Dusk had fallen across the Institute of War, casting the walled off city in lonely shadow. Only a trickle of pale orange sunlight spilled onto its intimidating vastness, though much of the institution still pulsed with life, waving off the chilly night as it crept ever closer. A lone figure, hardly even a drifting speck in the enormity of his surroundings, hurried through crowds of gathering civilians and past all manner of clubs and restaurants, eyes cast downward in contempt. He never looked on any of such establishments, only ever glancing up to reassure himself that he followed the right streets. Anyone he passed payed him no mind, rather than dropping to their knees and cowering in fear as they often did whenever Veigar made himself apparent public.
Ugh. The Public.
The unrelenting energy, excitement, and most of all ignorance of common folk baffled the dark mage as it always had; he wondered why it continued to come as a surprise. While he avoided associating with what he considered the clueless masses as frequently as plausible, he often found himself thrust among them in his daily agenda, a detail that never became easier or less taxing to manage. Their presence perturbed Veigar in ways he didn't fully understand himself, but what he did know was their seemingly bottomless pools of energy, the way they clustered together like bees to a hive...it was a sunken and twisted knife in his gut, made his throat smolder with worthless insults he wished to cast at them, and propelled his legs forward to get away from it all.
It'll all be worth it, Veigar, just endure the rabble a little while longer...
His nose was turned upward in permanent disgust beneath the hat he wore to hide his face, the only piece of clothing he retained from his usual wardrobe. The robe he typically wore was substituted for a plain gray hoodie that proved equally useful to hide under and a cheap pair of jeans, making up his disguise of sorts. Replacing the familiar clicking of his steel boots against the pavement was a lame patter of old, worn sneakers. In truth, he felt almost naked in the attire, entirely exposed to his surroundings.
But such feelings should be saved for my destination.
He nearly chuckled aloud to himself at the thought, relieved to finally be turning off the main road and onto a cobblestone path less commonly traveled. His pace quickened as he approached the residential district, just when the last drop of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. The area was a plot of land equally large as the downtown area, but much more solemn or melancholy in its atmosphere. Decorative houses of varying costs and sizes followed one after the other, decorative as parade floats, perhaps some of the finest living arrangements to be found on the entire continent of Valoran. Veigar slipped between side streets, scurried across perfectly trimmed lawns, and cut corners anywhere he could to expedite the journey. He had memorized his destination's location on his few previous outings, so finding it was hardly a trouble for him. The aggravating perfection of the whole place was a bit maddening to him still, but more bearable than the commotion he had faced earlier.
It's all worth it, all of this trivial nonsense, just for him...
He turned onto a narrower dirt road and arrived at his desired location out of breath from half-sprinting there, sweat matting the fur on his forehead to his skin. He hastily ran through it with his sleeve and looked upon the house he arrived at with something akin to glee. It stood as perhaps the most secluded and unremarkable house on the entire block, practically a shack by comparison, tucked away in the farthest corner from the rest like a well-kept secret. Small, straight, and bare on the outside, the only noteworthy thing of mention were the sprawling hedges on either side of the front entrance, making Veigar feel as though he were stumbling into an overgrown forest. He allowed a moment for him to steady his breathing and compose himself, then started the rather lengthy march up to the front door at the rate of his thumping heart.
And yet, despite his growing impatience, he hesitated.
Strange how, although I've done this numerous times before, my body always performs the same reaction. Ah, dammit Veigar, control yourself...the master of evil should not buckle so easily to his own emotions.
He rapped his knuckles against the door and waited with his hands clenched tightly in the pockets, his palms sweating, the rest of him motionless as the night sky. Clicks of the door being unlocked sounded from the inside, and a moment later, it swung gently inward.
"Veigar!"
Several seconds afterwards the yordle could vaguely recall something pouncing from the doorway and slamming into him with a greater force than any number of Veigar's own spells. Fuzzy tan fur invigorated his senses as he felt his face and body pulled into a warm embrace. His hat went missing soon after, perhaps knocked to the ground in the confusion, but in that moment, he didn't care. A strong pair of hands held him impossibly close to his captor, one resting on his lower back, the other wrapped behind his neck. Once the shock faded, the master of evil wrapped his own arms around his partner, closing his eyes so he could enjoy the warmth of the moment, and the innocent, rhythmic pounding the other's heart.
It wasn't until the attacker broke his hold on the yordle that Veigar remembered himself, suddenly growing flustered as all the heat from an instant before rushed to his cheeks. "T-Teemo, what are you doing?!" he stammered, scrambling to reclaim his fallen hat to cover his face. "We're not somewhere private...what if someone sees..."
Teemo chuckled at the sight of his visitor swirling around in a tornado of panic, staring in every direction possible for the threat of potential onlookers. "Relax, Vei," he said, placing a calming hand on Veigar's arm. "I've told you a million times, there's no one around here to see us. I picked this spot for a reason, after all." He gestured out towards the empty stretch of road behind them. "See? Completely safe."
It was true that the mage hadn't caught sight of a single soul anywhere, but that alone wasn't enough to calm his paranoia. He held his pointed hat up to block the view from the street before he spoke again, this time in a harsh whisper. "Oh please, you're a scout for Gods' sake! You should know better than anyone that you cannot rely solely on eyesight in situations such as these."
Teemo cocked his head and crossed his arms knowingly. "Situations such as...dates?"
"...Indeed."
The scout gave a hearty laugh, almost getting Veigar to crack a smile. He took one of the mages hands and said, "Well then, why don't we get you inside. Unless you think your imaginary stalkers are hiding out in here, too."
"Er...no, I...Of course I will enter, do you suspect I would waste so much of my essential free time otherwise? Just think of all the evil schemes I could be plotting!" Desperately wanting to reclaim his composure, the darker yordle took the initiative and pushed his way into the home, half-dragging his companion in beside him.
Veigar took in a breath from his new surroundings, elated when he heard Teemo close the door behind them. He found the inside to be vastly more appealing than its exterior, about as tolerable as any a place could be. The young scout, he knew from experience, preferred to lead a simple life at home; nothing much more than practicalities and bits of furniture scattered here and there throughout its few rooms. The institution, ever willing to accept even the most absurd requests of its champions, remodeled the house's interior to take on a natural woodland sort of aesthetic. Each wall and low-hanging ceiling were carved and decorated to appear as oak wood bark, with large round openings connecting each cozy room to the next rather than doorways. The color red was also very prominent: a red tablecloth, curtains, and rugs contrasted nicely with the house's design. Either floors were polished hardwood or covered by warm red carpeting. Veigar admired the simple design and the lack of random, annoying nick-knacks that were so often thrust into every corner of any other home he'd had the misfortune of visiting. There was nothing to trip over, nothing to divert his attention aside from a few picture frames placed near the curtained windows. It wasn't hopelessly trying to be perfect, just inviting. If there were any abode he would rather find solace in than his own, this was the place.
"The walk here wasn't too stressful, was it?" Teemo cut into the mage's thoughts, moving so that the two yordles met face-to-face, a feat made easier by their near identical heights. Veigar lost himself momentarily in his companion's large brown eyes and admittedly cute grin, surprised when he found his hat being removed for a second time. The scout moved to hang it by the door, never taking his gaze away from the other. "I know it can get pretty busy around this hour. Not that it isn't anything my big, strong, 'master of evil' can't handle by himself."
Before the mage could find the mindset to articulate his response, his mouth hanging open with the effort, Teemo closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against Veigar's. He was silenced by the action, suddenly finding that drawing breath was a bit more difficult than the moment before. A pleased sigh escaped out his nose before he could stop himself, earning a slight chuckle from the scout. Teemo allowed himself to linger an extra blissful second or two before pulling back, leaving a hand to scratch at the thin black furs on Veigar's cheek, pushing back the mage's hood with the other. "T-the people were pests as always," he finally managed, a bit fatigued by the show of affection. Though, that was nothing compared to the grueling task of fighting back the swelling sensation growing in his trousers. "But...easy to tolerate, knowing I'd be here with you after it was all over." I've stood here with you for hardly a minute, and it is already well worth the effort.
"Wow. And people tell me I can get sappy sometimes. Clearly they've never gotten to know you like I have." He smiled to let Veigar know he was only teasing, helping the black yordle pull his hoodie up over his head. A few strands of fur on the mage's head were left standing awkwardly at attention, making him appear as far from sinister or evil as possible. "I'll have dinner ready in juuuuust a minute, in the meantime you can kick your shoes off and...make yourself at home. Okay?"
Veigar nodded, watching the scout turn and pad off to another part of the house, only just now taking note of his attire. He wore a plain white T-shirt and his usual green scouting pants which were cut just below his ankles. He was barefoot, which hardly came as a surprise to the mage. When Teemo wasn't out on a mission with his scouting boots, he typically left his paws uncovered, preferring the "natural," as he put it, feelings of blades of grass or carpets between his toes to anything else. Veigar did not share the sentiment, although he did reluctantly remove his sneakers along with his socks and left them in the foyer before seating himself at the dining table.
It was then where the smells of Teemo's cooking finally floated over like heavenly clouds to the young mage's nostrils, so enticing they made his mouth begin to water. If the collection of various herbs and spices in the scout's kitchen was any indication, Teemo proved a better cook than he would ever let anyone else believe. Though he chose not to talk of it often, Veigar figured the scout's culinary skills' origins were rather obvious; whenever he found himself isolated on his scouting missions, he was forced to cook for himself. Overtime, his knowledge of the forest, of which herbs to use and which were poisonous and so forth, developed into a bristling collecting of techniques which now blew Veigar away on regular occasions. This particular dish carried the distinct smell of Parmesan and some sort of tomato sauce, but a third, more savory stench eluded him.
He didn't have to dwell on the details very long. "Alright, I'm on my way out!" Teemo called, appearing around the corner with a covered platter in either hand. He set them down and doubled back to grab their silverware. "Hope your hungry, 'cause this stuff isn't easy to make!"
Veigar watched the steam rising off the shining silver platters with something resembling excitement. "If the dish tastes half as well as it smells, then I'm confident we won't have any problems," he assured the chef, managing a smile when Teemo returned to the table. "Besides, I know you garner enough enjoyment out of just making dinner itself. Whether or not I enjoy it hardly matters."
Teemo shot Veigar a look of disbelief, as though the mage had insulted his family or kicked his pet. "Of course it matters! You're half the reason I go to all this trouble of making it so delicious." The scout mockingly thought about it, cupping his chin with his free hand. "...Maybe more like a quarter."
"Well then," Veigar began, "I suppose I won't have to pretend to enjoy this glorified pig slop after all." He locked eyes with his companion, using his magic to make them glow even brighter, yellow and pale and serene as evening moonlight.
Teemo scoffed at the warlock, but even through the long tan fur on his face, it was evident he was blushing. "If it's pig slop you want, I'd be happy to oblige for next time we get together. Until then, lets eat!"
Unveiling his surprise at last, Teemo grabbed the lids on each platter and lifted them rather ceremoniously. Veigar's nose had been correct in its assumptions; presented to him were two plates of pasta dripping with molten cheese and slathered in piping hot sauce, bubbling as if to mimic the mage's own starved anticipation. A variety of chopped up greens were carefully scattered across the dish, of which Veigar could not recognize any. Regardless, he was sure they would blend with the flavor wonderfully, as the scout had given him no reason to doubt his touch in the kitchen thus far. That was, until he eyed the smaller saucers resting besides the main course.
"Ah. Mushrooms. How hilarious," he muttered, exaggerating his eye-roll to assure Teemo could see his dark yellow pupils flicker.
The scout cracked an overly proud smile, adding to Veigar's irritation. "Oh c'mon, Vei, you knew I couldn't resist. With how often you're setting off my mushroom traps on the Rift, I just figured you loved them that much." When the mage's look of disdain didn't waver, Teemo continued, "They're sautéed, not poisonous. I promise."
"I'm sure they'll taste delectable, so long as you cease reminding me of the league while we'll eating." Veigar allowed himself the honor of taking the first bite, reveling in the perfectly layered flavors of Teemo's handiwork. It was rare that he payed any sort of mind to what he ate, mostly seeing the necessity as a time wasting nuisance, but his companion's cooking was a completely separate matter altogether. He encouraged himself to eat more slowly and savor the taste, but eventually his hunger and the amazing food pushed him to shovel the meal as fast as possible without choking himself.
"So, you try learning any new spells recently?" Teemo interjected, hoping to get a bit of a conversation going.
The mage managed to pull himself away from the food long enough to utter a response. "Why yes, in fact, I've been studying the techniques another champion of the League I believe you're quite familiar with, Syndra."
The scout shuddered a bit at the name. "Ugh, seriously? She's so cold, I wish I could think of anything nice to say about her! At least you spent the energy to think up some insults for me when I first tried talking to you, she just flat out ignores me."
"Her personality hardly has anything to do with her magical prowess, Teemo," he chuckled. "I have no desires to befriend the woman, I simply hope to discover how she manipulates objects spatially without ever coming into physical contact with them. Gripping, tossing, and shoving around those foolish enough to challenge me effortlessly...it is most definitely a promising investment. Typically abilities such as those stem from telekinesis, but as far as I can understand, her dark magic hardly resembles that type of power in structure or in its aura. Now, you would think that with her powers being similar to my own, I would learn this easily, but..."
Veigar knew that he had likely lost the scout by that point in his rant, but enjoyed speaking of the subject so much he couldn't help but continue. He secretly watched Teemo across the table out of the corner of his eye while he spoke and waved his arms around like a raving lunatic. The scout leaned his arm against the table and rested his head in his hands in a lax manner, sometimes nodding or otherwise trying to seem focused in the pseudo conversation. Veigar knew from Teemo's own words that he enjoyed seeing the mage so passionate about something, since he often remained distant otherwise. The genuine smile playing along the scout's lips was proof enough to Veigar that he told the truth. Eventually, the mage wrapped up his lecture with a few words of acknowledgement from his companion, quickly returning to stuffing his own face with the scout's cooking.
A brief period passed where the two ate in silence, enjoying the food and each other's company. "Jeez, those loooong walks of yours sure do leave you hungry," Teemo noted after a while, having hardly touched his plate when compared to the warlock. Veigar nodded absentmindedly, barely looking up from his food. Sighing, the scout added, "shame you still live on the other side of the institute from me." And even more quietly, "If only there were someway..."
The remark had finally caught the mage's attention. He swallowed what was left in his mouth and said, "Are you truly going to bring up that discussion again at this moment? After we only just started eating?"
Teemo didn't miss a beat, his gaze now a bit more focused, his fork only poking randomly at the food in front of him. "If we had finished it before, I might've put it off a little longer." Veigar scoffed and rolled his eyes, but the scout was unperturbed. "Veigar, you knew I would have to bring it up again eventually."
"Yes," the mage droned in monotone, "and I'd have thought you would have the patience to save the sentiment until after we finished eating."
"Don't act like I'm the bad guy here!" Teemo shot up in his chair. "You barely even considered what I asked last time we talked about it."
Of course, when am I ever not the bad guy? "Babe," Veigar began, knowing that the word's rarity between them would throw off the scout, "you know I'm still not fully comfortable sharing my living quarters with another. Even with someone I...trust."
As he hoped, Teemo's fiery attitude already began to fizzle out. "I know, but—"
"—You don't deserve the sort of pressure that comes from housing and caring one such as myself." It was a lame excuse, but he did mean it at least in part. "Besides, I'd despise forcing you to cook for me all the time."
"...It's always a pleasure when I get to cook, especially for my favorite black mage," the scout countered, regaining his momentum. "I want...I want to be able to do it all the time, you know? Then we could see each other more, come of out of hiding—"
"—Who ever said we were in hiding?!" At that instant, Veigar dropped his fork to the table, his nostrils flaring.
Teemo hid his eyes in his hands. "No, I didn't mean it like that! I didn't mean it at all, I...ugh!"
"I thought you understood the reason our relationship could not be made public quite clearly."
"Yes, I understand that it's because your the 'master of evil' and your s-silly tough-guy persona couldn't possibly be compromised!" Teemo rebutted, his own temper beginning to flair. "And that it's more important than us!"
"It's not, no, my persona has never been more important—"
"—Then why do you still treat me like dirt whenever we're not alone!?" Veigar stayed silent while the yordle dearest to him barred his teeth in frustration. "Why can't I tell Tristana, my bestfriend, that you and I are together!?" He bit his tongue, almost able to feel the vile spit splashing against his face. "Why do you brush me off half the time I want you over?!" His hands curled into fists. "Why—"
"—BECAUSE I'M SCARED!"
The mage slammed his hands down on the table, causing everything to jump and rattle and threaten to tumble off. His eyes burned in their intensity, the space around him turning dark and smoky as pure energy crackled off his body. He watched Teemo dart backward in fear, the scout's eyes now teary, the liquid flowing down his fur in thin streams. Veigar watched in quiet despair as his companion's chest pounded in fear.
The only person who was ever excited to see him.
And the only person he would ever wish the feeling on.
Veigar, with a heavy sigh, commanded the energy around him to dissipate, his muscles to relax, and his nerves to calm. His eyes were closed when he spoke again. "...I'm scared because I haven't felt this way about any yordle in a very, very long time. Perhaps ever."
He opened his eyes to see Teemo's expression soften the slightest bit, now more puzzled than anything else.
"I'm scared," Veigar continued, feeling his body start vibrate with the effort, "because I didn't think it possible for anyone to share those feelings for me." He felt his voice grow shaky, and didn't understand what made his spiel so difficult to spit out. It was an alien feeling, his stomach churning and his heart rampaging in his throat, making everything he said strangled. "And I'm s-scared because...the more time we spend together, the more chances you'll have to realize your m-mistake. And I'll be alone again."
An unavoidable wave of shame crashed into the yordle. Admitting his weakness, his fears, indulging in his own sorrow so openly, it was all practices he had abandoned long ago, and unearthing them now made him feel no less submerged beneath an avalanche of his own anguish. He shut his eyes tighter, finding all of his efforts to scale the mountain of rock and dust fruitless.
...That was, until he felt a gentle hand grasp his shoulder, pulling him into a warm embrace, supporting him as he felt himself begin to slip. The only yordle whose help Veigar would ever accept.
"Vei, you don't have to worry about any of that, because I'm not gonna let you go back to being alone. Okay?"
The mage made no sign of acknowledgement, staying completely motionless, refusing to make a sound. "I don't...I can't be alone again, either," the scout continued. "Isn't that why we reached out to each other in the first place?" Teemo's voice was barely above a whisper, but rattled with confidence, soothing and reassuring at the same time.
"...I suppose it is," the mage uttered at last, opening his eyes and shifting to stare into those of his significant other. Teemo's expression was soft like the fur on his skin. Veigar could just make out the beating of the scout's heart from where his head lay, steady and light as an ocean breeze. He could feel his composure slowly returning to him. "I-I'm...sorry, Teemo. I would be...overjoyed to see our visits become a constant, truly, but..." For the gods' sake, spit something out! "...I just need a little more time."
"You don't have to apologize," Teemo promised, pulling the mage even closer against his chest. "Sometimes I get so comfortable around you, I forget the reasons we found each other. I'm sorry I tried to rush everything. I could wait forever for you, you hear that?"
"...I hope for the both of us it doesn't take me that long, but I appreciate your words regardless."
And the scout laughed, and it was as if the sun had risen and set, and nothing had ever been wrong between them. Veigar mustered a smile himself while he watched Teemo chortle adorably in his arms, although he could not quite shake the guilt weighing on him. Soon, I will make all this right for certain. I will allow myself the pleasure and the danger of being in his company for the rest of my days. Because he is worth the risk.
Because he is worth the sacrifice.
Because Teemo is worth anything.