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Plastic shovel in hand, she trudges down the path, convincing herself that a visit to Scorpia’s book café would be worth it. They’d just got in a new queer novel from her favourite author, and as soon as the stupid driveway is clear, she (and a hot coffee) can binge the whole thing in one sitting. Making her first swipe with the shovel, Catra clears a square of the driveway, and feels a modicum of satisfaction at her progress.
Then she promptly slips and face-plants the snow.
Laying for a moment, Catra ignores the stinging of her palms and the cold nipping at her nose to collect herself. She had not, in fact, considered the risk that the ground under the snow would be slippery, and for that, she is paying the price.
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OR, Catra slips in the snow and Adora helps her. That's it, that's the fic.