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You could see the blue glow of HexTech from under the lab’s door before you even entered the room. Familiar piles of blueprints and scribbled out calculations lay scattered across desks and floors alike. You made special note of the ones that bore black burns on their borders. You’d reckon that the lab was almost as messy as your studio back in the arts and design side of the Academy, splattered with paint and littered tools strewn haphazardly on tables. Mess was the calling card of a creative you supposed, and at the center of this particular one, bathed in blue light and golden sparks, was Viktor.
Despite the echoing clack of your shoes against the floor, he stayed seemingly unaware of your presence. Not that he usually acknowledged the presence of many while he was working unless spoken to, but you still thought that perhaps the sharp sound disturbing the relative peace would have caught his attention. Even as you stood behind him, peering over his shoulder, he kept working. If he knew you were there, he made no show of it.
He flinched as you placed a hand on his shoulder, cursing. A part of you almost felt bad for spooking him, and you would’ve if he wasn’t wearing those stupidly adorable blue goggles. He looked over his shoulder at you with what you could only fathom was a glare through those thick blue lenses.
“You’re lucky I didn’t drop anything,” He scolded, setting down whatever it was that he was tinkering with. It looked to be some sort of mechanical…claw with one of those hex balls he and Jayce had been troubleshooting. “You should know better than to disturb a scientist when he is working. This is—” He picked up the blue orb– “dangerous stuff I’m working with!”
“Mhmmm, and what would you have done? Beat me to death with this contraption of yours?” You gently removed his goggles, holding back a laugh. He grumbled as you did, but the pout that had formed a tight knot on his face all but melted away as you started to smooth out his goggle-hair. His hair was soft, though slightly slicked with grease.
“Is it so late that even you have stopped working to grace me with your presence?” He asked.
“I think I could hear the morning doves as I walked here.”
He hummed, slinking deeper into his chair as your fingers carded through his hair.
“You’re going to tell me it’s time to sleep, aren’t you?”
“It’s important,” You say as you work out a particularly unruly knot, “and I think your back could use the break from all the times you’ve passed out at this desk just this month.”
You slid your hands down the back of his neck and gave his shoulders a light squeeze. He shuddered under your hands. You leaned down to his ear.
“You’re turning into a shrimp,” You mused. He gasped dramatically, turning around in his chair with a hand to his heart.
“How dare you!”
You laughed, a smirk playing on your lips, “If it hurts so much, you must know it’s true.”
“Who said things have to be true to hurt?”
Despite the oh-so-scornful look on his face, he didn’t move when you placed your hands on his cheeks. “Are you going to sleep or not, Vik?”
He hummed, meeting your eyes with a playful smile. “Ehh... With all these insults of yours… I don’t think I’ve been properly persuaded yet.” His hands found their way to your hips, drawing you in close. Half-lidded amber eyes suddenly turned to alluring whiskey, and you eagerly drank them in.
“And what would you suggest?”
His eyes flicked down to your lips.
“A kiss, perhaps?” You chuckled, but fulfilled his request nevertheless.
You could feel the warmth of his red flush bloom under your fingertips as your lips met his. The hands on your waist wound themselves tighter around, inviting you to rest a knee on the edge of his chair, so you didn’t have to lean down quite so far. His lips were rough against yours, but the abrasion only seemed to make you dizzier with desire. You had to steel yourself in order to pull away, lest you get lost in your lustful daze. An amused hum resounded through your chest when you saw his lips try to follow yours as you leaned back.
“Will that suffice?”
He raised an eyebrow. His pupils had nearly eclipsed his whole iris.
“Surely I can’t convince you into something more?”
“Nice try, mister,” You grab his tie out of his shirt and pull lightly. “You can have more when you’re in bed.”
He sighed in mock annoyance. “Well, if you insist.”
You handed him his cane, which he took begrudgingly, and helped him go through the motions of closing down the lab for the night— or morning, you guessed. The sound of his footsteps and cane alongside yours made for a lovely orchestra for the doves as you walked back to his room.