…because let's face it, whoever thought of dressing Vayne in that outfit had some serious guts— and a lot of issues. And, if Jayce was honest with himself, he would've appreciated it if he'd been left out of the whole business.
…
…
…
There were few times that Jayce ever regretted joining the League— his people's safety was a priority, after all, and he didn't often make a habit of second-guessing himself as it was— but those moments did exist. There were moments like this, he thought to himself, looking at his reflection in the mirror uncomfortably, when he really wished he'd remained in his laboratory in Piltover.
His sigh was heavy, and the movement of his chest as the air left his lungs was strained because of it. The man itched all over, and yet he could only grit his teeth and bear with it. Why? Well, he was on an official mission after all, not that this preposterous affair deserved to be called that, if he thought about it logically. Jayce wanted to scoff at the thought. "Good thing logical thinking isn't in anyone's agenda today, isn't it?" The man muttered instead, and, for the tenth time in the last hour, readjusted the horrible neckpiece he was instructed to wear. He sighed again, frustrated when the suit continuously refused to stretch with his body.
In all seriousness, though, was the bowtie absolutely necessary? It looked ridiculous— no, forget that, he looked ridiculous.
Debonair, they've told him, he needed to look debonair! What was he supposed to understand from that? He would never understand why this entire spectacle was even needed. It was all for a stupid holiday, or something of the sorts— one he'd certainly never celebrated before.
Was all this hassle really about pleasing the masses, or was it maybe some sort of political action? That would certainly make more sense. The conflict between Demacia and Noxus had become more visible, more forceful lately, after all. Jayce would not have put it past the Institute of War to try and reassure the people that the peace would still hold by all means necessary, even if it meant taking such apparently absurd measures.
Still, a photo-shoot? That's what they came up with? Even if the whole point was to show people that League champions were enjoying the holidays, and that everyone should enjoy themselves and indulge in having fun as well, the whole thing seemed ridiculous. If there was something the fiasco was meant to encourage, it was the indulgence of impractical clothing and blissful ignorance.
Jayce frowned, feeling no less foolish in his tuxedo and with his hair gelled back, but stopped tugging at his clothes. It didn't matter how much he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he would not suddenly start feeling less foolish. And it didn't matter if he felt foolish, the photo-shoot was going to happen.
After all, whatever the Institute of War decreed was unquestionably enforced, no matter the madness of it all.
Acceptant of his fate, seeing as the man had agreed to go through with this assignment before even learning what it was about— really, really bad idea, he needed to remember that—, Jayce made it for the door. He'd expected he'd have to do some unsavoury things as part of being a champion of The League. Quite reasonably, he thought, dressing up like a wannabe Don Juan somehow never came to mind, but it was too late to back down now. He walked out of the tiny dressing room with a resigned sigh.
He was not expecting— nor was he prepared for— the sight that greeted him on the other side of the door.
The long, stripped stockings, red jacket, feathery wings and the skirt that had-no-right-to-be-so-short-holy-shiny-gears!, went surprisingly well with the fierce look on the Night Hunter's usually impassive face.
The man swallowed thickly, suddenly very alarmed, and with good reason. They've chosen her, of all people, to subject to this?
Jayce was starting to doubt the mental wellness of some summoners.
"Keep you ogling to yourself, boy." She sneered, not blind to his bewilderment, and had it been some other woman, he would have dared think that the slight twist of her mouth was just a bit smug; maybe, even, he would have thought her not as displeased by his appraisal as she made it seem.
Of course, that was not the case. This— he thought silently, and understandably reserved— was Vayne, the same woman who was rumoured to have broken into one of the inner sanctums of the Institute of War and to have demanded to be taken in; something the man still did not know what to make of.
"Pardon me-" It really was hard not to feel reprimanded by her cold, calculated dark eyes, and he realised he'd never seen the Night Hunter wearing glasses with clear lens before, let alone ones that were red-rimmed and so delicate. The change was surreal, to say the least. "Are you here for the photo-shoot as well?" He murmured, closing the door firmly behind himself and nodding his head in the direction of the studio.
Vaguely disinterested, the Markswoman grunted something he took for an affirmative.
Pipes and cogs, he was in for an awkward afternoon…
Jayce would have liked the opportunity to curse his luck some more, still unable to believe it, but he realised he was standing in front of Vayne already— the woman had her eyes on him, an eyebrow high on her forehead—, and he remembered she did not tolerate having her time wasted.
Of course it couldn't have been Janna, or Caitlyn, or Sona— hell, he'd have even settled for Le Blanc, or that brute of a woman, Miss Fortune— of course it had to be the one woman he had no idea on how to approach. Also noteworthy was the fact that Jayce had never had any intention to ever approach Vayne in the first place, despise his initial curiosity about her. It was a sad but not surprising truth that even the League of Legends partook in gossiping, and the stories about the Night Hunter were nothing if not intriguing. Also, completely terrifying.
"Did you walk into this voluntarily?" She questioned, completely at ease bolstered back against the wall, by the snack table. He tried not to stare at her hips as she shifted her weight around.
"You could say so." He admitted, not really proud of his predicament, but not trusting himself to come up with any convincing lies to save face.
"Hmm." She said, simply, and continued to stare at him, expectedly.
He didn't really know what she was expecting, but something was bugging him.
It was risky, but he stole another glance at her outfit.
How on Runeterra did they even manage to get her into those things? Her stomach was bare— completely, uncomfortably so, if anyone were to ask Jayce— she wasn't wearing a shirt, but a bra, and even with that jacket hiding her back, that was in no way decent. And that shoulder armour? It did more harm than good. Was this some kind of joke, or were they trying to anger her?
Her?
Vayne?
In scant clothes, posing for a magazine?
How hard were they hit in the head in their infancy to even consider that idea?
Vayne was not known to be the person with the best sense of humour amongst the Champions, and considering the sight most of them were to begin with, that was saying something. One needed only to hear some of Diana's jokes to get an idea what he meant, or Poppy's, or— actually, that list was too long to bother with at the moment, especially since there was a very pissed-off looking, very much armed, woman glaring in his direction.
For a second, Jayce thought he'd been caught staring, but then he noticed she was actually glaring at the wall behind her, and it was not him apparently that was the actual source of her ire.
"This is just great-" She commented, in that gruff, better-than-you voice of hers that always made him think that she had the habit of taking herself much too seriously. "- the two of us are expected to pose together like a couple of small, obedient children; smiles and all?" She huffed, disgusted by the idea of acting all smouldering-eyes for the cameras, or by the thought of being in his presence while doing so. Either would work just fine, no doubt. She wasn't hard to aggravate, cold as she made herself look.
Oh, no, he'd seen her once or twice in the Rift, pinning down champions with scorching dedication. If there was something he could tell about the former-aristocrat, it was that she was nothing if not an intense person. There were other words for it, actually, but he'd rather not tempt fate by thinking them.
Better safe than sorry, right?
The Night Hunter kept staring at him like he was slow, and Jayce realised he hadn't spoken a word since he'd laid eyes on her outrageous outfit again. Well, no way that could send a wrong message, right?
Jayce tried to cut the tense silence that'd been created with a cough, and his fellow Champion lifted an eyebrow in irritation. That… was unfortunate, seeing as it caused Jayce to freeze with his fist half-way to his mouth and almost choke on his own spit.
"Apparently." He managed to get out after only a couple seconds more of awkwardly standing before her— and someone smite him then, for it was a replay that horribly lacked eloquence. Her sharply-arched eyebrows lifted on her forehead again, disappearing under her fringe, and the man noticed, to his surprise, that they've also put her hair up into something less strict than what Vayne usually preferred. Well, if that wasn't hint enough as to where his eyes have focused on before, than he didn't know what it was.
With a hand, he nervously tugged at the collar of his dress-shirt to cool his suddenly hot neck, and set the bow-tie even more askew in the process.
"I'm sure the Institute has a good reason for having us do this." He supplied, not because he necessarily believe it himself, but mostly because he felt the need to say something— something better articulated, for a change.
"Really, now? I find your kind of optimism sickening." If her narrowed eyes and tense shoulders were any indication, she was itching for a fight, and he was doing a fine job at provoking her. "Whatever." She snapped, ever impatient to get down to business. "Show me to the studio. We've wasted enough time." Carefully, he tried to judge if she was serious, but stopped the moment he remember with whom he was talking to. Of course she was serious, why wouldn't she be?
This realisation brought with it another, far more important, problem.
Was she asking him to show her around? Was he expected to— really?
Sure, they were both going to feature in the magazine, but he wasn't really even sure if they were going to feature in the magazine together, and how hard could it be to ask around for directions? He– just—really—…
That was not in his job description!
"Will you move things along, already? That dumb look on your face is only going to keep me entertained for so long."
Damn.
"I…ugh, right this way." He said, somewhat uncertain. If there was anything Jayce was sure of, though, it was that he was never going to trust the Institute's judgment again.
He paused for a bit, but he never did stand tense silences, and before he could reason with himself, he found himself trying his hand at small-talking. "How did they manage to get you into this, anyway?"
"With a lot of sweat and sacrifices." She told him, completely blank-faced, face unnaturally still.
That was not natural, in Jayce's humble opinion.
"Right, of course." The Inventor had been kind of expecting something of the sort, anyway. "And… about that crossbow of yours-"The exasperation in her eyes should have been enough to stop him from spouting any more nonsense, but even the best had their moments of…Well, how could one best describe the act of ignoring the warning of a woman who killed monsters for fun?
"-is it new?" It had been a long, hard day, so 'foolish' would have to do.
"Are you serious?"
She glared, and he groaned to himself, unable to believe he had such a hard time keeping his mouth in check— there were only two hallways to pass, anyway, two! It should have been easy!
She snorted, but for a second, and one second only, it looked as if she was amused. "You're very chatty for a Piltovian." It really wasn't a compliment.
He opened his mouth to comment on that, but Vayne silenced him with a royal motion of her hand and a distinctly impatient look.
"Did you hear that?" She asked, and her eyes scanned the space around them. The halls were awfully narrow for such a proud building, especially considering the fact that they were in one of the biggest studio in Demacia.
Jayce could see nothing out of the ordinary besides the poorly-placed wall lights, and he frowned lightly.
"Maybe it's one of the-"
"There it is again!"
True to her words, he could hear the quickly approaching footsteps of someone still unseen. That someone turned out being a weary-looking young man carrying a large notepad, he appeared soon from behind another hallway and he seemed relieved to see them.
"There you were!" The man said, introducing himself as one of the production assistants. "We've been looking for you."
Of course they have been.
"Come along, we have a busy schedule to keep to— especially you, Jayce." That was really the last thing that Jayce wanted to hear, but he followed the young PA wordlessly until they reached a large wooden door leading into the main photo studio.
The young man ushered both champions inside and turned to face Vayne with a nervous smile. "Miss Vayne, if you please… you can wait here for us to finish with your fellow Champion. There is a sofa in that space just there."
"Very well."
Jayce looked at the female champion, noticed that her blank face had returned, and, uncomforted, followed the PA further into the darkened room.
…
…
…
Things really did not turn out well for the Defender of Tomorrow; after an embarrassing hour of sitting through posing in the most ridiculous positions, in front of not only a crew of strangers, but also Vayne's very cynical eyes, he had thought things could not go worse.
As it soon became apparent, he had been wrong.
Their shoot together was so much worse.
"You want me to do what?"
"Just, very briefly, put your arms around his shoulders from behind." The photographer instructed, watching her nervously. As he should.
Vayne only stared at him coolly, one royal eyebrow quirked, her lips turned downwards a fraction, but, oh, if looks could kill.
"I am not hugging him." He almost took offense to that— almost being the key words there, for she was who she was, after all. Jayce doubted Vayne would ever volunteer a hug in her life.
The poor photographer tried to mend thing, sweat already forming on his forehead, but he was horrible at it, even by Jayce's standards. "It's not…hugging, per say…" He hurriedly stumbled over his words, and his eyes dared around as if asking for someone to step in and back him up.
Slim chance of that happening, with the grim look settling over the Night Hunter's face; the inventor actually felt slight pity for the man.
"The sooner we get to it, the sooner it will end."
The woman glared at him as if he had just insulted her mother.
Subconsciously, Jayce cringed on the behalf of the unfortunate man; and, because apparently compassion was a grave flaw of character, he jumped in before the photographer could be intimidated to death.
"I assure you, I am not looking forward to this anymore than you are." That seemed only to make things worse for the Piltovian, and he soon wished he had kept his mouth shut.
"Fine." She spat the word in a matter that said she would have liked it to hit him with actual force. It was clear she felt that this was an unacceptable defeat. In her case, though, Jayce seriously doubted she thought defeat was of any other sort.
Be that as it was, when she crossed the distance between the two of them and forcefully dug her elbow into the inventor's back, he did not feel victorious at all. She used the push to bring him down closer to her level in order to wrap an arm around his neck, and Jayce tried not to flinch away.
She'd done something similar to him once before on the Fields of Justice, he remembered, in order to deal a finishing blow more effectively.
The crew around stumbled to help the photographer snap a image, and Vayne forcefully made herself relax against his back and wipe that frown off her face. To have her falsely-smiling semi-profile in the corner of his eye was even more disturbing than to have her arms around his shoulders.
Surprises just never stopped coming.
"Mark my word, this is not healthy. For any of us." She said through her teeth, the words hitting his neck, and he barely managed not to shudder. As if Jayce really needed her to point that out.
A lot of snaps, small adjustments and bursts of lights later, he got used to her warmth at his back.
Some more changes of lights, some more cameras being moved around, and he was starting to think it would all be over soon.
The photographer smiled.
"Good job, Champions." That man had quite an annoying voice, come to think of it. "I'd say it's time for another pose."
Oh, in the name of all that was good and metallic…"Is it absolutely necessary?"
"I would not ask it of you otherwise." Judging by the way the man was nervously avoiding Vayne's looks, yes, Jayce could believe that.
All that about how it 'all would be over soon'?
Yeah, he'd been wrong before.
"Miss Vayne, could you sit on this chair here?" It was quite surprising, but it was one of the assistants that had the guts to ask that— probably at the big guy's subtle indications. Jayce could see the photographer's hands moving in all kinds of directions from time to time.
Vayne sat without protest, much to the collective relief of all in the room.
The chair they brought for her was as eye-catching as her outfit, covered in pink and red lace, silk and ribbons.
Where did they get those things?
The photographer circled around her once she was seated, muttering to himself and nodding his head. It was slightly amusing to watch, truthfully.
"Right-" He finally said. "We'll snap some pictures with you here, and Mr. Jayce by the chair, smirking charmingly down-" Great, he was so looking forward for that. "- or, better yet, I was thinking you could grab a hold of her right leg and-"
He spattered a "What?" the same time Vayne expressed an outraged "Excuse me?"— a nice display of diversity.
All Jayce knew was that if he'd heard right, and he probably had, then he had really run out of luck.
With Vayne sitting down as she was, her nearly-inexistent skirt was already a problem, should he be put to hold her legs up…Well, it was not hard to tell things were not going to end well for the hero.
"It's-It's no big deal!" That annoying voice tried to reassure them, probably aware of the panic showing on Jayce's face. "I'll be over in no time!"
Right, because times flies when you have your hands on a woman's thighs?
Unwelcome thoughts invaded his mind-eye before he could stop them, and Jayce was really grateful people did not generally read minds, or he would have been beaten to a pulp by one aggressive dark-haired woman.
…and that woman, he noticed briefly to his confusion, did not look nearly angry enough.
Why was that?
"Fine." There was that response again— Wait, was she serious?
"What?" Two times in a row, he was unable to get anything else out— that would easily become his newest catchphrase too, if people kept messing with his head.
Seeing the look on his face, she snapped at him. "Put your hand on my leg already!"
Was there any appropriate response to that?— he wondered.
He had really not signed up for any of this.
"Right."
Maybe it was the lighting, but his face looked kind of red in the next pictures they took.
Or maybe he was in denial and in dire need of help, but she looked unbelievably appealing in that moment: ordering him around and decisively presenting him her leg.
But she did have nice legs, and it was no secret Vayne looked good in red.
Her next words sounded more like the Shauna Vayne that everyone knew and loved. "Try anything, and I'll have your head on a spike." He smirked, getting in character more, for the sake of the anxious people around them.
He would have sworn threats weren't supposed to raise his pulse like that— but what did he know?
Not much, it became apparent; not when he had his hands on her stockings, certainly. Pink looked good on her too. The man appraised the long legs hidden by the pink and white strips, and they easily earned an admiring look from him.
"Perfect, Jayce, keep that expression! Miss Vayne, please try not to glare so obviously."
Yes, it was going to be a long day.
...
...
...
After all was over, things didn't get any better— which, really, was no longer unexpected.
"You are not showing those to the public!" Vayne demanded with unprecedented ferocity, but Jayce could have sworn he'd seen a tint of pink colouring her cheeks. He wouldn't have minded it even if that had been the case; the colour did look strangely good on her.
"But, Miss Vayne… just-" The man babbled, at a loss. "What are we supposed to do about the article?"
She shot him a stare so hot, Jayce was impressed he did not drop on his knees on the spot. "Just bring in Mundo, or something!" She snapped. "You cannot possibly make me look so…" Much to the amazement of her fellow marksman, Vayne seemed to stumble slightly to get the words out. "…make me look so tasteless, in the company of that giant!" Surprisingly enough, her words hadn't come out as hurtful as one would expect. She could have used much worse words.
True be told, the picture the editor has selected for use did look a bit… sensual? Was that the word?
There were pictures of Jayce and Vayne— nothing surprising there—, just… Vayne looked more like a seducer than a fighter, and Jayce looked much too willing to be seduced. It was a shame, Jayce had gone through a lot of effort for those shots.
Of course, not complying with The Night Hunter's wishes and attracting her wrath was out of the question.
"But-" The photographer was probably thinking about his own efforts, to have the courage to keep protesting.
"No excuses!" Vayne growled, as determined as ever. "I know you have him around here for that interview of yours!"
"But…how would that work?" Poor guy, he was gripping for straws already.
The woman smirked, but she was clearly growing inpatient. "I have some ideas." She dared him to say anything else with a look.
"R-right, I'll make the arrangements." And just like that, the photographer ran away without another word.
'Smart man.' Jayce could not help but think.
"Shauna?"
"Vayne will suffice."
Of course it would.
There was not a moment of hesitance, and for some reason, it made him smile.
"See you around."
"Of course."
Much to his amusement, he knew he would look forward to it.
How astounded would he had been, had he known her thoughts circled much around the same realisation?
…
...
...
The next time he had her in the enemy team, she still attacked him on sight, but he could have sworn he'd seen her smile just the slightest bit just before she did, and that made all the difference.
Yes, I know, pretty pointless and not entirely eloquent, but I was bored. Thank you for reading and drop a review if you feel it's worth your while!