Chapter Text
Artwork by @Bat (Batstronaut - Tumblr)
Vi was just trying to bike to work.
She had her headphones in as she cruised along safely inside the bike lane; her legs pumping, her lungs working as the breeze whipped by. She kept her head on a swivel. Always aware of cars and scooters, and any other bullshit thrown haphazardly or parked in the middle of her bike lane that might’ve gotten in her way. All in all - a very standard bike ride through Piltover.
Typical big city bullshit.
‘This is what you get for moving to the fukkin' nation’s capital for a fukkin’ job,’ Vi thought to herself wryly. She was mostly used to it by now. Mostly.
She’d been a passenger conductor for nine months now. Workin’ the Acela line running from Piltover around the Great Barrier Mountains and up to the end of the line - the rough and tumble seaside city of Basilich - before returning to the Nation’s Capital after 8 hours of moving train and about 4 more of holding steady.
Twelve hours on duty, twelve hours off, then back on the train to do it all over again. It was a pretty predictable gig for Vi - running the Super Commuter train.
Acela was the true-blue official name of the route. She’d started calling it the Super Commuter just because that phrase, “Super Commuter,” described the typical folks Vi’d see on the daily ride. The folks with enough money to live in a fancy ass historical house in the suburbs of Basilich, or who wanted to live in the trendy tech hub of Krexor - in the middle of the line - but had to head into Piltover for whatever reason.
Some of those folks hopping on the route in Basilich or Trannit were the folks representing those very same Basilichians and Trannites in the big government in Piltover. And those big shots would always find a reason to hop on the quiet car and take their phone calls on speaker. Vi had to tell them to, “move it!” more than once when taking tickets and honestly, that made the whole 4 hour train ride a little less dull. Especially once those big fancy hot shots ended up at the Capital’s Union Station and found themselves stuck in a massive line trying to get a cup a’ coffee while Vi - in her Amtrak uniform - could sweet talk her favorite barista (AKA her sister) to sneak her a to-go cup full of steamin’ hot joe before dealing with the fancy schmuck in a pinstripe suit.
But enough about Vi’s few petty pleasures. Because today was a workday. She had a train leaving just after nine AM - had to be at work before seven to prepare - and she’d started her bike ride… just this side of, “on time,” if Vi was being honest with herself. But she pedaled hard and skirted through a few shortcuts to get back on schedule.
Vi spared a quick glance at her watch. She was making good time - might even be able to snag a cinnabon before clocking in. That is… Vi was making good time; until she spied an upcoming obstacle less than a block away.
Shit.
A person.
More specifically, a woman.
Vi started to slow her ride.
It wasn’t odd to see a woman out getting ready for her daily run in Piltover before the ass crack of dawn. What was odd was this woman was stretching in the bike lane.
Correction.
This woman was stretching across the bike lane. Across the whole fukkin’ bike lane. Like she owned the fukkin’ bike lane. That was made for fukkin’ bikes.
This fukkin’ yard stick of a woman bent and curved and stretched on the concrete barrier separating the bike lane from the construction on the sidewalk. One foot up as she angled to work out tightness in a hamstring. Breathing deep and taking her fukkin’ time to jump around a little before switching to the other leg.
Vi couldn’t just go around her. She was all long legs and lean spindly arms and was stretched across the bike lane like a Betty Spaghetti but in real life.
Sun’ov’a’bitch, Vi was gonna be late.
To make matters worse, the entire block of this section of the sidewalk was under construction - had been for what (in the last nine months) felt like years. But at least Piltover had bike lanes. Back home, Vi would be lucky if the sidewalk was actually paved and not just a series of potholes with the occasional bit of gravel playacting at being sturdy ground cover over a secret Yuck Puddle hungry to drown her socks in… yuck.
Anyway, this was a Piltover bike lane. And this particular bike lane was sandwiched between Jersey barriers. The debris strewn asphalt became the chunky peanut butter between the concrete slices of bread. And one of those sides even had chain link fences on top. It was a nightmare. All perfectly positioned to keep the traffic (with the waist-high concrete - on the one side) and the construction (with the sky high fences - on the other) away from any unsuspecting, innocent bikers.
A real claustrophobic cityscape that effectively kept Vi right where she was: On this path. She couldn’t exactly pick up her bike and toss it so she could climb over the waist high slabs of concrete to walk into fukkin’ traffic and continue her ride just ‘cause something was in the way.
Once she was on it, Vi was - unfortunately - committed to this path.
Damnit.
Vi cursed under her breath and her bike slid smoothly to a stop just far enough away to not be a creep. She set a single foot to the ground and pulled her headphones out of her ears. She let ‘em dangle on the little wires connected to the hex-tooth body of the little device thing that hung over her shoulders. The whole kit n’ kaboodle was supposed to make ‘em safer than in-ears or over-ears when riding her bike. Anyway.
“‘Scuse me!” Vi said in a normal tone of voice.
But this lady didn’t hear her. Those giant over ear headphones she wore probably didn’t help. But she was also busy doing fukkin’ Gumby poses and bends. Long lean muscle curving and curling this way and that as she breathed huffs and groans louder than strictly necessary in the early morning silence.
Vi watched her for a second. The Bendy Lady backed up to the Jersey barrier by the street and bent over - reaching across all the way to the other barrier before bending deep, putting her nose to her fukkin’ kneecaps and holding the stretch with her eyes closed. A deep stretch that she held for a count - of what seemed like at least 10 - and felt like for-fukkin’-ever.
This roadblock swung up, jumped around a bit more, and turned her back to Vi to stretch her hamstrings. She kicked a foot back - gluing her own heel to her own perfectly plump ass cheek - and held it there with one hand while her other arm swung out - shoulder height - to balance. She stayed, stock still and standing strong. Completely oblivious to the world around her in the middle of the fukkin’ bike lane.
This Stop Sign of a Woman was tall. Taller than Vi half-seated on her bike - that kinda tall. Her long cobalt hair was pulled up into a pony tail, but it swung free - from shoulder blade to shoulder blade - as she bent and stretched and swayed.
Vi didn’t mean to be a creep, but…
Fahk. She’s hot. The realization smacked Vi in the chest and stole any bit of breath Vi had.
Vi swung her gaze to the ground and mentally chastised herself. ‘Be a fukkin’ useless lesbian in your own time. You gotta get to work you fukkin’ numbskull.’
Vi cleared her throat before speaking again. “Excuse me?” Vi said, this time louder.
But she was ignored again. Vi catalogued her way up the Bendy Lady this time. Bright pink running shoes - scuffed and worn to hell and back in a way that said, ‘tough and experienced runner’ even as her shin-high socks with cupcakes all over them said, ‘adorable cutie pie.’ She was wearing those teeny tiny running shorts with a stripe down the side that pulled tight against long lean thighs. Slabs of taut back muscle disappeared behind a crop top workout racerback in a powder pink - so everything matched. Shoulders and arms that clearly got their own good workout in too when she wasn’t stretching like a jungle cat in the middle of a fukkin’ bike lane.
“Miss? Can you move?” Vi said this one louder still. “Do you mind?” But those massive headphones must’ve been top of the line, noise-canceling, kinda things. So Vi was ignored again as Bendy Lady kicked up a leg onto the Jersey barrier. But this time she was stretching her hip flexor. Her back still to Vi, she rotated her foot and leaned forward. Stretching those hip flexors in a very tantalizing sight from behind.
‘Damn, double damn, and damn it all again.’ Vi was starring.
Vi heard her sister’s voice echo in the back of her mind, ‘Vi, you ignorant slut. Stop gawking and talk to her!’
Imaginary!Jinx was right. Vi cleared her throat and tried again. This time shouting a little. “Hey! You’re in the bike lane?!”
She wasn’t successful.
This Patron Saint of Stopping Traffic with her big fancy over the ear headphones - which absolutely were confirmed to be noise canceling - was living and stretching and huffing and breathing in her own damned world. And hells, Vi couldn’t afford to be too late to work.
‘Fuck it,’ she thought to herself. Vi hopped off her bike and leaned it against the concrete barrier before stepping close.
Vi waited until The Bendy Lady finished her stretch before she tapped on this athletic goddess’s shoulder. In the blink of an eye, Vi was on her knees.
In the heartbeats after, Vi could recognize what had happened. A full on out of body experience while a shout flew out of her lungs and her eyes started watering at the edges.
This athletic goddess had promptly grabbed Vi’s hand - slapping her other hand on the bend in Vi’s elbow - and twisted and bent Vi’s wrist back into a supinated wristlock. Her technique was a little martial and not at all like Vi’s ‘stepping in to bounce dangerous idiots from the local bar’ kinda’ moves, but it fukkin’ worked because the burn of pain radiated all the way to Vi’s elbow and beyond. The pavement bit into Vi’s knees and apparently - news even to her own self - Vi had been sputtering apologies the whole way down.
But Vi didn’t clock all of that right away. The most immediate thing she noticed was…
Blue.
Sapphires of unending blue flashed down at her. Well, one did. The other was a different shade of blue entirely. Vi catalogued her face. Sharp cheekbones. Full lips. Beautifully strong jaw that curved to a pointy little chin. The rage as she bared her teeth and the flush on her cheeks of exertion.
Pretty. So pretty. Even in pain, Vi’s ability to breathe stuttered in her chest. Whether that was from a giant case of the Sapphics™️ or if it was because Our Lady of Perpetual Bend and Stretch had her in some kinda’ twisty torture move, Vi couldn’t tell. All Vi knew was that she was sputtering and repeating the word, “Sorry!” over and over and over again as the asphalt of the bike lane bit into her knees.
The Great and Venerable Torturer of Vi’s Wrist jerked her chin back. Her gaze shifted. She must’ve seen Vi’s bike leaning up against the Jersey barrier. She startled and released her grip immediately.
“Oh! Goodness me! I’m sorry! Let me help you up.” She had an accent. A sweet lilting sound that soothed over any injury Vi might’ve felt.
Vi was hauled to her feet as quickly as she had been brought to her knees. She bumped into this workout goddess. Her body pressing forward. Melting into strong solid Her before being pressed back onto her own two feet as the All Powerful Her continued babbling even while righting Vi’s swooning.
“I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you? Are you alright? I might have a bandage in my bum bag if that would be helpful?”
Vi scratched at the nape of her neck before adjusting the strap of her helmet. “Nah. I’m fine. You’re just… you’re in the bike lane?” Vi’s voice sounded thin, even to her own ears. “And I can’t exactly go around you.”
“Oh Goodness. I’m so sorry! My sincerest apologies. Is there any way that I can make this up to you? Pay for the dry-cleaning on your…. you’re not wearing a suit.” Her voice squeaked as her eyes charted Vi’s entire body. This stranger seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts “Erm… Something else, perhaps? A coffee?” Her cheeks pinked as her roaming gaze settled securely on Vi’s hands as Vi rubbed at her much abused wrist and forearm.
Vi checked her watch. “Usually, I’d love that. But I’m running really late now. I gotta go.”
“Of course!” She dug in the pouch at her waist and produced a business card with a flick of her wrist. "Take my card. Please call me if there is anything that I can do for you. I’m so very sorry about your wrist and shoulder. erm. Ice! Should help?”
“S’fine. I um…” Vi tucked the card into her bike shorts as she stared into those apologetic eyes of crystal blue. One lighter than the other. Her mouth went dry. Probably the biking in the sweltering summer humidity of this fukkin’ swamp. Vi swallowed thickly. Or she tried to anyway. Looking for any excuse to stay for a second longer.
Vi didn’t find any.
“I’m so sorry,” this Traffic Stop in Cobalt Blue murmured again.
“It’s really fine.” Vi waved her off and gathered her bike. “Have a good run. AND… So we both stay safe? Maybe you/ shouldn’t-”
“/Don’t stretch in the bike lane.” She spoke over and finished Vi’s thought. Her smile grew slow. Revealing two front teeth with a clear - and very adorable - property line drawn between them. The smile lit up her face in a way that twisted Vi’s tummy in knots. And then, The Right Honorable Gentlelady from Blocking the Fucking Bike Lane winked - she fukkin’ winked - as she issued a promise. “Got it."
“Thanks.” Vi wheezed the word as that wink shot heat through her chest and dripped something in the depths of her belly. Vi tightened her own grip on her handlebars as she walked her bike along the path.
The Patron Saint of Blockin’ The Road stepped aside to let Vi pass. She pulled a sharp intake of breath that Vi was only mostly sure Vi heard clearly before that voice sang out once more. “Have a good day!” She called the words out to Vi’s back and shoulders that peeked out of her t-shirt with the sleeves cut off - that was Vi’s usual work out gear - as a final blessing.
“You too.” Vi threw over her shoulder.
Vi hopped on her bike and took off. If she hustled, she might still be able to snag that cinnamon roll - even if that sweet treat wasn’t exactly what she was craving.
Not anymore.