Work Text:
The winter holidays always tended to mean extra business in The Lanes. People whose families had been lost in one ordeal or another, or those who simply had nowhere else to go and just wanted to get out of the cold. After all, winters always did get nasty in The Underworld and when it turns cold and dark, it’s nice to seek shelter in a warm bar that always has a crowd of people to chat with and a warm meal to eat. That’s where you came into the picture, smiling down at your seated patrons of The Last Drop and asking about their lives as you noted down their orders. The jukebox was alive, the fireplace roaring, and the billiard tables crowded with people grasping pints of ale.
It was a good night for business, and the scenery caused a happy warmth to fill your chest.
It was there, amongst one of your several trips between tables and the bar counter, that you could feel a familiar pair of eyes on you. You didn’t even need to turn and look back at the man behind the counter to know that he was watching you, gazing with those steely grey eyes that glinted in the lantern light. Instead, you focused on the customers as you handed an order to a young chemworker that frequented the bar on cold nights. The gaze didn’t leave your back as you smiled and asked if he was keeping careful down in the pit. It also didn’t leave you as you moved back to the counter to grab your next order, only this time you let your eyes glance up as you approached the wooden barrier. There were people in front of him as he filled their orders, and yet his eyes barely left you as a small, loving smile remained painted on his leathered face.
As you tucked in behind the counter, grabbing a glass to fill up another pint, you found yourself sidling up closer to your Husband than absolutely necessary. You pull the tap, finding a small smile was itching at your lips. “You’re staring again.”
“Maybe I see something I like, Lovely.” Your Husband and co-owner of The Last Drop, Vander, the feared ‘Hound of the Underground’ smiled down back at you. His broad frame towered over your own, and his lightly wrinkled face continued to grin at your blushing facial features. You didn’t meet his eyes, instead opting to roll yours in a half-assed attempt to rebuke his flirtatious tone.
“We have a business to run, ogle me during closing hours.” You gently nudged him with your shoulder, which fell much lower than his own, as you let go of the tap and placed the drink on your tray. Making your way around to the other side of the bar, you catch Vander’s eyes once again. “Trust me, I fully intend to,” he whispers, accent rolling off his tongue. Another wave of blush floods through your face as you turn on your heel, heading over to your next patron-an old friend and regular, Sevika.
You and Vander had opened the bar together years ago, after the failed uprising and Silco, when the two of you had sworn to retire from your life of violence and lead a new life; a life of simplicity and parenthood. Gone were the long nights of planning and fighting, hung up to dry like Vander's iron gauntlets. In its place were the four beautiful children you took in and The Last Drop. Vander had started the uprising to create a better world for you both and the rest of The Lanes. And if that wasn’t possible through fighting back against Piltover and their bucket-head enforcers, then he had sworn to make that dream come true within the Lanes itself. And likewise, you had promised to remain by his side, through thick and thin, as you both vowed to make a better life for your sons and daughters.
And here you were, years later, and all but successful in that. No longer was it just Vander, Silco, and you against all of Piltover; running from enforcers every day, picking fights, and scraping by on whatever food you could get your hands on. You had a good, solid life with a prospering business as you worked together as a team to protect the citizens of the Underworld, one pint of ale at a time. Sure it wasn’t perfect, what with the politics, Grayson, the money troubles, the kids always getting into trouble…but it was a nice life, and you wouldn't change it for the world.
“Here you go, Sevika.” You smiled down at the strong woman as you placed her ale in front of her. As per usual, she sat at one of the card tables with a collection of men, all of which looked small enough for the woman to throw across the room. “How’re the winnings looking tonight?” The warrior grunted and sent you a devilish smirk, “night’s still young.”
Just as you were about to respond, movement caught your eye and you saw the front door of the bar swing open. Your head craned slightly, only for your stomach to drop as you saw your kids walk in looking bruised and scratched up. Most of it looked minor, but what worried you most was the sight of Vi and Mylo with one of Claggor’s arms each around their shoulders, helping him limp into the back. They tried to avoid your and Vander’s gazes, but everyone knew that they were far from invisible. After a moment of shock, you and Vander looked to one another in silent communication before your feet took off.
Anxiously, you barely sent Sevika a quick “excuse me” before rushing to the other side of the bar, practically chucking your tray onto the countertop and dodging tables of patrons as you dashed to the four youths.
“Here, here, let me.” You spoke, practically shooing Vi and Mylo away as you took Claggor’s limping form into your grasp. The bigger of the boys tried to say something to you, but his lip was so busted open and swollen that you had to quietly shoosh him as you all made your way towards the back door that led to your living spaces. Managing down the stairs was a bit of a struggle, Vi having to help you balance the large boy as poor little Powder tried to spot everyone. But eventually, you made it to the couch where you gently sat Claggor down and crouched in front of him to examine his wounds. “Powder, honey, go get the medkit.”
As the blue-haired girl scampered up the steps, you gently took your oldest son’s face in your hands. His goggles had been smashed, the left lens completely gone and revealing a particularly nasty black eye. Thankfully, however, as you used one of Mylo’s pocket knives to slice off the goggles, you found that none of the glass had gotten into his eyes. There was the cut on his swollen lip, which looked like it went all the way down to his chin, and his nose was certainly broken, but other than that there were only minor cuts and bruises on his face. However, as your analyses moved to his body, you could tell that he had probably broken at least one rib, and his ankle had been mangled pretty badly. You would also need to see if he had a concussion…
“Mylo, go heat up some water and get me a clean cloth.” You ordered, and the other boy ran off. It was then that you realized that Vi had taken a place sitting next to Claggor. You turned Vi with a stern, but kind, look. “Are the rest of you okay?”
She nodded, having a hard time looking you in the eye. “Powder’s barely got a scrape on her, I made sure of that. Mylo’s arm got dislocated but it was easy to put back into place. But he’s got a couple cuts that should be looked at.”
“And you?”
Again, Vi refused to meet your gaze, but you noticed the way that she rubbed at her knuckles. Gently, you took her hand, which caused Vi to flinch. Upon seeing this reaction, your eyes softened and-hit with sympathy-you were particularly gentle as you analyzed the broken skin around her hands. The knuckles were raw and bloodied, one appeared to already be infected. “If you're going to be punching people down here where it's gross, we need to get you some hand wraps, Darling. Or at least some gloves.” This caused Vi to look up, suddenly more hopeful, but you weren’t finished. “That doesn’t mean I’m endorsing this. Whatever happened-” “It wasn’t our fault! It was these…these bigger kids, in the upper levels! They kept shit-talking us and-” “Language, young lady.”
Your gaze hardened as Powder ran back inside with the medkit in tow. You turned to thank the younger of the sisters, but that didn’t mean you missed the way that Vi let out a huff of frustration.
Starting on Claggor’s wounds, muttering words of comfort to the young boy when the rubbing alcohol made him flinch, you weren’t surprised when Vi continued with her story, her voice and tone rising as she went on. “They were talking…smack to us, kept picking on us-especially Powder! Calling her a runt and all that...and they started the fighting when they pushed Mylo into a wall.”
“That’s still no reason to be running into people’s fists and getting yourselves hurt like this.” Claggor attempted to speak again, but you placed a careful hand on his chest. “I'm sorry Sweetheart, but you’re going to make your lip worse. Try not to speak.”
“They weren’t just saying stuff about us.” Mylo piped up as he came in holding a bowl of steaming water and a clean cloth. “They were also saying stuff about you and Vander! We couldn’t just let that fly!”
This caught you off-guard, staring like a deer in the headlights at the smaller of the boys as he tried to pass you the water bowl. After a moment, however, you finally took the bowl and placed it on the ground beside you. Frowning, the room remained in a still silence as you continued your work. Even the hissing noises that Claggor made as you dabbed ointment to his wounds seemed to be lowered in volume as you quietly thought through your next few words.
“You know Vander and I love you all so, so much.” You didn't look up from your work. “And we both know that you all feel the same. What you did today, sticking up for others, it was very brave and is exactly the kind of empathy and courage that we’ve tried to instill in you. But I can promise you that we don’t need you speaking up on our behalf.” Mylo and Vi began to say something again, piping up loudly in objection, but you held a hand up to silence them. Thankfully, this was successful.
“Part of the politics of our roles here down in The Lanes is that sometimes, more often than we’d like, people aren’t going to agree with us, and sometimes these disagreements are going to lead to violent intentions. But this doesn’t mean that you four need to be fighting our battles for us. We know that you’re all very strong and brave, and more than capable of taking a punch. But it doesn’t mean you need to. Vander and I both love you all far too much to ever be okay with anyone laying a finger on you, that’s why we worry so much about you guys. So…can you just promise me that from now on, whenever people are shit-talking us, that you won’t try and debate them with your fists? That would help us a whole lot more than getting yourselves all bruised up like this.”
“You said the s-word!” Powder exclaimed loudly, causing you to bark back a laugh.
“Yes I did, that’s something adults get to do from time to time.” You smile down at the little blue-haired girl, who grins back at you with a mouth full of missing baby teeth.
“We promise to try and do better next time.” Vi nodded. “And we’re sorry."
“We won’t do it again, we promise!” Powder pipped up.
Instead of trying to talk, Claggor just nodded his head slightly. Then, after a long moment wherein Vi sent him a particularly nasty look, Mylo finally sighed loudly. “Yeah, whatever, we’re sorry…”
“It’s okay, my loves.” You gave them all a warm smile. “Once my hands aren’t so bloody, you can make it up to me with some hugs later.”
All in all, it took you a couple of hours to finally finish up patching up the kids. This included a good thirty minutes of Vander coming down after an early closing and demanding to know what had happened, and then trying to calm him down when he got into an overprotective mood, going on and on about how they shouldn’t be so close to the topside and how their actions had been idiotic. Once he had calmed down a bit, however, he gave the kids one of his speeches as you moved on from Claggor's wounds to start dressing Vi's.
At the end of the whole thing, you finally got all of them in bed (after a few minutes of Powder showing off her newest invention). As you and your husband finally tucked them in for the night, you gave each of the kids a small peck to their foreheads and could feel the atmosphere return to its normal contentedness. Within these walls when it was just the six of you, you weren’t the leaders of the Underground. You weren’t The Hound, his wife, and the orphans of the uprising. You were just a family, no more and no less.
Your family.
Vander shut the door behind you both as you stepped into the darkened hallway, where you turned to face him.
“I think that went rather well, all things expected.” You spoke, leaning against the wall. Vander let out a long, heavy sigh and pulled out his pipe and lighter.
“You patched them up well enough, and I’m glad we managed to talk some sense into them.” He spoke as he flicked his lighter a few times, the flame finally emerging.
You frowned. “But…”
“If kids up a-ways are starting to talk about us, that means their folks are talkin’ too. If too many people start questioning us and our authority to this extent…” You pushed off the wall, stepping close to the mountain of a man and placing your hands on his chest. You could feel the tenseness in his muscles, and the way that he looked down at the ground with furrowed brow instead of meeting your gaze, all of which concerned you. He took his first puff of the pipe, then you moved your hand to cup his face and force his gaze onto you.
“It’s not like we didn’t know that folks were starting to get antsy.” You spoke, watching as he angled his head to blow the smoke away from your face. “What’s important is that the kids are okay, and they know that they don’t need to be getting involved in this stuff or protecting us. We can deal with people and their opinions another day.”
Vander looked as if he wanted to say something else, to which you responded with a stern look. “You can’t make everyone happy, and you can’t always keep everyone safe all the time. We protect what’s ours, and do the best we can otherwise.”
It took a long moment of silence, wherein the two of you gazed at each other, silently debating with your eyes until Vander finally gave in. Letting out yet another deep exhale, he let his head fall into the crook of your neck, your hand moving from his face to his shoulder to hold him close.
“You’re right, I’m sorry Love.” He breathed, and your hold on him tightened as you could feel the tension release from his muscles. The large man in your arms, the feared caretaker of the dark Underground, was melting into your embrace in your cramped and dusty hallway.
You rubbed comforting circles on his back and peppered soft kisses to his broad shoulders. “You don’t need to apologize, Van. You’re just being protective again is all.” You responded, barely a whisper.
“I can’t stand seeing them get hurt.” He confessed. “This world, this place…they deserve so much better, you all do. I just wish I could give it to you or at least do something about it.”
“You are doing something about it.” You frowned, pulling away slightly so you could look him in the eyes. “Giving them a home: a roof over their head, a warm meal in their bellies, and kind words of wisdom when they need them...it’s a whole lot more than they’d have if you weren’t here to look out for them.”
“If we weren’t here to look out for them.” He sternly corrected, his eyes burning into yours. “I couldn’t do any of this without you, Love.”
This caused a small smile to grace your features, and you leaned up to gently press a kiss to his chapped lips. He returned the action, one of his thick hands moving to hold your cheek as he leaned into your kiss. After a moment, you slowly pulled away. “Thankfully, you won’t ever have to. I’m with you no matter what, ‘for better or for worse’ and all that. Here in our home; in The Lanes, or anywhere else.”
His other hand moved to yours, fingering the metal band on your ring finger. “For richer or for poorer…particularly the poorer.”
“And as long as you’re here with me, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled and leaned up for yet another kiss. You could feel his lips smile into the exchange, then felt his hand move from your grasp to the small of your back, pulling you into him. Purring lightly, warmth washed through your body and you angled your head, feeling the slight scratching of his beard. The bastard you call a husband fucking smirked at this reaction and, had your eyes been open, you would have rolled them as his hands slowly descended to the curve of your ass. Normally, this would have been your indicator to jump, let him lift you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, and feel yourself give in as he'd either press you firmly against the wall or carry you to your shared bed. However, this time, you paused as the ever so slightest creaking sound met your ears.
You pulled away, breathless and lips pulsing, and were met with the sight of your husband with wide, lustful eyes. You lifted a finger, indicating him to hold that thought, then reached over to the door. Twisting the knob, it practically fell open and was promptly followed by the tumbling bodies of Powder, Vi and Mylo who collapsed onto the ground in front of you. Vander’s head dropped back, curse words escaping under his breath as he detached from you.
“I should’a known it was far too bloody quiet in there. Back to bed, you heathens, the lot of you!” He roared, practically chasing the three children back into their rooms and into their beds. As they scampered off the ground, you couldn’t help but laugh and lean up against the doorframe.
This life was far from perfect. But it was yours, with the people and place that you loved most in this world. You were making a real difference, in your own way, and could watch as your family grew and became better versions of themselves. So yes, it wasn't perfect, but moments like this where you could see the love and excitement that came with having a family like yours...you wouldn't give it up for anything.