Chapter Text
“Are you in the mood?”
Cait had such a way of saying it. Maybe it was her posh accent, stressing importance. “The Mood,” as if it were a state to be. Like drunk, or asleep, or sick, or conscious. A definitive statement that could be identified by a doctor, not a feeling that fluctuates with every moment.
Vi had not just woken up. She’d been in bed basically all day – one of Those Days. The capitalization was important. When she sat up, her sore muscles strained, and her head hung heavy between her shoulders. She straightened and pushed her hair back, rubbing sunlight out of her eyes.
“Good morning to you too, Cupcake.”
Cait stood there, a beautiful statue in her silk night shift. Her legs are a bit too close together, chest out, like a cadet saluting her general. Her hair was tied up, messy too. It made Vi want to reach over and pull it free, just to hear her squirm, “Violet, really?”
“I appreciate the offer,” Vi pulled herself to the foot of the bed. It was not Their Bed, it was a bed in a spare room. Whenever she was … rotting … she didn’t like to do it where the balconies were spacious and sunlight filtered in in hexagonal diagrams that made her feel fucking suicidal. She found the guest room on the lowest floor of the house and made it her new jail cell. It bothered Cait. Whatever they were, one would imagine they’d always be together, in sleep, in day. Vi supposed, somewhat half heartedly, that was all she had left to be with.
Vander, an extinguished hope, vaporized in the smell of blood-iron and beast flesh, just the same as he had before. Jinx, Powder, a loss so grave Vi felt as though someone had surgically removed her heart, leaving a gasping, pulsing cavity longing to be filled. Even Jayce – she missed him more than she really wanted to say, not the new Jayce but the old stupid Jayce – the one she could argue with until nothing really mattered, until they were both panting and incapable of thinking how shitty their situation was because they’d said it so many times over. The I’m hurt, you’re hurt, let’s hurt each other because it doesn’t really matter anyway, I don’t fucking like you.
Ekko was going through his own thing and she wished she could join him on the reconstruction of Zaun. But…how?
What was she supposed to say? It should have been me to fall and explode to dust?
Just thinking that hurt.
Perhaps, going down on Cait again would be a good idea. She’d been doing it all week, eating pussy like it was rations – ha! Just like the sterile soup kitchens pumping resources back into Zaun to aid in its recovery, tastelessly clean bread and cheese from caches that the poorest child couldn’t even comprehend so much food could stand to wait. Hearing that familiar sigh turn to moans, her too-soft hand sliding over the welts and tattoos of Vi’s back, the smell of her fancy hair product, her near-complete lack of bush. Like kissing the velvety face of a baby animal. Cait moaned like a good lady: Oh, Violet, love, oh, yes, keep going, keep going, oh my love- You had to imagine it in her accent, she sounded like a fair anemic maiden.
Vi liked her grabbing the back of her skull and guiding her face deeper into the sweatless softness between her legs. It made her feel a kind of defeated euphoria. I lost everything, everything hurts, but hey, I’m really good at this. If I were to throw myself off a balcony, well, who would be here to lick your clit?
Vi, I was…with someone, when we were apart-
Cait…I don’t fucking care.
Replaceable, no one wanted to think about it.
“Sure, let me brush my teeth first,” Vi said with a tired shrug, climbing out of the bed and stretching her arms above her shoulders, feeling a pop, crack, and sigh.
“Can we try…” Cait caught her down the hall, “something new?”
“Caring about my dental health is something new. I’m not fucking flossing, if that’s what you’re asking,” Vi turned back warily, her eyebrows crashed, “or using that awful not-alcohol mint shit,”
“It’s good for you, you need the fluoride!” Cait gasped.
Vi responded by taking her by the jaw and pushing a heavy stinking kiss down her throat. When she pulled back, Cait’s nostrils flared, and she felt herself smile, tired, “Don’t talk dirty to me just yet.”
Cait lightly smacked her shoulder, her hand drawing into a fist, “I want to top you, actually.”
That was…startling. Vi didn’t really know what to make of it, so she flashed a mock salute and disappeared into the bathroom for like 10 minutes, most of which to spend staring herself down in the mirror. What. She. What. Huh? Really? What?
Self hate was a burning, throbbing iron. She even used the foul tasting mouthwash, perhaps hoping she could get drunk on it. Actually, yeah, she took a few mouthfuls and swallowed until the clean taste made her eyes sting. The alcohol and sugar hit her stomach acid and sizzled. She leaned forward on the sink counter, crossed her arms, and put her forehead down between them. A hard sigh. In and out.
I don’t deserve that.
To be fair, Cait’s put me – us – through the shit. I don’t hold a grudge but… She imagined Vander warning her about the danger of grudges and that too ached like lightning coursing through her body. I guess I should get some too…
No…it’s weird. What if I don’t like it? What if she gets all defensive and I have to spend like an hour comforting her. She splashed water on her face, feeling a little woozy. Hungry. Have I not eaten since yesterday? Huh. That’s…not good.
Look, it’d been hard to eat. It’d been hard to do anything except lie in bed, get drunk, listen to the same records on repeat, and cry-scream when she thought she was alone. Yesterday, looking out the window into the Kiraman memorial park, she saw a man walking seven golden wolf-dogs through the orange fall carpet, a series of little blips sniffling and scuttling about. For some reason it made her cry even harder and slam her skull into the opposing wall, so hard it dented. Powder loved people with too much love to give. Vi hated rich people and their willingness to extend it to animals but not their own man.
When she was a kid, she had a fantasy – one she’d rather die than tell anyone about, but. When she thought she was only burdening Vander, she imagined taking Powder topside and finding a beautiful mansion. Going up, palms shaking, and asking, please, we’re two poor orphans from the undercity, won’t you at least take my sister in? And, of course, the fake family would welcome them both in with open arms, pure human kindness. Some people had a kindness in them that all the cruelty of the world could not erase. Hang tight to those people. Protect them, they won’t do it themselves. She imagined Vander saying, and the space behind her eyes became very hot. Surely, the Piltovians were kind too, then. Surely, they’d see too skin-and-bones children and offer a place to sleep, a place where Powder no longer trembled at night from the echoes of gunshots, a place where Vi didn’t have to look out at the slumped, emaciated mothers and their bawling babies on the side roads and think, I recognize that exhausted look, I see it every morning in the mirror.
She was stalling, she realized. Grumbling a little to herself, like a machine that had just come back to life, Vi stripped off her shirt and threw it…somewhere. Doesn’t matter. Cait’s house loved to devour her shirts.
Her reflection caught her. She’d spent so much time in her own head. Her scrappy side-cut had grown out and her eyes, oh, god, her eyes . They looked way too similar to…to her sister’s. No wonder it's been so difficult to face this wreck.
Feeling a storm building in her chest, she drank mouthwash until it took down the edge and staggered back to the chamber.
“Lay down, right now,” Cait said, in her snappy officier voice. She was poised on the bed like a leopard or…something. Her hair had obviously been tied up and down numerous times as she waited, antsy, to get this over with, “Vi? If you want to…”
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Vi replied, with halfbaked enthusiasm. Cait had crawled off the bed and was kissing her now – ah, right, okay, kiss back. Don’t think about your dead sister. She wants to make this special for you – let her.
When, sprawled on the bed, she yanked down her pants, Cait did have a moment of hesitation.
“Sorry, cupcake, I can put on all your fancy products, dress in your fancy clothes,” Vi brought their heads in close, kissing her neck, chewing her ear, tasting ebony hair (strawberry shampoo), “but I’m not that kind of girl.”
“No, no, it’s okay, I don’t mind one bit-” Cait quietly breathed, eyebrows furrowing. She had a terrible poker face – for someone who somehow tricked Ambessa Medarda, it was really really hard to be convinced she actually wanted to go down on a full bush butch.
“Don’t hurt yourself,”
“Okay…”
Vi leaned back on the mattress and playfully pulled Cait on top of her, kissing the space between her mouth and shoulder. A breast came out through her blouse and Vi squeezed it. Soft. Healthy, the same texture as her pillows. Cait squeaked, like a stepped-on animal.
“Your tits are fucking incredible, babe,” Vi felt herself grin a little as Cait pulled the blouse over her head. The small of her waist, the slenderness of her muscles, her healthy if somewhat uneven body. Young rich women always had that look – corset trained waists and a ratio that rivaled an infinity sign. She thought of Ekko, of the paint he usually wore on his face. Her body was heavy, “I wanna die in ‘em.”
Cait pulled her hands to her chest, riding her just a little. The small of her waist and the way her hip bones were concealed in a curve of vitality, not an inch of skin out of place, her white tummy marred only by that one scar Ambessa had carved into her, like a crack along priceless artifacts. When she crawled farther, her body was icy bold, fingers like a touch of winter.
Vi was all sinew and muscle – her shape was covered in more so a layer of bruise callous than body . A war machine, she supposed, and she never really thought about it, but it was odd, the places your mind went when you really just wanted to not focus on the gorgeous gal atop you.
Cait was kissing her, then, on the mouth, one brave hand notched between her legs. Okay, okay, you don’t want to put your face in there, fair, fine, don’t hurt yourself. She found where the knob probably was (once again, Vi wasn’t really feeling it, but she knew Cait was experienced, so this was probably meant to feel good) and rubbed it between her trigger finger and her thumb. An involuntary shudder traveled up Vi and she took her neck, kissing her hard, wanting to tumble her over onto her back and just do it for her.
This is doing nothing for me, that’s fine, she wants to help…
She wants to right her wrongs, I should let her… she wants to feel important.
Cait’s cold hand finally slipped up and Vi felt something. More like a warning signal than a pleasure. A pang traveling from her crotch to her womb to her chest, screaming, Intruder alert, intruder alert!
Yep, she’s there.
An enforcer has entered the undercity.
She laughed at her own joke and Cait’s eyes got wide, “Am I doing something wrong?”
“No- no- just a thought,”
“A thought?”
“A funny thought,”
Her hand wedged deeper and Vi felt herself clench, instead of going wet. Something must’ve changed, the tightness in her hips betraying her true feelings. Cait pulled out in a slow, reluctant retreat, and sat up across the bed. Her two fingers trembled before curling into a fist.
“I can’t do this,” she finally said, in an almost exasperated defeat.
Vi, also, felt like trash. She propped herself up on her elbows, staring at the blue girl between her breasts, between her thighs, now standing on the other side of the room, trembling like a small animal.
“Cait, look, Zaun pussy hits different-” she started to reason (she wasn’t even sure why she did) (maybe she just didn’t want Cait to feel bad) (Vi had disappointed a lot of people) (the ones who were still alive were few and far between) (please, don’t make that face, Cait).
“No- I- do you even want this?” Cait suddenly cried. She wiped her tears with her clean hand, her shoulders buckling, “I’m such- god, I’m the worst sweetheart in the world. I shouldn’t have- fuck!”
Here we go again. Vi watched her cry, still sitting on the bed. She began to pull her pants back up. Her breasts hung, rising with every breath from her heavy chest. Can I try to comfort her? Would that…just make her cry harder?
“It was a sweet effort, I think I’m just-” she shrugged, broken, torn up, everything hurts, my home is gone, my family is gone, I don’t want to be an enforcer, I am not a scholar, my body is so goddamn heavy, I don’t know what my purpose is beyond your bed, Cait, I really don’t, and that’s my burden to bear.
You’re the one who included me in your story. It’s not your fucking fault I’m…
Well…
…actually, Cait, this is on you. What did you expect?
Cait blew her nose. In the time of Vi’s pondering she’d managed to find a box of tissues. A naked lady holding the too-perfect box, like an advertisement for well-put broads and the supplies they needed. She wiped the cum off her Violet hand and used her clean one to smear tears and snot off her face. No, Violet, only men cum, it’s just discharge. Like an infection? No, Vi, god, no, just liquid! Don’t call it cum! There is not cum on our sheets, it’s merely– Sorry, sorry, Zaunite sex education sucks, I hope I don’t get you knocked up. VI! Stop playing dumb! C- come here.
“Sorry, I should’ve said something,” Vi leaned back on the cover. The mouthwash was beginning to make her skull pound.
“You shouldn’t have had to-”
“Well, I did.”
Another moment of silence passed. She knew what Cait was going to try to say. Something stupid like: what can I do to make it alright? The answer varied. A snappy nothing ever will be or a whipped just hold me for a bit. If Vi was anywhere near as smart as Mel Medarda, she’d have weaponized Cait’s pity to any number of Zaun internal infrastructure projects. She just wants to feel useful.
“Vi- are you-”
“You know what would be awesome right now?” Vi said softly, dryly, staring up at the ceiling.
“Wot?”
Cait sounded desperate.
“I haven’t eaten since yesterday – I think – and I could seriously go for those like…that fried bread thing, with the batter and the-”
“- ‘that horrid amount of butter?’” Cait finished, tentatively, “Yes, I know, what pancakes are,”
“It’s insane to me you aren’t eating those all the time. But I guess you Piltovians aren’t a huge fan of butter,” Vi said and for a moment she sounded like her old self, “Psh, weak.”
“It’s bad for our cholesterol if we have it too often,” Cait reasoned, somewhat apologetically.
“Boo, anyway, I don’t really give a shit what’s on them,” Vi forced herself to sit up, to flash Cait a hey I’m okay smile, “Actually, no, wait, strawberries? Are those in season right now?”
“Yes,” Cait wanted to laugh, “They are.”
“Fuck yeah. That would be the best.”
“Today’s our chef’s day off, but I do remember how to make them myself,” Cait straightened. She was putting her shirt back on. Boo. “Besides, they can’t be that complicated…”
“Anything with that amount of butter is gonna taste good no matter what you do,” Vi sat up, taking one of Cait’s shirts off the nightstand and pulling it on. It fit too tight around the middle, too long at the hem, and she didn’t even attempt to button it, letting the blouse hang open in a plunging line from sternum to cervix. Goddamn fitted Piltovian clothes, perfect to Cait’s kitty-cat proportions.
“I do suppose,” she smiled, turning to walk down the hall, “Wait up, I'll make you some and bring them to bed for you. We still have some cider, too, that would pair nicely,”
“Eh, nah, I’ll keep you company.” Vi got off the bed and followed after her, something that made Cait flush with a little bit of relief.
They were bad at this, tired and unshaven and broken and simply put two absolutely disasters of women…but the love was there.