Walking through Piltover, Jonathan glanced down at the paper Caitlyn had given him.
This should be the destination, he thought, looking up at the restaurant ahead.
He tilted his head at how fancy it appeared—tall glass windows, polished brass accents—before slipping the paper into his pocket.
People in fine clothes moved inside, their voices low and refined.
"I'm five hours early," he sighed, watching his breath fog in the morning cold.
"How can people even eat at a restaurant this early?" he muttered, quietly judging the early arrivals.
He moved to the side of the building, settling in to wait.
It's always nice to be early, he told himself, smiling faintly. Yeah… I'm nice.
"This is nice," he murmured aloud, closing his eyes.
————————————————
Three hours later…
"Aren't you cold?"
Jonathan opened his eyes to find Caitlyn standing in front of him. He shook his head.
"Cold isn't in my vocabulary."
Caitlyn tilted her head, grinning. "...I don't think you understand what you just said."
Jonathan smiled lazily. "You know what I meant. Just connect the dots."
She rolled her eyes. Jonathan slipped a pocket watch into his palm, checked it, and tucked it away again.
"You're here early," he said. "Two hours early, to be precise."
Caitlyn unwound her scarf. "Well, I was up early and had nothing to do, so I thought I'd get here early.
You know… as a nice gesture." She smiled nervously, twisting the scarf in her hands.
Jonathan narrowed his eyes, watching her. Without warning, she stepped closer and looped the scarf around his neck.
"For a doctor, you sure don't take care of your body," she muttered, adjusting the knot. "There. All done."
She stepped back, studying him. Then she squinted.
"What's up? Is something wrong with my hair?"
Jonathan shook his head. "No. It's just… I also came early because it was nice."
He touched the scarf around his neck. "This is a nice scarf, butmy body is in perfect health and always will be." He started to remove it.
Or tried to—until Caitlyn caught his arm.
"You look good with it on," she said.
Jonathan blinked.
…
"Okay, let's get this date started!" he said suddenly, striding toward the restaurant. "I've been anticipating this." He glanced back at her.
"Oh—wait." He scratched his cheek, a little sheepish. "We're two hours early."
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that's not a problem."
"It's not?"
She shook her head. "We don't have to stick to my paper." She smiled.
———————————————————
Another, fancy restaurant.
Jonathan and Caitlyn sat across from each other.
He glanced around the room, then back at her. "It's been a while since I've been to a restaurant." His fingers traced the edge of the menu. "The only times have been for meetings."
Caitlyn's mouth curved into a knowing smirk. "Don't remind me. You were always either in a meeting or at the hospital." She tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "It's nice seeing you… like this. Not buried in work."
A waiter arrived. They placed their orders, Jonathan adding tea to his. When the waiter left, Jonathan's eyes lingered on Caitlyn's for a beat too long before he glanced away.
"Yeah… it is nice," he said softly.
.
.
.
"I have no idea what to say," he admitted at last, breaking the silence.
Caitlyn's smile twitched wider. "I should've made a list of questions," she said. "I like the conversation we're having—" she exhaled "—but still."
Jonathan leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. "You invited me. You planned this. I think you've already done enough."
Her cheeks warmed at the way he was looking at her—steady, almost like he was reading her mind.
She laughed under her breath. "I guess you're right, but I don't want to just do enough. I want to do it all."
He smirked faintly. "You can't plan everything. Life's… unexpected."
Caitlyn looked down, twiddling her fingers. "I know, I know."
"Caitlyn." Jonathan's voice drew her eyes back to him.
"Yes?"
"You like me, right?"
Caitlyn nodded without hesitation. "A lot. I even dreamt about you, if you can believe that." She chuckled softly.
Jonathan looked away for a moment. "I, uh… actually can believe that," he said, thinking briefly of the time he'd stepped into her dream.
He refocused on her. "Let's see… how to make this romantic."
He rested his chin on his hand, thinking. Caitlyn mirrored the gesture, elbow propped on the table.
"Hmmm."
Jonathan's eyes lit up. "I got it! You use guns—"
"Yes?" Caitlyn leanedforward, suspicious but curious. "And what's romantic about that?"
"I'm not done," he said quickly, grinning. "You use guns, and I'm a doctor. That means—"
The waiter returned, setting down their meals and Jonathan's tea. Jonathan gave a polite nod. "Thank you."
As soon as the waiter left, Caitlyn turned back to him. "That means… what?"
Jonathan lifted his cup and took a sip, stalling.
"Well?" she pressed.
He set the cup down, hesitated, then picked it up again for another sip. "…Umm." A sheepish smile tugged at his lips.
"I don't know where I was going with that. I was hoping you'd connect the dots."
Caitlyn shook her head, but the corner of her mouth curved up. "You're lucky you're cute."
Jonathan frowned as if personally offended. "Cute? I'm perfect. I'm hot. I'm irresistible, desirable—heck, I'd even take 'hideous' as a compliment."
Caitlyn stared at him, unimpressed. "Fine, you're correct." She drew in a dramatic breath. "You're drop-dead hideous."
He glanced at her with a faint smirk. "And you are not."
She tilted her head, brow furrowing. "I… think that's a compliment. Am I right?"
Jonathan only chuckled, offering no answer. Caitlyn huffed, deciding to focus on her food while quietly wondering if she'd just been complimented or insulted.
————————————
An hour passed. They ate. They laughed. They talked about everything and nothing—stories, small jokes, passing thoughts.
None of it would have sounded romantic to anyone listening.
But to them, it was.
Just talking to each other was enough.
————————————————————
After the restaurant, Jonathan and Caitlyn checked the paper.
Jonathan pulled it from his pocket, unfolding it with a faint rustle. "So… what's next again?" he muttered, scanning the list.
Caitlyn leaned in to peek. "Bonding exercises," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "It'll be fun." With that, she walked ahead.
Jonathan raised a brow. "Bonding exercises can mean a lot of things," he said, trailing after her.
She glanced over her shoulder with a small, knowing smile. "Any bonding is good bonding."
———————————
Jonathan took a slow breath, eyes locked on a wooden target downrange, a rifle resting in his hands.
Behind him, Caitlyn stepped close—close enough for him to feel her presence.
Her hands adjusted his stance, her voice low and steady. "Focus on the target," she murmured near his ear.
A warmth crept up the side of his neck, his ear turned pink.
Her breath brushed against his skin, and suddenly his pulse felt too loud.
He swallowed. "Understood," he replied, though his tone sounded more dazed than determined.
Noticing the uneven sway of his aim, Caitlyn gave a small sigh. "Focus," she repeated, her hand firm on his arm. "Control your breathing."
Her touch was sure and unhurried as she guided his grip. "Steady hands," she added, adjusting his elbow until the rifle no longer wavered.
"Okay… now stay still," she said, slowly withdrawing her hand. Unbeknownst to her, the spot she'd touched had flushed pink against his skin.
As she stepped back, she gave him space. "Shoot when you're ready."
.
.
.
A minute passed. He didn't fire. Didn't move.
"Jonathan?" Her voice was careful at first, then sharper when he didn't respond. She stepped forward, tilting her head. "Jonathan?" She laid a hand on his shoulder.
The instant her touch landed, his entire body seemed to seize. Color surged across his skin—his usual deep red brightening into an almost glowing pink.
His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, breath catching in shallow bursts. The rifle clattered to the ground beside him.
One hand clutched his chest while the other braced against the floor.
His head hung low as he fought to breathe, every nerve screaming from the overload.
His incubus nature was maturing, pressing harder against the iron wall of his will.
For years, his mind had been strong enough to keep it at bay. But lately, it had been growing—hungrier, harder to ignore.
"Jonathan?!" Caitlyn crouched beside him, panic flickering in her voice. She reached for his arm, trying to understand what was happening.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught her movement and shook his head faintly. "D-Don't jusht… stay still," he said, his words slurring with effort.
Caitlyn's instinct was to argue, to ask for an explanation.
But seeing the strain in his face, she swallowed her questons and stayed perfectly still—silent, watching him, praying this would pass.
Slowly, Jonathan's breathing began to steady. The bright flush of pink faded back into his usual deep red, though his movements were sluggish.
"Augh…" He reached for the rifle on the ground and pushed himself upright, but his legs wobbled beneath him like a drunk struggling to stand.
Caitlyn was at his side in an instant, sliding an arm under his shoulder to steady him.
He glanced down at her. "…Thank you," he murmured.
She didn't answer, guiding him toward the shade of a nearby tree.
Once he was leaning against the trunk, she stepped back, arms crossed, studying him with a guarded expression.
His gaze kept flicking toward her—unfocused, almost hazy—and she felt her worry outweigh her irritation. She uncrossed her arms and stepped closer.
"You need to see a doctor," she said firmly.
Jonathan smirked faintly. "But I'm a doctor. And I'm perfectly fine."
He shook his head with mock indignation. "No, no, no—I'm perfectly superior."
The rifle stayed propped against the tree as he stepped away from it, rolling his shoulders.
Then, with sudden enthusiasm, he did some stretches before stretching both arms high above his head and shouted, "Victory!"
"Victory?" Caitlyn echoed, one brow arched.
Jonathan nodded as if it was obvious. "Try it." He stepped beside her. "First—stretches." He demonstrated, and Caitlyn copied his motions.
"And then…" He lifted his arms again toward the sky. "Victory!"
She hesitated, then raised her own arms. "V–victory!"
His grin widened. "See? I'm fine. Actually, I'm better than fine." He retrieved the rifle and aimed toward the target. "Now—let's continue the bonding exercise."
Before he could fire, Caitlyn stepped in and gently took the rifle from his hands. "I'm not so sure you should be handling firearms in your state."
Jonathan frowned, his head giving the slightest twitch before he sighed. "Fine. Let's see what's next." He pulled the folded paper from his pocket and scanned it.
———————————————
They followed the list like it was a map for the rest of the day—wandering into a candy shop where Jonathan insisted on buying far too many sweets.
Laughing through a sugar high in the park, and ending up at a theater where they watched a play from the front row.
The day passed in a series of small adventures, each one stranger and more charming than the last.
From time to time, Caitlyn's gaze wandered to Jonathan—catching the way his body gave the faintest twitch when their eyes met, the way his breath seemed to catch mid-sentence, and how helooked away if she drifted too close.
Shy, she thought. The kind of shyness that comes with falling in love.
She wondered if he felt it too… this quiet pull that made the world around them fade, until there was only the two of them.
Wondering if his chest was as full of love as hers was.
But Jonathan wasn't looking away because he was shy—though he might have wished that was the truth.
His body twitched and his breath hitched, each moment a battle to resist.
He wasn't only full of love.
There was something darker and hotter coiled inside him, and every moment near her made it harder to keep it contained.
———————————————
After everything, Jonathan and Caitlyn stood outside, the crumpled paper fluttering lightly in his hand.
"Yeah, I think that was everything," he said with a relieved sigh.
Caitlyn smiled and pointed to the blank spot at the end of the paper.
"I left the last part blank—for you to choose."
Jonathan sighed again, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.
"How about Tic-tac-toe?"
Caitlyn shrugged, laughing softly.
"Your choice, not mine."
—————————————
—Caitlyn's room—
Jonathan and Caitlyn sat across from each other, using the backside of the paper to play Tic-tac-toe.
"I'll be X, and you'll be O," Jonathan said, and Caitlyn nodded.
"Didn't we play this before?" Caitlyn asked, feeling déjà vu.
Jonathan shook his head.
"Probably in a dream," he muttered, placing an X.
[ _ ][ _ ][ _ ]
[ _ ][ _ ][ _ ]
[ _ ][ _ ][ X ]
Caitlyn looked at the paper.
"Yeah, I think it was a dream," she said, putting down an O.
"How did you know it was a dream?"
[ _ ][ _ ][ O ]
[ _ ][ _ ][ _ ]
[ _ ][ _ ][ X ]
Jonathan shrugged.
"Lucky guess." He placed another X.
[ _ ][ _ ][ O ]
[ _ ][ _ ][ _ ]
[ X ][ _ ][ X ]
Caitlyn smiled.
"Yeah, I used to dream a lot back then," she said, placing an O.
[ _ ][ _ ][ O ]
[ _ ][ _ ][ _ ]
[ X ][ O ][ X ]
Jonathan nodded.
"I also used to dream a lot. Maybe we crossed paths back then." He put down an X.
[ X ][ _ ][ O ]
[ _ ][ _ ][ _ ]
[ X ][ O ][ X ]
Caitlyn chuckled.
"I honestly hope not. My dreams were unbefitting of someone of my status." She placed an O.
[ X ][ _ ][ O ]
[ O ][ _ ][ _ ]
[ X ][ O ][ X ]
Jonathan smirked.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" he asked Caitlyn.
Caitlyn covered her face with her hand.
"Mercy? You could make it end in a draw."
Jonathan chuckled and placed his final X.
[ X ][ _ ][ O ]
[ O ][ X ][ _ ]
[ X ][ O ][ X ]
"You're the most merciless, villainousperson I know," Caitlyn said, smiling as she looked at Jonathan.
Jonathan paused, his voice softening.
"…I love you." He stared into her eyes.
Caitlyn's cheeks flushed.
"…I love you too." She held his gaze.
.
.
.
Jonathan leaned in closer.
"Did you plan for this?" he asked just as he was about to kiss her.
But Caitlyn suddenly stood up, walked away from the table, climbed into her bed, and tucked herself under the blanket.
She peeked out shyly.
"…I'm sorry."
Jonathan waved his hand dismissively.
"Nah, don't worry about it."
Caitlyn swallowed nervously.
"Can we play Tic-tac-toe again?" she asked.
"After that… then maybe we can, you know… kiss."
Jonathan nodded and picked up the paper.
"Yeah, of course. But I'll need another sheet."
He flipped the paper over—one side had the date plan, the other was a finished tic-tac-toe game.
Caitlyn pointed to a drawer.
"That one has my papers," she said.
Jonathan walked over and opened the drawer, revealing a stack of papers.
One caught his eye, the torn piece that Caitlyn had ripped off earlier, saying she planned too far ahead.
He pulled out the torn scrap, smirking as he held it up.
"Let's see what part of the plan you decided to scrap."
Caitlyn's eyes went wide as she spotted the torn paper in his hand.
"Wait, don't read it!"
But it was too late. Jonathan's eyes scanned the page, landing on a single word, bold and unmistakable:
SEX.
—————
In act 1 Caitlyn was 16, plus two years have passed
Now she's 18
And obviously Crane is 18
Why am I reminding you their age?
No reason.