Chapter Text
Whenever Mel was in Piltover, Caitlyn made sure to set aside time to visit with her old friend, whether it was a fancy, formal dinner or a casual breakfast at some corner cafe.
Or whether it was this, sitting across from one another on the velvet-green armchairs in the study, the hearth hot and humid. The scratch of soft music played from the gramophone in the corner, an old record picked out by Vi from a music shop down in Zaun. The dogs laid at their feet, black and brown fur blending in with the earthy plush carpet. They sipped red wine out of half-filled glasses that were once full, nodding and murmuring thoughtfully, softly, to one another over the crackle of the fire, the fire Caitlyn occasionally got up to tend to, grabbing the poker and pushing at the ember-glow of the burnt logs. The heavy, dark curtains were parted in the middle, allowing a sliver of silver-white moonlight to stream in from the tall window behind them.
The sky was dark and starless above them. It was getting late. Caitlyn should retire soon to her bedroom, really, and Mel had to return to her hotel, even when Caitlyn insisted they had room for her here at the Manor. Even more than ever, Mel was still polite but persistent, all regal and reserved. She didn’t want to impose. However, they both had the same place to be in the morning. A yearly Council meeting Mel sailed the seas to attend, something about trade routes and tax adjustments on imported goods.
Caitlyn swore she nearly nodded off every year, but the Sheriff sleeping in a diplomatic Council conference would do no good, so she forced her eye to stay open.
If anything, she was grateful for the excuse to see Mel, who had grown to be one of her closest, dearest friends, a mentor of sorts. A sister in all but blood, bonds forged in battle and a deep understanding that went unsaid between them. They exchanged letters often, but Caitlyn cherished this time the most, the times when they weren’t an ocean away.
Mel had arrived early this morning and Caitlyn had gone out to the harbor to greet her as she docked. Caitlyn was accompanied by Steb and Mel was accompanied by her own small fleet, dressed and draped in deep, dark reds and blacks of Noxus. It took some getting used to, used to shades of white and gold, but Caitlyn couldn’t deny it fitted her friend well, and she was still happy to see pieces of her still present, flecks of gold freckles on the crest of cheeks and shiny-steel glinting against the curve of a shoulder. Flashes of amber woven between dark, coiled braids, all swept up into a bundle by a bright, beautiful cuffed hairclip.
The light of the dawn had glinted and gleamed as Mel walked down the gangplank and shifted Caitlyn into a simple embrace, sucking in a short breath as she did so. When her friend pulled away, Caitlyn saw the tiredness in familiar green, gold-speckled eyes, the tautness of her smile and the tense line of her shoulders. It was a sight that was all too familiar, one that Caitlyn felt all the way down to her own barest bones.
They had exchanged simple pleasantries, hands clasped together, as the anchor was sunk and the ship was settled. Then, Caitlyn presently had to return to the Precinct, and Mel had her own meetings and matters to attend to all over the city. They had separated with the promise of reuniting that night for a late dinner at the Manor after a long day.
Talia, the cook, had outdone herself once again, with sea bass with saffron and risotto duck confit salad with frisée and poached pear. They sat close together at the long, lengthy table in the dining room of the Manor, sipping cups of both warm chamomile tea and sparkling white champagne.
Artemis and Apollo sat at attention at the end of the table, drool drying against their soft muzzles that Caitlyn pressed her palms to, pilfering them bites of duck. They acted like they hadn’t been fed, two scoops of kibble in their ceramic bowls, their names stamped across the shiny tiling. She looked over her shoulder and patted the top of their heads the way she did when she was a girl sneaking them food under the table, but there was no one there to scold her or shoo the dogs away.
The dining room usually felt too large and empty, with Vi gone for the evening and her father having retired to his own townhouse further into the city once they had married, wanting to give the young couple a sense of safety and security. Privacy.
Caitlyn supposed she only had herself to blame. Her poor father had walked in on her and Vi in… compromising positions in compromising places. In the kitchen, the gardens, the gym…
But, for once, the dining room was being used to host a guest. They talked as they ate, forks scraping porcelain plates and glasses clinking against the dark tabletop, everything from polite pleasantries and past talk, to pleasure and politics. They laughed together, sometimes giggling like gossiping schoolgirls, covered by knuckles pressed to mouths and pursed lips.
Somehow, they ended up in the study, sitting in the matching armchairs, legs crossed at the ankles, and a new bottle of wine opened between them, generous glasses poured and poured. The conversation drifted to the meeting tomorrow, murmurings of curiosity. Mutterings of complaints.
Still, the idea of it was so dull and dismal that they ended up in such a situation in the study, sipping wine, brought over by Mel as a gift. Noxian wine was always hard on Caitlyn’s stomach, heavy and hearty, but she drank it all the same, feeling it in the crook of her throat. In the coil of her stomach.
Caitlyn complained, of course, about crabby Councilors and challenging cases. She didn’t miss the way Mel’s mouth quirked up in one corner at the mention of a certain Councilor. Sevika was still as stubborn as ever, set, or stuck, in her ways, not that Caitlyn could ever fault her for that.
While Caitlyn began to rant and ramble, Mel sat with her chin in her fist. She still sat stiff and steady, legs crossed, arching an eyebrow when needed or pursing her lips. Her golden markings seemed to glow in the flicker of the flames. She seemed to contrast Caitlyn in every way, calm and composed, straight in every way she slipped. Her other hand ghosted the circular rim of her glass absentmindedly as she listened to Caitlyn, whose accent was growing more high and heavy, lilting, with every sip of the finely-aged alcohol.
Caitlyn had grown more languid and lazy as the night wore on, eyepatch loose against the curve of her cheek. Her hair was pulled up into a lax ponytail, wispy strands framing her forehead and sticking to the side of her temples. She had changed out of her uniform and into her usual dark turtleneck and high-waisted trousers before dinner, and was glad for it now as she slumped over slightly and sank into her chair, recalling a recent case that had her running in circles like a dog chasing its own tail.
“And it turns out he was the one who did it!” Caitlyn exclaimed, exasperated, cheeks flushed a pretty daylily pink. “All along, I thought I was missing something but, no, the podge had pilfered his own stocked shelves.”
Mel furrowed dark, gold-studded eyebrows. “The shopkeeper robbed his own store?”
“Yes,” Caitlyn said bitterly now, the dregs of her wine swirling in her glinting glass, hazy in the fireside light. “The ruse went on for a week. A week.” She rubbed at her temples, shaking her head. “What a waste of perfectly good resources. I look back now and realize how foolish I was.”
“Caitlyn Kiramman?” Mel echoed evenly, raising one eyebrow. The ghost of a smile twitched at her lips, painted a shade of red the same as the wine, smearing the gilded-gold edge of her glass. “A fool?”
Caitlyn sent her a flat look, still surprisingly sharp with her singular eye. “Please,” she muttered dryly, her tone still tinged with the slightest bit of amusement. “Suspend your disbelief.”
Mel dropped her eyebrow and sighed, sucking in a small sip. “This city has changed,” she said as she swallowed. “But, in some small ways, it hasn’t.”
Caitlyn shook her head and uttered something incoherently incomprehensible under bated breath.
Mel gave a small smile and tipped her glass towards Caitlyn, shifting the conversation the way her ship had steered into Piltover’s port this very morning. “Annoyances aside,” she said slowly. Softly. Her eyes seemed to shine. “How is Vi?”
Subconsciously, Caitlyn’s palm brushed the cool metal bracketing her ring finger. It was simple, just a band of shiny gray steel, the Kiramman crest sketched and stitched onto the surface. Underneath, For Eternity was etched in Ionian, as well as the date of their wedding. It was also small and simple, a private, intimate affair. Held in the Kiramman gardens, attended only by their closest friends and family.
Two years now, she thought with the slightest of a small smile.
Caitlyn dipped her head politely, remembering her proper manners despite the fizzy, fuzzy feeling behind her forehead and the bubbling in her belly. “She regrets that she couldn’t make it tonight, but she sends her regards through me.”
Mel raised her eyebrow, looking around the room as if the red-headed Zaunite would suddenly appear. “And where is she, if I may ask?”
“You may,” Caitlyn said, grinning against her glass as she swallowed another sip, both bitter and bubbly down her throat. “She’s in Zaun tonight.”
Mel raised her other eyebrow.
“There’s been a… situation, of sorts,” Caitlyn explained, now frowning. “With the piping system.”
“Oh,” Mel murmured in surprise, green-gold eyes widening.
Zaun had undergone all sorts of construction after the war. Water and sewage piping, public housing, more community centers like gardens and libraries and schools, free clinics. Most of the reconstruction and reconciliation efforts had been pulled out of the Kiramman coffers, a price Caitlyn was willing and wanting to pay, after all that had happened. All she had done.
But, the past was past, and Caitlyn was looking forward to the future. She didn’t want to dig deeper in the troubled trenches of the past, of Piltover and Zaun.
Caitlyn nodded. “Yes. Leakages, bursts, flooding, all of it.” Her lips pursed. She could still taste the faint tangy tannins of the wine on them, like cedar and dried cherry. Like leather and tobacco. “It’s terrible.” She waved her hand, making a vague gesture. “But Vi’s been down there since early this morning. They need to relocate some people until they come to a solution.”
Mel smiled softly against the seal of her glass, stealing her own sip now too. “She has always had a bleeding heart, hasn’t she?”
It was not condescending or sarcastic. Just an observation. A statement. And a true one. Vi had always been both so strong and so soft and she was finally able to accept that those two things could coexist.
You have a good heart, she had told Vi a lifetime ago, and still meant it even today.
“Yeah,” Caitlyn said now, a bit breathless. “She’s good.”
“She is good to you,” Mel murmured on. “Good for you.” She stared at Caitlyn, scrutinizing and studying all at the same time. “Marriage suits you, Mrs. Kiramman.”
Being referred to as Mrs. Kiramman didn’t stun her as much as it once did. At first, it had stung. She could only think of her mother, of graying brown hair and gloved hands guiding her own against the stock of the tiny training rifle. The first time she had been referred to as such, by a young, fresh-faced Enforcer, a rookie recruit, she had retired to her office to sit and stare at the wall, leaving behind a very confused cadet.
Now, Caitlyn giggled girlishly, helplessly, into her glass. A warmth settled in her chest, and it had nothing to do with the wine. She cast an appreciative glance in her friend’s direction, her eye aglow with the same fervor of the fire. Mel only returned her gaze, smiling in that small, soft way.
Mel had always been one of their quietest supporters. She had seen firsthand the deep devotion the two women felt, two women on frontlines of a war that had fought and fallen and then found the way back to each other again, beaten and broken and battered. But as long as their hearts beat and pumped blood and their lungs drew breath, they would always fight to find each other once more.
Mel had been by Caitlyn’s bedside too, seen Vi beside her, sleeping in chairs and squished to the sides of small hospital beds. Vi had been there to see Mel off alongside Caitlyn, whose head was wrapped in bandaged gauze and had a brace on her knee, leaning heavily on a cane as she passed Mel her well-wishes before she departed for Noxus. Vi stood nearby, sticking to Caitlyn’s side, her shoulder still in a sling. She used her one free arm to loop her arm through Caitlyn’s, and later used it to give Mel a small hug, a slight squeeze and a sharp breath. A silent thank you, but being there when she couldn’t be. For helping to staunch the bleeding at Caitlyn’s side and getting her to the hospital as quickly as possible.
She quickly made it a priority to see Mel whenever she was in the city, whether it was dinner with her and Vi or just a drink in the drawing room. They wrote to each other often. Mel sent gifts—bottles of wine, brushes and fine, fancy paint when she heard Vi had taken up painting, and books she thought the wives would enjoy. Mel was also one of the first people Caitlyn had penned an invite to after she proposed to Vi. She wanted her to be there, and she was.
Mel was there the morning of the wedding, the early part of dawn where Caitlyn found herself weeping and wallowing, missing her mother. Mel was deft fingertips swiping away stray tears and straightening folds and wrinkles in the bodice of her dress. She stood at her side while Ekko stood at Vi’s. She sipped on champagne as golden as her eyeshadow and soothed Caitlyn’s soul, sharing stories of Jayce and Cassandra, loved ones who couldn’t be there for Caitlyn’s big day.
Caitlyn was forever internally grateful for that day, and all those that came after.
“She is,” Caitlyn agreed now. Good in every way.
“Still working with Ekko?” She asked now as she tilted her head back and drank the last of her wine, the bottle still sitting half-empty on the low table between them. She had met the Firelight leader a few times at both formal and informal gatherings and had a deep admiration for the young man who was able to cobble together a whole community in the cracks of concrete and marble.
“Yes,” Caitlyn replied, nodding. She was glad Vi still had him, her true friend, a brother in all the ways that Mel was like Caitlyn’s sister. She also finished the last of her wine, burning and bitter. Bittersweet. “Most days.”
Mel hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm. That’s good.”
“Yes,” Caitlyn said again. Her hand shook slightly, red liquid shaping and swirling. She stared down at it, frowning. “But I think she overworks herself, sometimes.”
Mel cocked an eyebrow again. “I’m sure the same could be said about you, Sheriff.”
Caitlyn opened her mouth to reply, then closed it, smacking her lips. She couldn’t think of a clever enough retort or a smart, snide remark. She pinched her lips in reply, nostrils flaring slightly.
Mel sent her an amused glance. “You are allowed to take a break, you know,” she said, speaking slowly, tone softening affectionately. “The world didn’t break itself in a day, and it won’t fix itself in one either.”
Oh, now she sounded just like Vi.
Caitlyn’s jaw stiffened and set. “I have a duty to—”
“You also have a duty to yourself, and to your wife,” Mel chided. “You shouldn’t be so stiff, Cait. It’s unbecoming of a lady of your station.”
And now Mel was her mother.
Caitlyn rolled her eye. “I’m Sheriff,” she retorted. “That’s my job.”
“Take a vacation,” Mel suddenly suggested, eyes crinkling in the corners as she narrowed them at Caitlyn. “Do you still have that beautiful property outside the city?”
Caitlyn had spent warm springs and humid summers there as a girl when they weren’t making trips to visit her father’s family in Ionia. The Countryside Estate was smaller than the Manor, but just as grand, with dozens of bedrooms and entertainment spaces. Caitlyn recalled her fond memories there. A beautiful piano in the parlor she had first learned to play on as a little girl, her feet dangling from the bench, barely brushing the floor, her mother’s hands covering hers over the keys. There was also a sunroom with great views of the creek and the woods.
It was complete with a large shooting range, stables, and a kennel, where the finest Kiramman hunting dogs were found. Apollo and Artemis, who were still drowsy and dozing in front of the fire before them, were one of the last litters bred and born out there after the old breeder retired and moved away. The property itself held miles of forest and field, perfect for riding, hunting, and hiking. Quiet. Peaceful. No one to bother them. No one to hear them for miles. There, no one would be able to hear their screams. Their moans—
“I…” Caitlyn trailed off. “Yes, we do.” She then blinked, already shaking her head. “But I couldn’t possibly take time off. Not now, at least.”
“You should still loosen up,” Mel said rather smugly, setting her glass down. “I mean, unless Vi likes that there is a stick up your arse, but I really thought she would have removed it by now.”
Caitlyn’s eye flew open, cheeks flushing hot. “Mel.”
It was Mel’s turn to laugh, smothered by a palm pressed to her lips. Caitlyn, still blushing, blinked, gaze falling to the dark sky just visible beyond the big glass panes of the window. With a slow sigh, she set her glass down on the table next to the green-glass bottle, wrapped in gilded, gold foil, outlined in red and black. She stared down at it for a moment, swallowing and clearing her tight throat.
“It’s late,” she commented.
The gold stud at Mel’s browbone quivered. “I noticed.”
“And,” Caitlyn added. “We have to prepare for the demonstration tomorrow.”
Mel’s low groan was still muffled by her own hand. “Don’t remind me.”
Caitlyn chuckled, gaze still lingering on the glinting glass of the bottle. It was gleaming as the flames died in the fireplace. “Thank you for the wine.”
Suddenly, Mel’s eyes were gleaming too. “That’s not the only gift I brought, you know.”
Caitlyn’s own brows lifted. “Oh?”
Mel nodded and stood, stepping over to the sideboard, where she had set down something when they first entered the study. That felt like ages ago now, and Caitlyn had honestly forgotten. Now, she lifted it, and Caitlyn saw it was a box, thin and oblong, an indescript shade of plain white. The dogs lifted their heads as she rose, watching her walk over and back, box in hand. Artemis let out a low whine, and Apollo let out a long yawn.
“Consider it a late wedding present,” Mel said as she sauntered over and slid it into Caitlyn’s curious yet cautious hands. “Maybe this will help you and your bride unwind.”
“Oh?” Caitlyn asked again, intrigued.
“It’s a prototype, of sorts,” Mel said, making a vague gesture with the flick of her wrist, nails painted dark shades of onyx and obsidian. “Quite rare, I might add.” She settled back in her own chair, crossed her legs, and fixed Caitlyn with a waiting look, lips curled in a knowing smirk. “Go on.”
Caitlyn swallowed, not quite satisfied with that answer, but she slid the box open anyway. It was not polite to deny a gift from one of her oldest friends. When she lifted the lid, she was met with a sight that made her jaw slacken in surprise, something pert and phallic.
Oh.
Caitlyn quickly snapped it shut and stared up at Mel, who was staring back at her with a pointed expression, nails tapping impatiently against her chin.
“I—You—” Caitlyn sputtered, struggling to find the right words, or any words at this point. Her cheeks were still warm and flushed. She huffed. “Hmph.”
Mel smirked again as she reached to pour herself another glass of wine. She shrugged. “Maybe she really can remove that stick now.”
Caitlyn choked on air.
Vi didn’t return until late the next night.
Mel had departed earlier that evening after the dreaded Council demonstration, followed by another long day of luncheons and meetings with diplomats and directors, delegates and dignitaries. Caitlyn had meetings in the morning afterwards and investigations in the afternoon, a bulk of which was spent questioning a potential accomplice, an older man with flaky silver-white hair, bulging bright blue eyes, and sagging skin, slick with sweat under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the interviewing room, which was just a nicer name for interrogation room.
Caitlyn watched the sweat drip from his scalp, down the ridge of his browbone, and then slide down the crooked slope of his nose. It was almost hard to believe this sweaty, squirming man was supposedly an accessory to an armed robbery that took place in the nice jewelry store downtown, but this was hardly the most confusing case of her career.
She got the information she sought and got out quickly enough to make it to the harbor to see Mel off. Still dressed in her Sheriff uniform, she hugged her friend goodbye and promised to write soon. Mel returned her embrace eagerly and only let her go with one more smug glance and a sly look over the slant of her shoulder, over the dark silk-shine of her shawl. Caitlyn fought the urge to roll her eye, swallowing back a half-curse.
She knew the side glance was about it. Mel’s… gift, if that was the right word. The thing she had shoved back in the box and slid into a drawer in her bedroom dresser. Her and Vi had their own, other options tucked in a drawer low on the bedside table. Sure, they weren’t as extravagant as the new one. Intricate. Or blue, that soft haze of Hextech, which was, technically, outlawed. In Piltover, at least, though rules and regulations had been put in place all over after the war. Piltover served as a cautionary tale for many other countries.
No wonder Mel had to bring it from overseas, Caitlyn thought, stowing it away and smuggling it over like illegal cargo. Which, technically, it was, or could be. Which was why Caitlyn closed the box. Which was why she put it away. Which was why she definitely wasn’t thinking about it now.
She didn’t think about it as she watched the ship depart from the dock, sailing until it became a black dot on the horizon, gold speckles glittering around the edges as dusk fell over the city. She didn’t think about it as a soft breeze came in, bringing the scent of sea salt and lavender, wispy strands of her hair escaping her tight ponytail and whipping around, curling at her temples, soft streaks against the furrowed lines of her forehead as she didn’t think about it. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as she brushed back the strands of hair, took a deep breath, and turned to leave.
When she returned to the Manor, she made a beeline straight through their bedchambers, more so the bathroom, tugging her hair out of its ponytail and letting it fall long and loose. She hung her overcoat on the peg by the door and stripped off the outerwear layers of her uniform, folding them into a bundle to be laundered later. She liked it steamed and straightened, the buttons shined, at the end of every week.
She bent over the sink to pull off her patch and splash her face with cold water. She turned to the tub and ran the water, setting it to a nice warmth, hot enough to steam and shimmer. While the water ran, she rummaged through the alcove of assorted bath items, throwing in a pinch of lavender oil and the bath salts that Vi still teased her for, but she liked to smell each scent, taking a sniff whenever Caitlyn came back from a trip to the perfumery downtown.
A minute later, the tub was nearly filled, and Caitlyn stripped off her clothes, leaving them folded on the counter, and slipped into the warm, warm water, nearly shivering in delight as soon as the warmth slipped through her skin, soaking into sore muscles and tired tendons. She sighed contentedly and then settled by reclining backwards, resting her head on the edge of the cool white porcelain, legs lying long in front of her. She nearly wiggled her toes.
Caitlyn watched the ripples in the water for a moment, mesmerized, the circular, soapy-sud rings rushing and rolling, recoiling. She tipped her chin up to stare at the high slants of the vaulted ceiling above. She closed her eye for a moment, eyelashes fluttering, but it opened only a moment later when the door to the bedroom opened from beyond, followed by the sound of creaking leather and heavy boots. The jingle of the dogs’ collar and their bark as the door closed, no doubt greeting their familiar and favorite owner. The rustle of fabric and cloth, the shuffling of the sheets.
Vi.
Caitlyn sat up as the bathroom door brushed open, twisting her shoulders and turning her head to catch a glimpse of her wife, who stood in the doorway, surveying the scene in front of her like a sinner taking in the face of a saint, her features sharpening, then softening.
Caitlyn fought the rather strong urge to launch herself out of the tub and into her wife’s waiting arms. But, alas, she was currently soaking wet (not that Vi would mind, she often preferred Caitlyn when she was wet) and naked (another thing Vi surely wouldn’t mind). So she settled for leaning over the edge of the big bathtub, arms slung over the curve-lipped edge. Hair falling over her shoulder, she tilted her head to peer up at her wife.
Vi had stripped off her signature red leather jacket on her way in, still dressed in her work clothes—a loose white shirt, dark, ripped jeans, and muddy work boots that Caitlyn would usually scold her for, but didn’t have the heart to now. Everything about her was tired, from the slump of her shoulders to the tense line of her arms, and bugling biceps that Caitlyn had to tear her gaze away from, biting her lip. Her muscles were sore and swollen from hard work, physical labor.
Caitlyn drank in the sight like a glass of fine wine, her gaze great. Greedy. Gorging.
She forced herself to look up. Vi’s hair was mused, tossed and tousled the way Caitlyn liked, like she had just rolled out of bed or got caught on one of Piltover’s wind-swept streets. Red-pink hair was tucked into a messy knot at the nape of her neck, sticky strands sticking to her browbone and temples. Her skin was completely covered in a light sheen of sweat, shiny and shimmery in the lowlight of the bathroom, the same way her eyes shined and shimmered when she finally met Caitlyn’s gaze.
“Sheriff Kiramman,” Vi said, feigning disbelief with a gaping jaw and wide baby blue eyes. The corner of her lips quirked up bit by bit, fighting a smug little smirk. There was a smear of dirt across her left cheek. “Are you taking a bubble bath?”
Caitlyn didn’t have the time to think of a witty response. Vi stepped closer, and Caitlyn giggled like a girl and reached over, snatching Vi by the collar of her shirt. She grasped a fistful of the fabric and gave a tug the way one would do to a dog on a leash. Vi panted like one when Caitlyn pulled her in and pressed a long, hard kiss against her lips. She tasted the salt and sweat against her mouth, savoring it, and pulled away, breathless. Senseless.
And then her senses crashed back into her like a current.
“How is it?” She asked instantly, lips pinched. Vi had been down in Zaun for nearly two days working. “Is everyone alright?”
Vi shrugged. “We’re managing.” She winced as the motion tugged at the strong slope of her shoulders. Caitlyn frowned, furrowing her eyebrows. “Ekko has got a construction crew coming tomorrow morning, but we got most of the damage cleared and everyone relocated back to the Sanctuary.”
Caitlyn nodded, lips still pinched, and peered back up at her wife, pinpointing on the pinched point of her brows and pout of her lips. The dark, shallowed shadows beneath her eyes. “Are you alright?” She murmured. “You were gone for two days, and I barely heard from you.” Caitlyn paused to swallow back the panic suddenly rising in her chest, and Vi’s expression seemed to soften even more. “I was going to write to Ekko after I got out of my bubble bath, actually.”
Vi smirked at the words bubble bath in her accent, and she reached over to cup Vi’s hand, the one that lingered near hers on the edge of the tub, like Vi had subconsciously rested it there. She brushed her thumb over the ridge of her knuckles and palms, feeling hard, chapped calluses and the soft flesh of scrapes and scratches, the scabs of healing scars. The hands of a hard worker.
Caitlyn’s lips pulled into a tight line, and she leaned over again to press a kiss to Vi’s hand, knuckles crusted with dried blood, nails clogged with dirt and grit.
“I’m fine, Cait,” Vi snorted, shrugging again. Still, the motion seemed to tug at the tired, taut wires of her muscles. “Just sore.”
Caitlyn only cocked an eyebrow and gestured to the rippling surface of the water, pulling her hand away from Vi’s, droplets of water dripping and sliding down the side of the tub that was big enough for the both of them. They had bathed together plenty of times before.
Vi only smirked before she stepped back to quickly strip, slipping off her dirty dressings and chucking the garments on the floor, a stark contrast to Caitlyn’s discarded clothes, neatly folded on the counter, next to the sink and her favorite silky-smooth robe. Caitlyn shook her head fondly as Vi skillfully stepped over the light ledge of the tub and slipped between the long, lithe line of her legs, legs that instantly parted to provide a space for Vi to settle, a street paved only for her. The water rippled and parted the way she did.
Vi was barely sitting down by the time Caitlyn leaned in and pressed warm, wet kisses all over the exposed expanses of her body—the tip of her nose, her forehead, her jaw, her shoulder. She let it linger more against her lips, like a long, lengthy squeeze. A suckle. Vi chuckled, and Caitlyn felt the rumble of the vibration in her throat. Caitlyn pressed another kiss to the strong line of her jaw.
“I missed you,” she murmured into Vi’s bare back, slick skin to slick skin.
She felt Vi smile. A real smile this time, not just a smirk. “I missed you too.”
Caitlyn smiled and reached for the bar of soap, getting to work. She scrubbed at the sensitive parts of Vi’s skin, scraping away the dirt and dust, following the swirls of dark ink and the shapes of old scars, and gently scrubbed at her scalp with shampoo. She massaged aching muscles, kneading the soft flesh like sourdough, and bit her lip in response to the small moans that left Vi’s parted, puckered lips.
Vi was nearly asleep by the time Caitlyn finished, eyes half-lidded and heavy, slumped partly against the ledge of the tub and partly against Caitlyn’s shoulder, her shaggy wet hair plastered to her own shoulder as her head slipped, tilting downwards. Drool dried on her upper lip, right next to that sooty smear of dried dirt. Caitlyn frowned and rubbed it away with a wet finger. Vi blinked open her eyes and let out a soft sigh, almost a snore.
Something twisted in Caitlyn’s stomach at the sight of her wife, so tuckered and tired, falling asleep in the bath.
Her earlier conversation came back to her now, bated and unbidden. She has always had a bleeding heart, hasn’t she?
Caitlyn bit her bottom lip.
She is good to you.
Vi’s eyes were half-open, eyelashes fluttering, dark against the flush of her cheeks from the warm water and shimmer-steam. Her hair was dark and damp, now smelling of lily and lavender instead of salty sweat and smoky smog. Her skin was still soapy, smooth and soft as Caitlyn leaned over to press a kiss to the nape of her neck. Vi shifted in response, shoulder blades moving, the hard muscles of her back rippling the way the water did, letting a low, long groan.
Good for you.
Oh, her sweet, strong, stubborn Violet.
Caitlyn buried her nose in the crook between Vi’s neck and shoulder, that juncture-joint, nuzzling into the crevice. She could feel the creak of Vi’s body, her bones. The shifting of her spine pressed against her sternum. The rattle of her ribs as she inhaled deeply.
Take a vacation, Mel had murmured. Do you still have that beautiful property outside the city?
“Hey,” Caitlyn started to say, voice soft and slow. “Would you like to get away?” She pressed another kiss to slick-soft skin, breathing in the soapy scent of the bubbly suds on the slant of her shoulder. She released a long breath, letting it ghost. Linger. She relished the way Vi’s skin quickly quivered. Shivered. “This weekend, perhaps?”
“Janna,” Vi cursed, tipping her head back to rest against the cradle of Caitlyn’s collarbones. “Yes.”
This time, Caitlyn did wiggle her toes.