Just a little bit of Swain x Kat fluff, featuring a soft Swain.
Katarina was, in the most general of terms, a disaster. She had the tendency to leave her possessions behind her in a very visible and obvious trail; blades casually tossed on his desk, clothing discarded without a care on the floor, occasional paperbacks haphazardly lost beneath their bed covers. There were days that it drove him mad as he was used to a meticulously ordered environment.
He had tried in the past to discuss it with her like two rational people, she'd just grinned infuriatingly and calmly told him it was her home too now and besides, it was all eventually cleared away. In a less than gracious and sensible moment, he'd reminded her that was because they had servants. All that had earned him was a night sleeping alone and having to make a tremendous apology in the morning.
Nothing changed and she continued to behave in ways that vexed him. Though over time he had grown used paying it no mind in order to keep the peace, letting her do as she pleased. Tonight was wholly the opposite, he noted, softly petting Beatrice as she settled onto her perch for the night. He hadn't had to pick up one errant whetstone or piece of jewelry. Bea pulled him out of his musings with a soft contented caw. "Good night my little dear." He cooed gently at her. Even this brought his thoughts back to Kat. She was the only one in the world to hear him speak to his beloved pet like that. She's become an intrinsic part of his life, almost as if she'd been there forever.
He'd just finished signing the orders for the latest campaigns Noxus would be waging and had made sure they were precisely sorted in a neat stack before he began to dim the lamps and make his way to bed. By instinct, he dodged the spot on the floor where her robe almost always lay at night. Tonight though, there to attempt to trip him. His brow furrowed, now that he had acclimated to her chaos, the neatness around him felt empty being devoid of it.
It got infinitely worse when he pulled the covers around himself and found no one there. There should definitely be a warm presence taking up the majority of the bed somehow despite her size. It was cold and empty and all wrong. He should have found peace in the order that was once so familiar to him, instead, there was only an aching sense of loneliness and a rather embarrassing compulsion.
She'd only been gone a few days, he couldn't give in to this thought. But then again, when was the last time they had been parted for any real amount of time. He lacked the feel of her in his arms and all the comfort that meant. For what seemed to be hours he tossed and turned unable to settle, sleep eluding him.
Finally, with a sigh, and relieved that no one could see him, he rose, giving in finally to the instinct that drove him. No one could ever know what he was about to do. Tucked away in his wardrobe was that black silk robe she wore so often. He'd retrieved it from where she'd dropped it before it could be laundered. Embarrassed but desperate beyond words he smuggled it under the covers with him. Wrapping his arms around the cool fabric and holding it close he finally felt he could relax. It wasn't his wife but he could still feel her presence and at least a little of that comfort he was sorely missing.
He had, at last, began to drift off when he heard it, his blood running cold, the sound of his window creaking open. Next came the unmistakable sound of her lithe step down into the room. Inwardly he cursed himself, when Kat found him like this he would never hear the end of it.