hahahahah hi again sorry its been five years i'm certifiably insane but arcane got me frothing at the mouth so i figured i'd go ahead and update this shit even though the lore is different now HOPE YOU ENJOY
[-]
Caitlyn found herself with very little smalltalk to offer as she sat in the (warmed, for heaven's sake) passenger seat of Jayce's car. It was a fancy thing, certainly compliments of one of the inventor's university sponsors. For a reason that the sheriff couldn't quite place, it bothered her the way the strapping man took corners gently and drove at a reasonable speed. Even the luxuriously quiet purr of the engine was irritating. Caitlyn found herself longing for the feeling of drifting around corners with a white-knuckled grip, with a certain pink-haired bruiser whooping with laughter next to her. She scowled. She had made her decision, and this was not the time to be reminiscing about what could have been.
What could still be, a quiet, yet nagging voice echoes between thoughts. Spurred by the idea of it all, Caitlyn glances up towards Jayce. She takes in his chiseled jaw and sparkling eyes, altogether perfect in technicality. She can't stop herself from another quiet thought, one that seems to whisper, too perfect. He catches her stare, and shoots her a gleaming smile. Reluctantly she returns his grin, but can't quite seem to get it to reach her eyes.
"You won't believe the place I got us reservations for," he says, and the pure earnestness in his voice sends a twinge of something that feels like guilt through her gut. "You're gonna love it!"
She nods, offering a quiet hum of agreement. Looking out the window, her eyebrows knit together as she watches the city pass around her. A shock of pink hair catches her eye, and she nearly gives herself whiplash turning to get a closer look. She hisses inwardly as she realizes that it's merely a teenager enjoying a stroll in the evening-lit plaza. She sighs, turning forward again, arms crossed almost petulantly.
Jayce must have sensed the tense atmosphere radiating off of the smaller woman who sat beside him.
"Everything okay?" He asks, thick eyebrows knitting together. The concern is genuine-and somehow it makes the swarm of thoughts engulfing the sheriff buzz around like angry wasps. Such an innocent question; how could he possibly know how loaded it really was?
After a beat of silence, she looks up at him. They've come to a stop at an intersection, pedestrians crossing in a wall before them that looks like it never ends. "I'm not sure, Jayce," she finally replies with a sigh before turning her attention back out the front windscreen. The lights and spires of Piltover rise all around them, and for once the awe-inspiring beauty of it all only makes her stomach sink.
The hero is not sure how to respond. He stews in his own silence for a moment, trying to come up with something to say. Words of encouragement? Lighten the mood? Should he simply just stay quiet? While he mulls over the options, he's surprised to hear Caitlyn start speaking again.
"I'm not sure if tonight…" she trails off, trying to parse her thoughts into words. Normally she was so clear, so concise, but tonight it seemed that her heart had taken the wheel from her mind, rendering her incapable of explaining herself. How could she possibly explain herself, anyhow? Sorry Jayce, I know we've been planning this dinner for weeks, but I've just realized my feelings for my partner are a bit more complicated than I had hoped. Mind if we reschedule? Caitlyn scoffs internally at the thought. "I'm not sure if I can do this tonight. It's been a busy day, I think I'm feeling a migraine coming on," she offers lamely, embarrassed at how transparent she must seem. "I know you've made reservations, but perhaps we could...reschedule?" The sheriff cringes, guilt radiating from her core.
A brief flash of dejection crosses Jayce's face, and the guilt grows ever stronger. How many people were going to look at her like that today? How many bone-headed decisions will you be making today? Caitlyn looks down at her lap, unable to offer more of an explanation.
Just as quickly as the first look had appeared, it was wiped away and replaced by one of compassionate understanding. "Hey now, that's not a problem," Jayce replies, voice gentle. Curse him for being so decent, the sheriff can't help but think. "Why don't I swing you back by your place? I can always get us a new reservation later."
Relief mixed with shame floods her body. It's a sickening combination, and Caitlyn can't help but be hit with yet another wave of guilt. She needed to get out of this car, this entire situation, and quickly.
"Actually," she hums with a sudden sense of urgency, "I'll go ahead and just walk from here. Need some air." The excuse was cheap, she knew, but her hand was already reaching for the door handle. Before she could get herself out of the car however, she felt a gentle, large hand rest atop hers. Though she can't bear the thought of looking the inventor in the eye, she turns anyhow.
"You know you can tell me anything, right Cait?"
The sheriff is only able to hold his gaze for a moment, before she looks down. Her lips part to say something, anything, but nothing comes to the front of her mind. Instead, she nods silently before slipping out and onto the sidewalk. Jayce follows her with his eyes as she disappears into the crowd.
[-]
Though she entertained the idea of getting herself a tub of ice cream to cope with the rejection, Vi reasoned that there was no better remedy for a broken heart than a bottle of liquor and a few rounds against the nearly-ruined punching bag that hung in the corner of her living room. Blow after denting blow hit the bag with a satisfying thud, and with each one, a bit of the frustration would mellow. And then, just like that, an image of that stupid, smug, idiot hero's face would pop up behind her eyes and the tank was full again. The bruiser threw one more jab that sent the bag swinging as hard as it had all night. It would have felt amazing, had the punch not landed awkwardly. She felt her wrist and knuckles crunch painfully, and let out a hiss of pain. That was gonna hurt tomorrow.
Lowering her arms to a relaxed stance, she stumbles away from the bag to heave herself heavily on the threadbare couch in the middle of the room. Cradling her injured hand close to her chest, Vi flicks the cap off of the bottle on the coffee table and takes a long, healthy swig. It burns deeply in her chest, trails of fire settling in her gut. She replaces the bottle on the table, perhaps a bit too hard, and huffs as she leans roughly into the cushions. Irritatingly, she feels the hot, prickling sensation of tears threatening to make themselves known.
With a grunt of frustration over her state, she sniffs and swipes the back of her arm over her eyes aggressively, willing herself not to cry.
You knew this would happen, she thinks to herself. You don't even have a right to be upset.
Unsurprisingly, this self-talk does not soothe her, and in fact only serves to make her upset.
Heaving a sigh, she looks at the clock. 9:13. Caitlyn was probably on some fancy date with Hammerboy living it up, she mused to herself. Caitlyn could even already be in his penthouse by now, doing Gods know what. Vi stopped herself from thinking her way down that rabbithole. That certainly wasn't what she needed at the moment. No, what she needed was another drink, one that would hopefully push her into the realm of forgetting every event of the day. She could only thank her lucky stars that she didn't have a shift tomorrow-Vi had every intention of doing nothing but nursing what was sure to be a nasty hangover.
Vi picks up the bottle once more and is mid-chug when that obnoxious buzzer startles her, sending fiery liquid down her windpipe. She splutters and coughs, lungs burning painfully and for once she can't wait to answer the door and give whoever the fuck is bugging her at 9:15 at night a piece of her mind.
Bottle still in hand, lightly choking, she swings the door open with indignant fire in her eyes. As soon as she sees who stands in her doorway though, her expression softens. Her shoulders relax as she takes in the sight of Caitlyn, who seems to be unable to make eye contact with her. She looks so much smaller without the hat, Vi can't help but think to herself. They stand in silence for a moment, before the sheriff clears her throat.
"Do you mind if I…" she starts, crystalline eyes finally darting up to meet Vi's. "May I have a word with you?"
Vi almost laughs. It's the same thing she always says when Vi's racked up a bit too much collateral. Instead, she gives a half-hearted smile and opens the door wider to allow the shorter woman entry. As she does, Caitlyn gives the mostly-empty bottle held tightly in Vi's fist a pointed look, before coming to stand in the middle of the living room.
"Sorry I didn't clean up or anything...Wasn't expecting company," Vi admits, sheepishly looking around her living room. It was in quite the state, things that had obviously been thrown across the room lying in broken heaps below dented walls, empty bottles sat on nearly every flat surface. As if to emphasize that last fact, Vi stumbled in place slightly.
Caitlyn brushes off the apology with a wave of her hand. Vi places the bottle she still held on a side table, and pushes her hands into the pockets of her grease-stained sweats. Looking anywhere but at her boss, she thinks of something to say. She doesn't need to think long however, before the sheriff breaks the silence.
"I'd like to try this again," she begins, and Vi's eyebrows knit together. Try what again, exactly? Rejecting her? She had gotten the message loud and clear the first time, thank you very much.
Just as she's about to retort however, something markedly unexpected happens; Caitlyn turns to look at her partner, and closes the distance between them with only a couple of steps. A cool, small hand rests on her cheek just below her tattoo. Before Vi can think or even breathe, her eyes flutter shut as she finds those soft lips upon hers once again. The first kiss they shared may have been brief and awkward, and yet Vi suddenly can't stop thinking about just how badly she'd missed this feeling.
Caitlyn tastes like peppermint and something sweeter. Almost like frosting, Vi can't help but muse to herself. Through the fog of racing thoughts, shock and awe, (perhaps a bit of drunken stupor), the taller woman is surprised she has enough faculties about her to place one hand on Caitlyn's waist and pull her firmly against her. Her head turns and their mouths part, graceful, manicured fingers in her hair sending electric vibrations through every nerve ending.
Suddenly their kiss is deeper, Caitlyn's lips on hers feel hungrier than before. She's fervent, desperately trying to get closer to the taller woman, as though it were possible. Vi feels herself being guided backwards, though she doesn't bother to open her eyes as she shuffles backwards. The backs of her knees hit the sofa, and she collapses onto it, bringing the sheriff along with her. Caitlyn straddles her hips, kissing Vi with greater urgency than before. In a swift motion, she grabs the brawler's hand firmly, intending to place it-
"Ow, shit!" Vi hisses suddenly, their lips breaking. Caitlyn's eyes flutter open in confusion, settling on the hand that had been in her own, but was now being cradled gingerly to Vi's chest. Her eyes widen, eyebrows coming together in concern.
"Vi, what did you do to yourself?" she murmurs, trying to take a closer look. Her hand was swollen and starting to look a bit purple. She wondered how she didn't notice the injury before, but she supposed she'd had other things on her mind and it could be forgiven for now. The sheriff reaches forward to examine her partner. Vi flinches away from the contact, but after a moment she settles and allows the woman on her lap to gently turn her injured hand over in her own. Her piercing blue eyes study the injury carefully, with a level of focus that Vi is sure she's never experienced in her own life. She hisses as Caitlyn squeezes just a bit too tight for a moment, but holds her tongue.
"Punching bag incident. You know how it is," Vi snickers, offering a pained smirk.
Caitlyn rolls her eyes. "You should really get this looked at."
"Isn't that what I'm doing?"
"That's not what I meant."
Suddenly the bruiser leans forward, nose only inches from Caitlyn's. The sheriff feels her heart stutter as she finds herself looking directly into Vi's heavy-lidded eyes. There's mischief in them, and exactly what type sends a flitting feeling through her gut.
"Tell you what, Cupcake," Vi says, voice a low purr. The tone of it had Caitlyn feeling internally melted down to nothing, and she hated to admit that she loved it. "I'll head to the infirmary at the station tomorrow and let 'em patch me up. If," she pauses to give her partner a look full of sly cockiness, "If you stay the night."
Caitlyn rolls her eyes, for all the world exasperated, although in truth, the proposition had been one that she planned to make herself. Her body buzzed like static, though there was no way she would wound her ego further by looking any more eager. "Fine," she says with a sigh, though Vi knows she's not at all as annoyed as she seems.
"Perfect."