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It’s subtle.
That much Vi has to give to her. Took her quite a while to notice, which is probably what Cait’s been hoping amidst all the hustle and bustle of figuring out which way is up after the big battle. Well, it’s been at least weeks, maybe months.
Cait’s probably been hoping that Vi won’t notice at all.
Too bad.
Too fucking bad.
Today too, Cait’s in her study when Vi knocks on the door with a tray of tea and what Cait and the rest of them call biscuits but are basically cookies. (She’d tried to tell the poor flustered baker that these are cookies but noo, the family calls them biscuits. Fine. Whatever.)
“Your tea and biscuits, your Royal Highness.”
The scowl on Cait’s face never fails to bring a grin to Vi’s.
Cait shakes her head, “I can’t believe you’ve found yet another detestable nickname for me.”
There’s no heat behind the words. Vi’s grin widens.
“I’ll stop once you call a cookie a cookie.”
Vi sets the tray down on the coffee table by the fireplace.
Cait sighs. The pen in her hand is placed silently down in its holder—can you believe even the stationery has a place? No, Vi can’t either—and Cait’s chair is pushed back just a little, antique wooden legs sliding across the smooth, older carpet.
Vi pops a cookie into her mouth, crushes the buttery goodness between her teeth, picks another up and holds it out.
She wiggles it.
A small smile spreads across Cait’s face as she leans in, leans down, leans near Vi’s fingers. Cait’s pale pink tongue flicks out and those adorable teeth take the tiniest bite out of the cookie in Vi’s hand.
Cait chews, slow.
Vi is very tempted to kiss her hard and steal the taste of butter and sugar from her lips. By the glint in Cait’s eye, she can tell that Cait knows this.
Cait swallows, a little slow, almost like she's out of practice.
But she smiles and her eye sparkles.
“Thank you, darling.”
Vi forgets why she’s here.
She remembers again in the morning, after her morning run when she’s in the kitchens with the cook.
“These crepes are amazing,” Vi mutters around a mouthful of caramel sauce. “Can’t believe people live like this.”
The cook chuckles, face round and warm.
“If you’d like, the young miss likes them better with a pinch of sea salt.”
Vi slides the plate back to him.
“Hit me.”
The salt, even the fucking salt is stuff that Vi’s never seen before, crystals the size of the smallest studs Cait sometimes wears in her ears. They add a crunch then melt away on her tongue and what the fuck—
She takes another bite.
“Fucking hell,” Vi groans. “How is it so good?”
The cook beams.
“Would you like to take some up for the young miss?”
Vi pauses. She looks him in the eye. There’s an earnestness there, a gentle, rueful smile. He knows what she knows.
“Yeah,” Vi says as she swallows. “I think I’d like to.”
Cait’s up when she gets back to their bedroom, that much is clear from the empty bed, the rumpled sheets, from the sounds of the shower running.
“Cait?”
Vi puts the tray down on the table. There’s a table in every room. That’s how big all the rooms are. Gotta admit it’s pretty handy.
The water shuts off.
“Yes, love?”
“I brought you breakfast,” says Vi. “I gotta go soon cos Ekko wants me to help out but I’ll see you later. I’ll leave it here?”
There’s a short pause, long enough for the crepes to curl a little heavy in her stomach.
“Thank you,” Cait says, “I have brunch with the Edmonds family of the Mason’s Guild though, darling.”
“I know.”
Another pause.
“I’ll have a bite,” says Cait from behind glass doors and Vi takes whatever she can get.
It happens again the next day, with a lunch meeting for the dock workers, then the next with a dinner with some tradespeople or other.
Once she sees it, she sees it everywhere.
Three days later Vi pops back into the kitchen just after dinner, belly full with Jericho’s.
The cook looks back at her, a little sad. The tray between them is full, untouched. Crisp green leaves and colorful vegetables Vi’s still learning the names of, a small scoop of rice floating in the warm, hearty, spicy curry stew that Vi knows is one of Cait’s favorites.
She sighs.
“I’ll take it back up to her,” she says.
The cook brightens immediately. “I’ll heat it up for you.”
She knocks on the door to the study.
“Hey.”
Cait turns and every single time the sparkle in her eye never fails to put Vi’s heart in the tiniest little headlock. She would do anything for this woman. Cross a continent. Swim an ocean. Tear a mountain down with her bare hands. Anything.
Anything.
“Welcome back,” says Cait. “Did you have a—”
Vi can see the moment Cait sees the tray in her hands because the spark dies right there and then, because Cait’s shoulders slump ever so slightly. Cait’s never been bad at hiding her emotions but she’s never been good at hiding her emotions from her.
Now the soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her eye is back. “Is that yours?”
Vi hates that smile.
“Cait.”
Cait huffs and they both know that her bluff has been called.
“I’ve eaten,” she says.
Her hands fidget and Vi loves her even more now than she did just a moment before, as unbelievable as that sounds, even as she knows what Cait doesn’t say with those words.
She sighs as puts the tray down.
“When?”
“Earlier today.”
Cait looks away and even though Vi knows she’s won it doesn’t feel like a victory, not one she wanted to win.
She steps closer until she’s standing by Cait’s chair, until she can take Cait’s chin in her fingers and turn that eye gently back to her.
“I’m not hungry,” Cait mutters, pressing a cheek into Vi’s side, soft and quiet, looking away as she burrows.
Vi runs fingers through the soft, long strands of Cait’s hair, wraps her hand around to hold her close, can feel the warm, slow breaths on her skin through the cloth of her shirt.
“I know,” she says. “But I need you to take care of my love. She means the world to me.”
Cait takes in a short, sharp breath.
“She’s been working so hard,” Vi says to the top of Cait’s head. “She’s been on her feet since before the doctors said she should get up. She’s been doing so much.”
Cait’s breath shakes.
“She’s brilliant, but she’s burning herself at both ends—” Vi runs her thumb against the soft, downy hairs at the base of Cait’s neck “—she’s doing so much good—”
Cait flinches.
“She’s doing so good,” Vi says softly, firmly. “And she won’t let anyone know.”
Cait’s head turns.
“She won’t let herself know.”
Cait freezes.
“But I know.” Vi reaches for Cait’s shoulder with her other hand, reaches to pull Cait into as much of a hug as she can manage. “I know.”
Cait’s shoulders tremble.
“She deserves the world,” says Vi. “And I’d give it to her if she’d let me.”
Cait’s hand is warm against her back, her touch light, featherlight.
“I can’t,” she whispers weakly to Vi’s tummy after what feels like eternity but must have been no longer than five breaths.
Vi holds her closer, as close as she can, as if she could have them meld into one, like she could take that heart in her hands and cradle it, hold it to the first light of the sun and the gentle breeze of the wind and whisper the words stay with me in so many heartbeats.
“I just… can’t. It’s not—” Cait’s hand fists in the material of Vi’s shirt, scrunching it up “—I wasn’t, it’s not like I don’t—I…”
The words fade out into the late evening air.
Vi rubs slow circles into her back, feels Cait’s heartbeat slow beneath her, feels the world slowly, slowly start to spin again. She doesn’t know what to say.
“Could you…?”
She looks down, surprised, the movement of Cait’s throat against her skin a swallow.
“Could I…?”
“Help me,” Cait says and now Cait looks up at her. That one eye shines, wobbly. Vi doesn’t understand. She’s not sure what that means, not sure how she can help only that she wants to, desperately.
Cait mistakes her silence for reticence, pushes at her, tries to put some space between them. “Never mind, I’m sorry. That was—”
Vi doesn’t let her.
“I can,” says Vi. “I want to. I don’t know how, but I’ll do it. You know I will. I’ll do anything for you.”
Cait’s eye is wide.
“Anything,” Vi says.
She sits on the corner of Cait’s desk, perched right there on the antique wood.
The spoon doesn’t shake in Cait’s hand but it’s slow, so slow the way the edge dips into the curry, drags through the stew, picks up the smallest bite of rice.
The spoon stills.
Vi watches.
Vi sits there and watches the muscles tense in Cait’s arm, up her elbow, all the way to her neck. She reaches out, lays a hand gently on Cait’s shoulder.
The spoon trembles.
“For me, love.”
She squeezes Cait’s shoulder.
Cait nods the tiniest nod and the spoon moves to her lips.