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I wanna get drunk and watch American classics;
Drink champagne out of plastic;
Don’t you want someone crazy like me, babe?
- King Princess (Fantastic)
Vi was a caretaker. She was raised to be that way since her sister was born. Her parents and Vander instilled that in her – always protect and take care of the people in her life, and make sure that they would be okay at the end of it all.
She liked to think that she had failed spectacularly at that, what with almost everyone in her life dead, but Caitlyn would like to testify against that. Vehemently. Stubbornly. With all the conviction, or perhaps more than, that she had used to argue with her mother on joining the enforcers.
The sheriff had learned over time that loving Vi meant understanding a peculiar paradox: here was a woman who could crumble a wall with her fists alone, but held other people’s hearts like gossamer in the same hands.
She saw it firsthand when Vi stayed throughout finding out Cassandra’s death and staying for the funeral arrangements and whatnot. Not by her side, but always in her peripheral vision to make sure Caitlyn knew that she was there whenever needed. Hell, Vi even put on the uniform for her, which was a decision that Caitlyn would always regret.
And then she saw more of it during recovery after the war.
Vi would be the first one to fetch the water whenever Caitlyn would wake up periodically. She would always stand behind Tobias as the man took care of Caitlyn’s wounds, repeating the motions later. The way she would always stay in Caitlyn’s blind spot, positioning herself as a shield without a second thought. How her hand would hover on Caitlyn’s hip as they navigated both Piltover and Zaun, steady but never imposing.
Now, the bathroom’s fluorescent lights cast unflattering shadows across every surface they touched, and she was watching Vi’s hands fumble with those ridiculously blunt scissors that she likely liberated from the precinct. Caitlyn distinctly remembered that shade of green sitting on Steb’s desk two days ago.
Vi cursed as the scissors refused to even snip off a strand of hair.
It was maddening. It was endearing. It was irretrievably Vi. Caitlyn huffed a laugh and decided it was time to intervene.
“What on earth are you doing?” she asked, entering the bathroom that used to give her nightmares, only assuaged by Vi’s calming presence whenever she woke up struggling for air.
Vi spun around, nearly dropping the scissors. “Uh, hi, Cupcake,” she greeted clumsily.
Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the scene. Vi’s hair stuck out at odd angles, a few strand already sporting jagged, uneven ends from the useless scissors that Steb claimed to have sentimental value, which was why he didn’t use it in the first place.
The Zaunite had let it grown over the months that they’d been apart – something that Caitlyn would prefer not to think about outside working hours.
She wouldn’t lie to herself and say that she hadn’t enjoyed tugging on pink strands while they were in their throes of passion, especially when Vi had such talented fingers. However, she would also be remiss to say that she hadn’t missed Vi’s hair from earlier, shorter and neater and handsomer.
“There’s a reason Steb doesn’t use those scissors,” Caitlyn commented, shaking her head fondly as she entered the bathroom, kissed Vi on the cheek, and pulled out another pair of perfectly fine scissors from the sink drawer. “He won’t be happy to learn that you’re using his dead father’s last gift to him to cut your hair.”
“Oh shit, I – I didn’t know,” Vi stammered, pushing the scissors away. Of all people, she would understand the value of a loved one’s inheritance. When she tried to take the new pair of scissors from Caitlyn, the navy-haired woman stepped back just a smidge. “Cait?”
“Let me?” Caitlyn offered.
“Huh?”
“Can I have the honor of cutting your hair?”
“Are you – I don’t wanna bother you.”
Caitlyn softened at that, her heart stuttering at the thought of Vi even remotely possibly troubling her at any given time. As a matter of fact, she would rather Vi trouble her more, give her the opportunity to take care of her in return, rather than keeping it all to herself.
“Violet, you are many things to me, but a bother is definitely not one of them.”
She pulled a stool from the corner of the bathroom and ignored Vi’s protests as she sat the woman in front of the mirror. They stared at each other in the reflection, Caitlyn’s hands on Vi’s shoulders, her thumbs brushing over the downy hairs at Vi’s nape.
There was a time when she wouldn’t have wondered why a woman like this with hair color like this would end up in prison. There was a time when she was blind to the real world, cooped up in her big bedroom and her big and shiny house. But this woman before her changed everything about her perspective on life.
“I can’t possibly allow you to destroy the hair that I love so much – and my bathroom floor, at that,” Caitlyn quipped, brandishing a shaver from the drawer as well and setting it on the counter. “Now, how would you like it, Violet?”
Vi blinked rapidly. She licked up lips and cleared her throat, clearly not used to the idea of someone cutting her hair. Someone doing anything for her. As if Caitlyn hadn’t abandoned her plans of vengeance the moment Vi called her a dessert and a mammal at the same time.
“Just shorter. Like before,” she murmured, gesturing vaguely at her hair. “Feels wrong. Doesn’t fit anymore. It’s heavy, you know. Can’t believe I actually went to war like this.” Caitlyn tilted her head, and Vi huffed a chuckle. “Yeah, dumb, right?”
“It’s not dumb. Not if it’s bothering you.” Caitlyn picked up the scissors and ran her fingers through Vi’s hair, enjoying the way Vi was enjoying her touch. “I can’t promise I’m a professional, but I can make you look presentable.”
“Good luck with that.”
After pressing a kiss to the top of Vi’s head, Caitlyn began to work.
Careful snips echoed through the room, cutting away at the uneven strands, a comfortable silence settled over them. The soft snick of the scissors and their gentle breathing filled the air, creating an intimate bubble that belonged solely to them.
They watched strands of pink fall to the floor and the towel draped over Vi’s shoulder. A parting of sorts – to the past year and the horrendous things they had survived to be where they were now. They weren’t exactly at peace, and Caitlyn suspected that peace was something intangible at this point, but this resembled it.
“You know, I washed your hair when you were recovering.”
“Yeah, I noticed. You really didn’t like the oil slick, huh?”
“Well, first of all, it’s unhealthy for your hair follicles,” Caitlyn argued. “And I like the pink, so I took the opportunity.”
Vi’s laugh was soft, a sound that seemed to catch in the lights like a memory. “Always the practical one, aren’t you? Didn't know hair washing was part of the sheriff's official duties.”
“Oh, absolutely. Right between maintaining law and order and ensuring your partner's hair doesn't become a public health hazard. It's in the fine print.”
A certain sense of honor filled her chest as she measured hairs and snipped away. That Vi, who had been through the worst a woman her age could go through, was letting her do this. Touch her and cut away pieces of her that she kept precious like a beggar with bread.
After the cutting, came the easy part. She picked up the shaver and plugged it in before proceeding to trim away stray hairs at the undercut, brushing her fingers over the comforting sting as she did so. She couldn’t help but smirk when Vi moaned at the sensation.
When she was finished, she took a step back. “There,” she whispered. “More handsome than ever, if I may say so myself.”
Vi whistled as she ran her fingers through her newly cropped hair. “Damn, Cupcake, think you missed your calling as a hairdresser.”
Caitlyn huffed and brushed away at stray strands from Vi’s shoulder with the towel before throwing the clothing in the hamper. “I’ll stick to my day job, but I’m happy to be your personal hairdresser anytime.”
Vi leaned back when the Caitlyn wrapped her arms around Vi’s shoulders from behind. For a moment, neither of them spoke, letting the quiet of the bathroom and the weight of the moment settle around them.
“Thank you, Cait,” Vi whispered.
“No, thank you. For letting me take care of you,” Caitlyn replied, nuzzling into Vi’s neck. “Now, let’s go. We have to return the scissors to Steb and join my father for the new year market.”
Vi nodded and stood up. Before Caitlyn could leave to retrieve the broom and dustpan, she felt herself being spun into a pair of muscly arms, all firm and sexy. She leaned into the embrace as their foreheads leaned against once another.
“Where would I be without you?”
“I’d rather not think about it,” Caitlyn said, her arms dangling over Vi’s shoulders once more.
For so long, Vi had only known how to deflect violence with her own form violence. Now, her arms were only warm and solid, used to not to inflict pain, but to protect Caitlyn the best she could – an anchor in a world that had spent the past year trying its best to spin them off their axis.
She traced the curve of her partner’s shoulder with idle fingers, mapping the familiar terrain of muscles and scar tissues and tattoo paints. How strange, she thought, that they would find peace in the bathroom where she was once kidnapped from.
But then again, neither of them were the best at following the script.
They stayed like that for a moment longer, foreheads pressed together. The floor around them was scattered with pink fragments of the past year – all those heavy moments, those battlefield decisions and midnight vigils, trimmed away like split ends.
“You know,” Vi said finally, her voice carrying that particular tone that meant she was trying to make light of something heavy. “If you wanted to get your hands in my hair that badly, you could've just asked. Didn't have to wait for me to commit crimes against hairdressing.”
Caitlyn pulled back just enough to fix her with a look that was equal parts fondness and exasperation. “Oh yes, because you're so excellent at accepting help when it's offered directly.”
“I'm getting better!”
“You tried to cut your hair with dead man's scissors.”
Almost instantly, Vi burst out with a boisterous laughter. One that Caitlyn barely had the pleasure of hearing for a long time. She watched her partner laugh and felt like she had accomplished her most important mission ever. So much better than busting smuggling rings or shutting down Shimmer factories.
Vi's laughter was infectious, and Caitlyn found herself joining in, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, a stark contrast to the heaviness that had plagued them for so long.
The past year had been a trial by fire, but it had forged them into something stronger, something unbreakable. She had a feeling the next one – and the many more to come – would be much brighter and calmer with Vi by her side.
And she would make sure to take as many opportunities as possible to take care of Vi.