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Moonlight streams through the lab as Jayce packs up his side of the desk. Viktor watches as sturdy hands soften to delicacy as they card through papers, sorting the work they’d completed throughout the day. His face is pale in the stark-white light, but Viktor is watching more intently on the furrow of his brow as he concentrates. He catches himself staring and looks away.
His own desk is still sprawling, eternally messy. A few are his assistant’s papers; Sky often places them just for a moment on his workstation and forgets to retrieve them. Viktor sorts these separately for her to retrieve.
“So… most places are probably closed by now,” Jayce says. He shuffles one block of papers together, tapping them until they’ve stacked. “How about we go by my place? I’ve got plenty to cook. You still have a change of clothes by me, right?”
“Even if I didn’t, I don’t think you’d object to me stealing your sweatpants again.” Viktor clicks his tongue as a sharp paper edge cuts his finger. He sucks on the digit as he sweeps through the other documents. A white envelope catches his eye. It’s undoubtedly Mel Medarda’s. As the iron-y taste of blood leaves his tongue, he wipes his hand on his sweater before picking it up.
“Jayce, did councillor Medarda send you a message?” Viktor turns the envelope under his fingers, searching for any indication of a recipient. It is blank, save for the intricate gold detailing reminiscent of their main funder. Mel was one to send them notes but usually addressed formally and through a pneumatic tube. This was hand-delivered.
“Not that I was aware of,” Jayce responds, plucking the note from Viktor’s hands. He opens the letter, gently folded inwards rather than sealed with glue, and scans over the message. A faint blush develops just along his cheeks.
“What?” Viktor asks.
“Not mine,” he says, flustered. He shoves the note towards Viktor, fumbling to return the note into the sheath. “Could you, uh, put this back where you found it?”
Viktor eyes him and opens the note himself. Jayce jumps to stop him but barely misses. Viktor scans over the writing. There’s a purple kiss at the very bottom. The writing is informal and dripping with romance.
It starts with My darling, my love.
It is not addressed to either of them, for it follows with My starry-night Sky, I miss you already.
Viktor’s eyes fly open. The note is addressed to Sky? He’s under the impression that Mel and Sky don’t know each other very well, past their weekly Hextech lab meetings. Yet this note implies something more personal, intensely personal. Viktor almost wants to laugh it off, like some sort of long-form joke.
“Vitya, we shouldn’t—” Jayce begins, but Viktor shushes him.
“Don’t tell me you aren’t interested,” Viktor insists.
“I am but isn’t… Mel has been more understanding of our privacy than anyone else. And Sky is your friend!” Jayce leans down. “We can ask them. But I really don’t think we should read this note.”
Viktor looks into Jayce’s eyes. He’s always been so full of honesty and do-good. “I’m… let me just finish this first paragraph—”
“Viktor, don’t please..!”
Viktor insists, bats Jayce’s hand away, and continues to read. With each passing word, his blush grows brighter and bigger until he can’t continue. He refolds the note, replaces it in the envelope, and delicately hooks it onto Sky’s clipboard.
Jayce is blushing furiously. “You saw what I saw, right?”
Viktor’s mouth is suddenly so dry, that it hurts to talk. “She was certainly… intense.”
“I don’t think I would’ve ever expected that from her.”
“Mel Medarda is an enigma of a woman.”
“… So, we never bring this up ever, right?”
“Oh, never.”
Sky sighs, sinking into the plush couch, enrobed in silken pyjamas and just recently out of the bath. Her skin is still slightly damp from the lotions massaged in, but other than that—it’s utterly divine. She smells like sweet cherries and jasmine, the scent she’s chosen herself at the spa’s boutique the week earlier. On a student’s salary, she would’ve felt wrong even walking near the shop. She still does, in the back of her mind, but Mel has done everything in her power to assure her that she’s worth the finer things. That this is the least she can do.
As if on cue, a different fragrance—her fragrance—wafts behind Sky and is followed by warm arms circling around her shoulders. A deep kiss is placed on the shell of her ear; Sky shivers.
“Are you comfortable? Relaxing?” Her sweet voice is soft, quiet. Sky has only ever heard Mel talk like this to her. It’s special, it feels like theirs and theirs alone.
“Mmh,” Sky nods, nuzzling into her arms. “I kinda just want to hold you. Can I hold you?”
Her laugh is melodic and reverberates through both of them. “Do you even need to ask?” Mel draws back but does not leave for long as she climbs over the couch’s back. Entirely uncouth, but Sky likes to believe that this is Mel’s true self. In their quiet sanctity, Mel lets herself be free. It’s the best gift she could possibly give.
Her hair is loose around her shoulders, framed by faux locs devout of their usual jewelry. As she settles into Sky’s lap, cuddling close with her back to Sky’s stomach, Sky sinks her fingers towards Mel’s scalp. She scratches and massages while keeping Mel’s curls relatively undisturbed. Mel lets out a small sigh, followed by the gentlest whimper.
“How’d I get so lucky?” Sky whispers. It’s really only meant for herself, but Mel cracks her eye open like the question is for her.
“No luck.” Mel responds, “Luck is for the dumb. Or for the previously unlucky. As one of the smartest, kindest, most beautiful people I know… I don’t know how you can feel lucky when it’s all just been you.”
Sky flushes. They’ve been dating for close to half a year now and Mel still makes her feel like she’s a crushing schoolgirl. “I still don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you.”
Mel goes stiff; Sky follows in turn. She worries, has she said something wrong? Mel flips over, her eyes wide. Sky takes her hands back and gulps.
“What do you mean by that?” Mel asks.
“I just… I don’t know,” Sky says. “You’re just… you. And sometimes I just wonder… what have I done? To deserve this?” She bites her lip. “Wow. That feels silly to say out loud.”
“And it should!” Mel breaks into a smile. “Because I genuinely don’t know why you’ve wondered such a thing! No matter how long it takes—” Mel slinks her arms around Sky’s waist. “—I’m going to drill this one fact into your brain, right next to your engineering and your metallurgy: I love you for who you are. There isn’t ‘anything you’ve done’ except be yourself. I should be asking you how I’ve gotten so lucky.”
Sky snorts. She’s always hated her snorting, but Mel has admitted openly to loving it. Mel smiles and leans forward, beckoning Sky into a kiss. Sky almost wishes she could’ve majored in kissing Mel through her academy years.
It feels like they sit there for hours, taking in each other’s presence and finding how the other ticks under plush lips and fervent hands. Once Sky breaks away, bringing their foreheads together in quiet content, she’s surprised to find Mel watching her.
“What?” Sky asks.
“I was thinking of asking you next week… at dinner…” Mel is slow over her words. “But I don’t think I can wait much longer.”
“What is it?” Now that Sky knows there is something to be said, she needs to hear it. Anticipation is one of the worst feelings, in her opinion.
Mel leans into Sky’s chest; she doesn’t want to show her face, Sky reasons. Sometimes, Mel finds comfort in this, and Sky is more than willing to give her all the privacy she needs. “I was wondering if we could tell others? About us? I’d only want to start small, with some of my closest friends and staff—”
“You mean Elora.”
“… I mean Elora.”
“Of course, and who else?”
“Possibly Viktor and Jayce, since we already work with them every week.” Mel squishes in even closer. “But anyone else you’d like to tell, too. If my mother finds out, so be it. I… I am sick of living under her rule, even under exile.”
Sky just pulls her in, rubbing her thumb along Mel’s golden implants. “Of course. I’d love to. I think I’d want to tell my parents, but Viktor and Jayce absolutely, too. And I trust your staff, Elora in particular.”
Mel responds by slinking her arms higher, practically hanging onto Sky’s shoulders. Sky has never met a more touch-starved person before, but she can’t complain—she’s just as much. They just hold each other for an even longer moment than before, until caresses slow to sleepy drags of limbs and Sky can’t help to keep her eyes open for much longer.
“Shall we call it a night?” Sky asks, looking down. Mel meets her eyes, revealing herself. Her eyes are just barely red and puffy, but her expression sings of happiness.
“Please, I’m exhausted. I can only imagine you are, too.”