Chapter Text
The interior of the dim apartment rushed to meet Caitlyn Kiramman at the door, all cramped five hundred square feet of it as it floated limply on the moonlight. She’d been meaning to upgrade now that her salary allowed for it, but that night her apartment might as well have been a suite at a five-star hotel after the week she’d had. The creaking front door was a symphony, and shoving her hip against it to close it was merely a dance; her eyes hungrily drank in the pile of rank dishes in her kitchen sink, the flickering front hallway light, the way the tiny apartment seemed to close in on itself like a steadily exhaling chest. Out, out, out all the air went until the walls were nearly meeting her shoulders.
Despite its appearance, sometimes she’d much rather be there, vegetating on her couch with her brain shut off and with the clutter slowly mounting up around her, than out in the world running errands for a woman who would replace her in two seconds flat if she were hit by a city bus. Other days, she sank her teeth into the job and found the taste of success addictive. Caitlyn was close to one of the most powerful people in fashion and the price of proximity was six days of her week and just a little bit of her sanity, a cost which some would call quite fair.
But that night, she wanted nothing but darkness. Shut all the blinds, throw on a six-season television show, simmer in the glow of the screen with several glasses of moscato marinating in her brain until it turned to blissful mush. No, something much stronger. Maybe she could run down to the liquor store and grab a bottle of cheap brandy.
Just as Caitlyn was pulling her work heels off and rolling her ankle around for a little relief, a phone started going off inside her handbag. As usual, her personal phone lay completely silent in some forgotten pocket deep within the bag, gathering dust and cobwebs and melting in a puddle of disuse. No, it was the shrill insistency of her work phone that plagued her, the sound that faded into the background of her nightmares and left her fumbling urgently for it by morning.
“Fuck!” Caitlyn groaned with her hands squeezing into fists by her sides. She’d only been home for two minutes, so fresh from the outside world that she could still faintly smell the scent of the taxi she’d ridden home in. Maybe if she had a little more self-respect, a little more resolve, a little less propriety, she’d probably ignore it. But it was Friday night, and despite how much Caitlyn’s boss seemed to love wasting her time, Friday night calls were consistently real emergencies.
It took everything in her to drag herself over to the table by the front door and pull her phone out. She didn’t even need to look at the contact to know she needed to use her assistant voice.
“This is Cait,” she intoned neatly once the device was against her ear, all hints of frustration falling away to her sore feet.
As usual, there was little preamble. Come to this address at this time, wear this, don’t wear that, blah blah blah. It was a party. She had to give up her Friday night and her moscato and her TV shows so that her boss could network with other snobby celebrities at a fucking party. Caitlyn had half a mind to just smash her phone on the floor right then and there, but then she remembered two things. Number one, going to this party or the constant fashion shows or the flights around the country that she couldn’t stand paid for the phone. And the floor that she’d smash it into. And the lights, and the furniture, and the clothes that had become a little bit of an Achilles’ heel. She threw a glance around the tiny apartment. All hints of its sanctuary had already washed away and she could only see the dust in the air.
Number two, she absolutely, positively, no matter what, could not fail her parents.
So she freshened up, changed into a black cocktail dress, took a few sips of moscato straight from the bottle for the nerves, and went head-first back into the coolly simmering night.
✉
After hiring a cab to take her to her boss’s North Piltover townhome, they both squeezed into the Mulsanne and crawled through the packed streets until they were rolling up to the exterior of a lavish soft-toned building. Bluewind Hotel read the swirling letters etched in gold on the milky white exterior of the place. Caitlyn had grown up attending ballroom dances and banquets there as it was one of the social centers of the Bluewind Court neighborhood she’d grown up in, so she hoped the night would be a breeze. Just another networking event full of glitzy people where she would remind her boss of names and grab the ears of all the important guests.
The chauffeur dropped the two of them off at the curb and Caitlyn followed her boss out onto the sidewalk. It was always an amusing contrast, the light clickity-clack of Caitlyn’s stilettos against the heavy thump of her boss’s expensive loafers. It was only exacerbated once they were inside the hotel and gliding over the marble floor of the lobby, mixing with the clacking of all the red-bottomed heels filling the building. People in various takes on cocktail attire milled about under massive chandeliers and a dizzying atrium view of the above floors stretching towards the night sky. The crowd seemed to be moving towards a ballroom, although the mingling had already begun in the lobby and it was slowing down the migration somewhat.
“Ah, Grayson,” a voice said somewhere. “Glad to see you made it on such short notice.”
And so Caitlyn’s night shift began.
She peered over Grayson’s shoulder at the person approaching, a balding man with a massive beard, which Caitlyn found sort of ironic.
“Hoskel, owner of Hoskel Media. He tried to buy Hex magazine two years ago,” she whispered into her boss’s ear.
Grayson hummed discreetly in reply and then greeted the man like they were old schoolmates. Caitlyn trailed behind the two as Hoskel ran through his typical networking routine. An overly friendly opening, a lame attempt at humor, a casual mention of upcoming projects. It was the same with most of the people who approached Caitlyn’s boss. Grayson was the editor-in-chief of Hex magazine, which cemented her as the authoritative voice in fashion. For some, being in the face of all that power caused them to somewhat lose their wits. Others lost their minds entirely.
Once they entered the ballroom, though, his chance fell away. Hundreds more were waiting for Grayson’s ear and he said a quick goodbye, sensing he was no longer a priority. Here, the room had been transformed into a makeshift nightclub with gliding strobe lights trailing the ceiling and a DJ in the corner shaking the floor with sultry house beats. Dispersed throughout the room were huge abstract sculptures that would probably fly straight over Caitlyn’s head if she tried to delve into their meaning. They came alive under the flashing strobe lighting, seeming to breathe and move with every blink, which she could understand the appeal of. Maybe that was part of the point.
“Cait,” came Grayson’s steady voice, somehow cutting straight through the loud music. “Get me a gin and tonic on the rocks.”
Caitlyn was already moving towards the bar before Grayson finished, knowing the countdown had already begun. She flew up to the bartender, relaying the order and then waiting anxiously as it was thrown together. Once she had the slick glass in one hand, she pulled her work card from her clutch and paid, then turned sharply and crashed straight into the back of a tailored suit.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Caitlyn breathed. She was already wincing at the thought of which publishing executive or fashion model she’d accosted and could only hope they weren’t the cruel type.
But the person who turned didn’t seem to be either of the two, and despite all the studying Caitlyn did to know names and faces for Grayson, she couldn’t place this one. It was a striking face, though; dark eyebrows shadowing piercing blue eyes, a proud mouth, a sloping jawline.
Gods, was all Caitlyn could think.
“Careful,” the vision in a black suit said, now fully turned towards Caitlyn with a concerned quirk to one of her eyebrows. The silver piercing at the arch of it winked pleasantly in the strobe lighting, as well as her teeth as they sat on the softness of grinning lips.
“I was moving a bit too fast, I’m afraid,” Caitlyn said. “I really do apologize.”
“Slow down, then, beautiful,” the black suit replied, lips spreading into a sly grin as those blue eyes flickered down to where the hem of Caitlyn’s cocktail dress hugged her thighs. Caitlyn suddenly felt completely naked.
Boom! The sound of Caitlyn’s brain imploding inside her skull.
“O-Oh,” Caitlyn stuttered out, becoming embarrassingly unraveled under the stranger’s gaze. A beat passed, then two, then—
“Shit!” Cait exclaimed, suddenly acutely aware of the condensation-covered glass in her hands. “I really need to get back, but it was nice meeting you.”
She ran off before the stranger replied and found herself regretting her quick departure. She hadn’t even gotten her name. But then she remembered she was technically at work, and many people, including Grayson, would kill her if she were found flirting on the job. So she pushed the black suit out of her head and went back to name-recalling and drink-fetching, unable to completely shake the feeling that she was undressed.
✉
And then it was 12 AM.
The crowd had thinned a little but the party was still very much in full swing, especially now that there was a little more alcohol wetting everyone’s tongues. A small group of powerful people lingered around Cait and her boss, the ones that could even remotely be considered on Grayson’s level.
“Cait,” Grayson finally said to her. “Some of us have been invited to the artist’s studio to preview his current projects. You can go home for the night, I’ll leave the car at your disposal.”
Somehow, in all the lights and networking, Caitlyn had completely missed that it was an art showcase. It made the sculptures littered about the room make much more sense and she wondered just how many people had attended and left for afterparties in the same uninformed state as her.
“Thank you, that’s very kind.”
Grayson nodded and handed her empty glass to Cait so she could adjust her suit jacket. Sometimes, Caitlyn found it amazing that the woman ran the fashion industry wearing slightly different variations of the same loose suit and loafers every day, but she made the right decisions that kept Hex moving forward and that’s all that mattered to the corporate media people who owned it. One day, Caitlyn hoped to garner that level of respect for her work. For the moment, though, she was a glorified maidservant.
“See you tomorrow,” Grayson replied, and then she was off to be ferried in another expensive car with other expensive people.
Alright. What now?
Caitlyn took a slow walk over to the bar to return the glass, mulling over her options for the night. She felt tired after working what was essentially a shift and a half, back-to-back, and her couch and that bottle of moscato in her fridge felt very tempting. But it was also a Friday night, and she had access to an exclusive party, a bar, and hundreds of the most brilliant minds in Piltover fashion in the same room. She could have a little fun.
“Returning this glass,” Caitlyn said to the bartender, “and a cosmopolitan, please.”
“Was hoping I’d find you again,” said a voice to her left. Caitlyn turned slowly, in disbelief because luck almost never seemed to be on her side. And lo and behold, there she was, the handsome woman from earlier in all black. Her silk shirt shone like a scrying mirror and was unbuttoned just enough at the top to reveal a few inches of sharp collarbone. She had a half-empty old fashioned glass in her deft fingers, which glinted with a myriad of unique silver rings, and a quirk to her lips that was slowly twitching into a smile.
“Well, here I am,” Caitlyn said, cursing inwardly at herself at her limp reply. Gods, it’d been forever since she’d flirted with someone and it showed.
“I’ve been thinking about who you might be since I saw you,” the stranger said as she slowly swirled the contents of her glass and kept steady eye contact with Caitlyn.
“Really? Tell me, who do you think I am?”
“You’ve gotta model for Hex,” the stranger answered, fully grinning now. “You pulled up in a Bentley—”
“You saw that?”
“—You’re six feet tall, all legs, and damn, you’re gorgeous.”
“Stop it, you probably tell every girl that,” Caitlyn laughed. She crossed her feet at the ankle and went to lean against the bar, and the stranger mimicked her. Then there they were, in each other’s spheres.
“Nah, I’m serious,” the stranger protested. “But, judging from your answer, I’m guessing I’m wrong, huh?”
Caitlyn liked her voice. It had a bit of a charming rasp to it, and she sounded like she had a quick wit about her. And her breath smelled a little sweet, like éclairs, or—
“Well, beautiful, at least tell me your name—”
“Cupcakes,” Caitlyn blurted before feeling her face heat up like a furnace. “Gosh, Caitlyn. I meant Caitlyn. Sorry.”
The stranger laughed good-naturedly and switched her drink out of her right hand so she could extend it towards Caitlyn. “Nice to meet you, cupcake, I’m Vi.”
“Oh, you’re not letting me live that down, are you?” Caitlyn groaned, taking Vi’s hand. It was smooth but a little calloused at the palms as if she worked with her hands often.
Vi shook her head, holding back a laugh with her bottom lip between her teeth. “Nope.”
“Now I wish I was a famous fashion model just so I could blast you across the cover of Piltovan Press for being so rude to me,” Caitlyn joked.
Vi chuckled before quirking that pierced eyebrow again; Caitlyn felt her knees weaken. “Caitlyn, though… why does that sound so familiar?”
The bartender was back with Caitlyn’s cocktail then, and as she took the drink and handed him her personal card, a light ignited in the blue of Vi’s eyes and she snapped her fingers, sending the rings on them clacking gently as they brushed together.
“Holy shit. You’re Grayson’s assistant,” she said, pointing knowingly at Caitlyn. “I think I’ve heard your name here and there. Jesus, working for her, you need that damn drink.”
“Hey!” Caitlyn laughed as she raised the glass to her lips. “Maybe I just wanted a cocktail.”
“It’s a good choice, I’ll give you that,” Vi shrugged. “Vodka goes with just about anything.”
“So what are you drinking?” Caitlyn said after her sip.
“White Russian,” Vi answered. “Not my usual but, I dunno, I guess I just have a bit of a sweet tooth today, cupcake.”
Vi raised her own glass for a quick sip, winking at Cait over the rim. Vi’s words lingered in the air between them for a beat or two, their eyes meeting as they both took tips of their drinks.When Vi lowered her glass, she had a smirk and a little bit of cream on her lips.
“Wait a moment, you have something…” Caitlyn trailed off and reached for the stack of black bar napkins. When she looked back up, Vi’s eyes were piercing and her cheeks were a little rosier than before, which sent a jolt of amusement down Caitlyn’s spine as she raised the napkin and wiped away the cream. Vi’s lips were a little parted and she waited patiently for Caitlyn to finish, not taking her eyes away for a single moment. When Caitlyn was finished, she went to place the napkin on the bar but Vi’s strong hand around her wrist stopped her.
“That’s a nice ring,” Vi commented lowly, eyes on the family crest wrapped around Caitlyn’s right ring finger.
“Thanks, it’s my family’s ring.”
“Ah,” Vi said curtly, letting go of Caitlyn’s wrist and flicking her eyes off into the crowd for a moment. Caitlyn wondered what had crossed her mind but filed it away in favor of balling the used napkin up and placing it on the bar.
“Well, what about you?” Cait asked. “What do you do? My guess is you’re a designer.”
Vi’s eyes were back on her and her lips spread into a grin. “What makes you say that?”
“Don’t fish for compliments, it’s not attractive,” Caitlyn teased.
The corners of Vi’s eyes had the most pleasant crinkle to them as she laughed. “C’mon, cupcake, indulge me.”
“Well, since you begged,” Caitlyn said, “you’re extremely well-dressed and you clearly have an eye for fashion since you noticed a detail like my ring. And you’re here.”
Caitlyn gestured to the party around them with her hand and Vi shrugged as she looked out over the party herself. “I mean, you’re not that far off. Not too close, either, though.”
“A fashion writer, then,” Caitlyn said, “although I feel like I would’ve read you in Hex at some point or another.”
“Yeah, except I can’t write for shit,” Vi laughed. “How about this: what are you doing after this is over?”
Caitlyn was taken aback slightly by the sudden inquiry. “W-well, nothing, actually—”
“Promise we can get outta here, then,” Vi said, “and I’ll tell you what I do.”
Vi looked so sure of herself, so confident, standing there against the bar with a questioning smile on her face. Caitlyn missed feeling this curious about someone else, missed this sort of intrigue. She found herself welcoming any surprise Vi could possibly have for her.
“Sure,” Caitlyn answered before an idea ignited in her head and filled her with excitement. “And we can take the Bentley.”
“Perfect,” Vi replied. She tilted her head back, giving Caitlyn an extremely satisfying view of the large gear tattoo on the side of her throat, and downed the rest of her drink in a few gulps.
“Come on,” she said once she’d slammed the empty glass back on the bar. “Want you to meet someone. It’s my end of the deal.”
Vi pivoted on her heel and plunged into the crowd, leaving Caitlyn to keep up. She took her half-finished cocktail and followed Vi’s head of dark pink hair as it swerved in between all the pockets of people filling the ballroom. When Caitlyn finally reached her side, Vi had slowed down at a circle of people almost on the opposite side of the room. Instead of dancing, they were all sipping from cocktails while locked in conversation, and all of them looked just as well-dressed as Vi.
Then one was turning towards them and Caitlyn took a sharp breath. She’d recognize that face anywhere.
“Mel, this is Caitlyn,” Vi was saying when Caitlyn’s ears stopped ringing and she was able to hear again. “Get this: she works for Grayson over at Hex.”
Vi’s words only confirmed it for Caitlyn. She was face-to-face with Mel Medarda, the Mel Medarda, one of the most successful up-and-coming actresses of the last few years. Her acting was amazing, of course, but she was also so gorgeous that people started saying her face could sell poison and compel people to drink it.
“You’re Grayson’s assistant?” Mel said in surprise. “Well, if anyone needs a drink, it’s probably you.”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Caitlyn laughed, but she knew why. Grayson wasn’t cute or cuddly or an easy person to work for by any stretch of the imagination, and that wasn’t a secret. Her assisting position had been a revolving door for awhile before Caitlyn filled it and the word on Grayson had gotten out ages ago. She could be absolute hell to work for.
“Mel’s my boss,” Vi explained. “I’m her assistant.”
“Oh, you’re more than an assistant, dear,” Mel scoffed before giving Caitlyn a look. “She chooses absolutely everything I wear.”
“If I may say, she made an excellent choice tonight,” Caitlyn said. All three of them took a moment to glance at Mel’s outfit, a form-hugging floor-length black dress with a slit up the side to her thigh and a glittering assortment of gold jewelry that matched her eyes. It was all topped off with a gold forehead piece that Caitlyn thought was genius since it made her look even more like royalty than the natural royal aura that seemed to hang off her shoulders and flutter about her in a cloud.
“Thanks,” Mel and Vi said in unison before simultaneously breaking out into gentle laughter.
“Caitlyn and I are leaving, if that’s cool with you,” Vi said after it died down. “As long as you don’t need me for the night.”
“No, no, that’s what Jayce is for,” Mel said, glancing towards the wall where an imposing man in a plain black suit stood, eyes roving slowly over the crowd. Caitlyn would’ve never guessed he was Mel’s security, but now he seemed to tower over the entire ballroom and drown out the music entirely with just that watchful gaze alone.
“He’s been way more than just security lately,” Vi said teasingly, which earned her a withering look from Mel.
“You just behave tonight,” Mel replied with a pointed glance at Caitlyn that she wasn’t sure she was supposed to see.
The corner of Vi’s mouth pulled into a biting smirk. “When do I not?”
They exchanged a few more words before Vi was pulling Caitlyn away again, this time in the direction of the exit. Vi steered them expertly through the crowd, quick feet dodging drunk dancers and laughing models and those flickering sculptures. Then the cocktail was suddenly plucked from Caitlyn’s hands.
“You won’t need this anymore,” Vi said, placing the cocktail on a nearby table.
“As long as you’re buying me another,” Caitlyn teased.
She felt Vi chuckle next to her. “Anything for you, cupcake. Time for you to keep your end of the deal.”
✉
Vi whistled lowly as the sleek black Mulsanne pulled up to them under the awning of the hotel, the bright lights from above reflecting off its dark surface like stars against an inky sky. Caitlyn puckered her lips in an attempt to hide her smile, but the truth was that she was filled with pride, even if it wasn’t technically her car. It was moments like these that made the six days of torture each week worth it.
“Shit, how much are these going for?” Vi marveled as the car came to a sultry stop. “Hundred, hundred-fifty?”
“Two hundred, if I remember correctly.”
“Two hundred thousand?” Vi said in astonishment before groaning in barely-restrained excitement. “I’m not even gonna breathe in this thing.”
Caitlyn let out a laugh and watched as Vi stepped forward and gently pried the door open. “After you, cupcake.”
As she stepped up to the car, she paused next to Vi and locked eyes with her in a measured stare. “You’re just trying to check me out.”
“Maybe I am,” Vi replied evenly. So Caitlyn bent to dip into the car, making sure to take her sweet time doing so.
Vi followed her and they settled into that firm leather and the citrus scent that seemed to follow Grayson wherever she went. The interior was as clean as ever and the driver seemed far away, the car miles long, the seats as big as mountains. Caitlyn had never realized just how large the car felt, just how luxurious the lap of luxury seemed to be.
“Where to, Miss Kiramman?” came the driver’s distant inquiry.
Caitlyn looked to Vi expectantly, who leaned forward and hurriedly said the name of a place that got lost in the quick way she muttered it. The driver peeled carefully away from the curb and the lights of the city blew past the car windows in bright, meteoric streaks that left white gashes in the glass. The night was alive around them, shifting in tones of grays and pale yellows and glittering and jumping with life. Caitlyn looked over at Vi and saw all that light reflected in her eyes. She was the symbol of relaxed confidence in the backseat, fingers drumming lightly on the tops of her spread thighs. They looked strong, pressing ever so slightly on the slacks they were encased in, just barely hinting at the true nature of their strength. To Caitlyn, they looked like something she wanted to devour.
“You checking me out?” Vi said suddenly, and Caitlyn glanced up to see amused blue eyes fixed on her.
“What? It’s my turn,” Caitlyn said swiftly, her smooth response in complete opposition to the redness spreading across her cheeks. Vi’s shoulders shook silently and she turned her attention back to the city and its nightlife outside the window.
The Mulsanne eventually crawled up to the curb of a crowded sidewalk, barely able to find a place to stop as people streamed across the street and converged in a huge mass outside the entrance of a futuristic nightclub. The exterior was grand, a black stone construction that shone in the moonlight. The sign blazed in blue neon, glowing letters spelling out the word Fissure. All of the glowing and blinking and pulsating that came from the club reflected in the wet shine of the asphalt, creating a murky reflection in the street that made the place feel even bigger than it was. The line to get in stretched down the block and around the corner and when Vi opened the door, Caitlyn was hit with the cacophony of sound, the people talking, the music pounding from within the walls of the club, the footsteps and the cars honking and the sound of wild night living.
“Would you like for me to wait nearby, Miss Kiramman?” said the driver.
Before Caitlyn opened her mouth, Vi put a hand on her knee to stop her. “We’ll be fine, sir. Thanks for the lift.”
She pulled a sputtering, protesting Caitlyn out of the car and onto the curb before she could say otherwise, laughing easily at Caitlyn’s flustered state. “Relax, okay? We can always take the train.”
“Gosh, Vi…”
“What? Poor Piltie not used to the subway?” Vi said with a dark grin at Caitlyn’s shocked expression. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the accent.”
“You’re the worst,” Caitlyn muttered, fingers pulling down the hem of the cocktail dress that suddenly felt like it was starting to shrink up her thighs. That’s when she peered over Vi’s shoulder at the crowd behind her.
“Everyone’s staring at us.”
Vi nodded without turning around herself, choosing instead to lean forward and whisper, “Probably because we just pulled up in a Bentley. Come on.”
Vi’s hand was held out to her and she grasped it for the second, or third, or fourth time that night. Caitlyn was starting to lose track of the number of times they’d held hands but it was just as delicious as the first, Vi’s warm hand keeping a firm grip on hers with the silver rings balancing it out with their coolness. Vi guided them through the haze of cigarette smoke and right up to the bouncer, completely bypassing the long line and filling Caitlyn with an intense embarrassment in the face of all those watching eyes.
But then the bouncer was dropping the rope and ushering them straight inside.
That’s when time seemed to slow to a crawl.
Caitlyn couldn’t tell if there were fog machines or just a lot of people lighting up on the dance floor, but the haze in the air could be spied in swirling pools hanging within the beams of light that cut through the dark. The bass of the music thumped and boomed up through the floor, replacing heartbeats with the fast-paced beat of a European dance song. The crowed surged and writhed like one big creature, faces caught in brief flashes of light that rippled around the room like flickers of lightning. Every moment felt like a snapshot, a flash that Caitlyn was only meant to see in fits and starts. It was disorienting, it was beautiful, it was the most cinematic place Caitlyn had ever been in, and above it all was Vi’s back ahead of her, guiding them expertly through the kaleidoscope of chaos.
Caitlyn stepped forward and exchanged their grasped hands for a tight grip around Vi’s upper arm, feeling the taut muscles moving just beneath the surface of her black blazer. Vi was saying something, but she couldn’t make out a word above the noise and her own heart pounding in her ears.
“What was that?” They had made it to the bar at the back of the room and into a bubble where the music almost didn’t seem to be as loud.
“I said,” Vi started with an amused laugh, “welcome to Fissure.”
“This place is insane!”
There Vi went again, leaning into her space until her lips grazed the shell of Caitlyn's ear. This time, Caitlyn felt sure hands gently grasping the sides of her waist and pulling the two of them nearly chest-to-chest. The maneuver sent needles of ice pleasantly rolling in waves down the skin of her back.
“...surprised you’ve never been,” Vi was telling her when her brain checked back in. “This is where all the Pilties come to gawk at people from the Undercity.”
“Gawk?” Caitlyn echoed, but Vi was already sidling up to a space that was opening up at the bar and flagging down the bartender. The question died on Caitlyn’s lips as she followed that slicked back pink head of hair over to the fluorescent countertop. Everything, absolutely everything, seemed to glow and sparkle at Fissure.
“You want another cosmo?” Vi asked.
“Gods, no,” Caitlyn scoffed as she ran a confident hand through her hair and leveled Vi with a saucy, stirred-up gaze. “I need something stronger.”
Vi’s eyes dropped to her lips as the words came out and the air between them seemed to sizzle and crack. What have I gotten myself into? Caitlyn thought momentarily before Vi cracked a lazy smile.
“Four vodka shots, please,” Vi told the bartender’s waiting eyes. “The lady wants something strong.”
“Alright, Vi,” came the bartender before he turned to grab a couple of glasses.
Caitlyn stared at Vi in shock. “You know him?”
“I know a lot of the people here, actually,” Vi shrugged, turning and leaning back to rest her elbows on the bar. “I was sneaking in here before I was even eighteen.”
Her eyes moved slowly over the dancing crowd, the flickering lights, the thrumming aura that seemed to hang over it all. It was almost terrifying how comfortable she seemed in the middle of that whirlwind of strobes and music. It was as if she owned the place.
The bartender returned to them with four quivering shots of deceivingly clear liquid and Vi reached into her pocket for her wallet. The man waved his hand and pushed the shots further across the bar top.
“On the house,” his voice cut in over the music as he threw a quick glance towards Caitlyn. “Enjoy your night, Vi.”
For the second time that night, Caitlyn realized someone was referring to her. The thought started to form that she was another in a long line that Vi had played this role to before. She wondered, searched deep down, if she even cared, then decided that she didn’t. It was already becoming the most intriguing Friday she’d had in months and they hadn’t even danced yet.
“Appreciate it, Mav,” Vi was saying as she picked up a shot in each hand.
“Don’t mention it.” Mav slid away to another customer, retreating back into the fog.
“Well, well, well,” Caitlyn said with a curious eyebrow cocked in Vi’s direction. “You’re quite the celebrity.”
Vi rolled her eyes and flashed Caitlyn an easy smile. “Just drink your poison.”
“Without a toast?”
“Fine,” Vi sighed as they knocked their shot glasses together. “Cheers.”
As Caitlyn took her shots measuredly and tried not to gag despite the amount of times she’d found herself at the bottom of shot glasses, Vi knocked hers back so quickly that Caitlyn was tempted to verify whether or not they were really vodka. The only hint there was of their potency was the way Vi sucked at her teeth and roughly wiped the wetness off her mouth with a ring-clad thumb.
“You done yet?” Vi asked as Caitlyn slammed her second empty glass down and pulled a harsh grimace.
“Done,” Caitlyn croaked as her throat smarted with the burn of the alcohol. “Gosh, it’s been a minute.”
“Come on, then,” Vi said, pulling Caitlyn with both arms to the dancing crowd. “I’ve been waiting to see you dance all night.”
Caitlyn couldn’t think about the implications of that or the warm, slightly-rough feeling of Vi’s hand around her wrist or the all-encompassing weight of the crowd pressing onto them as they disappeared into it. It was like an entirely new dimension on the dance floor as people’s eyes rolled back and the thump of the music in their chests kept their bodies from collapsing like limp puppets. Vi brought their bodies close enough to connect by the hips and Caitlyn threw her arms over Vi’s shoulders, almost losing her face in the darkness.
Somewhere in the next song, the alcohol rose within her and propelled her waist against Vi’s, rolling, grinding, surging. The strong hands on her hips tightened slightly and Vi was speaking to her before catching her lower lip in her own teeth.
“What was that?” Caitlyn called over the roar of the club music.
“I said I want to—” The song hit its drop, filling the dance floor with electrifying, dizzying beats that sent everyone around them into a frenzy of hurried dancing. It drowned out the last of Vi’s words, but Caitlyn watched her lips form around them.
I said I want to fuck you.
Vi was smirking at her with a low-lidded, hazy look in her eyes that was driving Caitlyn insane. It was like she was realizing all over again just how hot Vi was, just how much the captured flame in her hand stung her palm, but she didn’t care. She wanted to consume that flame, swallow it. She wanted to devour it entirely.
The dancing was a pretense now for other things, a language that only they could speak. The grinding without sheets to roll around in, the rolling without the comfort of a soft mattress. They were both clothed and in public but somehow the dancing felt filthier than anything else Caitlyn could remotely dream of. She found herself throwing her head back and her hips forward, thrusting them against Vi, letting her eyes close, letting the music and the alcohol surround her.
When she raised her head back up, she threw her lips right against Vi’s.
Vi responded eagerly, sending a deep groan straight into the kiss that vibrated on Caitlyn’s tongue. Her hands slid up to the small of Caitlyn’s back and chased the sparks dancing across their lips, consuming Caitlyn just the way Caitlyn had dreamed of consuming her. It was a whirlwind of the mind, the montage of images from running into Vi at the hotel to riding in the Mulsanne and now this sinful, gyrating kiss. The forbidden nature of it intrigued Caitlyn, the thought of Grayson seeing her and scolding her for using the town car for such a filthy excursion.
Caitlyn smiled against Vi’s lips at the mere thought and then pulled her closer by the back of the other woman’s neck.
✉
They were hurtling through a tunnel, an orange-and-white tunnel that winked through the windows of the subway train. It whirred under their feet and seemed to squeeze around them until the train burst out into open air and sailed through brick buildings that glimmered with moonlight.
Caitlyn was drunk, though clearly not as drunk as Vi, who had dug her face into the crook of Caitlyn’s neck and occasionally ghosted her lips over the side of her throat. When they sat, Vi had mumbled something about Caitlyn having a gorgeous neck before depositing herself there permanently, which let Caitlyn know that the alcohol had completely soaked her brain through. Caitlyn was enjoying it, though; the hand on her thigh just above her knee, the gentle hums Vi let out every now and then, the smell of Vi’s lavender and bergamot scent that wafted into her nose every time they were jostled. She’d never much cared for the subway, but she could ride on that train with Vi forever.
“Next stop,” Vi said suddenly, peeling herself off of Caitlyn and attempting to rapidly blink the vodka out of her eyes.
That stop was Sapphilite Row, and they ascended out of the station and onto a street that was tickling the back of Caitlyn’s memory. She’d been there before to visit a friend’s apartment back in college when everything felt new and exciting. Now things felt new and exciting for an entirely different reason as they stumbled down the empty street to a tall building a few blocks away. It seemed to be made of nearly all glass, like one push from a finger and it would crumble with a pleasant tinkling sound. The front doors whizzed open, sending Caitlyn’s hair fluttering, and she squinted into the bright lights twinkling in the modern-looking lobby. The man at the desk waved briefly to Vi and flashed them a smile before they disappeared into one of the elevators, then Vi pressed the button for the forty-second floor. Forty-second floor. Just imagining it made Caitlyn feel dizzy.
“I couldn’t even imagine a building this tall before I moved here,” Vi said as the floors flew by on the screen as if she had read Caitlyn’s mind. “I still can’t believe my view.”
“I imagine it’s amazing,” Caitlyn said. They were still holding hands from the train. Or was it from when they left Fissure? It seemed Vi was merging with her completely.
“Amazing?” Vi said as the elevator doors dinged open. “It’s breathtaking.”
And it was. Vi’s apartment was one of those where there seemed to be no walls, where you could step right off the edge and be forever lost to the clouds. It stretched in the darkness from the kitchen by the front door to the sleek furniture in the living room, coating the entire place in a layer of moonlight. Caitlyn thought of the homely walls of her own apartment and the tiny galley kitchen and then to this, the infinite, floating apartment that seemed to view all of Piltover at once. Vi pulled her to a door and into a nice bedroom and a bed that was calling to the both of them. Caitlyn wished she could soak in the decor and ask Vi about the paintings on the wall or if she could peer into what was sure to be a fascinating closet, but sleep was already pressing its insistent fingers against her eyelids, strengthened by all the alcohol. She hardly remembered slipping into one of Vi’s hoodies, inhaling that intoxicating scent, before being enveloped into plush sheets and subsequently, dreams.