to think about that.
Blinking a few times, she checked the time. About 6:30. Shit. Bow and Glimmer will want to run soon. Clocking the locations of the pucks scattered around the ice, she skated over to the first clump and began the job of pushing them back over in the bucket’s general direction.
Back to the coaches, then. Micah and Angella - the King and Queen, as they were called back in the day -- almost single-handedly led their year’s Rebellion to a national championship three years in a row, and had only given up the last one to the Horde in double overtime.
Now, twenty or so years later, they were looking to do it again. Playoffs were starting soon, Adora mused. That meant more training, better senses, and absolutely no distractions--
“HEY!”
Adora turned, frowning in confusion, and saw a very angry-looking person with short-cropped brown hair banging on the glass. Sighing internally, she skated over to figure out what was going on.
Turns out Catra, who she remembered from her lecture a few days back, also liked to skate early in the morning. Who would’ve thought? Adora had found someone who was not only incredibly hot in a mean-girl kind of way, she also turned out to be witty and sharp as hell (as far as Adora knew, she’d never gotten below a 95 on their tests), and she could skate.
She was almost bummed when Bow and Glimmer crashed their chance meeting, but the idea of racing Catra appealed so perfectly to her competitive nature that she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but excitement.
Plus, she thought, feeling her feet pound the pavement with every step and her ponytail flapping in the wind, she was staring at my arms the whole time.
“Adora, wait up!” Bow was panting next to her -- well, behind her, really, but she didn’t want to embarrass him -- with his hands on his hips and his chest heaving. “What’s gotten into you today?”
Adora slowed down just a bit, jogging in place for a moment while waiting for Bow and Glimmer to catch up. “Huh? Nothing! Just, you know…” What was she going to say? Just thinking about fucking up my routine the same day we’re starting our backup goalie? Wondering if there’s any softness behind Catra’s mean-girl exterior? She plastered on a smile. “Just pumped for tonight!”
Glimmer, who had been a few feet behind Bow, caught up to them. “Okay, well, not to be rude, but do we have to be pumped with you? God, are you even sweating?”
“Uh, yeah! Of course I’m sweating,” Adora lied, wiping away nonexistent sweat from her forehead. “But, hey, you guys are free to do whatever you want. I’m probably gonna keep going, and you’re welcome to come with.”
Bow and Glimmer locked eyes for a second and seemed to have an entire conversation in the span of a few seconds. When she first met them, Adora was a little terrified at how well they knew each other. It took them a little bit of time to incorporate Adora into their chemistry -- both on and off the ice -- but she liked to think of herself as an extra boost to what they already had going on. In the years since she’d started at Bright Moon, they’d become close. Like, really close. They’d helped her through one of the toughest times of her life.
Now, they were the team’s leadership. When Adora thought about it too long (how far they’d come, how different it would be), she usually got a little misty-eyed. In practical terms, though, that meant they all had to be in top shape -- especially her. So she woke up at 4:30 on game days, practiced on the ice, and went for long runs. She survived on protein bars, protein shakes, and caffeine.
In front of her, her friends seemed to finish their silent conversation. Bow turned to Adora. “Okay, so we love you very much, which you know--”
Adora nodded seriously, putting her hands on her hips. “This is true. I love you too.”
“--But it’s not even 8 in the morning, aaaand I feel like my heart is about to drop out of my ass.” Bow pressed his lips together in a straight line, making a little I’m-sorry motion with his hands.
Glimmer nodded, adding, “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for this as a game-day ritual! Just… maybe we can skip to the breakfast part today.”
Now that was an idea. Sometimes, before very special home games, the three of them had a post-run breakfast at The Beacon. It was a pancake joint a few blocks down from campus, and Light Hope, the owner, had harbored something of a soft spot for Mara back when she played for the team. Luckily for them, that goodwill translated into free food for the players on game days.
For a fleeting moment, Adora considered just going with them. If it had been any other day, she probably would have, but ahead of her, the trail stretched out. Her body was itching to move. Her lips curved up into a tight-lipped smile. “You guys go, alright? I’ll catch up.”
(She pretended not to notice the worried look Glimmer and Bow shared.)
“You sure?” Glimmer asked, a note of concern in her voice.
“Yeah, I think I’m just gonna go… I dunno, sprint some nerves out. You guys get a table, alright? I’ll be there in 15.”
Glimmer looked like there was more she wanted to say, but Bow put a hand on her shoulder and gave Adora a thumbs-up. “We’ll ask Light Hope for your usual.” Waving goodbye, he and Glimmer set off down the sidewalk towards The Beacon, leaving Adora on the trail alone.
She was nervous. They were playing the Horde -- as in, their biggest rivals, and the dirtiest team in the league -- tonight. For those watching, the Rebellion/Horde rivalry games were some of the most exciting in college hockey, but Adora always took the results personally. As captain, it was hard not to. Wins felt electric, like pure adrenaline coursing through her veins. Losses made her feel like she’d been punched in the gut. The Rebellion had the best goaltending in the league -- up until Huntara, a first-round pro draft pick, tore her ACL. They were starting their backup tonight, which made Adora more nervous than she cared to admit.
That meant there was no room for error. Marking the distance with her eyes, she began her sprints, trying to ignore the fluttery nervousness in her chest growing larger by the second.
* * *
“Dude, you want me to do fucking what?” Catra crossed her arms, her voice high and indignant. “Scorpia, come on. The game starts at 8pm. Why the fuck do I have to be there two hours early? What am I gonna do for two hours?”
Scorpia shook her head quickly, and gently grabbed Catra on either shoulder in an attempt to placate her. “You don’t have to stay for all of it! Just, y’know, swing by for a second! Meet the team!” Scorpia put on an encouraging smile. “Come on, please? For me?”
Catra held firm for about thirty more seconds before giving in with a huff. “Fine. I’ll stop by and say hello, shake some hands, and then I’ll be back for the game, I guess.”
Scorpia beamed, pumping her fist. “Yes!” Then, in a practiced maneuver, tackled Catra in a massive bear hug. “Thank you! You won’t regret this, I promise.”
“Yeah. Right.” Catra knew she was going to regret this. Mustering up all the resolve she could, she tried to make the best of her situation.
The time rolled around sooner than she was expecting, and before she knew it she was trying to figure out what to bring with her. 13 years of skating, and she’d never been to a hockey game.
In the end, she settled on the essentials: her phone, her wallet, her headphones, and snacks. As a student, she wouldn’t have to pay for a ticket, but the food prices at every sports game were outrageous. Better not to risk it.
The walk to the rink looked different when the sun was traveling down rather than up, she realized. Different lighting, different shadows, different people walking by. Different me, she noted. She tended to get more agreeable the longer she’d been awake, and normally hit a peak in the middle of the day. After that, it was downhill again. Scorpia liked to call it Catra’s very own bell curve.
She made her way through the familiar bleachers of the rink until she reached the glass. The ice had clearly been resurfaced since she was on it that morning, and part of her longed to carve it up. Then, she heard them.
Voices, and lots of them, coming from the tunnel to the locker room. Words and conversations mingled as the team emerged in shorts and sneakers, clearly in the middle of a pregame warm-up. Catra spotted Scorpia right away and gave her a quick nod. She scanned the faces of the others lining up on the bottom of the bleachers and saw a few vaguely familiar faces -- and then one very familiar one.
Adora was stretching at the bottom of the bleachers a few rows down from where she was standing, and had traded her long-sleeve shirt for an equally tight grey t-shirt with a small C on the left shoulder.
(Regrettably, the hair poof was still present.)
Details from that morning came together with an almost audible click in Catra’s mind: the practice, the fancy skates, the wakeup call -- of course this would be the team Adora played for. She would be the captain, Catra thought, eyes lingering a few seconds longer than strictly necessary on the line of her triceps.
She was jolted from that, however, by the sound of Adora yelling. “Alright, on me! Legs in 3, 2, 1!” A beat after the final number, every member of the team began running up the steps. Catra found it hard to look away from the determination in Adora’s eyes. It framed her face well, working its way into the hard set of her jaw and the bounce of her ponytail with every step she took.
Then, her eyes darted towards her on a whim, and Catra watched as she blinked in confusion. Her head swiveled a full 90 degrees, and before either of them knew it, the rest of her body crashed onto the steps.
Out of reflex, Catra winced, then walked over, offering a hand. “You alright, Captain?” If she purred the word, she wouldn’t admit it.
Adora opened her mouth and blinked once, twice before seeming to realize she’d been offered help. She took Catra’s outstretched hand and pulled herself up with a groan. “You again, huh? Listen, I hate to say it, but the rink isn’t exactly open to the public at the moment. On account of… you know.” She waved a hand towards her teammates.
It was Catra’s turn to awkwardly blink. “I-- yeah, I know. I’m here for the game.”
“Oh.” Adora frowned again. “You’re early.”
“Yes, I know that--” Catra cut herself off, closing her eyes and taking a breath. “My roommate-- Scorpia wanted me to come meet the team. Tonight’s her first game starting in goal, right?”
“Oh! Yes. It-It is. Um.” Adora opened her mouth to say something before deciding otherwise.
Catra narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“You’re, um. You’re still holding my hand.” Adora was trying and failing miserably to hide a blush.
Catra looked down and was greeted with the sight of two joined hands. Shit. “Oh. Um. Right.” Suddenly embarrassed, Catra let go far too quickly than was probably polite.
If Adora noticed, she didn’t comment. “Well, anyway, it’s nice of you to do that for her.”
Tamping down the blush she could feel starting to spread, Catra shrugged with as dismissive an air as she could muster. “It’s nothing. She’s-- y’know, a good friend to me.”
“Right,” Adora said, eyes shining with something Catra couldn’t place. “Well, come meet the team, then!” She started hustling back down the stairs. Sometime in between Adora falling and Catra revealing that she does, on occasion, feel an emotion, the rest of the team had finished their run. They stood, panting, around the tunnel’s opening.
As soon as she saw Catra, Scorpia broke out into a huge smile and waved her over before presenting her proudly to the group. “Oh, good, you met Adora! Everyone else, I want you to meet my best-friend-slash-roommate!” Catra waved awkwardly at the circle of people.
“Oh, I remember you! We saw you earlier today, right?” A man she recognized as Arrow Boy from that morning was smiling at her. Sure enough, there was Sparkles next to him. Both of them had a small A on their practice shirts. “I’m Bow! I’m #14 on the ice.”
Catra couldn’t help herself. “You’re kidding. That’s your name?”
Bow nodded, seemingly unbothered. “Sure is! I picked it myself,” He said proudly.
“So, is the arrow gimmick on purpose? Or--”
“Actually,” Sparkles interrupted, frowning at her from beside Bow, “It’s because he’s gotten so good at sniping. I once watched him nail a target in a moving car from 50 feet away.”
Scorpia nodded cheerfully. “It’s true! Bow’s got killer aim. Speaking of moving,” Scorpia said, gesturing to Sparkles, “This is Glimmer!” Sparkles -- whose real name was really Glimmer, apparently, as if it made a difference -- did a big, overdramatic curtsy. “#7. Fastest skater on the team by a long shot.”
Now, Glimmer’s frown was replaced by a slight blush, and she waved a dismissive hand. “Aw, come on. Cut it out.”
Scorpia continued, and introduced Catra to at least ten more people. There were Sea Hawk and Mermista, who played together as a defensive pair even though it looked like Mermista was a few seconds from wringing his neck at any given moment; Perfuma, who wasn’t much for checking or physical contact, but was an excellent passer; and Frosta, who was much for checking, and held the team record for most penalty minutes in a single year.
Then, there was another defensive pair named Spinnerella and Netossa who spent the whole time arguing over which of them had a better shot while holding hands; and some guy named Swift Wind -- is that his real name or just a nickname? -- that had more hair than brain cells, but seemed sweet.
Finally, Scorpia ended with--
“--Adora, our fearless She-Ra!”
At the mention of her name, Adora put on a shy smile, giving Catra a little wave. “Hi. I’m team captain, I center our first line with Bow and Glimmer on the wings, and I wear #18.”
Catra frowned. “Wait, She-Ra? What’s that?”
“That,” Bow said proudly, “Is Adora’s nickname.”
“Sometimes when she’s on the ice, she can get a little… aggressive,” Glimmer said, seamlessly picking up where Bow left off. “That’s when She-Ra comes out. She gets this crazy goal-scoring, punchy tunnel vision. It’s awesome.”
Bow nodded sagely, then leaned in towards Catra and spoke with the loudest stage whisper she’d ever heard. “Last year, she leveled three guys at the same time because they tripped me in the first period. Took out a whole line. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Adora jabbed an elbow into Bow’s side. “Wh-whaaaat?” She laughed nervously. “That’s-that’s totally exaggerated. Come on, I doubt Catra wants to hear about that.”
“Wow,” Catra coughed, trying in vain to erase the image of Adora and her sexy, defined arms beating the shit out of people. “That’s-- wow. Maybe I’ll get to see her tonight.” Before she could embarrass herself further, she started her goodbyes. “Well. Nice to meet you guys. I’m sure you have more important things to do than this, so I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it. Good luck tonight. Break a leg, or something. Uh. Lose a tooth.” Spinning on her heel, she turned to leave.
Behind her, she heard Adora give out a few commanding-sounding orders before the team started to move again, and ducked into the main lobby to let them continue. She ignored the feeling blossoming in her chest -- a dangerous mixture of warmth and, unfortunately, excitement -- at the sound.
Hockey had never had much of an appeal to her. She had bumped into enough players in her time to get a vague sense of how the game worked -- ice, pucks, sticks, fighting -- but there had never been much of a spark for her. Now, though… Catra let her mind wander, and gray eyes and a smug grin popped into her mind unbidden. She shook her head hard, as if trying to physically dislodge the traitorous, horny thoughts her mind was conjuring up.
It was going to be a long night.