The audience goes wild as Pentakill rises onto the stage in a puff of smoke and light. Olaf smashes his drumsticks down in a strike that resonates into Garen's heart like a crackle of electricity and the crowd throws roses at the band and screeches.
He's reminded, albeit unwillingly, of a certain Noxian assassin, as Sona's brilliant crimson hair flashes under the spotlight, music roaring out from the band and into the chaotic air of the night.
He finds himself hoping that she's here and looking for her in the endless crazed faces of Pentakill fans, hoping that she'll notice him, hoping-
Garen, stop, he tells himself sternly. You are Demacian. You must set a good example for Demacia.
And for Lux as well, he thinks miserably as he watches his adorable, precious jewel of a baby sister laugh and kiss that wimp of a boy Ezreal on the cheek. He gags. He can see the Prodigal Explorer blushing furiously even from where he is, across the room. Agh.
Karthus wails into the microphone but the attention is fully on Mordekaiser when he braces his thumb and brings his hand down to strum a final note that twangs every heartstring and leaves the audience screeching and Garen choking in a corner, needing air.
"Oh, it's Moron of the Shitty Fuckguard."
He looks up, about to protest vehemently against this vicious onslaught of Demacian honor, but all words stick and die in his throat when he realizes who it is.
She's wearing a black leather buttoned jacket that reaches her elbows and heeled black boots. The red head of hair that he's so familiar with is, as usual, untied and uncombed. And-
Oh, Demacia. Oh, no. No, no, no.
Garen looks away from Katarina's shirt, which barely covers any cleavage, and her miniskirt, which shows way too much leg. Way too much. Oh gods. Agh.
This is bad. This is very bad. Why are his pants tighter. Oh gods.
"Hey, shithead, what're ya doing here? Didn't think you'd be one to attend a fucking full-blown concert," the Sinister Blade remarks.
Oh, that smirk of hers...
"Lux," Garen manages in a strained voice, trying to turn his lower half away from Katarina to no success.
"Ah, that makes a shit lot more sense," she agrees, plopping down with a sigh into-
"Du Couteau, what the fuck," Garen splutters through a faceful of red hair as Katarina makes herself comfortable on his lap. This is bad she'll feel him through his pants oh my gods. Oh my gods. He was forgetting how to breathe.
He can feel her skin against his, surprisingly smooth and creamy for one of the three deadliest blademasters in Valoran. Yes, his pants are tighter. Agh.
She leans back into him, foot tapping on either side of his thighs to the beat of the music. He's too distracted to enjoy it though. "Katarina, get off," he mutters weakly.
"Bitch. You don't sound like you want me to."
He groans in response and she laughs. His heartbeat is as loud as Olaf's drumming and he honestly doesn't care if she hears it anymore.
This sudden urge to push his face into her silky hair takes him over and he battles it furiously. For Demacia's sake, Captain Garen, he chides himself crossly. You are Demacian. She is nothing but Noxian scum.
His heart gives a pang at resorting to calling her, her, a fallen angel of sorts, scum; the words Katarina and scum just do not work together in his mind, but he fights this feeling down with a strong exhale.
"How are your siblings?" he mumbles, just to hide his inner turmoil.
She shifts, thinking, and he is putting his all into his self-control when she says,"Cass is dating that goddamn croc," she begins,"and Talon has Bird Girl."
He squints. "Quinn?"
"Yeah. Of all people, he picks one of you fucking Demacians," she grumbles, but she adds a quiet "well she's a nice girl and he's happier than I've ever seen him, so...".
Garen lets out a small chuckle. "Lux is, ahem, seeing that Ezreal fellow," he says sourly.
Kat bursts into raucous laughter. He's relatively grateful that the crowd is loud enough to cover her. He's not sure how his fellow champions would react to the Noxian assassin getting comfy on the Captain of the Vanguard's lap. "Ezreal?! As in, the prodigal explorer, Ezreal?!" He gives a grave nod and she guffaws.
He must look horrified or betrayed at her reaction because she presses into him, earning a groan, and continues,"Oh, come on, they're great together. Don't be too much of an overprotective bitch."
He protests but when she gives him a look he finally says,"Ah, alright, Du Couteau, you win. He's a smart kid, okay?"
The Sinister Blade smiles at him and his heart skips a beat. Oh, gods, just how hard has he fallen for her?
They sit in silence, just listening to the band thunder out the beginning of their biggest hit, "Quadra Kill".
There is a long, long peace of sound between them before the Might of Demacia speaks first. "Katarina-"
"Cut the shit, Crownguard," he hears her say over the music.
Pentakill is hitting the final chorus, and he wants to pretend he doesn't know what "shit" she wants him to cut, but he knows exactly what she's talking about.
And in that final, final moment,
He's silent for a moment before continuing. "Kat."
when Quadra Kill is ringing in your head
She doesn't reply, so he keeps going before he changes his mind. "I know we originate from different groups, and I know we're sworn enemies and rivals, but I was wondering what we - what I - you-"
and the last enemy's back is to you,
"Garen, you fucking prissy bitch, spit it out."
"Kat, would you go on a date with me," he says very hastily. He really doesn't want to make her angry because he really, really, with his whole heart, wants her to say yes right now.
taste the victory in the air!
And for some reason time has stopped and all he can see is the flash of red in the dark of the open stadium, and he can faintly hear the melody and the rumbling thud of the drums, and her skin is pressed smooth and warm against his hands, and there's a faint, faint flowery smell coming from her that he really likes for some stupid reason.
And on his tongue is the taste that will never leave his memory, the taste of a curious yet passionate kiss on that Noxian battlefield long, long ago.
Then she is speaking and time has started again and he realizes that it wasn't time that stopped, it was him.
Her voice is strangely muffled by her hair. "You fucking idiot, Crownguard."
The Might of Demacia's heart sinks like the platform that Pentakill is on right now, spiraling down into the stage with a hiss and the frantic screeching of fans. Around Garen and Katarina the crowd erupts into screaming and applause.
He's forgotten how to breathe. Was it up, down, up, down, or something?
She slides off his lap and he's unsurprisingly disappointed by the loss of warmth.
He's done it. He'll never get over this.
How will he ever face her with honor in battle, on the Rift again?
He wants to laugh. But then again, isn't he supposed to be dedicated to Demacia?
What is he doing?
No.
What is she doing to him?
So he looks at her, expecting nothing but disgust in her green eyes.
He sees amusement.
Kat sighs and spins on her heel, snapping smartly back into place. Flipping her red hair, she walks away, but not before adding
"The bar around the corner. Tomorrow night. Don't be late, motherfucker."
And she's gone.
He sits in silence as the Pentakill fans start to pack up and leave, his face blank as Lux kisses Ezreal shamelessly. A small smile on his face, he stands and strolls dazedly to the exit.
No, he won't be late.