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Chapter Text

“With a smile and a song,

life is just a bright sunny day.”

It’s a statistical fact for parents that summer is distinctly known as Birthday Hell Time™. Biologically speaking, it’s because everyone decides to get it on in the cold months and then spring forth their screaming progeny in the warm part of the year, so it’s not such a shocking statistic when you really think about it. It makes perfect sense, but just because something makes sense doesn’t mean that its real-world implications aren’t still a pain in the ass to navigate.

For Vi—someone who never had the “privilege” of squeezing out one of her own but seems to have ended up with a little rascal anyway—it means three straight months of carting her sister from park to house to roller rink every weekend and making sure her sugar highs don’t get too out of control.

“Okay,” Vi says as she taps her GPS, bypassing what she knows is the busiest streets in Piltover on the weekends in favor of a backroads route near the lake. Why she even still uses the GPS is beyond her; after navigating Piltover for close to two years since Powder got into that elementary school of genius children on scholarship, she almost knows it better than their hometown of Zaun. “You know the drill, kiddo?”

They turn, and the road takes them around a long curve. The water glints off the lake, sparkling at the edges of Vi’s vision as she watches the car in front of her, keeping as safe a following distance as she can. As a teenager, she used to tear down these roads, car packed full of friends, blasting music at full power until the stuck-up Piltovans called the cops on them.

Now that she’s her sister’s legal guardian, though she opts for a safer ride—one with seatbelts clicked and Powder’s favorite kid’s music playing on the ancient stereo.

Vi glances up at the rearview for a split second, eyeing Powder. She slumps with her arms crossed, wisps of blue hair escaping her braid that she blows away from her face with a dejected huff. Her bottom lip is stuck out an impressive amount, and Vi almost laughs at how thick she’s laying on her disappointment.

“One hour minimum, three hours max,” she murmurs. “One piece of cake, no stealing, no hiding, and I can’t say anything about any of the moms’ Lululemon.”

“You’ve got it,” Vi hums, putting on her blinker with ample distance ahead of the stop sign. God, if eighteen-year-old Vi could see her now. “One addendum: you’ve got to get your shit together before we get there. Quit moping—it’s a princess party, your favorite.”

Powder lets out a long whine, and Vi rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but Snow White is going to be there.”

“And?”

“She’s, like, objectively the worst Disney princess.”

Vi shrugs. “I thought she was pretty adorable as a child.”

“You’d be the only one.”

“Look, Pow,” Vi sighs. “Not every princess party is gonna have Mulan at it, ok? That’s just not how it works.”

“But Mulan is the best Disney princess!” Powder whines. “All the girls in my class just like the girly princesses, they’re so basic.”

“There’s nothing wrong with girly princesses.”

“To me there is,” Powder says. “Snow White just sings her dumb little songs and waits around for her stupid prince and eats food that she hasn’t even sniffed first. What’s so cool about that?”

“Can’t you just pretend to like her for, like, one hour?” Vi asks as they pull up to the park and she begins scouring the area with her nose close to the steering wheel like a grandma for available parking. “Didn’t Savannah say she was gonna have Mulan at her party in, like two weeks?”

“Yeah, but,” Powder slumps even lower, “that’s in two weeks. This is today.”

Vi suppresses a groan as she whips it into a spot, squashing the urge to flip off the mom that almost stole it from her as she passes by in her fucking Escalade. Seriously, who the fuck even needs a car with a hood that’s taller than a whole human child?

See, this is the problem with Powder going to school with a bunch of Piltover brats: the girls love princess parties, and their parents have all the money in the world to make that happen for them. Some of the parties thus far during Birthday Hell Time™ have been the classic ones: pizza parlors, tumbling gyms, dance halls, skating rinks, public and private pools. Most of them have been princess themed, though, because the Disney conglomerate still has a chokehold on the upper middle class and, let's face it, the draw of beautiful women in elaborate wigs and dresses parading around singing songs will never abate.

Vi knows the drill by now. There are a couple of princess party companies in the area, but the best one—the highest quality and greatest demand, the whole Small World After All Shebang—is Piltover Princesses, and she has dealt with them on more than one occasion. At least these princesses are engaging and believable enough to keep the kids occupied so Vi doesn’t have to worry about being bothered by any of the kids. Or worse, the moms.

Vi puts the car in park and leans her head back. She takes a deep breath through her nostrils and, letting her eyelids droop closed for a brief moment, prepares herself for yet another event as Powder’s pseudo-mom. “Two weeks’ll be here before you know it. Besides, I heard Lacey’s mom got an ice cream cake today.”

Powder doesn’t say anything for a moment. Vi opens her eyes and looks in the rearview again, and Powder seems to have perked up.

“Carvel?” she asks.

Vi chuckles. “I don’t know, I didn’t buy the thing. Ice cream’s ice cream, right?”

Powder thinks on that for a long moment, as deeply as an almost-ten-year-old can, and eventually nods. “Okay. For the cake.”

Vi unbuckles herself and opens the door, letting the hot summer air into the air-conditioned car. “For the cake.”

* * *

The party is incredibly generic, but just as large as she expected from the Piltovans. There is a bounce house set up an appropriate distance away from the lake with a revolving door—flap?—of screaming fourth graders. The park tables that are embedded in the dirt, metal and unmovable, are covered in gifts and various party favors. The kids run around in the grass, giving a wide berth to a swiftly-set-up stage with the Piltover Princesses logo emblazoned across the back. Various women run around, setting up the main princess event. Mothers sit around the coolers, chatting about a variety of topics that don’t interest Vi in the slightest.

Vi sips a Mike’s Hard (supplied for the adults, obviously) and keeps her distance. Occasionally a cool mom or an out-of-place will come around and exchange pleasantries with her, but most of the other mothers of girls in Powder’s class don’t give her a second look except the occasional nervous glance her way, just to check to see if she’s still there.

Vi isn’t stupid. She knows what she looks and sounds like. She knows she and Powder are from the other side of the river. She knows she’s no mother. She’s never going to be on the PTA. She won’t chaperone a dance or join an HOA or ever be able to pull together the funds for a princess party like this for Powder. She’s a tired sister slogging through her mid-to-late-twenties, trying her best to raise a little girl who deserves to have two parents there with her for little things like birthday parties.

Not to mention, she has a fucking face tattoo. Doesn’t exactly scream “come approach me at princess parties” or whatever.

Vi watches Powder chase a little blonde girl over the hill, squealing and laughing as they pretend to cast spells at each other with fake fairy princess wands. She thinks her name is Lux; Powder talked about her a couple of times since they were placed in the same class, and Vi has seen her at a few parties now. She’s glad to see Powder having a normal childhood, making maybe-friends, attending princess parties, having all the childhood things Vi never got to have. It makes Vi happy, knowing she might be doing right by her.

“Alright, everyone!” Donna, Lacey’s mother and the host of the birthday event, claps her hands together loudly. The mothers begin to corral their children to sit in the grass in front of the stage, but Vi doesn’t move from her spot. She does not corral, thank you very much. “If everyone would please gather around, we have a very special guest visiting us from a far-off kingdom. She has been so kind as to come by and wish my little Lacey a very happy birthday, and to visit with all the little princesses here.”

The children are then asked to go through a convoluted series of steps involving stomping and shouting and sparkle-hands-ing before the princess is summoned forth, all of which Powder absolutely refuses to do on principle. From where Vi sits, slightly away from all the parents and children eagerly watching the stage, she can see the flash of an arm clutching a microphone backstage. Shame, she thinks with a smirk. They couldn’t even buy the package that includes the wireless mics, whatever shall the PTA think?

With that (albeit hilarious) thought, Snow White is announced, and the curtains part.

Vi’s eyebrows raise as soon as she lays eyes on the woman playing the princess today, because damn, Piltover Princess has upped their game. Last summer there were a few decent princesses interspersed with freshly-eighteen-year-old girls looking to make a quick buck before going off to college, which led to more than one amateur mishap with voice cracks and wigs and out-of-character slip-ups, but the quality of costuming on this girl is actually phenomenal. She has a dutifully styled black wig on in the classic Snow White style, and her dress doesn’t look like it was ordered off Amazon with Prime shipping.

Even if it was, Vi thinks this girl would have worn it like couture, because she is stunning. Of course, she’s done up in full Snow White makeup, doe-eyes and red lips and everything, but Vi can tell by the long slope of her neck and her delicate, high cheekbones that she’s naturally pretty. She steps onto the stage with a demure smile, holding her hands up in that poised, floaty way that all princesses at these parties seem to do. Her posture seems naturally regal, like this woman is an actual-factual Disney princess.

Vi frowns, nods appreciatively, and takes a long swig from her bottle.

“Hello little princesses,” Snow White says, and damn, this woman has the Snow White voice down. Perfectly airy and lilting. Vaguely transatlantic. She floats to the front of the stage and dips down in front of the birthday girl in a light curtsy. “And happy birthday to you, Lacey. I have a special song to sing to you on your special day, would you like to hear it?”

The crowd responds a resounding yes, the loudest being from the birthday girl herself. Powder twists around and, placing a hand in front of her face as if it could stop literally anyone from seeing her, points toward the back of her throat and gags.

Vi hides her snort behind the rim of her bottle.

She returns to her place in the center of the stage without rush, and with a flourish of her skirts she sits on the stage with her feet tucked neatly under her, dress circling out perfectly around her. The children—well, most of them—watch her even more raptly now that she is down on their level, raising the microphone to her mouth and smiling like they share a secret.

“Someday my prince will come
Someday we'll meet again”

Vi halts with the bottle halfway raised to her lips. The first few notes of the tune come out so clear and so gorgeous that it takes Vi aback, and she’s left reeling for a long moment while this woman continues to draw out her notes in long, languid swaths.

“And away to his castle we'll go
To be happy forever I know”

Her plump, red lips make beautiful shapes over the vowels, and she sings with such skilled intonation that the whole party is enraptured, adults and kids alike. Even Powder seems mesmerized, eyes glued to the princess on the floor like she stepped right out of their television screen. Donna grins like the cat that ate the canary, clearly pleased with her choice of princess.

“Someday when spring is here
We'll find our love anew”

Vi’s mouth dries as Snow White looks out on the crowd of children, telling them the story of her lost love and her near-unbearable yearning with such a convincing expression that it makes Vi’s stomach drop. There’s something about how this woman sings this song that makes Vi believe it, that makes her believe this woman has lost the love of her life, and may never find the love she is looking for again.

“And the birds will sing”

Her eyes trace over the back of the crowd, meeting every stare, but when they flicker over to Vi she holds her gaze, and it takes Vi’s breath away.

“And wedding bells will ring”

Vi watches her doe-eyes widen, lips parting slightly in the beat at the end of her line, the sound ringing out from between them high like a bell.

“Someday when my dreams come true.”

And God, when she sings that final part, she swears she’s singing it to Vi.

* * *

The party proceeds like normal after that, though it takes a moment for the guests to snap out of their princess-induced stupor after that short, stunning performance. Snow White sang a few more iconic songs from her movie, and after that there was a meet and greet where everyone who wanted to got to meet the princess. Powder was slightly more thrilled about this than Vi expected, and when it was her turn, she seemed to engage Snow White in such intense conversation that the other kids waiting behind her start to grumble. At one point, Powder even pointed back at her, and when the Snow White looked up, smiled, and gave her a princess-y wave, Vi almost spits out her drink. She turned away instead and hid her face until Powder finally gave up the princess’ attention.

“A fan of Snow White now, huh?” Vi asks when Powder finally comes trotting back over to their table.

“Not really,” Powder says, “but she’s cool. She asked me all about my hair, and told me how pretty it was.”

“Oh yeah?” Vi asks. She looks back over at Snow White, who is grinning at a child who is holding her larger hands between her smaller ones, listening closely to what she says to her. “What did you tell her?”

Powder shrugs, ripping open a single-serving packet of M&Ms. “I told her my awesome sister did it for me.”

Vi’s chest swells with pride.

* * *

An hour passes by and cake is served. Snow White sings happy birthday to Lacey, who looks at her like she’s Jesus Christ come again, and it’s all very endearing. Snow White makes her rounds from table to table, sitting with the kids and playing along with their Disney fantasies and trying not to get cake on her skirt.

Vi and Powder sit at their own table with folding chairs, and it’s probably good that they’re by themselves because Powder is making a huge show of shoveling as much ice cream cake into her face as fast as she can. Her lips and tongue are blue, but hey, so are Vi’s. It’s kind of the thing that happens with ice cream cake, and arguably it’s the funnest part. Makes Vi feel like a kid again.

“Ah!” Powder shouts, pressing her hands to her temples. “Brain freeze!”

“Well yeah, dummy,” Vi laughs as Powder rubs furiously at her face, getting blue icing everywhere. Vi picks up a napkin, wets it in her cup of water, and gets to work trying to wipe the crime scene off her sister’s cheek. “That’s what happens when you act like a human ice cream garbage disposal.”

“Stop it, Vi, I’m in pain,” she moans dramatically, but Vi can see the telltale twinge of a smirk forming at her mouth, so she just scrubs harder until they’re both cackling and free of any blue that might have lingered.

Maybe this whole thing isn’t so bad, Vi thinks. 

Powder calms down her giggling and Vi throws the wadded napkin into an empty cup, tasting the residual icing that lingers in her teeth. The sun is strong and bright above, filtered only through the leaves of the trees that surround them, and the air smells clean. This is a far cry from Zaun and its many crowded industrial parks, and Vi has to admit, the open space and fresh air is kind of nice. She feels truly calm for the first time in a while.

“Why hello there, little princess!”

Vi’s heartbeat quickens. Scratch that.

Vi looks up as Snow White joins them at their table, sitting beside Powder on the other side of the table. Up close she is even more beautiful than from afar, and despite the heavy July heat her makeup has not budged an inch. Her eyes are a bit narrower than the markup would suggest, cheekbones a little shaper, but it has all been diffused out in a very Disney way. Honestly, she doesn’t seem much younger than Vi, but she makes herself small when she moves and sits, making her appear slightly younger. All part of the acting, Vi supposes.

“Are you having fun this afternoon?” Snow White asks. She waits for Powder’s response patiently, and when she nods, Snow White smiles and says, “I am having the most marvelous time myself. I never thought I could ever eat so much delicious cake! Though I much prefer apples, preferably ones that aren’t filled with all sorts of bad things.”

Powder giggles, and the warmth Vi feels at the sight of her having so much fun with this fantasy almost outweighs the cold burn of anxiety within her as she sits across from such a beautiful woman. When said woman glances at her from under her lashes, still turned halfway towards Powder, Vi’s heart nearly stops.

“And who might this be?” Snow White asks. “Your chaperone for today?”

“This is my sister, Vi,” Powder introduces. “Vi, meet Snow White.”

Vi musters all of the finesse she has left in her body and manages a grin. She bends slightly at the waist even though she’s sitting, miming some sort of deep bow of reverence. “Your highness.”

“My oh my!” Snow White gushes, turning back to Powder. “Powder, your sister is handsome like a prince. And with the manners of one, too.”

All of the color left in Vi’s face pools in her cheeks, and she feels like her whole top layer of skin is crawling with ants. “Uh—”

Powder starts cackling so hard she knocks her spoon to the ground, saving Vi from what could have possibly been the worst series of blunders to ever leave her mouth.

“Vi can’t be a prince, silly,” Powder says, wiping her eyes. “She’s a woman. Duh.”

Snow White’s lips part in shocked indignation, and she plants her hands on her hips. “Who’s to say that? I believe anyone can be a prince. Princes come in all shapes and sizes—I would know, I have been waiting for mine an awfully long time.”

“Well, what do you count as a prince?” Powder asks.

Snow White thinks long and hard, tapping her chin with her finger theatrically. Vi takes this moment of preoccupation to stare at the slender crook of her finger, her well-manicured nails, and the red shine of lacquer on her lips. Quit being a creep, Vi, she thinks, snapping herself out of it. This is a kid’s birthday party for fuck’s sake.

“I would say,” Snow White finally says, “that a prince is somebody who is kind and understanding. Chivalrous, when the situation calls for it. Someone who is willing to step up and do the right thing, even when it is not the popular thing to do.”

“Hm,” Powder hums. “That doesn’t sound like Vi.”

“Oh, but didn’t your sister help you with your lovely blue hair?” Snow White asks, gesturing sweetly to Powder’s braid. “Didn’t you just tell me what she told you when you asked to change it? You said if anyone said mean things to you about the way you look, she told you to stand your ground and stand up to them?”

Powder’s mouth forms a tiny O of understanding. She clutches her braid between her hands and is quiet for a moment.

“Snow White,” she asks. “Is your prince really all of those things?”

Snow White smiles at Powder. Her eyes flicker back to Vi and Vi realizes with a start that they are intensely blue—bluer, even, than Vi ever thought Snow White’s were supposed to be. Her eyes, this woman’s real eyes, capture Vi’s gaze and don’t let go.

Vi lets herself be seen.

“Oh yes,” Snow White says. “I think my prince may very well be all of those things.”

* * *

At the end of the party, Snow White stands on the stage and waves everyone goodbye. Vi and Powder take their typical place at the back of the crowd, closest to the parking lot so they can make a quick escape and beat the end-of-party parking lot traffic. The bouncy house slowly deflates behind them like a sad, sad balloon. Vi almost wants to offer it her condolences.

“Alright, everyone!” Donna says as she stands next to the woman who owns and operates Piltover Princesses. “Everyone blow kisses goodbye to Snow White to wish her a safe trip back to her kingdom!”

The children in the crowd blow a veritable sea of kisses towards Snow White, showering her in complete adoration. Some kinds even verbally say goodbye, bidding her farewell back to whatever kingdom Snow White is set in (Vi never really knew or cared.) Snow White stands there onstage, collecting all of the kisses and holding them close to her heart, hugging them into the spaces closest to her. Even Powder blows a single kiss, exhausted but still willing to invite the fantasy into her own little heart. Vi watches her and, with the tiniest huff of a laugh, ruffles her hair and turns her attention back towards the exiting princess.

“Vi,” Powder says. “Aren’t you going to blow the princess a kiss goodbye?”

Vi opens her mouth to say no, but there’s something about the way Snow White looked at her earlier, that knowing look charged with something that does not belong to a princess but instead belongs to a woman, just a woman. A beautiful woman who, if Vi’s luck in the past has anything to say about it, she will probably never see again.

Well, Vi thinks, giving in to her inner child, or something even more selfish than that. Fuck it.

She presses the tips of her fingers to her lips and sends a kiss Snow’s way.

Chapter Text

"What do we want?

A girl worth fighting for!"

It’s two weeks of grueling, nonstop kid wrangling before Vi finds herself at another princess party, and during that time she cannot stop thinking about Snow White.

She calls her Snow White because she can’t call her anything else. She doesn’t know this girl’s name or anything about her at all, so she’s stuck on loop as Disney’s first princess in Vi’s mind at all times, which is (shockingly) even more strange and confusing than it sounds.

It’s been tough for Vi to find free moments in her busy beginning-of-the-month schedule, but when she does—namely in the shower, before bed, or while making coffee—she can’t stop thinking about those plush lips and how they smiled at her coyly over the table in that brief moment of interaction. She thinks about those blue eyes and how they sparkled when they looked at Vi, like the two of them shared a secret.

It was enough to start driving Vi crazy, so she had to force herself to worry about her busy schedule and not a fake princess who she’ll probably never see again.

Since Powder is off school and Vi still works full-time and can barely afford rent let alone childcare, she has to be on call 24/7 to take emergency calls from Powder while she stays home alone. She’s a smart kid so Vi doesn’t worry about her very much, but if she has to field one more call from Powder interrupting one of her one-on-one training sessions at the gym to ask her where babies come from, she’s going to scream.

Summers are always the hardest for their little family. Sending Powder to school in Piltover means a fully assured day of care for her sister where she’s guaranteed at least one free hot meal a day—two if she’s in the after school program. In the summertime, Vi is responsible for Powder all day long, and even though she doesn’t worry about her, she still needs to make sure Powder is well looked after. Sometimes “well” is kind of a dubious term.

So when Vi piles Powder into the car to cross the river and attend yet another princess birthday party, she’s a little more irritated at Powder’s seemingly never-ending store of energy. She bounces up and down in the backseat like the Energizer bunny, and Vi has to yell at her to put her seatbelt back on at least twice in the fifteen minutes it takes for them to get from Zaun to Piltover.

The third time, Vi has to grit her teeth and take a few calming breaths before biting out, “Kid, you’re gonna need to calm down before I pull this car over and make you calm down.”

“But V-i-i-i,” Powder drawls. Vi can feel her little hands clutching Vi’s headrest, and she suppresses a groan. “It’s Mulan day! A princess party with an actually cool princess!”

“Yeah, I heard you the first hundred times you said it. And then the hundred times before that. And the hundred times before that.”

“Savannah’s been talking about this for, like, days!” Powder exclaims. “She was all like, ‘Mulan is coming and she’s gonna kick everyone’s butts!’ and I was like ‘Fuck yeah! Fighting princesses!’ and then I got in big trouble for swearing on the playground.”

Vi rolls her eyes. Kid gets it from her, she’s sure. “You know you’re not supposed to say adult words in front of other kids.”

“I thought you said words are just words and we shouldn’t worry so much about—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I said, okay?” Vi presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose and squeezes. “I was young when I told you that, and now I’m older and I’m telling you not to.”

“You were twenty. Legally an adult.”

“Twenty is barely adult.”

“You can drink alcohol at twenty-one.”

“And you can vote for the whole-ass president at eighteen,” Vi says as they pull up to one of the stately homes at the end of Mulberry Drive or Wicker Way or whatever they’re naming these pretentious-ass streets these days. It’s a gaudy thing, huge and white and surrounded by pine trees. “Point is, age doesn’t mean a thing. I’m telling you I was dumb and I don’t want my dumb advice to lead you to making dumb decisions. Okay?”

Powder pouts, but she relents. “Okay.”

“Good,” Vi says, turning back forward so she can pull parallel to the long drive, where a string of other cars are also parked. This is a co-ed party, so she sees little boys darting in and out and around the already-parked cars, squealing and chasing one another through the thin bedding of pine needles. “Now, I know you’re excited, but you’ve still got to be nice to Mulan. Don’t overwhelm her.”

Powder kicks her feet. “You know I know those aren’t the real Disney princesses, right?”

Vi purses her lips. “I mean, I wasn’t going to say anything one way or the other, but you seemed pretty convinced last time.”

“I wasn’t convinced,” she murmurs. “It was just fun to believe for a little bit, y’know?”

Vi feels a lump forming in the back of her throat. She turns the car off, holds the steering wheel for a second, then turns to look directly at her sister.

“Yeah,” she says. “It was fun.”

“Do you…” Powder’s voice trails off, and Vi lets her think about it for a second. “Do you think these things can still be fun, even if I know they’re not completely real?”

Vi takes a deep breath. Time for some serious parenting.

“Look, Pow, I’m not going to lie,” she says. “Sometimes knowing the trick to things takes the spark out of it. That’s just how it is. But I think that half the fun is showing up, having a good time, and letting yourself be a kid every now and again. And you’re still a kid, so it shouldn’t be that hard to just let yourself have fun like that. I think that’s kinda magical.”

Powder unbuckles herself, but doesn’t move to get out of the backseat. “I think I’m going to have fun either way. I’m just worried that I won’t. It’s one of those… what did the shrink call it?”

“Therapist,” Vi corrects. Where did she even learn the term ‘shrink?’ Vi wonders. What is this, 1960? “And I think you mean an intrusive thought.”

“Yeah. One of those.”

“I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about, kiddo,” Vi says, patting her sister’s knee. “Well, not the intrusive thoughts or whatever, but the whole ‘losing the fun’ thing. We’re gonna have a great time no matter what.”

Powder turns her baby blue on her, and Vi’s heart melts. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

Powder manages a smile and pops open the door. She readies herself to exit just as Vi is climbing out, but hesitates. When Vi lifts her eyebrow, as if to ask what now? Powder just fixes her with a determined stare and blurts:

“But Santa is still totally real, right?”

* * *

This party is bigger than the last, and instead of a small stage in the middle of a field in the park, the backyard—if it can even be called that, there’s a stable house on the property and everything—has a whole raised platform set up with stairs, chairs, external microphones, the whole nine yards. The party is situated around the central stage, which sports the same Piltover Princesses logo, fanning out a wide array of tables and princess paraphernalia across a whole swath of land. Vi could never even fathom having this much space to herself; she wouldn’t even know what to do with it all.

Powder immediately runs to find Savannah, and Vi is left alone to her own devices. It seems like they arrived fairly late, and by late Vi means “comfortably close to the main event.” Vi has been to enough of these to know that the bigger events kind of have an ongoing-princess theme to them, where the show goes on around the guests in varying acts throughout the day. So, they don’t have to sweat being on time.

In fact, the introduction music has already begun to play as the two of them got situated, Powder with her friends and Vi with a soda and half a glazed donut in a far corner near the trees.

There is a woman on the stage who is announcing the arrival of the various princesses to the party, and sure enough, it is the same woman Vi saw before at the other party just two weeks ago but this time she is much more involved with the whole ordeal. Now that Vi looks at her, she really is quite striking with her dark skin and braids all decked out in gold. She’s a woman who seems to have been in entertainment for a long time.

A variety of princesses come out like pageant girls, striking character-centric poses in the center of the stage before moving on to a neat line. There’s Rapunzel with her long golden hair, Tiana in her poufy green gown, Ariel in her ribboned pink dress from when she was a human in the movie, et cetera, et cetera. Eventually there are five princesses all out on the stage, and Vi cranes her neck to look for Powder in the crowd. She spots her little blue head bobbing up and down, jumping to get a look at the final princess, the one she was most eager to see.

Finally, the final princess makes her way onto the stage, and there is a way she carries herself that rings familiar in Vi’s mind. It’s Mulan dressed up in her pink-and-blue dress, its waist high and cinched as she walks with a fan in her hand. Vi has to grin at the spectacle of it all, and she sees the slight disappointment on Powder’s face when she sees that they’ve dolled up her favorite princess and not sent her out in her loose-haired, green-robed outfit that she is so well-known for.

Vi is so busy watching her sister’s expression that she doesn’t immediately realize that this woman in the Mulan costume is the same woman that was dressed up as Snow White just a few weeks ago. The realization hits her like a train as she realizes that this woman holds her hands the same way, even when she takes out her prop sword with a flourish and all the kids ooh and ahh. Mouth agape in shock, she traces her eyes over the angles of her face, less diligently hidden than they were when she was Snow White. The various shapes of her face aren’t so hidden now, and Vi thinks she might actually be looking at something close to this woman’s real features.

And she was right, before. This woman is drop-dead gorgeous, even when she isn’t painted to the high heavens.

The princesses all parade around in circles and wave into the crowd, pressing fingertips to tiny hands in greeting. Music plays in the background and together they sing “It’s a Small World After All” in uniform chorus. It’s bland in comparison to the song Snow White—Mulan?—sang at the other party, and as she watches Mulan parade around in her pink dress and large tight-bunned wig, she looks like she’s feeling a little lackluster, too. Her mouth makes those perfect shapes over the lines of the song, and she emotes the way Mulan might, but her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. No child would notice it—hell, most of the adults watching probably don’t notice either.

But Vi has never been able to ignore this woman, so she sees it. Even from the line of the trees, she sees it.

* * *

Vi begins to lose her nerve in hour two.

She keeps up her end of the bargain: Powder has the option, always, to either suck it up and stay for one full hour at the parties she hates or, conversely, if she’s having a fantastic time she’s not allowed to stay for more than three hours to maintain Vi’s sanity. At this point it’s looking to Vi like a three-hour event, so Vi gets her ass up and serves herself another slice of cake.

She’s on slice number three. There’s no alcohol to entertain the adults at this one, so she’s had to curb her boredom and irritability with sugar. She takes huge bites as she scans the big swath of land, searching for that familiar shock of blue that leads her to the tiny human she is responsible for. She doesn’t see her at all, but Powder is a master of climbing and squirreling away and hiding, so she’s bound to stumble across her eventually if she just digs hard enough.

“Which one is yours?” One of the moms asks her as she shovels away cake, barely breathing between bites. Vi doesn’t love how she’s looking at her, eyes glued to her face tattoo like half the other moms here who don’t already know her, and she snorts.

“Looking for the little shit right now,” she chuckles, and the look of shock that crosses this woman’s face is worth the heavy-handed crassness.

“You…” The lady doesn’t look like she even knows what to unpack about that statement first. “You don’t know where your child is?”

“I like to let her graze,” Vi murmurs, scanning the crowd again. “Listen Sharon, if you see a little blue-haired gremlin with icing on her face, just send her my way okay?”

Vi leaves the table before this lady can tell her that her name isn’t Sharon.

She holds her half-piece of cake aloft above the heads of squealing, running children as she makes her way away from the party, towards the outskirts of the party. There are neatly trimmed shrubs and trees back here surrounding the stable house, and one look at the thing tells Vi all she needs to know: this house has never once been home to a horse of any kind.

“Pow?” she calls out. The music behind her from the party is faint but thumping as one of the princesses does a solo act. She looks in all the nooks and crannies, just in case she decided to play a game of hide and seek with the others and got stuck. (It’s happened before.) “Powder?”

She rounds this house, which has no lights on inside and, judging by the view from the open windows, is mainly used as a guest space or an in-law suite. It’s all dark wood, made darker by the shade of the pines, and everything smells like wildflowers baking in the summer sun.

And there, sitting with her back pressed against the wall of the stable house, is Mulan.

Vi stops in her tracks. She blinks a few times, just in case she’s not actually seeing what she thinks she’s seeing, but yup—there she is, and her wig is on the ground. The bun and intricate set of clips within it are still intact, but it is definitely not on her head anymore. A curtain of dark hair, silky and smooth, hangs over her face as she hunches with her hands pressed to the sides of her head, slightly stringy at points where it was pulled out of the wig. The dress is still impeccably pressed but it’s bunched up with her knees as she takes deep, steadying breaths. Vi would have thought she was crying, but the woman is silent, so she thinks maybe not.

Vi snaps out of her frozen state and tries her best to back up as silently as possible. Her foot hits a stray stick and it snaps, the sound echoing in the space between them, and Mulan’s head snaps up.

Their eyes lock, and they’re those same baby blues Vi noticed before, except now they are framed by elaborate makeup that is actually designed to move with the shapes of her face, not against it. Up close, the woman’s nose is long and straight, cheeks rosy with embarrassment even through her various powders and pastes. She’s painted to look like Mulan, but with her hair down and free like this, she just kind of looks… well, like a girl.

“Shit,” Mulan says, voice clipped and accented, and it’s such an absurd thing to hear a party princess say in this situation that it actually tugs a laugh out of Vi’s chest without her permission. Mulan scrambles to correct her mistake, sputtering: “I—I mean, sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay,” Vi assures her, expression softening. “Really.”

Mulan deflates and runs a hand through her hair, attempting to tame the tangles as best she can. She looks, to be frank, like crap, but well-decorated crap. “I didn’t think anyone would come back here.”

“Didn’t think I’d come back here either,” Vi says, shuffling her feet. She’s not quite sure what to do here. “I was just looking for my sister.”

Mulan’s well-drawn eyebrows come together. “Is she all right?”

“Oh, she’s probably fine,” Vi assures her. “She just likes to run around. Gets lost a lot. It’s my job to keep her from taking a header into a ravine, or getting turned around in the woods, or whatever.”

Mulan snorts out a watery laugh. “Sounds like a big job.”

Vi nods. “Biggest job of my life.”

Silence stretches between them. Vi can just hear the tail-end of “Almost There” echoing through the trees—a pretty dope rendition, in Vi’s opinion—as they both stay where they are, neither quite knowing what to say to the other.

Finally, Vi asks, “Can I sit?”

Mulan’s lips part. She stares at Vi, not quite knowing what to make of her request, but there must have been something sincere in Vi’s normally tough expression, because she slowly nods. She scoots over an inch to bare more even ground as Vi stoops, careful not to drop her half a slice of cake off its plate. Sitting next to Mulan in such close proximity, Vi realizes that she’s slightly shorter than the other woman, and that realization makes her blush.

“So,” Vi says after a moment of getting settled. “Bad week, or…?”

The woman snorts again, the sound even more adorable the second time. “Bad week.”

“Well you know,” Vi hums. “I don’t know if this goes against, like, the ‘party princess code of conduct’ or anything, but I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener. Y’know, by some people. Not naming names.”

The woman stares at her like she just dropped out of the sky, but in a good way? Vi’s not sure how to take that. “Are you saying you want to sit here and listen to Mulan’s problems?”

“I mean,” Vi says, “it would help if I knew Mulan’s name.”

The woman pauses, looking straight ahead. Then, with a sigh: “It’s Caitlyn.”

Caitlyn, Vi thinks, rolling the word around in her mind like wine might in her mouth. She holds out her hand and Caitlyn shakes it lightly. “It’s a pleasure, Caitlyn. I’m Vi.”

“We’ve met.”

“No, I think I distinctly remember meeting Snow White,” Vi says coyly, and that makes Caitlyn giggle. Her fingers tingle when their hands part. “So Caitlyn, or Snow White, or Mulan—what’s eating at you?”

Caitlyn is silent again for a long time. She picks at the grass next to the wig that sits beside her knee, and there is a faraway look in her eye. Vi barely wants to breathe, she’s so scared of messing this whole thing up.

“Where do I even start?” she breathes. “I’ve been working two jobs since my mother and father cut me off from the family finances, so I’ve been working nonstop all day, every day just to make ends meet. I’m an office worker from 9 to 5 and the rent keeps skyrocketing in Piltover and I couldn’t afford rent and cost of living on just my meager salary, so I suppose I’m a party princess forever now. My only days off are my weekends and now those are filled to the brim with parties and singing and dressing up and these godawful wigs.”

For good measure, she kicks the wig with her foot. Not hard enough to cause it any damage, but enough to get her frustration out. She curls up even closer to her knees.

“I barely have time to breathe,” she whispers. “And I don’t even have my parents to tell me things are going to be okay.”

Vi watches her collapse into herself, on the verge of tears. She looks so much like Powder when she’s going through something hard, like a kid who’s not quite sure when down became up and left became right. Vi’s heart aches for her.

“Hey,” she says.

Caitlyn exhales deeply. “What?”

“It is,” Vi murmurs, “going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Caitlyn huffs.

“Yeah, well,” Vi sighs. “It might not feel okay now, but that doesn’t mean things won’t be okay forever. There was a time in my life when I thought things would never be okay again. When my parents died and I was fighting for custody of Powder, it felt like my luck had officially run out, like I’d used it all up. I thought for sure that my life was over, that I’d lose the one person that was most important to me in this world and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“But things did work out. I got custody of Powder, I got a steady job, and we got through it. I raised her from the time she was four, and she’s, like, pretty much the coolest kid ever all things considered. I didn’t fuck her up completely, if her grades and her scholarship have anything to say about it. Things did get better. They did.

“And they’ll get better for you,” Vi adds. “I mean, how shitty can being a Disney princess be?”

Caitlyn chuckles. “Shittier than you think, but… not all that shitty. At least, not all the time. I love kids—can’t get enough of them, really. I love when they get so excited to see me, when they give me hugs and kisses and everything. Most princesses don’t like to be touched by the kids, but I don’t mind it at all.

“Honestly, the worst part of the job is the adults. Being touched by the adults, spoken to by the adults. The dads…” Caitlyn shudders. “I just hate feeling exploited. I do this for the paycheck, but I also do it for the kids. I’m not some doll to parade around for the adults to stare at.”

“Did…” Vi’s voice trails off, and she swallows. “Did something like that happen today?”

Caitlyn is quiet, which is answer enough.

“I don’t want to be difficult,” Caitlyn sighs instead. “I need this job. Mel is counting on me.”

“Mel?”

“One of my best friends,” Caitlyn says. “She runs the company. She gave me this job.”

“Oh,” Vi says, trying to remember the woman she saw running Piltover Princesses. She remembers her being pretty and tall, but not much else. “Yeah, I mean, that sucks big time.”

“Indeed it does.”

Vi taps her feet against the ground, staring forward into the trees. She’s painfully aware of the presence next to her, and it sends a shiver down her spine.

“You don’t, uh,” Vi clears her throat. “You don’t seem very partial to princes, are you?”

Caitlyn watches the ants on the ground in front of her. The hint of a sad smile plays at her lips. “What gave it away?”

“Well,” Vi blushes. “I mean, you weren’t exactly subtle the last time we met.”

A giggle bubbles up in Caitlyn’s chest. “Yes, I was rather forward, wasn’t I?”

“Can’t say I was upset at the high praise,” Vi smirks. “But Powder was right, I’m not much of a prince. You should save your compliments for someone else.”

“You know,” Caitlyn says, turning back to Vi, and when she looks at her it’s with so much open kindness that it almost stops Vi’s heart. “I might have to disagree with you there.”

Vi feels her veins run hot with… something. It’s a tingly something, something that feels good and bad and odd all at once, something that floods her whole chest with warmth. It’s a feeling Vi hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

Vi opens her mouth, ready to say something, anything, when Caitlyn’s stomach growls.

Caitlyn looks down at herself, like she could will the offending sound to go away. It’s such an adorable pout that Vi can’t help but smile, especially considering the humor of their current situation. Vi chuckles and looks down at her half-piece of cake, extending the plate towards Caitlyn.

“Want some?” she asks.

Caitlyn hesitates, eyes flickering between the offering of cake and Vi. Then, slowly, she takes the plate and its perched fork and takes delicate, quick bites like she hasn’t eaten in a while. Vi watches her scarf the cake down as politely as she can.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, hiding her lips when she has to talk and chew. “Sorry, I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning and it seems I’ve missed lunch.”

“Hey, everyone should be entitled to cake at a birthday party,” Vi laughs, leaning close to Caitlyn. Emboldened, she cranes her neck toward Caitlyn’s ear and whispers, “Especially someone as sweet as you.”

Caitlyn freezes, tongs still between her teeth, and Vi watches with bashful pride as her cheeks flush beet red under all her Disney makeup. Vi grins a wild streak as Caitlyn turns to look at her, their lips mere inches from each other. Vi can feel her breathing, can feel the electricity sparking in the air between them. She can smell the sugar on her mouth.

“I really must be getting back,” she whispers, but she makes no move to get away. Vi watches her pupils dilate, eyes darting between them.

“Not before I get your number,” Vi blurts, but the question feels so natural she’s not so embarrassed by it.

“I…” Caitlyn says, biting her lip, and shit does Vi want to know how those lips feel against hers. “I’m on the job right now. Come find me afterward and… and…”

She loses her words when Vi leans closer, and suddenly they’re at the precipice of something very dangerous, something neither of them seems willing to stop.

So, instead of tasting those lips like Vi so desperately craves, she reaches down, takes Caitlyn’s hand in hers, and kisses the soft skin there. She hears Caitlyn gasp as her lips linger against her flesh, and she looks up from between her lashes at a woman who is now fully and completely flushed.

“What—” Caitlyn gasps. “What was that for?”

Vi grins and drops her hand, taking up her wig from the ground. She brushes a few leaves off, tucks a few stray hairs back into place, and places it gently back into Caitlyn’s baffled hands. She holds it there like Vi just offered her a live raccoon. “There you go. I’m the last person who gets to touch you today.”

“What?” Caitlyn asks again, clearly still stupefied.

“Your last kiss of the day,” Vi says, “gets to be from a real prince. Unless you really were lying to me earlier. Last chance to take all that back, princess.”

Cailyn gapes at her, red lips forming a perfect circle. Vi’s grin spreads even wider; she knows she has her, and this time she’s not letting her go so easily. As Caitlyn’s expression settles into something closer to understanding, her lips settle back into a smile of her own.

“I will not be taking that back,” she says, “and I will be seeing you when I get off at 3 o’clock. Any later and you may turn back into a pumpkin.”

Heart fuller than ever, Vi says, “Wrong fairytale, Cupcake.”

* * *

She finds Powder playing with the birthday girl in the pavilion just in time for the final performance of the day. Powder drags her back to the crowd of children, shouting “It’s Mulan! It’s Mulan!” just as Mulan herself—Caitlyn—takes the stage and begins her delivery of a stunning rendition of “Reflections.” Hair fixed and makeup touched up, she looks just as beautiful as she had when she first walked out on that stage, as if nothing were ever wrong at all. As if Mulan were not just a struggling woman in a pink-and-blue dress, singing about love to dozens of children who have yet to explore it.

She doesn’t find Vi out there this time, but Vi looks up at her with unwavering admiration, and the hope of something new on the horizon.

Powder knows every single word, and shouts it over the crowd.

Chapter Text

“I know you, I walked with you

once upon a dream.”

Vi stares at Caitlyn’s brand-new contact in her phone every time she goes on break for the next week.

Things have calmed down a bit since Powder first came off of the school year, so she’s had some room to breathe. Powder has started visiting Lux at least twice a week, and Lux’s mother has been kind enough to pick her up and drop her off from Zaun whenever she needs it. The kid has things to do, Vi is thankful for that, but the bills still have to be paid.

Her gig as a personal trainer at a gym in Zaun isn’t exactly a steady 9 to 5, but it pays well and it gives her the flexibility to be able to adjust her schedule around Powder’s needs. Her bosses are great about letting her go early or switch shifts if Powder gets sick, and her clients are always understanding when they need to change around their sessions.

Still, though, her shifts can be grueling mentally and physically. She looks forward to her breaks, and she hasn’t really been able to enjoy them since a certain party princess put her number in her phone.

Vi knows she should text her. She even set a grainy photo of Snow White as her profile picture, which Caitlyn giggled about once she got off shift at the party last week. Vi feels her face get hot whenever she remembers her, makeup and wig gone but still in her Mulan dress, biting her lip as she put her number in. Vi couldn’t help the trail of her eyes over her cheekbones, now bare, still shining from the makeup remover. There’s no question about it: Caitlyn was interested, and she wasn’t trying very hard to hide it.

So why can’t she just fucking text her?

It’s been a long time since Vi has had any romantic prospects in her life. She hasn’t exactly had time to since she became Powder’s legal guardian—she barely has room for herself, let alone someone else while she’s looking after her sister. She’s not the kind of person who feels the need to have a partner, especially since she and Powder are so close, but now that she’s met Caitlyn, seen how interested she is…

Vi groans, leaning her head into the air stream from the AC unit in the breakroom.

She can’t let this opportunity go.

She stares forward at the gray walls of the gym breakroom, plastered with safety guides, employee rules, and little sticky notes left behind by the other trainers full of jokes and poorly drawn dicks. There is a collection of protein bars and juice boxes on the table. Beyond the door, she can hear the music that’s playing in the gym.

It’s her last shift before the weekend. She took it off for another birthday party of Powder’s—one day for the party, another to inevitably recover from the spectacle—and she’s already planning the show she’s going to binge on Sunday. Her body is exhausted from the week, and she’s just trying to get through.

She stares at the contact. She stares at the two emojis, one that she added and another that Caitlyn did.

She typed in a little crown.

Caitlyn added a blue heart.

She feels the buzz of the notification before she sees the banner drop down right above Caitlyn’s name in her contacts, and her heart jumps in her chest.

Caitlyn:

Are you and Powder coming to Troy’s birthday party this Saturday?

Vi scoffs in disbelief. “Speak of the devil.”

She reads the text and reads it again. Her fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure, but eventually she ends up typing out:

Vi:

sure will

are we gonna see a certain princess there too??

Caitlyn:

Perhaps ;)

Vi:

any hints?

Caitlyn:

And ruin the magic?

Certainly not.

Vi laughs—really laughs this time.

Vi:

we’ll see you there then

Caitlyn:

See you there! <3

 

* * *

Vi and Powder pull back into Piltover the next day, rested and ready for yet another weekend of parties. This party is closer to the Piltover-Zaun Line, and Troy’s house is on the river overlooking their neck of the woods. The river looks so pretty from this side; Vi often takes that river for granted, considering that for most of her life, it was simply a symbol of the divide. A life on the other side she would never have.

She’s a little more removed from that hatred than she used to be. They say time heals all wounds, and though Vi isn’t totally convinced of that concept, things have gotten easier for her. For them.

The house is small with a nice backyard. There’s tall fencing surrounding the edge of the river to ensure no kids wander too far, and there’s a golden retriever running around in the yard like a maniac, licking everyone’s ankles on their way in the door. The grass is lush but unmanicured, and there’s clover everywhere. Vi much prefers houses like these to the huge, asshole-y mansions inland.

As soon as they lock the car, the golden retriever bounds up to them and jumps against Powder’s chest. It licks all over her face and sniffs in her ears, and all she can do is sit there and giggle.

“Ah!” she squeals, scratching the dog’s ears and head all over the place. “Vi! Vi, look at him! He’s so cute!”

Vi grins, crossing her arms so her keychain dangles next to her elbow. She watches her sister slump under the dog’s weight, taken slowly to the ground under a ball of golden fluff. Her eyes flicker up to a shape near the door, a woman who’s probably Troy’s mom.

“Sadie!” she calls out to the dog. “Sadie, get back here, you’ll get hair all over her clothes.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” Vi says as the dog trots back to the mother and Powder picks herself up off the ground, brushing grass from her pant legs.

The woman in the doorway is dressed in baggy sweatpants and a lilac tank top, and she looks much differently than the other moms she’s seen this summer. Her hair is bobbed and brown, locks tousled and messy, and she has dark circles that she’s not even trying to hide with makeup. She has tattoos like Vi, but not nearly as numerous or large, and she’s young—maybe even as young as Vi. As they approach, the woman sticks out her hand to Vi.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” she says. “I’m Marissa, Troy’s mom.”

“Vi,” she says, shaking her hand firmly. “Powder’s my sister.”

“Oh! I’ve heard of you,” she chuckles as Powder waves. “Only good things.”

Vi wrinkles her nose. “I doubt that.”

The woman snorts, rubbing the snout of her retriever. “Yeah, well, either way. Doesn’t matter to me much. Powder, the kids are all in the back, and there’re snacks on the blue table. Vi, there’s beverages in the fridge if that’s your jam, and my boyfriend is barbecuing later.”

“Sounds awesome,” Vi nods as Powder rushes outside, probably to find Lux and the birthday boy. She turns back to the mom and says, “Nice place.”

“Thanks hun,” she says with an appreciative smile. “I’m new to the area. Bit stuffy here, yeah?”

Vi chuckles and juts her thumb to gesture behind her across the river. “That’s an understatement. We like things better on the other side.”

Marissa glances over, taking a moment to pick up on Vi’s insinuation. Her heart jumps in her chest and she freezes, wondering if this woman was just being nice to her as a pleasantry, and once she finds out they’re not from around here she’ll do what every other mom tends to: turn her nose up and make her excuses.

Instead, she nods. “They could do with livening this place up a little bit that’s for sure. Well, enjoy yourself, and come up and chat whenever you’ve gotten settled. We can shit on Piltover off in a corner.”

“Absolutely,” Vi says, grin sharp and wolfish.

Finally, she thinks as Powder bounds away and she saunters after her. Someone with some sense in this godforsaken town.

* * *

The backyard is set up in traditional summer bash fashion: big barbecue, tables with plastic runners, party store balloons, pink plastic silverware and plates. There is a small stage set up for Piltover Princesses but it isn’t gaudy, so Vi hopes this will be a very small thing. There are around fifteen kids there, a moderately small amount for elementary school—probably because the kid is new in class—but Powder doesn’t mind this one bit. Vi is worried at first because she doesn’t see the usual suspects that Powder tends to hang out with, but she scopes out the birthday boy quickly and runs up to talk to him.

“Troy is cool,” she told Vi in the car. “His mom lets him wear capes to school like a prince.”

Vi watches from the sidelines as the children run amok. Powder chases around two boys, one of them Troy, and Vi preens at the sight of him wearing that pink cape Powder was talking about, complete with a pink dollar store bubble wand that he brandishes like a staff and a plastic princess tiara.

Marissa lounges beside her with a beer in her hand to match Vi’s. They watch their little rascals run wild and giggle.

“Good on you for that,” Vi gestures to Troy’s adorable little outfit.

Marissa shrugs. “Bare minimum parenting, honestly. So what if my kid wants to run around in a tiara? I’d let him wear a dress if he wanted to but he says they’re hard to play in.”

Vi doubles over laughing and Marissa just takes another knowing swig of her drink. She notes, “The blue hair on her is cute. Very alternative.”

“Very impulsive,” Vi agrees. “She doesn’t get to do what she wants very often, so I try to give her that freedom at home. If she wants blue hair, she wants blue hair.”

“Love that,” Marissa agrees, clinking their bottles together.

Vi takes a long swig, the bubbles tickling her throat on the way down, and heaves a long sigh as she settles back into the patio chaise. This is weird for her; she doesn’t get along with eighty percent of the other moms, and the twenty percent she does get along with are still Piltover moms. They’re wives, mothers, upstanding members of their community. They’re old enough to be Vi’s aunts.

To sit and drink like this with someone her age? Someone who knows what it’s like to raise a kid this young?

It’s a strange feeling indeed.

“Toast to the young moms club, then,” Vi remarks. “Population: two.”

Marissa sighs in solidarity. “Holding down the fort. It ain’t easy, but you know that.”

“Sure do.”

There’s a long pause between them. They watch one of the children trip over his shoelaces and tumble ass over tea kettle into the dirt near the flowerbeds. His sobbing is spectacular, complete with snot and red cheeks and everything, which Vi shouldn’t find as funny as she does. She almost chuckles until she sees his mother hurry over to him, but instead of chastising him for being so clumsy, She just sits him down and speaks quietly to him, her gaze full of concern and understanding as she calms her child down.

Vi’s fingers tighten around her bottle.

That’s what a mother should look like, she thinks. The worse part of her brain chimes in to add: Not this.

Not me.

“So what’s your story?”

Vi snaps out of her head and turns back to look at Marissa, who is eying her curiously. She doesn’t pry, only invites.

Vi swishes the beer around in the bottle, watching where it sticks to the side then dribbles back down to the bottom. “Car crash. Both my parents died on impact.”

She expects Marissa to say she is sorry, to which Vi would say to her, like she says to almost everyone else who expresses remorse at the loss of her parents, something along the lines of: Why are you sorry? It’s not like they killed them, and Vi can’t exactly blame a slippery highway and a blown tire.

So, when Marissa just nods and says, “That sucks,” Vi is grateful.

“Big time,” she agrees. “I was an adult but Powder was really little. They were still gonna give her over to the state because I didn’t have a stable lifestyle, but I pulled my shit together and sued for custody. Now, everything’s pretty chill all things considered. We make it work.”

“Hell yeah.”

Vi asks, “What about you?”

Marissa shrugs, eyes tracking Troy every now and again just to make sure he isn’t getting into any mischief. “Got pregnant when I was seventeen, married the guy when I graduated. He beat me for a year before my mom got me out of there, and I was a single mom for a while until I met Jeremiah. I have to admit, I was a little skeptical of him at first, but he loves me more than anything, and Troy even more. He makes good money as an investment banker and we bought the house together, so… guess we’re here now. It’s kind of weird to think about, after being unstable for so long.”

“I get that,” Vi says, and she does. She really does. The first years she spent with Powder were so difficult even after she made changes to her lifestyle to accommodate her. Vi often wondered if that was what life would always look like for them.

“But I have to give myself some credit,” Marissa grins, shamelessly watching her man at the grill, who shoots one of those too-perfect smiles back at her that makes most women melt into a puddle on the floor. “I pulled, big time.”

Vi guffaws, smacking her hand on the hard plane of her thigh, and this time Marissa can’t help but laugh too. The other moms give them some weird looks from the snack table, but they don’t give a shit. What are they gonna do, come up and tell Marissa to be quiet at her own house?

“Yeah, sorry to say I do not understand that,” Vi says, laughs tapering off. “I bat for the other team.”

Marissa snorts. “Could have guessed.”

“What gave it away?”

“Oh please, honey,” Marissa deadpans. “You manspread like a sailor, you’re built like a brick shithouse, and I’ll bet you buzz your own hair over your sink at home. You don’t just bat for the other team—you’re the coach, the ump, and the fucking water boy.”

This is what makes Vi truly lose it. She feels the hot buzz of beer in the back of her nose, not quite a spew-worthy surprise but close to it, and she has to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from spit-taking all over Marissa’s newly-finished wood patio. Marissa laughs so hard she ends up sliding off the chaise towards the floor, and Vi suddenly wonders if both of them are close to drunk or just happy to have met someone who behaves the way they do.

Amidst the cacophony, Vi barely realizes that someone has approached them until she’s helped Marissa back onto the chaise and taken her place back in her seat, wiping her eyes from the laughing tears. The woman Vi sees when she and Marissa look up is that gorgeous dark-skinned girl with neatly kept box braids and sharp golden eyeliner that Vi saw at one of the previous parties. She wears nice designer jeans and a tied-up t-shirt that reads PILTOVER PRINCESSES LLC on it in huge pink letters.

“Hi Marissa,” the girl says, completely unfazed at their state. “Is this a good time?”

Marissa coughs into her sleeve, getting the last of her giggles out, and says, “Yes, Mel, of course. What’s up?”

“We’re ready to start soon,” Mel says, and suddenly Vi realizes this is the same Mel that Caitlyn was talking about before, her best friend who owns Piltover Princesses. Fuck, do gorgeous women just run in packs around here or something? “We’ll have the prince and princess come out from the left side of your house, and they can walk up to the stage to do their song and their dance. Does that sound good to you?”

“Yeah, for sure, let me just see where Jeremiah is at on the food. I’ll help him get everything on plates so everyone can eat once the kids are done,” Marissa says, standing up. She sets her bottle down on the table between her and Vi. “Oh, Vi, come find me again before you guys leave, would you? We have to exchange numbers and get coffee sometime.”

Vi is struck for a moment, but quickly recovers with a nod. “Uh, yeah. For sure!”

As Marissa walks away, with Vi still reeling that she somehow has made her first mom friend in Piltover (despite having had Powder in the school system for a while now) Mel turns her attention towards Vi.

“I don’t believe we have been acquainted,” Mel says, sticking a delicate hand out. “Mel Medarda. I own Piltover Princesses LLC.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Vi says, shaking the hand firmly. “Vi Vander.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Mel says mischievously, and Vi’s blood runs cold.

Vi clears her throat nervously as she pulls her hand back, suddenly feeling very small as this very beautiful, very intimidating woman towers over her as she sits. “Y—Yeah? Guess we have been acquainted, then.”

“Not formally,” Mel says. “But Caitlyn told me about you.”

Vi’s cheeks heat up and Mel’s eyebrow quirks up just the slightest bit—microscopically, really, but it’s enough to let Vi know that Mel had undoubtably clocked her. Shit.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Mel promises. “She actually asked me if you were here. I said to her, ‘How could I possibly know if a stranger is in attendance?’”

Vi wets her lips. “And?”

Mel’s eyes glint, and she shrugs one shoulder. “She just said I’d just know you when I saw you. And I did.”

Something about that statement does…. things to Vi. She feels a warmth like a hot coal in her stomach, something dense and flickering. She swallows, thick and dry, and she feels pinned in this conversation while Marissa giggles with her hot boyfriend at the grill and Powder tumbles in the grass with Troy and the other children, tiny braids swinging. Sadie the retriever barks and rears up behind them, wondering what all the excitement is about.

Vi clears her throat. “Was there something you needed?”

“No,” Mel says. “Just… investigating. I see your sister is young and voracious—if you are ever looking to book a little get-together for her, always keep us in mind.”

“Oh man, I think you’re barking up the wrong tree there,” Vi scoffs. “We’re flat broke.”

“Hm,” Mel shrugs. “Well, you never know. I know a certain princess who would be glad to help you out.”

Before Vi can sputter out a reply, Mel simply walks away. No preamble, no goodbye, just a meaningful look and a hum as she walks with perfect poise towards the door on the side of the house, disappearing with the last of Vi’s resolve.

* * *

The grilling is finished and the children are seated comfortably in front of the little stage. Vi and the other parents hang back as per usual, with a few seated next to or near their little ones. Troy and Powder sit together in the front, the little birthday boy bouncing with excitement as music begins to play through the speakers.

Vi recognizes the song, though she doesn’t think she’s actually seen most of this particular movie all the way through since she was little: “Once Upon a Dream” from Sleeping Beauty. Figures, given this little boy’s love for pink, that he’d be partial to the daintier of the Disney princesses.

Vi sees a flicker of movement to her left, just where Mel said the actors would come out from, and from there emerges a large, broad man with evenly tanned skin and one of those perfectly white smiles like Jeremiah has glinting in the sunlight. He’s wearing an auburn wig and a red cape, with a pointed red hat perched on his head just like Prince Whatever-His-Name-Is from the movie. He walks tall with a perfectly crooked elbow, held delicately by a pink-draped princess.

Caitlyn is Aurora today, complete with a cascading blonde wig done up in perfect waves and a golden triangular tiara atop her head. Her makeup softens her features yet again, making her natural blue eyes the star of the show. When the children ooh and ahh at her—because, let’s be honest, nobody’s here for the fucking prince—she touches a hand lightly to her chest just under a fake golden necklace and extends a hand to each of them, perfectly embodying that 1950’s Disney princess air. Her dress hugs her body flatteringly but not immodestly, and she carries herself so well that Vi forgets for a moment that it’s Caitlyn under all that pomp.

Her breath catches in her throat, but she swallows a swig of beer hard enough to detangle the knot that has formed there. She’s a grown-ass woman. She can get through this. It’s a kid’s birthday party, for Christ’s sake, not the place for ogling pretty women.

Even if the pretty woman gives you permission, a voice inside her snickers.

When the pair makes it to the stage, they spend thirty or so second waving to the children in that Disney parade kind of way. Aurora’s face is serene and calm, and the kids eat her performance up. When the song begins to turn into an exchange, they act it out onstage, as if this guy were the prince finding Aurora dancing in the woods and confronting her, and she were a willing, loving princess. There’s no singing today, but the performance is all the same to the kids.

The pair begins to dance. It’s a simple series of steps, more to show off Aurora’s dress and give the kids the opportunity to squeal and applaud than anything else, but they move through the choreography flawlessly. Nobody steps on anyone’s foot, no trains of dresses get tangled. Aurora simply smiles at her prince like she’s done it a hundred times before: surely and sweetly.

It’s then that Vi feels something in her chest that she doesn’t expect at all. She feels the familiar flutter of contentment, not unlike what she feels when she’s alone at night with just the sounds of Zaun around her, Powder safely sleeping in the next room, night air creeping in through the battered window screens. She looks at Caitlyn and she feels peaceful.

So, when the prince presses a thumb to Aurora’s lip and leans in for the sappiest stage kiss Vi has ever seen, she finds herself wondering what it might be like for her to do the same thing.

The same, but real this time.

* * *

Caitlyn:

What are you up to after this?

Vi receives the text just as the party is winding down, the meet and greet having gone perfectly. There’s cake in everyone’s bellies (Vi’s included) and she and Powder sloppily indulged in some of the best ribs they have ever eaten, courtesy of Jeremiah. She’s just gotten around to cleaning the sauce off Powder’s face, which she thrashes and complains about for about three straight minutes. Ah, the joys of parenting.

She stares down at the screen, heart pounding, as Powder goes and dumps their paper plates in the trash can. It’s a simple request, really, no implications just yet, but Vi feels paralyzed at the thought of replying.

Finding free time when you’re a legal guardian is much easier said than done. Even if she wanted to hang out with Caitlyn—if that’s even what she’s implying, she could just be making conversation—she has Powder to think about. Powder always, always comes first, so she’s probably better off just saying no to whatever she might offer and leaving it at that. It’s not just Vi’s life anymore, it’s Vi’s and Powder’s.

Still, though, the thought of just being near Caitlyn again is enough to send her into a tailspin, and the thought of letting her down is nearly devastating.

What the hell is going on with her?

“Who’s that?” Powder asks as she hops back into her seat, drawing her knees up to her chest because she’s never sat normally a day in her life.

“No one,” she sighs. “Just a friend.”

“You don’t have friends.”

“I have friends!” Vi exclaims. “I just haven’t talked to a lot of them in a while.”

“No, if it was one of them, you would have just said their name,” Powder drawls.

Damn that fucking big kid brain, Vi sneers internally. No use lying to Powder, she’s whip-smart and about as tenacious as a latch crocodile. Vi just braces for the roll. “Fine. You remember Mulan?”

“Like, as a concept?”

“As a—?” Vi sputters. “No, Pow, I mean literally. From that party you were so excited about.”

“Oh,” Powder says. “Yeah, why?”

“The girl who played Mulan,” Vi says. “We’re friends now.”

Powder’s face lights up faster than Vi has ever seen it do so. “No way, that’s so cool! So is she, like, a professional singer? Was she on Broadway? Do you think she can get us, like, a birthday party for free? What about—”

“Relax, kid,” Vi cuts her off. “She’s just a lady, not Bernadette fucking Peters. I just have to let her know we can’t hang out today because I’ve got stuff to do.”

Powder stares at her blankly. “But you don’t have stuff to do.”

“Yeah, well,” is all Vi can say to that. She’s not about to tell her only sister that she’s the “stuff,” and that parenting means always “doing.” “It’s not a big deal. Just get your stuff, I’ll text her no so we can get going.”

Powder is quiet for a moment. The party winds down around them, and the stage is being dismantled carefully by Mel and the same man who was (clearly) the prince from earlier, now completely out of costume. His hair is dark in real life. Vi looks around for Caitlyn, but she doesn’t see her. She’s ashamed of how quickly her heart sinks when she doesn’t see that familiar curtain of dark hair.

Then, she does something truly confusing: she gets up and bounds all the way to the other side of the backyard, to where Marissa, Jeremiah, and Troy are enjoying extra slices of cake as they clean up.

Vi watches curiously as she chats with Troy in that big-gesture kid kind of way, and Marissa laughs at something she says and nods. Then, Powder turns to her, cupping her hands over her mouth, and calls out to her over the whole rest of the party.

“Troy’s mom says I can stay and hang out for dinner!” Powder yells, and Troy bounces up and down in his chair in anticipation, fluttering his adorable pink cape. “You can go hang out with your friend now!”

Vi chokes a little, eyes flickering between Powder and Marissa, who grins wolfishly at her, and yells, “You didn’t ask me first!”

“This is me asking!”

Of course it is, Vi says, holding the bridge of her nose, but she can’t help her smile. She shouts back her acceptance of this plan (after all, Marissa has her number now) and unlocks her phone quickly to type out a response:

Vi:

nothing! (now)

why, did you have something in mind?

Caitlyn:

I doubled up on parties today with Jayce (Prince Phillip, and resident best friend) so I didn’t have much time to eat or rest today.

I was wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner? I’m almost done getting changed, Marissa was nice enough to let me use her shower so it took a little bit longer than usual.

Vi’s heart pounds as she stares at the request. Such a small gesture, but Vi knows what this means. Caitlyn wants to spend time with her. Even after a day full of entertaining screeching children she wants to hang out with Vi.

Vi:

I’d love that, cupcake

I know a spot, if you don’t mind heading across the river

Caitlyn:

Why on Earth would I mind heading across the river? Good food is good food!

And WHAT is with that nickname? XD

Vi’s cheeks warm.

Vi:

I told you

you’re sweet

and our first conversation was pretty cake-centric

I’d say it’s appropriate

Caitlyn:

We’ll see about that.

Okay I’m standing out front now, meet me there when you’re ready to go!

Vi gathers up her things and her jacket and quickly makes her way over to Powder. She plants a kiss on her forehead, triple-checks that she’ll text if she needs anything, and promises to pick her up by six. Part of her stomach still churns at the thought of leaving her in the care of a woman she has only just met, but the warm way Marissa smiles and hugs her genuinely when she says goodbye is enough to put her mind at ease.

Powder can handle herself. She might not be a big girl just yet, but she’s getting there.

Vi rounds the side of the house, heart pounding. She and Caitlyn barely made any eye contact all day, they were both so busy doing their own respective jobs, and Vi hasn’t really stopped to think about how absurd this whole situation is. If you had told her a year ago she’d be head-over-heels crushing on a party princess actress, she’d probably tell you to fuck off.

Now? Now she’s rounding the corner of the front yard, watching Caitlyn stand with her face turned towards her phone, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and feeling her heart leap clean out of her chest. She’s wearing gray joggers and a black tank top with a light jacket slumping around her shoulders, more casual than Vi has ever seen her, and when she hears Vi approach she looks up and, bare-faced, smiles.

“Vi!” she says as Vi walks up, and the little tinge of excitement in her voice is enough to make Vi preen. “So good to see you. How did you and Powder enjoy the party?”

“It was fun,” Vi hums, scratching her elbow sheepishly. She can barely meet Caitlyn’s gaze. “Marissa is really chill and Powder and Troy are, like, best friends now. You know how kids are.”

Caitlyn’s gaze is soft, and the sight is enough to make Vi’s mouth dry up. “I certainly do.”

Before she can say anything incredibly stupid, she nods toward her car and asks, “Ready to go?”

“Absolutely,” Caitlyn says, clutching the overfull duffel bag that hangs over her shoulder, probably packed to the brim with her princess gear. As they walk towards her car, Caitlyn adds, “I hope this place is as good as you say, because I’m starving.”

Vi unlocks her car with a grin. “How do you feel about diners?”

* * *

Jericho’s is a little joint not far from the apartment complex she and Powder call home these days. The drive over the bridge is short, considering Marissa lives just on the waterfront, and it’s always nice with the windows down.

It’s a little awkward at first, given that Vi and Caitlyn haven’t interacted much aside from a few texts and short conversations in public places—hell, they haven’t even been alone together since that day behind the stable house—but the moment Vi starts the car the Bluey album starts to play through the speakers and she has to scramble to change it. At first they sit in silence, and Vi really thinks she’s fucked things up, but then Caitlyn busts out one of the loudest snorts Vi has ever heard, and they dissolve into laughter that’s bright enough and long enough to cut the awkwardness.

From there, the car is filled with warm sunlight, comforting background music, and comfortable small talk. Vi loosens up and she knows Caitlyn does too, judging by the way she settled into the plush passenger seat of her car, drawing up her aching feet with a groan and tilting her head to watch the river as they pass it by, glinting and sloshing below.

It’s tough parking, but Vi is used to it in the city. Once she squeaks into a spot, the smell of greasy diner food and the sounds of a good ol’ neighborhood landmark surround them. Jericho’s is a hole-in-the-wall with only six or seven booths inside, but he always has a place for Vi and Powder when they come. The same is true for Vi and Caitlyn, and they are seated quickly by a hostess who Vi went to high school with.

Caitlyn flips open a menu that’s three times the size of her head. The walls around them are covered in Zaun memorabilia, from the industrial age on through the decades of the twentieth century. Jericho was always a sucker for the past. Caitlyn squints at the tiny writing, and Vi laughs at how closely she concentrates on zeroing in on her order.

“How in the hell do they expect people to read writing this small?” Caitlyn asks. “Why not just add pages?”

“If there’s one stereotype about Zaunites that Jericho lives up to,” Vi scoffs, “it’s how stingy he is. He’d rather stick a magnifying glass on every table than have to laminate three extra pages.”

“Honestly, I could eat just about anything right now,” Caitlyn sighs. “I hate doubling up on days like this, but the money is good.”

“I’ll bet,” Vi says, closing the menu. She already knows what she wants, she just doesn’t want Caitlyn to feel left out. “Mel seems like she runs a tight ship. Lovely girl, by the way.”

Caitlyn blushes, and Vi swears she ducks to hide her face behind the menu. Then again, it could just be the size of the thing continuing to dwarf her. “So you two have met?”

“Yup,” Vi says, popping the “p.” She leans forward a bit, over her flexed forearms, and purrs, “She told me you were asking about me.”

Suddenly, Caitlyn snaps the menu shut, and Vi gets a look at her wide blue eyes framed by an undeniable blush. She quickly says, “I know what I’m getting.”

Vi chuckles and flags down a waitress, ordering a Reuben for herself and a plate of banana nut pancakes for Caitlyn. The waitress takes the huge menus away, giving Caitlyn a moment to banish the red from her cheeks, before Vi turns her attention back to her.

“Didn’t mean to fluster you or anything,” Vi says. “I was happy to hear you talk about me.”

“Really?” Caitlyn asks. “I thought you’d find it embarrassing.”

Vi lifts an eyebrow at her. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says, worrying at her plush bottom lip. Vi can’t tear her eyes away from the action, even if she knows Caitlyn can see her staring. Hell, the whole place can probably see her staring. “It’s embarrassing, that sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?” Vi asks, leaning her cheek into her fist, propping herself up as she watches Caitlyn. “Feelings? Attraction? I don’t think it’s embarrassing.”

“Well then, you’re certainly bolder than me,” Caitlyn scoffs playfully. Vi can hear the sizzle of something frying just beyond the kitchen window, and the whole place smells like burnt sugar, saccharine and heavy. “I try to play my feelings close to the chest, but Mel has a way of prying things out of me. Call it the price of a longtime friendship.”

“I thought you said the big guy was your best friend?” Vi asks. “Y’know, the prince.”

“Oh, yes,” Caitlyn nods fervently. “He’s my best friend as well. They’re both my best friends, just in different ways. They even dated a while back, if you could believe it, but we’re all just good friends now. Mel has managed to drag us both into her company, though Jayce only really steps in when she needs coverage or extra help. He’s an engineer by day.”

Vi hums, the sound low and satisfied. “Glad to know I don’t have competition. That was quite a steamy kiss you guys shared today.”

Caitlyn snorts and rolls her eyes. “Hardly.”

“Just a man and a woman going to town on a stage in front of fifteen kids,” Vi teases, taking a long sip of her water from the straw. “Scandalous.”

“You do know that was completely fake.”

“Of course I do,” Vi assures her with a smirk devilish enough to make Caitlyn blush again. Poor girl—her skin must redden at the drop of a hat. What a fucking fantastic development. “I just like to rile you up.”

She watches Caitlyn’s lips part, just slightly, eyebrow quirked in question. She looks tired, but her attention is undoubtably on Vi, and Vi has never been so thankful to be seen by anyone.

She hasn’t dated in over four years. She can’t even remember the last time she went on an actual date even so, because as a wild young adult she was mainly focused on hooking up and leaving no strings. It was a coping mechanism, something to distract her from herself, and she behaved that way until she got Powder. It was only then that she realized that she couldn’t run from herself, because she was the only person who could get them through this.

She doesn’t do this, the wine and dine thing. Not that this is what this is—a date, that is—but Caitlyn is sure looking at her like this is one.

“Hey,” Caitlyn whispers. Vi’s eyes snap back to her—when had she looked away? “Where did you go?”

“Sorry,” Vi sighs, rubbing her face. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

Vi purses her lips and leans back in the booth, feeling the long plane of scalloped metal against her spine. “I just… don’t do this very often. Whatever this is. Powder usually has most of my attention, so I don’t get a lot of time for myself.”

“I can imagine,” Caitlyn says sympathetically. “To be honest I don’t know what this is either, I just know that I like to spend time with you. I hope we can do this again, because I don’t know about you, but I’m having an excellent time.”

Vi smiles at that, but it’s a little sad. She takes a deep breath and says, “If—if this is going to be a regular thing or whatever, you’re gonna have to know that Powder will always come first. There might be a lot of times that I can’t be available to you. I want to try… this. I just need to make you aware of that.”

“I am aware of that, Vi,” Caitlyn says, and it loosens the knot in Vi’s chest. “I knew it from the moment I spoke to Powder all those weeks ago. You are an incredible sister and an even better guardian to her, and I would hate myself if I ever got in the way of that. We can do this however you want to do this. No pressure. No expectations. We can even be just two friends getting dinner today, if you want.”

The waitress comes back and places their plates down before them, the streaming hot food warming their vicinity. She stares down at her Reuben, deep in thought, but Caitlyn wastes no time drizzling her pancakes in syrup, slicing the cakes into small pieces. She takes each bite with reverent thanks, making happy food sounds around her fork. It’s so casual, so familiar that Vi feels like she’s had this meal with Caitlyn before.

No pressure.

No expectations.

“Two friends,” Vi repeats. “Getting dinner.”

“Mhm,” Caitlyn says around her bite. “A delicious dinner, might I add.”

Vi’s next laugh is involuntary, an incredulous sound that bubbles up as she watches Caitlyn make quick work of her pancakes, looking more comfortable on Vi’s side of the river than she ever expected. Caitlyn has been such a surprise; she’s nothing like Vi expected when she first met her, and Vi has a sneaking suspicion that the more Vi gets to know her, the more surprises she has in store.

Vi scoffs and, picking up her Reuben, mutters, “Well, maybe not totally just friends.”

Vi digs into her sandwich and Caitlyn chuckles, hiding her gap-toothed smile with her sweet, syrupy fingertips.

“Yeah,” she says. “Maybe not.”

Chapter Text

What's a fire and why does it—

What's the word? Burn?

Their schedules are blessedly party-free for the next three weeks. Vi gets a well-deserved breather and the chance to actually relax on her weekends when she’s not carting Powder back and forth to playdates with Troy and occasionally Lux. Work has been slow since the fourth of July came to pass, because let’s face it—nobody wants to work out before or after the holiday. For the first time since school let out, things have been… calm.

Vi doesn’t do well with calm. She’s spent her whole life on the streets of Zaun, waiting for the other shoe to drop. The next arrest. The next two-timing friend. The next phone call saying someone else will never come home. There is always something with Vi, so she stresses at times when others are placid.

She copes with this in a variety of ways: talking to her therapist, smashing a punching bag until it’s almost bursting at the seam, picking up some overtime hours, taking Powder on hikes outside the city where the landscape is quiet and green.

Lately, though, there’s been another thing keeping her stress from bubbling over, and it’s not something Vi ever expected.

She hasn’t had time to see Caitlyn much, and this time it isn’t because of her own schedule but because of Caitlyn’s. Vi and Powder may not have been attending parties these past few weeks, but Caitlyn has certainly been working them. She’s hard to get ahold of during the week at her day job, and even harder to talk to on weekends when she’s running around flinging wigs onto her head and decorating her face in strangers’ bathroom mirrors.

Still, Vi wakes up every morning to a text from Caitlyn, and every morning her chest roars with excitement:

Caitlyn:

Good morning, Vi <3

To which she responds in a number of ways:

Vi:

morning, cupcake

Or:

Vi:

hey there, how’d you sleep?

Or:

Vi:

well it’s a good morning now

Or, if she’s feeling feisty:

Vi:

hey cupcake <3

did you dream about me?

(That last one she only used once, and it caused bubbles to pop up and disappear for two whole minutes before Caitlyn finally cracked a joke and changed the subject.)

It’s a little ritual, but it’s been a long time since Vi was on the mind of anyone first thing in the morning, and it feels good. Really good. So good, in fact, that it often prompts her to text Caitlyn throughout the day some days, sending her memes and tweets and whatever cool things might happen to her at work or at home. Caitlyn doesn’t respond until she’s able, which is later in the day on weekdays and evenings on weekends, but she always says something in reply to each and every text. Vi feels her phone vibrate as she sits in the pickup line for Powder’s after school program, full of individual replies to everything she sent that day.

It's so casual and comforting, yet there’s something about their little exchanges that lights a fire in Vi, something she has not felt for anyone in a long time. It got to the point that by the time they made it to a smoothie shop on a Wednesday evening about two and a half weeks into their party hiatus, Vi was about to burst with nervous energy.

It’s a cute little place on Caitlyn’s side of town. Marissa offered to watch Powder, as she graciously has for weeks, so she’s blessedly child-free. Vi has repaid the favor and looked after little Troy once or twice too when she can, and he and Powder have become fast friends. Today she meets Caitlyn after work, which is a rare occurrence indeed—Caitlyn is usually beat after her day job, as is Vi, but the moment Vi said she had a half day Caitlyn insisted, and who is she to tell the woman no?

Caitlyn is already there when she arrives, sitting in a cute little booth tucked away on the side of the shop. Vi is running late—the pickup line was more hellish than usual—so Caitlyn already texted her a photo of the menu and ordered for her. The shop is quaint and cool when she pushes in through the glass door, a welcome respite from the midsummer heat. The AC in her old car has been acting up just in time for the hottest part of the season, a fact that has plagued her mind and her pits for a week now.

So, she’s sweating when she enters. Sweating and clad in her change of clothes from the gym, just a loose tank top and some spare shorts. Her hair is still wet from the showers and her socks stick to the back of her ankles uncomfortably as she walks. She looks a far cry from Caitlyn, who slumps back in her seat, wearing a smart-looking pantsuit. The material is perfectly pressed, blue-gray in color, and is tailored to her already stunning figure. It’s enough to make Vi’s mouth go dry.

She’s never seen Caitlyn in her work attire. She looks the part of Piltover, all business and stunningly put-together. Fuck, is that a watch? A nice-ass watch Vi couldn’t afford if she sold both her legs and part of her best arm?

As soon as Caitlyn sees her, bar her internal crisis, she straightens up and waves.

Vi picks her resolve up off the floor and slides into the booth across from Caitlyn. She puts on a smile, despite the fact that she feels like a drowned rat sitting next to Caitlyn, and she’s absolutely sure everyone else in the shop thinks so, too. “Hey Cupcake, how was work?”

Caitlyn scoffs. “It was work.”

“So, bad?”

“So, corporate purgatory.”

She slides a smoothie over to Vi, a purple drink with flecks of red. She’s not even sure what she ordered, something with dragon fruit maybe? Strawberry? She takes a sip and hums around the straw, pleased with the taste. “Gotta tell ya, I might not get paid a whole ton to work at the gym, but at least I don’t have to deal with all the red-tape bullshit you have to wade through on a regular basis.”

“It certainly feels as if I’ve sold my soul,” Caitlyn giggles, sipping her own bright blue drink. It smells like berries. “But it’s not so bad. Sometimes we get doughnuts.”

“Oh, well I take it back then,” Vi says, grinning wolfishly. “Doughnuts change everything.”

It’s easy, what they slip into after that. They sip their smoothies and chat about their usual things, and it shocks Vi that they even have usual things. It’s been so long since she’s had any kind of usual thing with anyone, if she could ever call it that before. What she has with Caitlyn is easy. It’s simple, serene. A tiny oasis in a life bound to desert.

She doesn’t want to mess up what they have now, but something in her itches to take Caitlyn’s hand, trace her finger along the seam of her fancy watch. It’s a selfish something, an impulse she has to reign in by sucking down smoothie fast enough to give herself a brain freeze that Caitlyn spends three straight minutes teasing her about.

“So what are your plans for the next few weeks?” Caitlyn asks. “Do you have anything fun coming up with Powder?”

“Nah, not really,” Vi says. “Her birthday is the last day of August, the week before school starts again, so I usually have to start saving up right about now to make sure I can do something nice for her.”

“How old is she turning?”

“Ten. Double digits, finally.”

“Goodness, that’s young for her grade,” Caitlyn remarks. “I thought maybe she was just a late bloomer, since she's going into the fifth grade.”

“She skipped a grade back when I had her in public school,” Vi says, stirring up her smoothie with her straw to get the chunks on the bottom. “It’s what caught Piltover’s attention. If it weren’t for her freakishly big kid brain I could never afford to send her to that school on my own.”

“She’s sharp, that’s for sure,” Caitlyn agrees. “When I talk to her it’s like talking to an adult.”

“Eh, sometimes,” Vi shrugs. “Other times she throws a temper tantrum because I won’t let her watch another hour of Bluey.”

Caitlyn laughs again. “I’ve never seen it, but I hear it’s like crack to children, so I’m not surprised.”

Vi sputters around her straw. “You’ve never seen Bluey?”

“Well, I don’t exactly have or know any children.”

“No, no, no,” Vi says, pushing her smoothie to the side. She leans over her elbows, closer to Caitlyn just to make her point all that clearer. “You don’t understand. You don’t have to have a kid to watch Bluey.”

“But it’s a children’s show.”

“It’s a parenting show. Literally designed to make parents feel better about being parents. And also just adult life in general. It’s for kids and for grown-ups,” Vi emphasizes. Caitlyn snorts at that, so Vi asks, “What’s so funny?”

“The way you said grown-ups,” she says. “Vi, I just cannot believe you’re a parent. It feels so contrary to you.”

“Believe me, Cupcake,” Vi says. “Whatever you’re thinking, I feel it every day. I mean, it’s not like I planned to be my sister’s lifelong guardian, and sometimes I look in the mirror and forget that I’m responsible for a whole-ass human being. It’s weird as fuck.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Caitlyn says. “I’ve never thought very much about kids myself. I mean, my parents always wanted that for me, but they also wanted very different things from my life than I wanted, so that’s nothing new. I’ve just never met anyone I’ve wanted to do all that with.”

“I haven’t either,” Vi says. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Powder, but I didn’t even have her myself and life is still hard. I don’t know if I could do it.”

Caitlyn finishes her drink with a long, staccato suck. She says, like it’s just any old comment, “But you are doing it.”

Vi’s heart swells. She sucks down the last of her smoothie, too, averting her eyes from Caitlyn, because she is scared of what she might find there. Caitlyn has been so kind to her, so understanding about her situation with Powder. She is terrified of how fast she’s falling, and if she looks up at Caitlyn and finds even an ounce of pride or hope directed at Vi, she might say something incredibly stupid.

So instead, she asks, “When’s your next party?”

“This coming Saturday. It’s Allie Sherman’s party, I don’t know if you know the family.”

“Yeah, she’s a year above Powder but they’re in the same reading group,” Vi hums, playing with her straw. “We’re going, actually.”

“Oh really?”

“We went to Allie’s party last year and it slapped, so Powder is excited. She mainly loves their pool, she says it makes her feel like a mermaid.”

“Hm,” Caitlyn purses her lips. “About that…”

Vi raises her eyebrows. “No way.”

“I mean, I can’t confirm or deny, but—”

“Like, the tail and everything?”

“I told you, I can’t say!” Caitlyn exclaims. “It would ruin the surprise!”

“Oh my God,” Vi says, grin spreading. She ducks her head and shakes it. “Powder is going to flip her shit. She loves The Little Mermaid.”

“I thought Mulan was her favorite.”

“Caitlyn, she’s nine. Every princess is her favorite except the ones who aren’t her favorite.”

“Ah yes. Enlightening.”

The two of them toss their empty smoothie cups and exit the shop, stepping into the hot summer afternoon. Caitlyn immediately sheds her jacket, and the sight of her fitted turtleneck hugging every curve of her upper body almost makes Vi spontaneously combust. She could probably blame it on the heat, too, it’s hot as fuck outside these days, especially in the city.

Outside, their two cars are parked beside each other on the street, Vi’s beater and Caitlyn’s shiny white sedan. Vi’s stomach drops at the thought of parting ways so soon, after weeks of not seeing Caitlyn in person, but she needs to grab Powder from Marissa’s before Jeremiah comes home from work and they sit down for dinner. She’s on borrowed time already.

She turns to Caitlyn, ready to make some excuse, to stretch out their date even by a few blissful moments, but Caitlyn has already started speaking.

“We should do something,” Caitlyn suggests. “After I’m done with the party. It’s a Saturday, and I don’t have a party scheduled the next day. Mel and Jayce are off on weekends, and even though Mel has setup the next day for the Levison party she can do just about anything on minimal sleep. I could probably even get Jayce to bring his boyfriend.”

Vi’s eyes trace over Caitlyn’s flushed face. When she gets like this, all riled up and excited, her cheeks flush pink like the air is cold. A few strands escape her formerly crisp ponytail, the type of hairdo Caitlyn probably wrenches out of its tie at the end of the day.

She wishes she could go back to Caitlyn’s apartment with her. Not for anything suggestive, but simply to see how she lives. She wants to see where she works, what drawers she uses for her party princess supplies, where she gets her coffee in the morning.

She wants to introduce her to Powder. Like, actually introduce her.

“But I mean, we don’t have to,” Caitlyn says quickly. “You’ve got Powder, obviously, and you will probably be tired from the day.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Vi says, and she can’t help the smile that comes with it. “Powder has a sleepover with Lux Saturday night. I’m dropping her off at seven.”

“Seven,” Caitlyn repeats. “Seven works.”

“I mean, we don’t have to do it exactly at seven. We could do later.”

“Do you want to do later?”

Vi shrugs, watching Caitlyn through her lashes. “It’s been a bit since I’ve been able to stay out late. Like, at all. Think you can make it worth my while?”

Caitlyn’s lips part. Vi holds her gaze.

A question. A challenge.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Caitlyn says, her voice halfway to a squeak.

* * *

That weekend, Vi makes sure to double- and triple-check Powder’s pool bag before they leave for the Sherman’s. Vi’s skin has gotten a little more used to the sun over the years, but Powder still uses SPF 100, and if she doesn’t cover every inch of her tiny kid body she’ll get a legendary burn and proceed to complain about it in a legendary way for a week and a half. The last time Vi brought her to the beach, she accidentally left finger-shaped streaks of blank spots along her back and Powder cried about looking like a tiger.

She counts the items before she closes the trunk. Sunscreen? Check. Floaties? Check. Cloudy goggles with scratches all over the front? Check.

“Vi!” Powder squeals, poking her little blue head out the window, picking the wedgie her blue one-piece is giving her through her shorts. “We have to go, I don’t wanna miss cake!”

“We are definitely not missing cake,” Vi murmurs, slamming the trunk shut. “At this rate, we’ll be early.”

“Come on, come on, come on!”

Vi rubs her temples and stoops into the driver’s seat. They drive with the windows down since Vi hasn’t been able to get over to the mechanic to check on the AC and she ran out of spare Freon on Monday, but the breeze is nice today. Summer winds its way through Vi’s hair, and though she’s not dressed for swimming herself, it does remind her of the days she’d bring Powder to the coast, sit her in the sand and hand her a pail and shovel. Vi has always loved swimming, but Powder always preferred constructing elaborate sandcastles with damp and dry sand, huge dripping monoliths crafted with her tiny hands.

Since she was small, Powder has only wanted one thing: to build things. Things that last. If anything were to come from their lifelong instability and constant sense of loss, Vi is glad it’s a goal like this. That she wants to work to create things, not destroy them.

For a long time, Vi thought she was only destined to destroy. She didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, not even herself. She took her parents for granted and she took her home for granted and she fucked around for long enough that when it came time to actually step up for Powder, she almost couldn’t. It took her a long time to learn how to build a family, something she could be proud of.

And now, with Caitlyn in her life, Vi wonders what else she can build now that she’s got a good foundation.

They pull up to the Sherman’s, a cottage-style house in the heart of the Piltover historic district. There isn’t much lawn space in the front, but from last year Vi remembers that they have a modest backyard with a nice little pool and a prime speaker system. Not big enough to have a full-blown princess soiree, but small enough to keep tidy and stocked with enough fun antiques to keep the Piltovans impressed. Quiet luxury and all that shit.

And, of course, the Shermans have an impressive pool. As soon as they enter, Vi’s shoes are immediately splashed with water as a boy in the pool shoots a spout of water from the other end of his pool noodle. Powder giggles at her as she ushers her sister towards the seats to put her bag down and cover her thoroughly in sunscreen. Powder complains and complains, but Vi keeps her still under the shade of a tree. Nine years old and she still squirms like a toddler.

“Vi, please, I want to get in the pool!” Powder whines as Vi spins her around and dabs her nose and cheekbones with sunscreen.

“Uh-uh,” Vi says. “You know the drill. Five minutes for the sunscreen to dry, then you can go.”

“But Lux is already in there!”

“Lux’ll have to wait.”

Powder stomps her feet, but stays at Vi’s side while she finishes her face. Vi catches a glimpse of movement over Powder’s shoulder and her eyes fall over a small, well-constructed stage rigged with a seated platform and a large purple clamshell. It’s covered in twinkling lights and there is a little machine creating a constant stream of bubbles that catch the sunlight and pop when they get to the treetops.

Sitting on top of that platform, sporting a Hollywood-worthy tail, is Caitlyn. She’s all done up as Ariel, complete with a voluminous red wig and long, doey eyelashes. The scales on the tail are more matte than glittery, and Vi can see the crook of her knee when she swishes the thing around, but it’s a pretty impressive looking prop all things considered. She looks gorgeous sitting up straight on her cushion, waving at the kids that pass by like she’s riding on a big old parade float.

What really gets Vi, though, is the purple clamshell bra she’s wearing in addition to the tail. The longer she looks at the smooth, toned line of her stomach and the swell of her breasts under the—relatively modest all things considered, seriously Vi what the fuck—garment, the more her mouth dries and her hands shake when she flips the cap back on the sunscreen.

Powder cranes her neck to see where Vi is looking, even before she can quickly look away. Sharp kid, God damn it. Powder leans in and whispers, “Is that her?”

“Who?”

“Your friend,” Powder says. “The one who was Snow White and Mulan.”

“She was Aurora too, actually.”

“No way! Which time?”

“Troy’s party.”

Powder’s mouth forms an adorable O as Vi fans her with a paper plate, trying to expedite the sunscreen drying. “She’s so pretty.”

“Yeah,” Vi hums, trying to keep her eyes from wandering too often to Caitlyn. She’s losing that particular battle, and she is losing it hard. “She is.”

“I didn’t know you had friends that pretty.”

“Well, most of them aren’t.”

Powder rubs her hands across her arms, testing for tackiness. “Do you like her?”

Vi pauses in tucking all their various pool materials back into the bag. She draws her lips into a tight line. “She’s nice.”

“No, but do you like like her.”

Vi watches Mel approach Caitlyn with a water bottle and a strawberry. When the kids are occupied with the pool and not looking her way, Caitlyn swipes the water bottle, takes a swig, and sinks her teeth into the strawberry. Doesn’t look like she can get up, but she does shimmy her tail happily.

Vi almost loses her nerve right then and there.

“Okay, you’re all dry,” Vi says, patting Powder’s shoulders. “Go ahead and get in the pool.”

Powder looks like she wants to say something but Lux calls from the pool, tossing a water football up and down, and Powder is immediately distracted. She takes a running leap, cannonballing into the deep end and treading water just like Vi taught her to. Vi is left alone at the table with nothing to distract her from the beautiful mermaid across the yard.

* * *

Vi goes back and forth from the refreshments table a few times, but spends most of her time nursing a soda and munching on chips from their little table. She puts her feet in the water for a little bit when the children gather around Ariel to hear her sing “Part of Your World,” and the water feels nice but does nothing for the uncomfortable heat buzzing in Vi’s gut.

She tries to avoid Caitlyn’s gaze, not because she doesn’t want to look at her but because each time she does it makes her feel… weird. Like she knows something about Caitlyn that none of the other people in this backyard know. Which is objectively true, of course, but it makes her feel like she’s holding onto this dirty little secret. Even from Powder.

Is it terrible that Vi wants to keep Caitlyn all to herself for a while, something she doesn’t want to share with even her sister? She’s never brought anyone else into Powder’s life since she took over as guardian, and whenever she thinks about Caitlyn getting too close or Powder knowing too much about their relationship, it makes her stomach go sour. Even though she knows Caitlyn is good, she knows Powder would love her, there is still the fear there that something could go horribly wrong.

Would that kind of heartbreak be worth it?

She takes a swig from her soda. The kids have queued up in front of Ariel for the meet-and-greet portion of the afternoon. Each child gets their moment with Ariel, since she can’t get up and go table to table, and the longer she watches the harder it is to keep her attention away.

Caitlyn is good with the kids. Really good. Every child that sits on that platform with her gets the same treatment as the last, and her eyes light up with genuine joy whenever she gets the chance to act like Ariel. Even the kids that don’t look super enthused to be here, mainly some of the little boys, smile when they see her.

Powder and Lux go up to her together, as many of the kids have already done. When they hop up onto the platform and sit on either side of Caitlyn, the woman’s back straightens and she looks extra engaged. Vi snorts around the mouth of her soda bottle as Powder gestures wildly, talking low to Caitlyn for a little too long. Allie’s mother tries to keep them moving, but Powder isn’t budging.

Vi is just about ready to get up and intervene when the two girls whisper something to Caitlyn, one in each ear. Caitlyn covers her mouth when she giggles at their request, hiding the gap in her teeth, then nods. Then, each girl leans over and gives Caitlyn a kiss on the cheek.

Vi’s heart leaps. She watches her sister climb off the platform, helping Lux who comes down behind her. They whisper and point to Ariel as Caitlyn receives another child, flipping her tail when the boy complements her scales. A bubble travels over Vi’s way, rising up and up and up into the sky, never popping.

* * *

Allie calls a group game of Marco Polo, leading all the kids into the water. The parents who know each other go inside for drinks, and the rest of the parents mill around talking to each other for a while. This draws Vi to her feet and takes her over to the table by the Ariel platform, and she pretends not to see the way Caitlyn’s eyes trace over her when she comes to a stop beside her, gathering a plate of chips and fruit.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Vi says low, stifling her grin.

“Not so loud,” Caitlyn whispers. “You’ll ruin the magic.”

“Want some pineapple? You’ve been up there a while.”

“Could you? It’s pretty hard to get provisions up here, I fear I may starve.”

Vi looks around for anyone watching, but the kids are occupied tagging each other out from the water. She reaches up with a piece of pineapple speared on her fork and Caitlyn quickly grabs it off with her lips, and Vi pretends not to stare when she drags the fruit off.

“Not on my watch,” Vi laughs. “You need your strength to put up with all those kids.”

“Oh, I hardly put up with them,” Caitlyn hums, swishing her tail. It’s adorable, like she’s just a girl enjoying her own little fairytale. Up close, Vi can see her makeup beginning to separate in the heat, but she looks no less beautiful. “It’s actually been a very nice day. I don’t even need to get up, though my leg is definitely starting to cramp.”

“I could massage it for you.”

“Now that would definitely ruin the magic.”

Vi laughs, scooting to the side so one of the dads can grab some more dip. She pops a grape in her mouth and asks, “So, what time later?”

“Mel needs to dismantle the party, so I’ll likely help with that,” Caitlyn says. “With time to change and drive, we thought 9:00 would be good? There’s this place on Fifth that—”

Caitlyn stops. Vi turns, ready to ask her what’s wrong, when she sees the dad who was next to her pass by the platform. More specifically, his hand on her leg under the tail, just for a lingering moment until he chuckles and moves on, back towards the table with two other dads beside the pool.

Vi’s face burns. The plate, still half-full of food she’s definitely not going to finish, crumples in her grip as she tosses it in the trash bin, eyes trained on the man as she storms forward past the platform.

“Vi.”

The sound of Caitlyn’s voice stops her in her tracks. She turns to see Caitlyn with her brows furrowed, her delicate hand reaching for Vi even if she can’t get up and stop herself. Vi feels the vice on her chest tightening, but the minute she sees Caitlyn’s expression she knows she’ll do just about anything she asks.

“Don’t,” Caitlyn whispers. “Please.”

Vi looks at Caitlyn. She looks at the dad across the way who hasn’t even looked up from his food. She looks at Powder in the pool, oblivious to all this, having fun with her friends.

She can’t make a scene here. She can’t, and Caitlyn doesn’t want her to.

“I’ll see you then,” Vi says. “Text me the details, okay?”

Caitlyn blinks. Her eyes trace over Vi’s face. Then, she nods. “I will.”

The game of Marco Polo ends with one of the boys reigning victorious. Powder and Lux splash each other from the edge of the pool, having gotten tagged out early. The kids begin to make their way back over to Ariel, but before they do Vi passes by, pressing her palm to Caitlyn’s leg, feeling the shape of her calf under the tail. Caitlyn gasps.

“Last person to touch you today,” Vi says. “Remember?”

* * *

Caitlyn made good on her text, letting Vi know to come to a place called Hexagon on the outskirts of Piltover at nine. She also said to dress casual, but Vi isn’t sure if she means Piltover casual or Zaun casual, which are two very different brands of casual. So, after she dropped Powder off at the Crownguard’s after the party, she stepped into her usual bar getup, a black t-shirt, well-fitted jeans, and her Docs, and tossed a white button-down in the backseat just in case the situation called for it.

It's odd, driving in Piltover at night. She never has an excuse to drive around after dark for any reason these days, especially not on the other side of the river. Unless a birthday party has gone late or Powder had some kind of after school thing, she has never really seen the city like this.

She whips it into a spot out front of the bar, which doesn’t have a formal sign except for a big neon hexagon hanging out front, and when she goes inside she’s immediately washed in low lighting and the sound of clinking glasses and conversation.

It’s been so long since she was last in a bar. She went out with some buddies for her 21^st, got their family friend Vander to watch Powder while he was in town for a few weeks, but she couldn’t really enjoy herself while Powder was at home without her.

Tonight, she doesn’t have to worry about Powder. The kid’s older, she’s with trusted adults and a good friend. She’s probably stuffing her face with popcorn and watching Inside Out 2 as she speaks.

Vi can just enjoy herself, and when she spots Caitlyn sitting with her friends in the booth, she feels like a normal fucking adult for the first time in so, so long.

“Vi!” Caitlyn says, putting her drink down to stand and receive Vi. “I’m so glad you could come.”

As soon as she’s up, Vi’s mouth goes dry. Caitlyn is wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck, a pencil skirt, and a pair of thigh-high pointy-toed boots that look so good but feel so bad. Vi’s heart does a jig as Caitlyn winds her arms around her, something she was completely unprepared for, but the moment she feels Caitlyn’s warm chest against hers, the delicate trill of her heartbeat, she can’t help but hold her back.

Caitlyn smells like gin and roses. When she pulls back she’s grinning wide enough to show off the gap in her teeth. Before Vi can even respond, Caitlyn is tugging Vi to sit down next to her.

“Vi, this is my best friend Jayce and his boyfriend Viktor,” Caitlyn says, gesturing to the man who played Prince Philip alongside Caitlyn’s Aurora, now much tanner and with darker hair, and his smaller, skinnier counterpart with long hair and a crutch propped against the side of their booth. “And you remember Mel, of course.”

Mel raises a scotch glass to her, swishing the amber liquid within. “Lovely to see you again, darling.”

“Caitlyn has told us a lot about you,” Jayce says. With a chuckle he adds, “She didn’t know your drink of choice, though. So, sorry for ordering without you.”

“It’s fine, really,” Vi assures him. “I’m not going to be drinking too much tonight anyway, I need to have my shit together to pick Powder up in the morning. She’s an early riser.”

“Ah, yes,” Mel says, turning to Jayce and Viktor. “Vi is the legal guardian of her sister. I’ve seen that little rascal running around many a party. She’s darling.”

Vi snorts. She flags down a waitress and quickly orders the same scotch Mel has. “Yeah, she’s a firecracker.”

“Where does she go to school?” Jayce asks.

“Piltover Junior Technical College. She’s there on scholarship, next year will be her third year there.”

“An excellent school!” Viktor remarks. “My mentor Cecil B. Heimerdinger is a donor. He taught at the Senior College for years. Jayce and I graduated from there, but that was ages ago.”

Vi’s eyebrows shoot up. “No kidding.”

“What is her concentration?”

“They don’t really do that in the elementary classes. Still too young. She really loves engineering, though. Knows a lot about it, too, at least as much as a nine-year-old can know. More than me, for sure.”

“Where did you go to school?” Jayce asks. “Mel and I went to UPilt, but Viktor opted for Riverside. Closer to Zaun, he grew up there.”

“You grew up in Zaun?” Vi asks, perking up. The scotch is placed in front of her and she takes a sip of it, reveling in the warm way it slides down her throat. “Wouldn’t peg you as the type. No offense.”

“None taken,” Viktor chuckles. “I was a scholarship kid too, just like your sister.”

“Well I didn’t go to college,” Vi says. “Didn’t graduate high school, either. I got my GED after I got custody of Powder, took night classes.”

“I didn’t know that,” Caitlyn murmurs, swishing the last of the gin in her martini. “That’s very admirable, to work so hard while raising a child.”

Vi turns to reply to her, but the moment she does Caitlyn tips her head back, presses her plush lips to the rim of her glass, and sips down the rest of her drink. The words die on her tongue as she watches the line of her throat and the way she wipes gin from the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb.

The silence at the table gets real awkward real fast. Vi tries to recover, but the more she tries to think of a response, the further her mind strays from the topic until she can’t even remember what she was going to say in the first place.

“What?” Caitlyn asks, eyes widening a fraction. “Do I have something on my face?”

 Vi picks up her glass and downs half her drink in one gulp.

* * *

It’s hard not to have fun, with how easygoing Caitlyn’s friends are. Vi has to admit. When Caitlyn first proposed that Vi meet her friends, she pictured a stuffy bunch of Piltovans with cushy jobs and charmed lives. Jayce, Viktor, and Mel have done well for themselves in their adult lives, but they’re just people. Viktor was crippled thanks to a rough childhood in the Undercity, Jayce was kicked out of his first college for unauthorized research, and Mel has had an on-and-off situationship for the better part of a year with a Zaunite lesbian with a penchant for getting her face smashed in on the streets.

So, normal people. Or, about as normal as Vi is, which is not very normal at all.

All the while, she and Caitlyn sit beside one another, giggling and whispering as the other three talk about their college days and the shitty nature of Piltovan politics. At some point in the night they get so close that their thighs touch, and then the sides of their arms touch, and Vi feels like she’s on fire whenever she moves to sip her drink.

Vi sticks to her plan to only have one drink, but Caitlyn opts for another. Mel steps outside to call her not-girlfriend and Jayce and Viktor order some food before the kitchen closes, so she accompanies Caitlyn to the bar in the next room when table service ends. They sit next to one another, swiveling on their sticky leather stools, waiting for the bartender to finish Caitlyn’s second martini.

“Your friends are nice,” Vi hums. She plays with the loops of her jeans since she doesn’t have a glass to keep her hands occupied anymore. “How did you guys meet?”

“Jayce has been my friend since birth, basically,” Caitlyn says, tilting her chin into her hand to look at Vi. In this light, Vi can see into the dip of her cheekbones, the shadow beneath her bottom lip. She looks like a painting, ethereal. “I followed him to UPilt for a bit, where I met Mel, but that didn’t last long.”

“Transferred?”

The bartender slides the martini over to Caitlyn on a tiny cocktail napkin. She takes a sip of it and hums her affirmative.

“Dropped out,” Caitlyn replies.

Vi’s eyebrows shoot up. Fuck, they practically shoot off her face. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Well, Cupcake,” Vi says, leaning closer. “That’s another weird way we match.”

Caitlyn hums back. They’re close now, invading each other’s airspace. Vi feels drawn to Caitlyn, like their bodies are magnetized just so, not enough that they can’t resist it but still impossible to ignore. Vi has never been able to ignore Caitlyn, really, and this night is no exception.

“Thank you for what you did earlier,” Caitlyn says, dropping her palm from her chin to the bar between them. “I have to swallow my discomfort a lot of times when those things happen, simply because of the demands of the job. It was nice to have someone in my corner to get angry for me.”

“I know you said before that this stuff happens a lot,” Vi replies. “But seeing it… Cait, I’m really sorry that happened.”

“Hm. I like that.”

“What?”

“When you call me Cait.”

Vi’s fingertips bump up against Caitlyn’s on the bar top. She watches Caitlyn’s lips part, imagines a tiny gasp too quiet to hear in a loud bar.

“Were you okay?” Vi murmurs. “With me touching you in front of other people like that?”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says immediately.

Vi slides her hand over the back of Caitlyn’s, feels her shiver through her arm. Caitlyn turns her hand palm up and Vi traces her pulse point, feels the tendons jump.

“What about now?” Vi asks. “Is this okay?”

The light catches in Caitlyn’s hair, creating a halo around her. Vi wants so badly to run her hands through it, to feel if it’s soft or rough, smooth or tangled. She wants to know every part of Caitlyn, if they’re as soft and kind as the woman is in her heart.

“More than okay,” Caitlyn gasps. They’re so close now, close enough that Vi can feel Caitlyn’s breath on her face, warm and dripping with the remnants of gin. “Vi, I—”

Vi feels a vibration in her pocket, then hears the telltale sound of her ringtone. Caitlyn draws back quickly, turning her eyes towards the top shelf of liquor as Vi checks the screen, and the moment she sees Powder’s name she picks up.

“Hello?” she says.

“Vi?” her sister says. She sounds small, far away.

Caitlyn mouths something at Vi, some kind of ask, and she mouths back Powder before returning to the phone. “Everything okay, kiddo?”

“Yeah… I think so.”

“Why the ring, then? That house too big for you? Do they have a funky crypt in the basement or something?”

“No, I’m having fun,” Powder assures her. “I’m just…”

“Just what?”

Powder is quiet for a long moment before replying, and when she does it sounds like she’s whispering into the phone. “I’m just nervous.”

“Aw, honey,” Vi says, swiveling away from Caitlyn. She hops down and takes a step from the bar. “Do you want to come home?”

“Definitely not. I just wanted to talk to you. It’s making me feel better.”

“Okay, just give me one second.”

Vi turns to Caitlyn. Caitlyn has now turned on her stool to face her, brows furrowed in worry. Vi mutes her phone real quick and sighs.

“Powder is nervous,” Vi explains. “She doesn’t do sleepovers a lot, especially not in Piltover. I might need a minute.”

“Is she okay?” Caitlyn asks. She sounds twice as worried as Vi does, and she’s not even blood related to Powder. Her concern makes Vi melt, but she has to keep it together for now. “Does she need help?”

“She’ll be fine, but I should spend some time talking her down,” Vi says. She takes a step towards Caitlyn, and it takes her a long moment to find the next words. “I… I’m sorry, Cait. She needs me.”

“Of course she does, she’s your sister. I would smack you if you ignored her call just because of me.”

“I feel like I ruined the night.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Caitlyn states firmly. She jumps off the bar stool, grabs her purse, and turns to face Vi. “I’ll tell the others you need to step out for a while. By the time you get back Jayce and Viktor will have finished their food and Mel will no doubt need to rant about Sevika. The night is still ours, no matter the interruption.”

Vi stares at Caitlyn. Watches the way the lights dance off her skin, her irises. She reaches up to touch her cheek, and Caitlyn holds her there, nuzzling into her touch. It’s the best Vi has felt in years.

“I’ll be right back,” Vi whispers.

Caitlyn giggles. “You’d better.”

Vi moves past her, passing through the dining room and past their booth where Jayce and Viktor share a plate of nachos and two more beers. When she finally pushes out into the night air, into the quieter city beyond, she clicks unmute.

“Vi?” Powder asks. “You still there?”

“Yeah, Pow,” Vi assures her. “I’m here.”

Chapter Text

The cold never

bothered me anyway.

The summer is warmer after that, in more ways than one.

As the season winds down and the impending return to school looms on the horizon, Vi enjoys the time she still has left with her built-in mini-me while simultaneously looking forward to a time when Powder is being supervised by other adults for eight hours a day. She might be a good guardian and sister, but she is also fucking exhausted.

Which is how she finds herself sitting at the island of Marissa’s kitchen, swiveling back and forth on the stool, poking at the muddled bottom of her mojito. She’s only letting herself have one since she has to drive home after Troy and Powder are done playing upstairs, and Marissa blessedly made hers weak. She hears the thump of little feet upstairs and the sound of squealing as the kids chase each other back and forth through the hall.

Marissa opens the oven, pokes at the first of a tiny row of pigs in a blanket, and curses. “These suckers just will not cook.”

“You got the right temperature?”

“Of course I do, it’s just this damn oven. Came with the place, hasn’t been updated since 1982. You wouldn’t happen to know—”

Vi holds up a hand. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Mar, and let you know that I haven’t operated an oven since I was a kid, and I definitely don’t know how to fix one. Can’t you get your boy toy to do it?”

“Man toy,” Marissa says with a smirk. “What, you and Powder don’t have an oven at home?”

“We have a toaster oven Vander gave us one year for Christmas and a microwave that’s melted on the side. Oh, and a hot plate.”

“Hot plates are a godsend sometimes.”

“Right?”

A new round of giggles explodes down the stairs, followed by more running and a loud and final thud. Marissa and Vi both pause, looking up at the ceiling, ever the parents.

“No crying,” Vi murmurs. “They’re fine.”

“Tried and true ‘rub some dirt on it’ attitude. I like it.”

Vi shrugs. “It’s how we were raised. Our parents cared a lot about us, but we weren’t exactly coddled. They taught me how to take care of myself, and I taught Powder how to just the same.”

“I’m the same,” Marissa says. “My mom was single, worked two jobs. No child support or anything, so when I got knocked up she told me upfront that she couldn’t support me if I chose to have the child and marry the douche, but I ignored her. Sometimes you just have to let your kids make their own mistakes.”

“Yeah,” Vi says. “Bloody knees and scraped elbows for all of us, huh?”

Marissa hums, leaning back against the counter. “In a manner of speaking. Though my mom was there for me to help pick up the pieces after my divorce, so maybe we’re all just helping each other off the pavement at the end of the day.”

Marissa stoops to check the food again, and before Vi can tease her about opening the oven door and letting all the heat out just the same way Vi’s mother used to chide her, her phone buzzes and her eyes snap to the screen.

Caitlyn:

Hope your afternoon with Marissa is going well!

Meanwhile I’m stuck in the bathroom at the Stanton house, reapplying my makeup for the fifth time.

It’s hot out there, my goodness.

Vi’s heart skips a beat. She can’t help it—even after spending the better part of a summer pining after a woman miles out of her league who plays glorified dress-up on the weekends, she still can’t keep it together each time she sees her name pop up on the screen.

It has been a few weeks since she went to the bar with Caitlyn, and August is in full swing. Their busy schedules haven’t kept Caitlyn and Vi from seeing one another, though, and there hasn’t been a single week where Vi hasn’t seen Caitlyn at least once. Though Powder has not had any more parties to attend of the princess variety, they have made it a point to meet up when they can, at parks, at coffee shops. Even for lunch once on a particularly hot day at the start of the month, and Caitlyn had worn a crop top that was so damn flattering on her that Vi could barely get through her penne alla vodka without choking.

She doesn’t know what to do. She knows Caitlyn said that it was alright if they took things slow, if they were never anything serious while Powder was still growing up, but every time Vi sees Caitlyn her fondness for her grows. She sees possibility in Caitlyn like she has never seen in another woman before, and that possibility scares the shit out of her.

Still, she smiles and unlocks her phone, typing out a quick response.

Vi:

what’s the outfit for today?

Caitlyn:

…

Princess Anna.

Gloves, earmuffs, and all.

A popular choice even in summer.

Vi:

jesus. christ.

Caitlyn:

No, just me actually.

Or rather, fake Scandinavian royalty.

Vi:

aren’t you supposed to say shit like “friend of princess anna” when you’re a party princess

that’s how the ex-disneyland people do it right

or like

don’t they call it like “sleeping princess” for sleeping beauty or w/e

Caitlyn:

On paper yes, but in practice?

You try being the one to stop a dozen children from screaming for Princess Anna when they know that objectively it is, in fact, Princess Anna.

Vi:

you literally could not pay me to, thanks

“What's with the smile?”

Vi looks up from her phone and places it face-down on the counter as slyly as possible. Marissa raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Vi says coolly. “Just a meme I saw.”

“Oh really?” Marissa asks. “Just a meme?”

“Yup.”

Bzzzt. Another message.

“Not Caitlyn, the girl you haven’t been able to stop talking about all summer?”

“Nope, not at all.”

Bzzzt. Yet another.

Vi looks down at her phone, swallows, and picks it up again.

Caitlyn:

Listen, I know you said Powder wasn’t invited to Lily Michaels’ party this Sunday, but I was wondering if you wanted to pick me up afterwards and get some takeout, maybe spend some time at my place?

As long as you don’t need to watch Powder, of course, it’s absolutely fine if you can’t.

Vi:

how dare you use me for a free ride, cupcake

I’m offended

Caitlyn:

Never lol

I just…

I really want to see you. I don’t want to wait until next week.

Vi sucks in a breath. Her face gets hot as she stares down at those words, so simple yet so torturous, reading them over and over and over again.

I don’t want to wait.

“Jesus, and I thought I was forward when I met Jeremiah.”

Vi jumps at Marissa’s voice in her ear, fumbling with her phone until it clatters down on the countertop. She was so engrossed in texting Caitlyn that she didn’t even see Marissa round the counter to look over her shoulder, and now she’s red as a beet while her newfound friend cackles behind her, slamming her palm into the marble.

“That is not cool!” Vi exclaims, but there’s no bite behind it. Just embarrassment.

“Oh please,” Marissa says wiping her eyes. “We’re not in middle school, we’ve got kids for fuck’s sake. I’ll take Powder overnight if you want, organize a little sleepover. I know they were both bummed to not get invited to the Michaels’, it’ll be nice to do something for them together.”

“I definitely won’t need the night.”

“Liar.”

“Dude,” Vi hisses, craning her neck to make sure little ears aren’t listening from the stairs. She leans forward and whispers, “Ix-nay on the ex-say, Powder doesn’t need to hear that shit.”

“Oh, so you admit it. You do want to get in her pants.”

“I want—” Vi groans, cutting herself off with a groan. She presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to just ‘get in her pants,’ I want to spend time with her, okay? I’m not even sure… I mean, ever since I’ve had Powder I haven’t even been able to think about going on a date with a woman, let alone…”

“Hey, hey, I’m just teasing you,” Marissa says, voice dipping into a calmer tone, that soothing mother register that puts Vi immediately at ease. “I know exactly how you feel. I didn’t so much as kiss a man from the time I left my shitty ex until I met Jeremiah. Nineteen to twenty-four, nothing. Nada. I just didn’t feel comfortable enough to, not after what I’d been through.”

Marissa pulls on a pair of oven mitts and begins removing the pans from the oven, puff pastry now golden brown. Still, she tests the food with her finger, pressing until it crackles. The smell reminds Vi of her childhood, of quick lunches and greasy fingers.

“What I’m saying,” Marissa says, “is that I know how easy it is to lose yourself in the role of the caretaker, whether that’s mother or father or grandparent or even sister. When you have the opportunity to just be a woman, you have to take it. Who knows how many more you will get?”

Marissa calls the kids for lunch. Vi listens to their feet tromp down the stairs, quieted by the carpet. Her chest tightens as she looks down at the phone, at the name that has been plaguing her thoughts and dreams for the better part of a season, and for the first time in a long time, she lets the want in.

Vi:

I really want to see you too, cait

hows 6 sound?

* * *

That Sunday, Vi’s heart pounds the entire ride topside.

She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. She’s seen Caitlyn so many times by now. She could set her watch by Caitlyn’s lunch breaks because she never fails to text Vi each time. She has seen Caitlyn in costume, out of costume, in sweats and ponytails and nice pantsuits that Vi could never even hope to afford. She’s seen her at bars, on park benches, blowing the steam off her coffee cup as she sinks deeper into a comfy espresso-stained armchair.

Still, Vi has never been to Caitlyn’s house, and Caitlyn has never been to Vi’s. They have never crossed this line. It doesn’t feel very casual, to know where Caitlyn sleeps, to see where she makes her food and watches her shows. It feels intimate in a way Vi has never known before.

She has never been to the Michaels’ house before, so she has to stick it into her GPS to even know where she is going. Lily and Powder have been classmates for two years, and still those snobs can’t get it in their heads that invitations are courteous for all classmates, not just the rich ones. Their house is gaudy when Vi pulls up, stark white with too many pillars for her taste. A new build though, that much Vi knows from the neighborhood—no amount of stately pillars and useless balconies can cover up new money.

She shoots off a text letting Caitlyn know she’s here, then leans back against the driver’s seat and waits. There are some lights coming from the backyard, pink and purple beams, but there’s no real sign of a party at this address other than that. There aren’t any other parents outside for pickup yet, so the party must still be going strong.

Her eyes trail over the line of houses with manicured lawns beyond the Michaels’, each shinier and bigger than the last. They’re on the north side of the city—the topside of topside—and the longer she sits parked here in her beater, listening to the faint sounds of a party she could never afford for her own sister, she thinks for the first time about the home Caitlyn grew up in.

She knows Caitlyn grew up wealthy. Despite the fact that she was cut off by her parents this past year, it’s still apparent from her dress and the price of her watches that she still has some wealth left over, if not in her bank account then in her wardrobe. Her parents probably don’t live in a development like this, they probably live in the central part of Piltover in one of those old, well-maintained Tudors with a dozen rooms they will never use. Or maybe a multi-million-dollar townhome near main street, walking distance from the fancy stores and restaurants Piltover is so known for.

Vi grew up in an apartment, and she will probably die in an apartment. Her childhood unit was a rickety, drafty one-bedroom in the worst part of Zaun—by far a worse area than she and Powder live in now, thank God—with a little annex that she used as her bedroom. It was open to the living area but her parents hung curtains around it, so she had a little corner of their home all to herself.

She was an only child for so many years. When her mother told her she was pregnant again, and that they were planning on keeping and raising another child, teenage Vi didn’t quite know what to think about it. She stewed in it during that tumultuous year, a formative year of drinking, of partying, of making and losing friendships she’d forget about in a decade, but the moment she walked into the hospital room and saw her mother, exhausted, holding Powder to her chest, Vi knew that she would always love her sister.

Vi loved Powder enough to share her little annex when Powder grew out of her crib. She loved her enough to hold her and hush her when she woke up in the middle of the night, so her parents could get some sleep, the same way she would hold her again during their parents’ funeral. She loved her enough to pry Powder out of the state’s hands and keep her from the foster system, even if it killed her. Even if it meant she never got a moment to herself ever again.

Even if it changed Vi for the rest of her life.

Vi has barely begun to sink beneath the surface of those memories when she sees movement from the side of the house. Someone comes hurrying out, and it takes a moment for Vi to realize that it’s in fact Caitlyn, dressed like Elsa, and she’s approaching Vi’s car like a bat out of hell.

She has her skirt grabbed in one hand, a half-closed duffel bag clutched around the other arm. Her wig is being held on by three bobby pins and a prayer. Vi barely gets a chance to ask what the hell is going on before Caitlyn throws the door to the backseat open, tosses in her duffel bag, throws herself down onto the seat and hisses, “Drive.”

Vi does as she’s told, but carefully. She checks the front stoop of the Michaels’ house in the rearview, just to make sure no wild bears of federal agents or hysterical mothers come rushing out of the front door after them, but sees nothing as she drives away.

“Uh,” Vi says as Caitlyn shifts in the backseat, moving to unzip her duffel bag. “What was that?”

Caitlyn reaches up, tears the last three pins from her head, and pulls the icy blonde braided wig off her head. Her dark hair is in a tight bun, but even that hairdo is barely holding itself together. She removes the hair tie and runs her fingers through her locks, untangling them with her nails.

“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn says. “I didn’t even get the chance to change—so stupid—”

Vi opens her mouth again to ask for more details, but the words die in her mouth as she watches through the rearview as Caitlyn unzips her dress and pushes it down to her waist. She’s wearing a simple nude bra underneath, nothing special, but the sheer sight of it is enough to send Vi into a tailspin.

Vi averts her eyes immediately. Her cheeks burn as she listens to Caitlyn shift in the backseat, cursing as she pulls clothes out of her bag and tugs them onto her body. A cotton t-shirt, a pair of black leggings. A bare foot kicks across the center console as she situates her clothes on her body as Vi struggles to keep her car straight on the road.

“Stupid polyester,” Caitlyn mutters, shoving the dress unceremoniously into the duffel bag. Half of it spills into the front seat until she can wrap up the train. “Stupid sequins. Stupid me.”

Vi flips her turn signal on and takes the turn slow as Caitlyn lapses into silence. Only the sounds of shuffling clothes and zippers opening and closing can be heard in the car; Vi hasn’t even taken a breath. She avoids looking in the rearview entirely until two hands shoot up to clutch the front seats, and Caitlyn hauls herself unceremoniously up into the passenger seat.

“Fuck!” Vi exclaims, shifting to the side so Caitlyn has room to weasel her way up. “Cait, seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Caitlyn says, slinging the seatbelt over her chest. “I didn’t know how you’d feel driving around with me in the backseat.”

“Better than making me crash the car!”

Caitlyn sighs. She runs her hands through her hair again, letting the strands fall back onto her face. She blows one out of her eyes. As they approach the light leading out onto the highway, the red stoplight throws her sharp features into stark relief, shadows pooling in the hollows of her cheeks.

Vi’s heart stutters. Caitlyn looks up at her, disheveled, but even after all that to-do she still smiles at Vi, and suddenly nothing else matters.

“Hi,” Caitlyn says softly.

“Hi,” Vi replies, somehow softer. “Your makeup looks nice.”

“It looks like I’ve been sweating in it all day.”

“You could be wearing clown makeup and I’d still think you look nice.”

Caitlyn’s lips part. Vi doesn’t look away. Only the light turning is enough to tear her eyes from the other woman, and it’s only to make sure they get on the highway safely. Years of safe driving experience at work.

“You don’t have to tell me what that was,” Vi says. “But I’ll listen if you want to.”

Caitlyn sighs again, harder this time. “It’s stupid.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I mean it. It’s actually very, very stupid, and I probably owe Mel a massive apology for it.”

Vi takes a deep breath, prepares her best big sister voice, and says, “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s much bigger in your head than it is in real life.”

“I just…” Caitlyn wipes her hands down her face, streaking her mascara. She looks at the black streaks on her fingers for a long moment, as if contemplating every decision that led her to this moment, then wipes them off on her pants. “I knew this would happen at some point, doing these parties in Piltover.”

“Knew what would happen?”

“That eventually someone would know who I was.”

Vi’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Caitlyn says. “I usually come in costume, so it’s pretty difficult for people to recognize me on the whole, but Mel wasn’t able to come for setup today because her overbearing mother came to town to surprise her, so I ended up having to act as a liaison between the parents and the company for the night.

“Long story short, Mrs. Michaels recognized me, and she was surprised as all get-out. She started asking all of these thinly veiled questions about my job and my parents, wanted to know if I was doing this as a favor to Mel, and I just didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even get changed, I just took her check and snuck out the side of the house. I left the stage materials behind—God, I’m probably going to get an earful about that tomorrow, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Vi says quickly, reaching over to squeeze Caitlyn’s thigh. She doesn’t even think about how that action could be perceived, she just wants Caitlyn to know that there’s someone there to ground and listen to her, even when she’s freaking out. “It’s okay. Mel will understand, you shouldn’t have to grin and bear it if you’re really that uncomfortable.”

“I’m so good at being uncomfortable, though,” Caitlyn says. “I’ve been taught my whole life to put on a good face when things get tough. It was paramount to my parents that they raise a daughter who can hold her own in this life, and please her way into anything she’s ever wanted. Businesspeople raise businesspeople.”

“But you’re not a businessperson.”

“No,” Caitlyn hums. “You’re right, I’m not. And I never will be. There’s a very high possibility that I’ll be an office worker who moonlights as a party princess actress for the rest of my life, and you know what?”

“What?”

Caitlyn draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. “I’m okay with that. Even on nights like this, I’d choose it over a life under my parents’ thumb any day.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still be upset.”

“I know. I think I’m learning to sit with that upset.”

“Look at you, using all kinds of parenting vocab.”

“Yeah well,” Caitlyn says, watching Vi through her lashes. “You set a pretty good example in that regard.”

Vi feels herself begin to melt. How can she not, when Caitlyn is the sweetest thing that’s entered her life since her parents died? Marissa was right, she deserves to enjoy Caitlyn’s warmth, her understanding. She deserves it, even after everything.

“Cait?” she says.

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna need you to tell me your address, or we’re going to keep driving in circles.”

“… Oh.”

* * *

Caitlyn’s apartment building is on the southwest side of Piltover, not far from Marissa’s but not quite on the river line either. It’s sleepy on this side of the city, with fewer shops and sightseeing spots, so it’s pretty quiet when Vi parks and they emerge onto the street.

Night swallows them whole. Streetlamps dapple the sidewalk, illuminating the outside of her small complex, a new build with long windows and a dark roof. The hallway smells like cleaning fluid and each door is made of polished wood, untouched by time. They stop on the second floor, two doors from the landing, and Caitlyn slides her key into the lock.

Caitlyn’s apartment is small, just big enough for one woman, but it’s lovingly decorated and meticulously clean. A blush pink couch faces a modest TV and a gas fireplace. Vi’s boots sound heavy against the polished wood floor, so she takes them off before stepping on her nice white rug. The kitchen is separated from the living space by a small island, and there is only one closed door leading, presumably, to a bed and bath.

Caitlyn tosses her duffel bag next to a massive armoire shoved into the corner of the living room, one of those matte white pieces you might see on display at Ikea, and clicks on a warm standing lamp with an embroidered shade. Despite the quality of the furniture and the newness of the apartment, a lot of the furniture does look thrifted, like Caitlyn picked them out from a store instead of some fancy catalog like the Piltover moms Vi has come to know.

“Make yourself at home,” Caitlyn says, pulling out her phone. “I’ll order us something, any requests?”

“You know me, Cupcake,” Vi says. “I’m not picky.”

“Yes, but I’m asking.”

“And I’m telling you, I’ll be fine with whatever you want. Just order something from your favorite place, show me the best of what Piltover’s got to offer.”

Caitlyn rolls her eyes, but quickly dials a number by heart. As she presses her phone to her ear and turns to move into the kitchen to talk, she says, “Not sure anything can shape up to our meal at Jericho’s, but I can certainly try.”

As Caitlyn puts on her kindest and most gracious customer voice to place their order, Vi runs a hand along the back to the couch and traces her eyes over the collection of framed photos on the wall. Art, prints, mixed media. She sees a few photos of Caitlyn in college, posed with friends at bars, clutching her cap at her graduation, sunburnt backpacking across the Great Wall of China.

There is a small photo of a portrait, as if it were scanned and shrunk from the image of a larger painting. It shows two austere adults, both alike in appearance to Caitlyn in different ways, and a little Caitlyn holding a hunting rifle in the center. They’re all smiling, but it looks posed. Forced.

The rest of the photos, though? That’s a girl who has lived.

Vi has just moved over to the armoire to inspect it, ticking her fingers across the knobs, when Caitlyn comes back into the living room, scrolling through her phone, saying, “Alright, I just placed the order, they’re a little backed up so the delivery should be here in about forty-five—”

She sees Vi fiddling with the armoire and immediately stops in her tracks, face twisting up.

“Vi,” she says, tone warning. “Don’t you dare open that thing.”

“What, does it have all your lacy underwear inside?” Vi teases. “Your secret combat fatigues from your days as a government operative? A wedding dress from when you ran from the church, leaving your lover behind cursing your name to anyone who will—”

 “None of the above,” Caitlyn cuts in. “But it is full to bursting with all of my princess costumes, and if you so much as breathe incorrectly in its direction, it might explode all over you. Though I do appreciate the theatrics.”

Vi snorts, stepping away from the wardrobe. “Powder likes stories. The more dramatic, the better. Think you’ll crack this baby open and show me your collection someday?”

“Hm, maybe,” Caitlyn says, plopping down on the couch. She pats the cushion beside her. “But for now we can start with picking something to watch, if that’s alright with you.”

Vi grins. She walks over and sits right beside her, despite how nervously her heart pounds the moment she’s in Caitlyn’s orbit. “It’s more than fine with me, Cupcake. You got cable in this fancy place of yours?”

Caitlyn blows a raspberry. “Hardly fancy, thank you very much. And no, just streaming. I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, I steal Disney+ from my neighbor—”

Vi gasps. “The Disney princess doesn’t even pay for her own Disney+? Scandal.”

“Shut up.”

“Only if you really want me to.”

Caitlyn blushes when Vi says that. At first Vi thinks it might be the warm lighting playing tricks on her eyes, but no. That’s a full-on blush, no matter how Caitlyn tries to turn away and hide it. She shoves a pillow in Vi’s face, eliciting a giggle, but it doesn’t do much to stop the bloom of warmth in Vi’s gut at the sight of her, the idea that from the moment they met—really met, not just from afar or in costume—this warmth has always been there. This attraction.

It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?

“Relax, princess,” Vi says. “I’m kidding. How about we go through the Netflix recommended page, see what’s on there?”

Caitlyn hums and clicks the remote, opening the apps on her Roku. The telltale Netflix boot-up sound echoes through the room and they spend a while scrolling through the various pages on the home screen, commenting on what’s new in pop culture. It’s comfortable, this back and forth between them—Vi even cracks a joke or two at some of the titles, and Caitlyn laughs even if Vi doesn’t think they were very funny.

They settle on The Great British Bake Off, mainly because Caitlyn has seen it about a hundred times—one of her father’s preferred programs, apparently—and Vi and Powder have seen enough of it to know exactly how to mimic the contestant’s posh little accents, which elicits gasps of indignation from Caitlyn, owner of said accent.

They don’t watch it so much as use it as background noise for their commentary and banter, and the longer they spend in each other’s presence, the deeper they sink into that comfort that has always seemed to exist between them. No pressure, no pretenses, just two women enjoying each other’s company. There are no kids or responsibilities here, just Paul Hollywood and a good old Victoria sponge.

All the while, Vi and Caitlyn get closer, both literally and figuratively. They sat on other ends of the couch to start, but as they talk and point at the screen and hit each other with pillows whenever the other makes some new off-color comment that sets them off all over again, Vi ends up pressed against Caitlyn, leaning her body against her side while Caitlyn leans against the back of the couch.

It doesn’t even feel that odd, which is what shocks Vi the most. It feels natural to touch Caitlyn like this, like she was always meant to do so. From the moment Vi touched her in that bar, from the second they crossed that line from platonic to intimate, she has wanted to touch her again. She wants to feel her tendons jump, hear her breath catch just like it had that night. She wants it so badly it hurts.

Vi feels it now. She feels the smooth skin of Caitlyn’s arm against hers. She feels the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the way it shakes when she laughs. She feels Caitlyn’s torso warm through her t-shirt, the same one she changed into in the backseat of Vi’s car, well-worn and smelling like fabric softener. Vi traces little shapes into Caitlyn’s thigh, nonsense squiggles. It’s something she’s done for years on Powder, just to remind her that she’s there.

Now, though, she does it to feel. To experience. And when her hand slides down almost absentmindedly, fingers exploring the soft expanse in the space between Caitlyn’s hip and her leg, she finally hears it: that catch she’s been waiting for, the smallest intake of breath that hits Vi like a sucker punch to the gut.

Her bliss is short-lived, though, because in an instant Caitlyn has shut the TV off and rocketed to her feet, upending Vi and leaving her alone on the couch.

Vi blinks up at Caitlyn, who rubs her thigh with the heel of her palm. Her face is beet red, the flush extending down onto her neck, and she can’t look at Vi. Vi’s stomach sours as she pushes herself back up, suddenly very aware of her own body and how wrong she feels.

“Cait,” Vi starts. “What—”

“I don’t know why I did that,” Caitlyn says immediately.

“It’s okay, I didn’t mean to—"

“Actually I do,” Caitlyn says, cutting her off again. “I do know why I did that, Vi, and it’s not because of you. Or, maybe it is because of you, I don’t know.”

Vi’s heart sinks. Caitlyn must see the disappointment on her face because she immediately rejoins her on the couch, but they’re not touching anymore. There’s a tension between them, a coldness that Vi hates. She wants the warmth back. She wants to feel it again. If things are fucked up now, it must be her fault.

“I promised you we could do this your way,” Caitlyn says. “No expectations. Nothing. You have Powder to think about, I have my own issues, we’d be better off keeping things as they are.”

Vi pauses. She looks at Caitlyn, who still hasn’t looked back at her, as if she were worried about what she’d say if she did.

“Is that what you want?” Vi asks.

“No,” Caitlyn says. “And that’s the problem.”

“Your problem is that you want me?”

“I’m scared that I want more from you than you’re ready to give.”

Vi’s lips part. She watches Caitlyn fiddle with the loose threads on her leggings, trying to make herself as small as possible. She looks the same way she did in the passenger’s seat earlier that night when she was telling Vi about her encounter with Mrs. Michaels and how horrible it made her feel. Like she’s nobody.

Vi will be damned if she ever lets Caitlyn feel like that again.

“Consider this, though,” Vi says, shifting minutely closer to Caitlyn. She tests the waters with a lean, the bracing of her hand against the back of the couch, just to let Caitlyn know she’s there. That she wants to be closer. “What if I want expectations?”

Caitlyn finally—finally—turns to Vi. Her eyebrows knit together as she looks Vi up and down, watching her shift back into Caitlyn’s space. “What?”

“What if I want expectations?” she asks low. “You said you want to do things my way, so would you believe me if I told you that I want you to take up space in my life? That I want to take you on dates and make time for you and introduce you to Powder as someone other than my friend?”

“Isn’t that too much?” Caitlyn asks as Vi continues to move towards her, and with every inch gives her ample time to push her away. Still, she doesn’t. “You’ve never brought anyone into Powder’s life like that, I know you haven’t.”

“Cait,” Vi breathes, and they’re so close now that Vi can feel Caitlyn’s breath hot against her lips. She’s between Caitlyn’s legs now, hands placed on either side of her torso. She gives Caitlyn as many outs as she wants, and still Caitlyn doesn’t take them. “I’ve been waiting the better part of a decade for someone like you. I’m not going to let some stupid fear or doubt get in the way of something this special.”

Caitlyn gasps, and Vi feels it in her own airspace. They breathe each other in, and the warmth of it is enough to send Vi’s head spinning. Her hands ghost along the sides of Caitlyn’s torso, lifting the shirt up so she can feel the twitch of her stomach, the dip of her waist. She’s so warm, so soft. Caitlyn’s leg crooks up and she arches her back, lips grazing just at the corner of Vi’s mouth. Vi almost unravels right there.

“I want to kiss you,” Vi whispers against her. “Are you going to keep talking yourself out of it, or are you going to let me?”

Caitlyn reaches up. Pushes a hair out of Vi’s face, the action so delicate and careful that Vi can’t help but shudder. She closes her eyes, and like an exhalation says, “Please.”

When Vi kisses her, she’s scared it will be terrible. She hasn’t kissed a single woman since she got custody of Powder; it’s been so long she can barely remember what it’s supposed to feel like.

Caitlyn’s lips are warm and soft. Vi feels when she sighs into it, and it makes the tension in her own shoulders sag. She lets the kiss linger, reveling in the way Caitlyn’s mouth feels, reacquainting herself with an aspect of want she thought was long dead, and when she pulls away she already feels the kiss knitting itself into her memory, reminding her of what it’s like to be loved.

Vi presses her forehead to Caitlyn’s. The other woman’s blue eyes flutter open, pupils blown wide. “That was…”

“Nice,” Caitlyn whispers, running her hands along the shaved side of Vi’s hair. “So incredibly nice.”

“I don’t do this a lot.”

“I don’t either.”

“Can we try again?”

“Yes.”

They barely get through their words. Vi’s mouth is already back on Caitlyn’s, and this time Caitlyn winds her arms around her, tugging her in by her neck and shoulders.

Muscle memory kicks in. She feels that familiar bloom of heat in her stomach, a warmth that spreads up her spine and makes her shiver. She presses her hands into Caitlyn’s stomach, pushing her thumbs into her softest spots. Their mouths part as one kiss turns into two turns into three turns into six, and soon Vi feels like she’s more Caitlyn than herself.

Her hair is soft and sleek under Vi’s hands. Her pulse jumps when Vi presses her lips against her neck, sucking little marks up and down its column. Caitlyn holds her like she can’t get close enough. In an attempt to give Caitlyn what she wants, Vi grips her waist and guides her hips up onto Vi’s.

Caitlyn sinks down into Vi’s lap, bracing against the back of the couch. They sit like that, not kissing for a long moment as they just… stare at each other. Caitlyn’s eyes flicker between Vi’s face and the place her hands have settled at her waist, pushing up the hem of her shirt. Vi’s breathing stutters as Caitlyn slowly leans down to capture Vi’s lips again, and when she does Vi melts back into the couch, as if Caitlyn kissed the bones right out of her body.

She wants to talk to Caitlyn. She wants to tell her everything her body is feeling, everything her heart has been demanding of her for years, but she can’t, not when Caitlyn is devouring her like a woman starved, like if she doesn’t kiss Vi now she may never get the chance to again.

Vi slides her hands up Caitlyn’s spine, feeling the ridges and miles of creamy skin there. Caitlyn gasps, shifts down on Vi’s hips, slides her lips along Vi’s cheek—

Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

They snap apart. Caitlyn blinks as if she were slapped, and Vi tears her hands from the heaven of Caitlyn’s body. Caitlyn’s phone screen lights up with a call.

Caitlyn shifts to grab the phone, flattening her hair and fixing her shirt, but she doesn’t get up off Vi. She brings the phone to her ear as Vi shifts beneath her, trying to steady her breathing.

“Hello?” Caitlyn says. She listens for a moment, then nods. “… Yes thank you, I’ll be right down… Alright, bye.”

She hangs up the phone. Silence fills the room—not necessarily the awkward kind, but the kind that precedes a conversation that neither of them feels equipped to have right now.

And for once, Vi doesn’t even want to talk. She just wants to feel, to be here with Caitlyn and not think about anything or anyone else. It’s what she’s wanted all summer, really—one uninterrupted night with Caitlyn, to parse through the big feelings she’s been holding onto for months.

“That was the delivery man,” Caitlyn says, still breathless. “The food is here.”

“Let him leave it,” Vi blurts out.

Caitlyn stares down at Vi. “What?”

“I said,” Vi says, gripping Caitlyn’s waist tight. A hungry, eager part of Vi never wants to let her go again. “Let him leave it.”

Caitlyn’s eyes move down to Vi’s lips. Her lips part, a tiny surrender.

She tosses her phone to the side, not caring where it lands. Caitlyn surges back to Vi and suddenly everything is wonderful, in ways Vi never thought they would ever be wonderful again.

* * *

They let the food get cold.