Dedicated to my dear friend jerichocopuffs on Twitter who really made me open my eyes to this ship.
A little bit of Pride content for this year.
Swain has a lot of feelings about his oldest friend that he's not really sure how to sort out. But tonight it looks like he'll have to figure them out at last.
It was downpouring, a vicious storm had blown in from the seas that bordered the capital of the Empire, Noxus Prime. Jericho Swain hadn't exactly figured that into his plans for the evening, arriving at the home of his friend Marcus Du Couteau just as nature unleashed its fury. His intention had only been to deliver a stack of documents, likely target lists given his friend's occupation, from High Command and then be on his way. Even one as stubborn as he could now see the building danger though, and he knew he would have to cut his errands short. When the doors to Du Couteau manor were opened, his old friend was as eager to welcome him as always. A man of lean muscle, not too tall in stature, with flowing locks of red hair, Marcus looked more like a privileged noble than an elite assassin.
Jericho had hardly shook the water from his coat after greeting him before Marcus was imploring him to stay. A request he rigidly tried to turn down at first. "Jericho, don't be so intractable Not even you can fight the elements, though I'm sure you'd like to try."
There was something about his friend's warmth that always made him feel peculiar, almost as if there was something in his life that wasn't quite right. "I'd hate to impose, I'm sure you and Soreana already have plans." And his wife made him feel decidedly more negative emotions. There was something about her, always hovering around Marcus, insisting things be done her way, eyeing him like he were some sort of interloper.
"Don't worry, your nemesis is out of the house this evening." He knew he'd lost that careful control he kept of his expression for a moment when Marcus chuckled. "Yes, you've always been that obvious. Now stop dawdling in my foyer Jericho." He grumbled his protest to make record of the fact that he wasn't doing this willingly as Marcus called for a servant to take his coat. "I hope you don't mind, the children are still here though." That almost turned him back, the children had their own effect on him, a feeling he couldn't even begin to describe.
As if on cue, an ear-piercing shriek filled the air and Marcus adopted the face he always associated with his slipping into the role of stern parent. A girl of about eight with honey blonde hair and chocolate eyes full of tears ran to him. "I couldn't have guessed that fact." Jericho snarked and was promptly shushed.
"Papa, she took my doll and she..she" the child sobbed without speaking coherently for a moment, "she killed her."
Marcus picked up Cassiopeia and began to try and comfort her. "Katarina, get out here." His voice conveyed displeasure without resorting to yelling.
A few moments later, his older daughter, about ten, who shared his red hair and emerald eyes appeared, not looking in the least ashamed of herself or penitent. She was followed by a boy who looked nothing like any of the Du Couteau's and seemed to be trying to blend into the shadows. Jericho recognized him as Marcus's adopted son, Talon. "She's being hysterical, it's only a joke. See, the doll is fine." Katarina spoke with confidence and handed over the wooden figure without hesitation.
Marcus sighed. "I appreciate your boldness Kat, but I can see you've changed the dress. There's a stab wound under it, isn't there?" The girl suddenly lost her smirk. "We will talk about tormenting your sister later, for now, you can see Uncle Jericho is here. Why don't you get to the parlor and if you behave yourselves you can stay up late." Outside, a peal of thunder roared and Cassiopeia whimpered in her father's arms. "Maybe he'll even tell you a story from his time in Shurima." Jericho shot him a disapproving look, entertaining children wasn't one of his natural gifts. Another burst of thunder and the two older children were clearly putting on a brave face with the storm reaching new intensity.
He followed as Marcus led the way to the family's first-floor parlor, he was familiar enough with the manor that could've found it on his own, but he was a guest and wanted to keep some level of decorum, despite the screeching, arguing, little malcontents Marcus called children. The youngest was quiet, glaring at her siblings from her father's arms while they whispered violently to each other about something. A fire greeted them, blazing away in the great fireplace and the servants had left various wines and liquors on a sideboard. There were a few children's games and some books placed on the floor. It was unconventional to mix the children with company, but both he and his friend had always sought to overturn the smothering traditions of their social class.
The two men settled onto the sofa after Cassisopiea was finally coaxed into joining her siblings at a game. Behind them was a large window that filled the room with the sound of the pounding rain and occasional flashes of lightning. Each of them had taken a glass of wine, which Jericho sipped it to avoid concentrating on the feeling of creeping warmth that always came when Marcus was too close. "Isn't this preferable to being outside getting soaked."
"I suppose now that the screaming has stopped." He kept his voice low as he didn't want that same screaming directed at him next.
"Stop, you know you enjoy them." Maybe it was his imagination but it felt as though Marcus had moved closer to him and their hands brushed against one another.
"If you must believe that, by all means, continue with your delusions." The last remark did cause him the slightest amount of guilt. The children weren't terrible, he just had no idea what to do with them, and in a way, they always represented Soreana to him.
For a while the two men sat sipping wine and making light conversation, talking about the Empire's wars, High Command's latest rumors, and how they would improve things when they finally held all the power. Jericho even eventually gave in and told the children about one of his victories on the Shuriman front, the storm providing a natural theatrical effect. As he talked about his soldiers breaking the resistance of the savage locals, charging an ancient castle, and finally raising the Noxian standard, Katarina and Talon stared raptly, cheering at the end. Cassiopeia looked bored but had the good grace to remain quiet, cradling her doll. Afterward, the two persuaded her into a game of pretend soldiers, and Jericho was allowed to settle back into his seat.
As he made himself comfortable, he felt Marcus's shoulder against his own and his pulse raced a bit. There was something about these moments, being close to Marcus, the children hovering around them, it awakened something in him. He wouldn't call it longing, mostly because he didn't want to. It felt like seeing a life that could have been, a life he could have chosen but didn't. He had his military career and Marcus had his perfect family.
The first of the children fell asleep on the floor, surprisingly it was the boy. The two girls began to argue quietly over something. He felt the weight of a head resting on his shoulder and in the pleasant haze of wine, he instinctively wrapped his arm around his friend. "You know, you should spend the night." The tone was blatantly suggestive.
He froze up, it had been years since he'd heard an offer like that from Marcus. He'd always refused, deeper connections were things that would only put him off his chosen path. But in the ambiance of firelight and rain patter, with the future he'd denied on display for him, he didn't feel the same resolve. He'd tasted the life he'd chosen, seen the reality of hundreds of empty, lonely nights. He hadn't come here expecting this, but now he wanted nothing more than to seize it. "Won't Soreana disapprove?"
Marcus sighed, his breath tickling Jericho's ear. "Maybe if she were ever here to do so. Don't be stubborn Jericho. It's just one night."
He knew he shouldn't, despite her absence, this was Soreana's place and Soreana's life. He couldn't do more than steal a few hours of it. Still, the refusal wouldn't come out of his mouth, no matter what logic he tried to apply to himself. Marcus was warm, handsome, intelligent, and charismatic. The only human Jericho had a hard time finding fault with. There had been so many times he'd second-guessed himself over the years. But he needed to remain firm, remember why he focused on his career.
Then he felt the brush of lips against his cheek and what was left of his resolve was swept away completely. "One night couldn't hurt I suppose."
Marcus threaded his fingers into his and squeezed. "I knew someday you'd come around. Let's get the kids to bed and then we can do the same." Jericho nodded in agreement before boldly leaning in and kissing Marcus's temple softly.