What Remains
Despite the fact they both had plenty of plates spinning simultaneously between them, Caitlyn and Violet always put the effort in to make time for each other.
Vi was giving it her all with rugby training, even if their last game of the season was fast approaching. It was the blessing and curse of being team captain. She still had all her classes, as did Caitlyn, which came with its own plethora of challenges.
As a condition of heir progression back into the ranks of the Army of Piltover after graduation, both young ladies were required to serve in the Reserve before they would switch to full time after receiving their diplomas. For Caitlyn, it meant picking up a few minor cases for the Corps of Justice here and there and working through them in her spare time. However, for Vi, she was often assigned weekend and evening flying missions, sometimes having to be deployed for a week or two at a time out of semester on peacekeeping missions or humanitarian aid operations.
Vi had appreciated that they were all non-combative missions, nonetheless. She took her Chinook every time as instructed, swapping out co-pilots each flight for whoever the Air Corps deemed fit. Vi hadn’t even seen the cockpit of an Apache since the war ended.
There was a part of her buried in the deep dark confides of her cerebral that hoped she’d get to fly the Apache again before she retired, however. And not just on a humanitarian mission or anything treaty related. An animalistic part of Vi, the part that woke up in Noxus and didn’t quite get put back down, calling to her like a moth to a flame.
But despite their military duties, the girls made their best attempt to do everything else together. Cooking, food shopping, travelling to university, they were by each other’s side for every leg. They woke each other up with kisses in the morning and bid each other goodbye each night.
Caitlyn had nightmares of her own some nights. Her body would start off reacting in a small way, like her right leg twitching or her arm shaking, which almost always woke Vi up because she wasn’t the heaviest of sleepers nowadays. Then the whimpering would start, soft calls and names spoken between parted lips, and if Vi wasn’t awake before she was definitely up by then. In those moments, Vi would hold Caitlyn into her chest, forking her fingers through her smooth raven-black hair, and whisper sweet nothings into her ear until she lulled back to sleep.
It didn’t go unnoticed to Vi that the nightmares died down when Caitlyn stopped wearing her eyepatch to bed, too.
Caitlyn didn’t need to tell Vi that she disliked her new way of living. Vi could just tell.
It took Caitlyn a good few months to get used to only living with one eye. Her shins were constantly covered in small bruises from bumping into coffee tables and other low objects, and she’d knocked over more cups and bowls than she cared to admit anymore. But the stares from the older generation, the pointing and whispering from children as she walked down the street, was something she’d learnt to live with.
Not necessarily accept, but she’d learnt to live with it.
Caitlyn didn’t just lose her eye on that beach in Noxus. She lost a whole lot more.
***
Vi’s mission for that weekend was a simple one, a routine she’d run through in training a million times before. It was a straightforward cargo haul, transporting a cargo bay full of supplies from their airfield in the north to the Army of Piltover’s compound in the east. No underslung cargo this time, which she was thankful for, because underslung loads required a Hell of a lot of logistical planning and mental mapping; which was the last thing Vi wanted to be doing on a Saturday afternoon.
By the time Vi rolled out of bed to get herself ready, pinning her sleek metal wings badge to her MTP uniform with supressed pride, Caitlyn was already up, hunched over her desk and staring down at a textbook. She groaned loudly, rubbing her hands down her face.
“What’s up?” Vi asked, still looking in the mirror as she smoothed out her lapels.
Caitlyn groaned. “This stupid research methods module. It’s all statistics. Since when did criminology involve mathematics?” she exclaimed loudly.
Vi hummed, straightening her uniform one last time before joining Caitlyn next to the desk. She leant down, fingers splayed out across the wooden surface, her cover sticking out of the back pocket of her cargo trousers as she read the text before her.
Caitlyn watched intensely as Vi’s gaze grazed over her textbook. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she read the problem aloud quietly to herself. A finger traced along the words.
“So, you’ve got your null and alternative hypothesis, and a level of significance at point zero-five.” Vi’s eyes alternated between Caitlyn and the pages as she explained. “You’ve worked out the R-value to be higher than the critical value, so the test is significant, and your null hypothesis can be rejected. There’s evidence of correlation between whatever two values you’ve been looking at.”
Caitlyn stared at Vi as if she’d grown another head. She blinked once. Twice.
“I didn’t know you were good at maths,” she said quizzically, sounding more like a question than an observation.
Vi chuckled shyly, as if she’d done something wrong, her hand travelling to the base of her neck to rub the nape. “Yeah, uh, flying. It’s a lot of numbers. You pick things up.”
“Well,” Caitlyn purred, briefly sitting up from her desk to flutter a fleeting kiss against Vi’s jaw, “thank you very much, Pilot.”
“You’re welcome, Captain.” Pushing back from the table, Vi ghosted her lips to Caitlyn’s temple one last time before heading for the door. “I’ll be home before 6. Dinner’s on me tonight.”
But before Caitlyn could protest that it was her turn to cook (which was always a recipe for disaster), Vi had already disappeared through the doorway, the spectre of her kiss still burning against Caitlyn’s skin.
***
It came as a surprise to Vi when she trotted downstairs and met Jayce, who too was in full uniform. He cocked an eyebrow straight back at her. “Where you off to?”
“Got a mission. Cargo transport.” Vi grabbed her boots from beside the door and began tying them up. “You?”
“Same.”
She paused, still holding her laces, looking up. “North to east?”
“That’s the one.” Jayce chuckled.
Vi barked a laugh and shook her head; not in a mocking sense, but more in disbelief. “Guess you’re my flight engineer then, Pretty Boy.”
“Oh.” Jayce shrugged. “Cool. Want a lift?”
***
The pair had arrived earlier than expected to the airstrip, small gaggles of aviators and soldiers running supplies and equipment between various different posts. Vi spotted their Chinook instantly; she’d been given the serial number of the chopper, but this specific bird had a distinct scratch running up the side of its panelling.
Two men were waiting for them as they approached. Loris, the trusted doorgunner that had been on a few operations with her before this, and another much younger, much skinnier gentleman. They both snapped to attention and saluted as Jayce and Vi walked over.
The younger boy stuck out like a sore thumb. He was frail and small, fingers delicate and much too skinny for the type of work they’d be doing. He looked like he belonged in an orchestra in front of the Piltovian elite, not on their airstrip.
Before Vi could say anything, he quickly spoke to both of the officers. “Private William Johns, ma’am. Reporting to yourself and Lieutenant Talis.”
Jayce cocked an eyebrow. “Billy Johns? Really?” he asked incredulously.
The young man blushed. “Yes, sir. I was, um- I volunteered for this operation.”
“Did they ask if you wanted a motorbike license?” Vi questioned with a small smirk.
He nodded sheepishly.
“And did you put your hand up?”
Another nod.
Jayce grinned ear-to-ear. “Alright then, Piano Man. Welcome aboard.”
Vi scanned the rest of their surroundings; it was just them on the airstrip now, no sign of any other officers. “Where’s my co-pilot?”
“Didn’t show up,” Loris grunted as he shifted a heavy munitions box into the cargo bay of the Chinook. “Flying solo today, ma’am. Sorry.”
Vi stuck her tongue into her cheek. She had no issue flying solo; but it was difficult, much more difficult than having your wingman to monitor the other half of the cockpit for you. She turned to Jayce, who appeared to be just as stunned as she was. “Fancy riding up-front today?”
The other officer tilted his head. “Is that allowed?”
Vi offered him a shrug. “We’ll call it mentoring. Keep it between you, me, and the chopper, though.”
Jayce began to smile so hard his cheeks hurt. He followed Vi into the Chinook, bouncing with anticipation, as Vi showed him around the cockpit.
“Your rifle goes there,” she explained, jutting a finger to the gunrack behind their seats. “And you’ll be sat there.” Vi gestured to the left side of the cockpit.
“Cool.” Jayce unslung his weapon and loaded it into the locker before sliding into the co-pilot’s seat, placing the helmet over his head and chuckling to himself.
Smiling, Vi dropped into her own seat and kicked the ignition into life.
***
Jayce had taken to flying like a duck to water.
He already had a large working knowledge of the chopper and its instrument panel; a passion he’d definitely fed into in his own time. Vi knew the rough training syllabus of the engineering school, and knew it didn’t include avionics in the detail Jayce seemed to know it in.
He was asking all the right questions, too, with Vi offering answers to the best of her instructor capabilities.
“How do you know if the chopper’s overloaded?”
“What’s the difference in landing protocol between soft and firm ground?”
“What’s the maximum weight limit, including passengers and cargo?”
The mission was a success, too. Vi would be ashamed of herself and her crew if it wasn’t.
After spending so long ducking enemy fire and flying thundering attack helicopters into the swarm of combat, a simple transport operation was a walk in the park.
By the end of the flight, once they’d landed back to base, Vi had told Jayce that he should ask about getting his wings and qualifying as a pilot. Not just because it was the obvious place where his passion lied, but because it would be nice for Vi to have a permanent wingman to fly with, too.
Jayce exhaled exasperatedly, head bobbing as he jogged out of the loading bay. “What’re your dinner plans, Vanderson?”
Vi chuckled. “Got some nice ribeyes for Cait and I tonight. Bought it at the butcher’s yesterday, gonna cook it up with-“
Her sentence was cut off by a metallic pinging coming from behind them, the sound of a stray projectile ricocheting throughout the cabin like in those old western movies her brother and father used to watch.
Piano Man stood just before the lowered platform, whole body trembling as he clutched his rifle, eyes blown wide. Small tendrils of smoke trickled from the barrel of his gun and the blood drained from his face as he saw the small bullet hole he’d made in the hull of the helicopter.
Vi squared her shoulders and furrowed her eyebrows, ready to scold the boy into next week, but Jayce had already beat her to it.
And as the events unravelled she really wished he hadn’t.
The other lieutenant marched straight up to Piano Man with a face like thunder, a giant hand grabbing the weapon just after the stock. “What the fuck was that, Private?” he bellowed, rattling the rifle in the space between them.
Piano Man stuttered and fluttered. His eyebrows nearly flew off of his face. “It was an accident, sir, I forgot the safety,” he managed to say, the skin of his cheeks now a ghostly-white.
“Who’s rifle is this, Private? Is it your rifle?” Jayce was now screaming in his face, globules of saliva catapulting from his lips.
“Y-yes, yes it is, sir,” the boy responded obediently, flinching.
“Then fuckin’ say it.”
When he didn’t respond, Jayce grabbed his face, squashing the boy’s skin between his thick fingers like malleable putty.
“Fucking say it, Private!”
“Th-this is my rifle!” Piano Man barked, voice distorted by the vice-like grip over his face. “There are many like it, but this one is mine!”
Jayce stayed silent for a moment. He still kept his hand clenched around the boy’s cheeks and jaw, shoulders and chest rising rapidly and unevenly, nostrils flared.
Finally, he squeezed the boy’s face one last time, snapping his head to the side before grunting and dropping his grip. He stomped out of the cargo bay, heavy footsteps against steel following in his wake.
Vi watched the back of his head disappear from view. She stayed staring at the spot he’d disappeared into for a moment, eyes unfocusing, before turning her attention back to the boy.
Piano Man met her gaze. His eyes searched for something behind hers. Warmth, comfort, perhaps even a bit of appreciation for his work that day.
Instead she looked at the bullet hole he’d caused by misfiring. It was only a tiny graze, just barely making it through to the other side, the tiniest of pinholes seeping a ray of light into the cargo bay.
If they were to leave it, Vi had no doubt the Chinook would operate just fine, and could very possibly do so for the rest of its service.
But Vi also knew better than anyone else that the smallest wounds could grow into the deepest lacerations if left untreated.
“Get a fabric tech in here,” she grunted to Piano Man, before ducking out of the Chinook and following after Jayce.
***
They stayed in silence the entire drive home. An awkward, tense atmosphere settled heavy in the car, so thick it could be cut with a knife. Jayce refused to put the radio on; he wanted to keep it quiet.
He said nothing to Vi when they finally pulled up on the driveway, and said nothing again when he got into the house, just scarpered up the stairs after kicking his heavy boots off with way more force than necessary. She debated on following him up, pushing his door a crack to see if he was okay, but stomped out the idea in her mind.
If Jayce wanted to talk about it he’d do so when he was ready.
Instead of going upstairs to get dressed, Vi decided to start on dinner for her and Caitlyn, retreating into the kitchen and pulling the two steaks she’d bought for them out of the fridge. The bloody slabs of meat were cold in her hands as she moved over to the counter and sliced open their vacuum-sealed packaging with a knife. Thin streaks of myoglobin dripped from the ribeyes onto the chopping board as she fired up the hob and pulled out two sticks of butter and a pack of tender-stem broccoli.
Cooking was a ritual to Vi. A very tender ritual she held dear to her heart, one that was passed down from evenings spent with Vander helping out in the kitchen. It was easily one of her favourite love languages; Caitlyn couldn’t cook to save her life, so it was a perfect dynamic.
The pan sizzled as she dropped two hearty globs of butter into it. Strands of molten amber liquid spat out from the edge of the metal rim and landed onto her knuckles. Vi didn’t pay any attention to it. She sprinkled a liberal amount of salt and pepper onto each steak, massaging it in before lowering them both slowly into the pan.
Steam began to rise up from both of the steaks as they cooked slowly. Vi flicked on the extractor fan just as the fridge door creaked open behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. It was Jayce, carefully avoiding her gaze as he pulled out a Tupperware box of uncooked chicken.
“Hey,” he mumbled, still not looking at her.
“Hey.” Vi turned her attention back to her meat. The liquid sloshing slowly stained crimson as more blood leaked from the ribeyes.
There was a clashing of metal on metal as Jayce pulled a baking tray from one of the cupboards, slapping the breasts down in a single file line as he flicked the oven on. He crossed his arms and leant against the surface as he waited for it to heat up.
“Jayce, what have I said about seasoning your chicken?”
Vi’s eyes lit up and a small smile appeared on her lips. Viktor’s nectar-like southern Zaunite accent filled her heart with a familiar warmth.
She turned around as Viktor hobbled into the kitchen, clicking his tongue and shaking his head like a disappointed teacher. “It won’t kill you to put a bit of salt and pepper onto it at least, you know.”
Jayce muttered a response. Something about spice and calories.
Viktor turned his attention to Vi, who was half-watching the boys, half-keeping an eye on her own dinner. “Violet, you are a rugby player, do you stoop so low as to eat like a dog?” he teased.
Vi flipped the two steaks over with a pair of tongs. They sizzled violently. “No, if I’m going to eat something, it’s gotta taste good.”
“Ah.” Viktor smirked, opening his mouth suggestively as if he were to comment an innuendo, but closed it quickly. “Are you okay? You look as though you have seen a ghost.”
Jayce finally met Vi’s eyes. Their gazes clashed. A non-verbal conversation, his expression saying everything she needed to hear.
Vi shot Viktor a wry smile. “Yeah, just been a long day, ‘s all. Thanks, Vik.”
She carried on cooking, drowning out the indistinct conversation between the two boys. Jayce would tell Viktor if he wanted to. If he wanted to.
Would he?
Vi prepared the two plates and nodded them both goodbye before going upstairs.
***
“I could smell it before you’d even got here. Thank you.”
Caitlyn flashed Vi a warm smile as she entered. She was still huddled over her desk, her handwriting now erratic and illegible compared to the neat cursive it had been hours ago.
Vi placed the plate in front of her and handed her her eating silvers before putting her own plate on the bedside table, stripping off her camouflage overshirt and dropping it down onto the floor. The badges clicked against the wooden boards.
“How was your day?” Caitlyn asked, diving straight into her ribeye with her knife and fork.
Vi hummed, slicing through the meat and putting the first bite into her mouth. It was perfect, not to float her own boat. Just the right temperature and not too chewy. “It went okay. Standard delivery. Jayce had a bit of a funny turn, though,” she responded after swallowing.
“Oh?” Caitlyn propped up an eyebrow as she took another bite.
“Yeah.” Vi wiped the corner of her mouth with her hand. “Snapped at some kid who misfired his rifle. Didn’t leave the safety on. I’ve never seen him like that, Cait. It was like-“ She paused briefly, “-like he was someone else.”
“Huh.” The other girl’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. She licked her lips. “That doesn’t sound like Jayce at all.”
“Nope,” Vi replied, popping the ‘P’.
They ate the rest of their meals in comfortable silence. Quiet, but not awkward. Caitlyn thanked Vi again as she got up to retrieve both their plates, placing them on the bedside table.
Beginning to pull her shirt up, Vi was getting ready for the rest of her post-flight routine. A nice hot shower, a flick through the post-operation report, maybe with a beer bottle in hand, maybe not.
But before she could do any of that, Caitlyn was in front of her, pushing her back down onto the bed by her shoulders. Vi dropped as soon as she felt the mattress against the back of her knees. She watched as Cait swung both legs over her lap, straddling her, wrists draping along her traps.
“Keep these on for a while,” Caitlyn murmured against the skin of Vi’s earlobe. Her whole body shuddered in reaction.
And then Caitlyn’s hand was snaking up to Vi’s jaw, her fingers splayed across Vi’s cheek as she dragged her bottom lip down with her thumb. “Let me take care of you,” she cooed. “You’ve been doing so, so well lately.”
Those words were all it took for the pit of Vi’s stomach to start flipping over, a churn she needed to satiate. Their lips met with the force of a crashing pilot.
Vi didn’t think she’d ever grow sick of the feeling of Caitlyn’s lips against hers. It was an intoxicating feeling, letting herself get dragged lower and lower with each slip of her tongue against hers, saliva gliding so perfectly between their mouths.
Caitlyn threaded her fingers through the back of Vi’s hair, lightly tugging on her scalp, which elicited a groan of pleasure from the girl beneath her. Her hands trailed down the expanse of Vi’s back, muscles thick and rigid with tension from the day, and lightly tugged at the hem of her shirt.
The item of clothing came off in an instant. Caitlyn made quick work of Vi’s sports bra, throwing it down with the rest of her outfit in a crumpled heap onto the floor below. She flattened her palm against Vi’s chest, fingers splayed out, pushing her back onto the bed with a soft thump.
“Cait, I’ve not showered yet,” Vi broke the kiss to mutter with a short laugh, her eyes blown black with lust as she watched Caitlyn crane over her.
“I don’t care.”
The small pecks against Vi’s lips gradually drooped lower, turning into hot wet open-mouthed kisses against every square inch of bare skin Caitlyn could see. She met Vi’s nipples and locked eyes with her before rolling the small nub between her tongue.
Vi’s eyes rolled back and her head dropped back against the mattress. She cupped her mouth with her hand, small stifled moans escaping.
Caitlyn’s wrist shot up in an instant, She pinned Vi’s hand down to her side. “Don’t. Let them hear you.”
If there was any more friction between her legs, Vi would have orgasmed right there on the spot.
Caitlyn took her sweet time sucking and licking on Vi’s nipple, her other hand palming her heat through the fabric of her boxers and cargo trousers. Delicate fingers undid the fastenings of her belt and the zipper of her trousers painstakingly slow, before both items of clothing were ripped off of her bottom half.
Caitlyn took a moment to take Vi in in her exposed glory. A gentle thumb brushed against her glistening folds. “Look at you,” she murmured. “So wet. Just for me.”
Before Vi could respond with anything remotely resembling a sentence, Caitlyn’s flat tongue was pressed against her clit.
A yelp of ecstasy escaped Vi’s parted lips, hands knotting into Cait’s hair as she continued gliding her tongue up and down over the bundle of nerves. The heat rose in her face and spread across her body, the pool of tension in her stomach slowly beginning to unravel.
“Oh my God,” Vi stuttered, biting down so hard on her bottom lip she thought she might draw blood. Caitlyn smirked against her pussy, gaze flicking up as she hummed, which sent Vi absolutely crazy.
She felt her climax fast approaching. In any other circumstance, Vi would be ashamed that she failed to last long, but this was Caitlyn. Caitlyn with her magic tongue and words coated in silk who knew just which buttons to push and where to press. She was unravelling slowly, slowly, slowly, each stroke pushing the spring down lower and lower.
With a shuddering, guttural gasp of a moan, Vi came in Caitlyn’s mouth, the muscles in her core tensing up involuntarily. Caitlyn continued to fuck her through her climax as she gradually came back down, chest heaving, arms spread-eagle by her side.
Their lips reconnected once more. Vi tasted herself in Caitlyn’s mouth. She pressed their foreheads together one last time before Caitlyn flopped down by Vi’s side, propping herself up on her elbow.
“Fuck,” Vi exhaled breathlessly. Caitlyn just giggled and pressed a light kiss to her lover’s cheek.
Vi rolled over to face her, pupils still wide as saucers, but no longer with lust. “Fuck, Cait, you’re so beautiful,” she murmured, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Caitlyn blushed. She never felt more beautiful than in the moments Vi was staring at her. How could she?