Work Text:
Vi wakes up to a gentle, rhythmic sound. Scratching, making her think of kittens begging to be let out of a box.
She opens her eyes to sunlight, and blue: Caitlyn is sitting next to her on the bed, brows furrowed as she stares at the paper on her lap. The scratching is her fountain pen, looping around the paper to form words. She has elegant, cursive handwriting that Vi has always been fascinated by, the idea of dedicating so much time to the craft until the letters become uniform.
Vi scoots closer, peering at what Caitlyn is writing. The movement has Caitlyn lowering her pen, smiling at Vi.
"Good morning, sleepy head."
"Uh. Must be a good morning, if you're here instead of running about with those dumb councilors and their silly dawn meetings."
Caitlyn laughs, and she uses her free hand to caress Vi's face. Vi leans into, shameless and satisfied.
"Mother said I deserved a day off. I don't agree with her often, but this I couldn't refuse."
Vi grins. Days spent together without work coming between them are rare ever since Caitlyn took up the mantle of Sheriff and began the gruesome work of destroying the corruption within the ranks of the enforcers. Usually she is up and about with the dawn, while Vi is afforded the privilege of waking up at a later time for her morning patrols.
"A day off to do nothing but lounge, and here you are scribbling gods know what."
Caitlyn's eyes crinkle beautifully when she smiles, pushing her pen around the bound paper with her finger.
"This isn't work. Writing helps me unload, organize my thoughts. It's also nice, having a record of events passed to look back on. I find it relaxing."
"But cupcake, there's nothing happening here."
"Vi. I woke up today, rushed out that door, only to be scolded into going back to sleep. And then I get in bed to find you holding on the pillow I left, muttering my name in your sleep. I personally think that counts as a momentous ocassion."
The blush comes so strong and sudden that Vi feels light headed, the sunlight and Caitlyn's gaze playing tricks on her heart.
"You are writing... about me?"
Caitlyn hums. Vi knows her well enough to recognize the embarrassed tilt of her smile, and thinks they must look a right pair of fools: they've been together for a while and still manage to blind side each other with the intensity of their feelings. Caitlyn holds the paper out on her hand, reaching to Vi.
"You may read it, if you like."
The paper is cream colored, the heavy, lovingly made stuff that Powder still steals everytime she visits. Vi peers at it, at Caitlyn’s looping, sprawling handwriting. Finds her name amongst the words, repeated several times, and closes her eyes for a second, overwhelmed. Caitlyn loves her, of that there is no doubt, but there are tiny hearts doting the i's in her name. It's such a small gesture of affection, switching a dot for a heart, and yet Caitlyn does it without thinking, has done it ever since she slipped Vi a note asking her to dinner, drenched in formality and yet so tooth achingly sweet in this honest, direct invitation. Vi had said yes and worn a suit, the rest as they said was history.
Vi has no words for the feeling in her, has looked through the ridiculously bound Piltovan dictionaries to try and put terms to the rythm of her heart. But it falls short every single time, too grand to be contained by words. It's here, in their shared bed with two different types of pillows, in the hearts Caitlyn draws on the margins of her official notes and is constantly scolded for, in the way Vi's right gauntlet is always cleaner than the left because Caitlyn leans on it after long days and Vi doesn't want her struggling to rid her Sheriff clothes of grease stains.
Caitlyn is still smiling at her when Vi opens her eyes again.
"What is it? You're redder than a furnace."
"I love you," Vi says, looking up into those blue eyes, that proud face smudged with ink. It's not a confession, not anymore, but she hopes Caitlyn understands what she cannot say, the magnitude of the feeling that catches in her throat and refuses to be put into words.
Those blue eyes soften, and Caitlyn pushes her notes aside into the bedside table to lay her head down next to Vi.
"I love you too, Vi." Caitlyn states, easy as breathing, unflinching without sparing a second for thought or consideration. Says it with the same tone she uses to state her facts, her calculations: it's another truth of nature and there is no room to debate. Vi might be brash, but she would never dream of contesting anything that comes out Caitlyn Kiramman's mouth when it comes to this, to them, to their hands held together in the sheets of their shared bed.
Vi smiles, presses a kiss to Caitlyn's nose. Swallows back the embarrassment, because Caitlyn would rather chomp her own arm off than even think of making fun of Vi. "You're so silly, drawing your hearts on the i's. Next you're gonna give me your last name just so you'll have more i's to dot."
Caitlyn laughs, presses herself closer. Doesn't say anything about the blush Vi can feel climbing furiously up her face, because she showed her hand with those words but she cannot take them back, cannot regret throwing her hat and her heart into the ring. Instead she simply raises their joined hands, kisses Vi's ring finger gently.
"Hm, Violet Kiramman. Doesn't sound half bad."
Vi's heart is full to bursting when she leans in close to press her smile right into Caitlyn’s, the kiss gentle and sweet. They will probably have to talk about it, and what it means to them and the city and their families, but for now the world begins and ends on their bed. For now it's enough to simply be.
"You're right, cupcake. It doesn't sound bad at all."