Chapter Text
Adora does not belong at this party.
The moment she steps into the oversized conference-room-turned-event-venue she knows, absolutely knows that everyone can tell she shouldn't be here. She already felt horribly plain in her simple red dress next to Glimmer's dazzling outfit and now—
Everyone at this party is gorgeous and she hates it. She had been imagining a bunch of well, nerds, people who spent all their free time huddled in dusty, poorly-lit libraries reading about thinks like "restorative justice" and "legal precedent" not a room full of supermodels in designer clothing and at least two women who looked like they belonged on an Olympic weightlifting team.
Of course, Adora couldn't ask Glimmer why the heck her mom's nonprofit was staffed with impossibly gorgeous women without acknowledging that she noticed said women and starting a conversation she really didn't feel like having today.
Glimmer must have noticed her tensing up, and gave her a friendly elbow to the side. "Come on, Adora, it's just an office party, it's no big deal."
Adora buries her face in her hands. "An office party with you know, your mom, AKA the scariest boss in the world who is already on the verge of firing you and who will absolutely hold you accountable for anything embarrassing I do tonight? Glimmer, this is the biggest deal. Like, cosmically big. Galactically big. Like, I-could-get-my-best-friend-fired-and-ruin-her-life, big."
"Adoraaaa," Glimmer sighs. "Mom isn't gonna fire me just because you ate too many canapés or whatever. It's a party! Relax! Try to enjoy yourself!"
"Glimmer I don't even know what a canapé is," Adora groans. "Why couldn't Bow have come instead? He's great at this sort of thing."
"Because," Glimmer says, "Bow is sick and can barely walk, let alone make conversation for several hours."
"We could have brought him in a wheelchair, or, or, maybe some kind of puppetry. I could have carried him in and then hid behind him all night so nobody noticed me!" Adora grabs Glimmer by the shoulders. "Glimmer it's not too late, I can sprint home and go get Bow right now, please say I can go get Bow right now—"
"Adora! " Glimmer snaps, before pausing to pinch the bridge of her nose and take a deep breath. "We. Are. Not. Getting. Bow. You can handle this. You promised me you'd be cool, remember?"
"Right. Cool. That's me, cool as a cucumber. Yessir. Just… reaaaall cooool." Adora shoots Glimmer a pair of hesitant finger guns. "I can do this." Glimmer gives her a reassuring smile.
That's when Adora sees her, and realizes that she can definitely not, ever in a million years, do this.
Because she knows that woman in the crisp burgundy suit with the slicked back hair casually sipping a drink and looking like she is perfectly at home with all this absurd luxury. She knows the entire shape of her, the way her voice squeaks when she laughs, the location of every perfect freckle on her soft, dark skin, the way she smiles when she's admitting to having any kind of feelings at all, small and almost afraid, the taste of her mouth when she's been whimpering—
"What-" Adora starts, too quietly, before clearing her throat and deciding to play her cards a little closer to her chest. "Who is that?"
"Who?" Glimmer asks before following Adora's eyeline across the room. "Oh her? That's Catra, she started working here a few months ago. She's our best trial lawyer, we're pretty lucky we got her to come over here before she could get snapped up by some corporate law office. And," Glimmer added in a conspiratorial tone, "her tongue is just as good outside the courtroom if you know what I'm saying."
Adora goes rigid with horror. "You don't— Glimmer— did you—"
Glimmer snorts. "God, I wish. She's just got a reputation for being some kind of lesbian sex god, and I know at least a couple of girls in the office who can confirm there's truth to that. Sadly, I'm not exactly her type, she's more into tall, athletic girls. Probably worked her way through half of the women's pro sports teams in the city by now." Glimmer gives Adora a quick, appraising once-over. "You'd probably have a chance with her though."
Adora is really glad she hasn't tried to grab any food yet, because she'd definitely be choking on it. Catra? She thinks. As in, my Catra? Freaks-out-if-anyone-so-much-as-hugs-her, Catra?
Glitter mistakes the confused spluttering for embarrassment (and to be fair there's a non-zero amount of that as well, Adora can feel her cheeks burning). "Sorry, just teasing. I know you don't swing that way. Come on, let's go get you some food, I'm sure you'll feel better after that."
Except. Adora does swing that way. That extremely specific, Catra-centric way. It's pretty much the only way she's ever swung, as it were, all of her half-hearted relationship attempts since then slipping her through her fingers like sand until she simply stopped trying. There's nobody for her other than Catra, and she'd fucked up her only shot with her. She's come to accept that.
Except.
Catra was here, working in her best friend's office, leaning against the wall less than thirty feet away and—
Oh.
Oh, shit.
And looking directly at her.
Adora does not belong at this party.
Of that, Catra is certain.
Not just because Adora is a fucking ghost from her past who doesn't belong anywhere in her life anymore, but because of the awkward, shy way she's holding herself like she's afraid someone is going to reveal her as a fraud and send her packing at any moment. Catra gets it, more or less, remembers the first time she got invited to a swanky party like this back in law school, how she felt like everyone could tell she was just orphaned, merit scholarship, small-town trash trying to sneak her way into the big leagues, the way people tossed back drinks that cost more money than she would have seen in a year growing up. It had made her skin crawl. She almost feels bad for the girl.
It is incredibly satisfying to watch Adora squirm, though.
Who's the weak one now, Adora?
Adora hasn't seen her yet, which means Catra still has time to affect disinterest, leaning on the wall and turning back to her conversation with DT.
"Eying up your next conquest, kitten? She's definitely your type." Of course, DT noticed her staring. They notice everything . It's what makes them such a damn good staff lawyer, and also what makes them, on occasion, deeply infuriating to be around.
Catra snorts derisively. It's almost convincing. "As if. I can do much better than some pretentious blonde in a department store dress. I mean, look at her."
"Oh believe me kitten I am looking. Since when do you care about fancy clothes, anyway? What's underneath is much more interesting."
Since it was fucking Adora wearing them.
"Whatever," Catra grumbles. "You go hit on her if you think she's so interesting." She pointedly ignores the twinge of jealousy in her stomach at the idea of Adora being subjected to Double Trouble of all people.
"Hmm… normally I'd consider it but it looks like our blonde bombshell here has eyes only for you, kitten." DT smirks and unsubtly steals the olive from Catra's martini.
Catra doesn't notice, because she's made the horrible mistake of looking back Adora's way and finding her still staring and oh, shit that's definitely eye contact and fuck were her eyes always that disgustingly blue?
Yes, part of her whispers and Catra takes a moment to smother that thought to death before throwing back the rest of her drink and handing the empty glass off to Double Trouble.
"I think I'm gonna go look over next week's filings in my office. Don't come looking for me." DT raises a single microbladed eyebrow.
"We perfected those filings days ago, darling. It's a party, ree- lax."
"Boring party anyway," she mutters before slipping out of the conference room and into the dark hallway.