Archive of Our Own

Darkness grows throughout the lab, unchecked and unnoticed. The light scattered through the stained glass gathers in soft colored lines somewhere on the ceiling, the murkiness starting in corners of the room is spreading to the equipment.

Viktor is used to working late. Long evenings spent on calculations. Head heavy with sleep at the crack of dawn, almost dropping right onto the papers covered in pencil markings. Sleepless nights in favor of calibrating the equipment. One more experiment, one more equation, one more test run: for as long as he can remember, Viktor's been in a pointless competition with time, knowing there's no way to outrun it. Well, – and Viktor almost laughs at the thought, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste – he can't outrun anything for that matter. 

His leg hurts more by the end of the day. Viktor winces, writes down the settings he used for calibrating this prototype with one hand and carefully massages the cramped muscle through the braces with the other. 

Jayce immediately raises his head, as if on cue. 

– Hurts? I can… 

– Jayce, – Viktor says as a warning, cutting off the questions, – No. 

Jayce doesn't leave the lab before sunset either. Or sometimes not even before dawn. Viktor's long abandoned any attempt to count how many nights they've spent together, but he still couldn't get used to this attentive, studying look. There's no trace of pity or that sticky-nasty Piltovian mix of despise and disgust. Only genuine concern, and it stings a lot more. 

– Are you sure? If it hurts… 

– It doesn't hurt, – Viktor lies without even thinking about it, just like he's used to. 

Pain is just a part of his life. A variation of the norm. 

Jayce sighs and goes back to his calculations. 

The darkness is seeping deeper into the space of the lab. A pencil creaks, sandpaper rustling against the grooves of the runes, two breaths whispering in unison softly. The last rays of sunlight are crawling lazily over the ceiling, and Viktor stretches over the table to turn on a lamp. A pulley he accidentally swiped off the table with his sleeve falls to the floor with a clang and rolls further under it. Just out of reach. 

Viktor bends his knee experimentally. The knee responds with a sharp pain. He knew it would after sitting for hours and having not slept enough in the last few days, but it's still infuriatingly upsetting. 

– Jayce? – Viktor calls again, pointing a hand under the table, – Get on your knees. 

An attempt to simplify his words, Occam's razor. 

And Jayce gets on his knees – no questions asked, one swift motion, surprisingly gently for his build, almost graciously – and looks up. Heartwarmingly trusting, waiting for instructions. 

Viktor feels a pressure in his temples, his stomach curling, and the pain in his knee is suddenly almost welcomed. Thank God Jayce hasn't turned his own light on yet because, he hopes, that way he won't see how red his ears got against his pale sunken cheeks. 

– Pulley, – Viktor quickly adds, – under the table. 

Jayce quickly crosses the distance between their tables, still on his knees. Viktor watches his hips move in the almost-darkness, and completely unprofessional thoughts flood his head. 

Jayce stops mere feet from Viktor, throws his head back momentarily – a few strands from his perfect hairstyle fall to his forehead – and dives under the table, reaches right under Viktor's calf, not even letting him move away or get up. 

He stays on his knees – straightens his back and gets a weird smile. He usually has that smile after fancy dinners with the Kirammans and meetings with councilor Medarda and other investors, when he's had a little too much champagne. 

– Next time just say you've dropped something, – he murmurs and laughs softly, getting up without dusting his pants off, placing the pulley on the table. 

– Next time I won't drop it, – Viktor quips, turning back to his journal with the calculations, experiments and measurements. 

The next half hour is spent waiting for some brilliant idea to pop up and pretending that the blueprints entertain him more than Jayce's drunk smile and the uniform pants stretching beautifully over his thighs. He'll leave those thoughts for some other time. And – Viktor thinks wearily – better lighting. 

***

At noon the lab is glowing all shades of yellow and gold. The sun catches on the patterns on the wall, on all the equipment, flooding the room with the hot rays; you can see every speck of dust float around. 

Jayce is fiddling with the new prototype for a hex crystal compressor. It has long stopped fitting on the table, now taking up a sizable platform in the middle of the room. He keeps circling it, frowning and comically poking himself in the cheek with a pencil while thinking of new ways to adjust parts of the machine. 

Viktor stares. Greedily catches the blinding sunlight reflecting in his hazel eyes, notices the tense muscles of his forearms, now visible under the rolled up sleeves, the crease in his forehead, the soft movement of his fingers putting in the last screws. Dozens of variables that make Jayce – Jayce. 

– Done, – the voice drags him back to reality, to the experiment, to the triple-digit attempt at achieving a solid and reliable hex crystal. 

Viktor stands up and winces at the sharp pain shooting through his leg, reaching his toes. Jayce doesn't react – and Viktor is thankful for it every time. 

He looks over the prototype, tilts his head and hums quietly. 

– Is it actually? 

Jayce's eyebrows shoot up. 

– I checked the settings and your blueprint from yesterday, it should be complete now. 

– Are you sure you didn't get distracted at some point? 

Jayce's face flashes with something, like he's been caught. He quickly averts his gaze, makes a few more steps around the thing and kneads his neck. 

– The stabilizers, – Viktor puts his weight on his left hand, leaning on the table, and prods the bottom panel of the stabilizer ring with his crutch, – We wanted to try a different incline. Get down and adjust it. 

Viktor grins just slightly, only a little sorry for the tone. It's easier to order than to ask him. Asking means admitting to his humiliating helplessness, voicing his disability. It's his blueprints, his calibration, his invention – he should be the one preparing it for tests. Viktor knows that, but he doesn't know if he can get back up if he goes down to adjust it. Jayce looks him in the eye and opens his mouth, ready to say something. 

– Come on, Jayce, on your knees, – Viktor hides his irritation behind a joking tone, – six degrees. 

– I remember, – Jayce replies with a suddenly hot whisper and falls to his knees. 

He doesn't need any support to move around – Viktor hungrily soaks in the healthy motor functions. 

Jayce looks up, and for a moment, there is a trace of some foreign, unprofessional thought in his eyes, but then it's gone, and he asks for the instrument. 

Viktor doesn't even wait for the question, just hands him the ratchet wrench. And then freezes. The sudden skin-to-skin contact sends shocks through his spine, almost like pain does, but this is exactly the opposite. Viktor exhales shakily. The hairs on Jayce's forearms stand up from the goosebumps, he looks up and his expression – the soft crease of his brows, a slight smile, a sincere gratefulness and something else he can't place or measure yet – makes Viktor look away. 

The formulas on the board blur while the wrench creaks dutifully over the heads of the stabilizer. Viktor uses this time to even his breath and settle his heartbeat while trying to figure out what caused this reaction. The obvious explanation is quickly thrown away as unreasonable and at the same time hopeless. Viktor drags himself back to reality with the help of the dull pain in his knee. 

The click of the set up machine is deafening in the silence of the lab. Viktor reaches out his hand to take the wrench and smiles appreciatively at the finished work. 

There. This time is definitely the last and they can finally move forward, finally make something useful out of this. 

Jayce carries his weight to one hand and gets up in one motion, quickly shortening the distance between them. His face is barely an inch away from Viktor's fingers when he freezes and looks up. 

Viktor really tries – and fails – not to note how good Jayce looks on his knees. He can't – doesn't even try – stop the thought that flashes at the sight: what if he steps closer, touches Jayce’s rough cheek, takes his chin between his fingers, swipes a thumb over his lips –

The train of thought derails suddenly at the pain that surges through his spine: Viktor was too lost in thought to keep his weight off the bad leg. 

– What's wrong? – a hint of cold anger makes it into his tone at his inability to focus. As if there weren't enough inabilities already. 

Jayce frowns. Confusion flashes in his eyes and then he says a little too harshly:

– Everything's fine. I set it up like you said, – he gets up, dusts off his pants, and the wrench clangs against the table, – Six degrees. Check yourself if you have to. 

Viktor shakes his head and wills himself to focus on the task at hand. On something that actually matters; on something that could at least become a reality. 

– I see, – a purposeful, serious tone. And then softer, – Thank you, Jayce. 

Jayce just smiles in response – a wide, bright, genuine smile – and it's infuriating. Everything is infuriating. The whiteness of his teeth, how easy smiling comes to him, how sincerely he reaches for validation. How easy it is to rationalize it – Viktor was the first one to believe in him. How Viktor himself needs to see Jayce smiling. Happy. 

It's infuriating how Jayce always protects him when test launching new inventions – this time is not an exception. Would he stand this close, would he cover his partner with his broad back, saving him from the potential risk, if he knew what kind of fantasies Viktor has of him in the darkness of his own room in the dorm? 

Negative. 

An answer both to the question and the experiment. The air is electric – literally – with the ions of the hex crystal, and Viktor painfully notes Jayce's electrified hair, even though his is hardly better. 

Jace swipes his hands over his shoulders, and then, just as naturally, over Viktor's shoulders, shaking off the static, and doesn't even care how the electricity prickles his fingertips. 

– It's okay. We'll get it next time. 

He gives a reassuring smile again. 

Viktor clenches his jaw as he lowers onto the table, setting his crutch aside, and writes another failure down into his journal. 

Next time. 

***

The bluish light coming from the lamp is enough to light up the table. Winter festival decorations are visible from outside the windows, flashing bright colors. 

Viktor doesn't allow himself to be distracted. If he's done with the stubborn integral equation today, tomorrow he can sleep in, maybe even go out to the city. He tells that to himself every late night – and then goes to the lab in the morning. Every success brings him forward, gives new tasks. Every mistake costs him another hour or day; time is slipping through his fingers. Viktor feels it coursing through his veins. 

– Look, Jayce. If we invert the runic positions on the third level of the oscillator, we'll achieve a more stable result. In theory. 

The words drown in the silence, barely echoing against the walls of the empty lab. 

Viktor sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. 

– Oh, I forgot again, – he says pointlessly, addressing Jayce's absence, – I'm used to you always being here. 

Jayce is not always here. Not the days when the city is buzzing with celebrations and ambassadors and tourists from other cities. The council never misses an opportunity to boast its achievements to anyone, and Jayce disappears for days. 

Viktor's not sure which specimen they're more proud of – hextech or his partner. Councilor Medarda is definitely waiting for Jayce himself, not his speeches about science, magic or progress. This thought makes his stomach churn, almost nauseous, and fingers numb worse than any cold could make them. 

Viktor scribbles something in his journal – they'll need to go over that hypothesis when Jayce gets back – and goes back to his calculations. Always one more calculation. He'll write down a few more variables and go to sleep. Late on purpose, and short on purpose, to avoid any dreams. There, in the dreams, Jayce is always so close. Too close. Impossibly close. 

The door slams so hard the hinges creak, and Viktor startles, turning towards the noise.

Jayce is standing in the doorway. Viktor recognizes Jayce’s silhouette immediately despite the darkness.

– Late night flash of inspiration?

A caustic question and then an immediate pang of shame. It’s not Jayce’s fault he’s alone; and definitely not his fault he’s jealous.

The silhouette just shakes its head.

Viktor turns in his chair, leans back on the table and heaves an exhausted sigh. He doesn’t hide how he feels about Jayce disappearing from the lab for another outing with councilor Medarda – investors, meetings, interviews, posters with the Man of Progress and all the shamelessly useless garbage that’s definitely made to waste time. Viktor knows: it’s unavoidable if they want to continue their research. Viktor knows: all these people look at Jayce, praise his achievements, shower him in compliments – and yet – they never see past his perfect jawline, wide smile and broad shoulders. There’s no use denying that Jayce looks like he’s been made for the spotlights. But Jayce is also made for so much more, there’s no use denying that either.

Jayce makes a few unsteady steps, and now he’s illuminated by the glow of the lamp. Unusually slouched and slightly disheveled. “Must be all the dancing” – Viktor makes a mental note, but it doesn’t occupy his mind for long. What does though is the hint of exhaustion ruining his perfect features.

– What happened?

This time the question is soft, almost caring.

– I was hoping, – Jayce stops at the edge of the table, – to see you here.

– I’m always here.

– And I’m not. It’s… – Jayce pauses, like he’s choosing what to say, – unfair.

Viktor raises an eyebrow.

– Don’t even try to drag me there. Someone has to work. And I can’t stand…

The Piltovian high society. How everyone looks at me – cripple, zaunite, an ugly blob of ink on a beautiful painting. How everyone looks at you – like the best dessert on a display.

Too much is left unsaid.

– I know, – Jayce replies without waiting for him to continue. He kicks the table’s leg with the toe of his boot, and the movement is kind of abrupt, uneven.

– You’re drunk, – Viktor states quietly, even though he knows Jayce hasn’t had more than two glasses as per usual, – And exhausted. Go to sleep.

– I don’t want to, – Jayce's reply is barely above a whisper, – Let me stay.

Viktor freezes. Freezes at that tone, at the wild mix of guilt and hurt in his gaze, at the vulnerability obvious in every move. The question doesn’t even make much sense. Jayce has the same right to be here in the middle of the night, but you can hear another meaning to it.

– Of course.

The force of sigh he lets out almost shakes the air in the silence of the lab.

Viktor scoots back to give Jayce some space, but he doesn’t move, just shuffles on his feet.

– Come here.

Viktor doesn’t try to get up. He definitely can’t do it after sitting down for so long, and the leg hurts, an unpleasant lingering feeling. He moves nervously – an uneven hand gesture in the air. It should be obvious what he means. Jayce makes a few sharp steps and drops to his knees, like a rag doll with all the strings suddenly cut off.

– I just can’t stand it anymore. Can’t stand being… – he raises his arm, trying to show something, but it falls back down uselessly, – not here.

– It’s not for long, – Viktor states the obvious again, – the festival will be over in a few days, and it’s all gonna go back to normal. You’ll be spending all your nights here until your mother drags you back home.

– I know, – Jayce repeats almost forcibly and looks at Viktor like he’s waiting for something else.

– We’ll finish calibrating the frequency, achieve stable compression and then they’ll get off your back with the hex-gates.

Viktor tries looking at this from another perspective.

Lies shamelessly: he knows as well as Jayce does – there’s no going back from the title of the golden boy. The lie makes him feel warm; he wants to believe it’s still possible.

– I want to just, – Jayce murmurs, almost pained, and Viktor can only hear him because of the sheltering silence in the room, – be here. Working. With you.

He sighs loudly again and drops his forehead onto Viktor’s knees.

Jayce’s cheek is warm even through the fabric and his breath is loud and shaky.

Viktor tries not breathing at all. He feels like a traitor, lowering his hand on Jayce’s back and petting his shoulders slowly. An awkward show of affection.

Viktor soaks in every second of the tender touch. They touch each other every day – a lot, maybe too much – Jayce tugs his hand abruptly, courteously supports his elbow when walking, pats his shoulder supportively. Viktor quickly learns to not get irritated at the contact, gets used to expecting it, and then – he misses exactly when this happens – craves it.

It all feels different now. The dim blue light of the lamp, Jayce’s position, the inverted roles – it all creates some kind of unusual intimacy. Forbidden. Desired. 

Viktor touches Jayce’s head experimentally, pets the nape of his neck softly – the short hair tickles his skin. The touches are slow, cautious, careful not to ruin the fragile moment. Jayce closes his eyes blissfully and presses his forehead further into the good leg.

They stay like this for a few minutes, silent. Viktor carefully cards his fingers through Jayce’s hair, and Jayce still has his arms wrapped around Viktor’s legs. The ragged breathing calms down, settling into a quiet snore.

Moving is the last thing Viktor wants to do right now, but his leg is starting to cramp up, shifting from uncomfortable to agonizing. 

– Jayce?

Viktor moves his hand away. Purses his lips, disappointed by his weakness. A few minutes longer like this and tomorrow the pain is going to be a nauseous distraction.

Jayce flinches at the lack of the soothing touch and gets up begrudgingly. Hides his gaze, looking anywhere but at Viktor.

– Sorry, – he starts, clearing his throat, – I…

– You needed that. Nothing to talk about.

Viktor cuts him off as per usual. He’s gotten used to finishing Jayce’s sentences in the years they’ve spent together, even though he hates being interrupted himself. 

– I shouldn’t have… You’re also exhausted. Unlike me, you actually do something, while I just smile like an idiot and pretend I care about Noxian wine, or spices, or whatever the hell else they talk about.

– It’s fine, Viktor insists, – besides, you’re doing an important job. If not for your brilliant smiles, our research would be shut down before I can walk to the council chamber and tear it down.

The words leave a sour aftertaste, but Viktor gives a crooked smile and Jayce finally smiles back.

– I’d like to see that.

– I’m hoping to rid us of the pleasure.

Viktor hums and stretches out his leg, hoping Jayce doesn’t notice. Jayce, thankfully, stays silent.

– It’s late, you need to go to sleep, – Viktor reminds quietly, – Is tomorrow the last day?

– The day after that.

– Even more so.

Jayce stands awkwardly at the edge of the table, choosing what to say.

– Let me walk you home. At least?

– I’m not six.

– Still. You said it was late yourself. Did you even sleep?

– I want to finish this, – at this point, Viktor ignores the question out of habit.

– Finish it tomorrow?

– I’m almost done. Don’t want to get distracted.

Jayce shakes his head but gives up another attempt at convincing him.

– Good night, Vik.

Viktor chuckles and looks at the clock.

– Good morning, Jayce.

The door closes almost silently. The silence comes back deafening.

Viktor fixes the brace, as if trying to convince the stubborn limb that rest is coming in an hour. Two max. He goes back to his notes.

The symbols blur across the paper. Of course he’s distracted already. Been distracted since Jayce came through the door, and now the sorry trace of the intimacy is captivating and destroying any semblance of control. What’s worse, just the memory of Jayce’s warmth, his head on Viktor’s lap makes his thoughts go south, concentrating on the tightness in his slacks.

– I’ll finish tomorrow.

Viktor accepts his loss to both Jayce and his own body, gets up, leaning on the crutch heavily, and turns off the lights. The lab succumbs to the pre-morning darkness.

***

The clouds don’t allow much sunlight to shine through, but the lab is still somewhat lit up. They’re testing the use of hex crystals for forming concentrated rays of light, intended for use in the mines. For now, the only things they’ve gotten are rather bright – and potentially explosive – lanterns, but they’re not ones to give up easily. Jayce suggests keeping a few of the more stable prototypes: they’re still better than the lamps. Two sources in the opposite ends of the room are enough to light up the whole space.

– Should we try to amp up the resonance? Increase the frequency.

– I’m not sure the structure is stable enough, – Jayce rubs his chin, – it’ll raise the temperature.

– I'll do the calculations.

He takes a few steps to get the cloth and rewrite that part of the equation.

Just a few steps.

The pain that surges through his leg is so vicious Viktor has to grab the edge of the chalkboard. A hoarse cry dies in his throat. He grips his crutch – the only source of balance – so hard his knuckles go white, and still, he realises in horror, he’s losing it.

Jayce is there in a second, catching his arm, hugging him by the waist, supporting his lower back.

– Vik? What happened?

His expression is a mix of shock and worry so genuine that Viktor gets a pang in the heart in addition to the agonizing leg pain.

– I don’t know, – he spits out, and just admitting that is scary.

– Did it get worse? The leg? I’ll carry you to the hospital. Come on, just like that…

Jayce manages to bend down to put an arm around his legs when Viktor stops him. The filthy realisation of his own weakness gets even worse.

– No. I can… On my own.

When he looks down to check if there is suddenly a knife stuck in his calf – the only explanation for that kind of pain right now – he doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary. The same scrawny leg, the same braces he made and attached himself, not trusting anyone with another one of his weaknesses.

– Hold me, – Viktor says as firmly as he can manage.

Jayce just nods frantically when Viktor grips his shoulder, experimentally moving his leg. Thoughts flood his head. What if this is the end, and he’ll be left with muscular atrophy? But the leg responds to the signal with both movement and another excruciating flash of pain.

He leans on Jayce, tilting his head a little to see the lower part of the leg and leans on the crutch more.

Now he sees what’s wrong. The underknee brace’s clutch is messed up, cutting off blood flow, and he must not have felt it sooner because he was standing in one place for so long. It’s so hard to breathe he’s getting dizzy, but still he catches onto what went wrong: the fixture must’ve broken when he was fiddling with the magnets on the prototype, and it was only getting worse with time. He should’ve picked a different material.

Viktor heaves a few sharp breaths and turns around, his weight still on Jayce’s shoulder. Leans on the board and throws his head back. Lets go of Jayce, and this time the crutch and the good leg are enough to keep him upright.

– I see what’s wrong. Fourth brace, – he says firmly, trying not to clench his jaw too hard, – Go find the sixth wrench.

Jayce blinks a few times, confused, but understands quickly enough. Darts to Viktor’s table, swipes everything aside, trying to find the right instrument, and keeps checking on him.

– I’m not gonna fall, – it comes out angry instead of reassuring, – or die. Get a grip.

– Yeah, yeah, just a second. Got it.

He comes back – the wrench in a tight grip – and looks Viktor in the eye.

– Let me-

– I can do it, – Viktor spits out, but the second he tries to bend down, black spots fill his vision.

He gives up quickly.

– Get down, – he hisses, – on your knees.

Jayce is on his knees before Viktor can finish his sentence. Doesn’t ask for any instructions for how to fix the brace, just starts adjusting the clutch.

The ache grips his leg mercilessly, his vision blurring in sync with the hammering in his head.

– Lean on me, – Jayce suggests softly, and Viktor is in too much pain to argue.

He lowers his hand. Finds support in Jayce, his strong shoulder, his warmth, his proximity and care. Viktor doesn’t want to allow himself that, but the weakness is taking over, as per usual now.

– Better?

He nods weakly.

– Let me help you sit down.

– I can stand, – he hisses back.

– Then I’ll get a look at the other braces.

Jayce’s tone leaves no place for objections.

The pain is fading away. Viktor hums quietly, braces his head on the chalkboard and looks down at Jayce.

His forehead is covered in sweat. It’s not the strain; unlikely. He’s worried. He could write it off as shock, but Viktor finds it charming. Just as charming as Jayce frowning and opening his mouth from concentration while he’s adjusting all the clutches. His big hands are moving up and down, fingers skillfully working on the mechanism. He holds Viktor’s thigh while screwing the bolts to avoid putting extra strain on the leg, and now the tremble going up Viktor’s spine is hardly from the pain.

The shaky breathing is easy to write off as the cough.

His chest does go tight, but not from the failing lungs. Viktor wants to see Jayce like this – on his knees, looking up, covered in sweat, hands on his thighs. Viktor wants to see him like this in different circumstances. Wants to put his hand on Jayce’s head instead of the shoulder, wants to press his face to his groin, wants to fuck into his mouth, see his lips stretched around a cock and his eyes watering.

Viktor scolds himself mentally – getting aroused in the middle of the day, just what he needed – and sighs shakily. Jayce looks up immediately. 

– Hurts? Vik?

Viktor just shrugs with one shoulder and hums again.

– It suits you.

– What?

Jayce flushes immediately. One more item on his list of futile fantasies.

– Nothing. Are you done? 

Jayce hums and gets up – luckily, the vision fades away quickly – but doesn't move. Keeps his hand on Viktor's waist until he sits down, finally letting go of the crutch, and quickly hides his palm that has a deep imprint of every detail of the handle. 

Jayce pushes a cup of coffee into his hands – they stopped keeping water at the lab a while ago – and gets his own. 

– Not any better? 

– Eh, I can handle this. 

– You scared me, – Jayce exhales almost comically sharp and finally wipes his forehead with his sleeve, – please don't do that again. 

– What, scare you? 

– Don't… Don't fall. 

– I didn't fall. 

– Almost. You faltered. 

– That shouldn't concern you. 

– But it does, Vik! – he sounds strangely desperate, – You're-

– Getting worse? Thanks for saying something. Wouldn't have noticed otherwise, genius, – Viktor spits out and feels guilty right after. 

Jayce is right. He faltered, and he would have fallen if Jayce wasn't there. And he is getting worse, and the hastily assembled brace can't keep up with the disease, and he doesn't know what to do, and he's disgusted, and hurt, and scared, and horribly upset at the whole situation. Especially because of Jayce. Especially because Jayce sees him like this: sick, weak, needing support. Quite an unpleasant sight. Viktor doesn't try to trick himself into believing he's a nice person either. He knows he doesn't have anything to bring to the table – except his work, at least. 

He still wants to, though. So much his stomach drowns, his fingertips sting, his heart collapses.

Viktor opens his mouth to change the subject, at least, if not to apologize, but Jayce speaks first:

– I'm sorry. 

– There's nothing to be sorry about. 

– I upset you. 

– You helped me. Thank you, Jayce. 

This time it's genuine. He maintains eye contact with Jayce, not even trying to figure out whatever emotion is hiding behind those beautiful eyes. He doubts it's anything pleasant anyway. 

They drink their coffee in silence for a few minutes. Viktor is assessing the damage he's done to the calculations while leaning on the chalkboard, trying to see if there was any point in trying to salvage them or if it would just be easier to erase everything and start over. 

– Let me, – Jayce starts carefully, – make you a new brace. This one's no good, the system is too rigid for movement. I've been sketching some new models in my free time, when you first needed a mobility aid, and-

– Yes. 

Jayce freezes like he's been preparing for a long argument, and blinks, confused. 

– Yes, – Viktor repeats, – that would be nice. I wouldn't call myself the most flexible, but still. Your mechanisms never fail. 

Jayce gets up and starts digging through the papers on the table. Viktor’s heart skips a beat when he sees him pick up the notebook he only uses for drafts he's not ready to share yet. Viktor reaches out and puts his hand over Jayce's before he can find the right page. 

– No need. I trust you. Just… 

– What? 

Viktor glances at the prototype. 

– Choose a material with a low magnetic potential. 

Jayce follows his gaze – the understanding dawning on him is almost audible – and they both laugh. Light, clear, letting out all the pent up nerves. 

Viktor taps the floor with his crutch a few times. 

– Write down the equation. We'll try amping up the resonance. 

Jayce barely holds back another laugh while writing the formula on the chalkboard. Viktor notices the little shake of his shoulders and looking at Jayce is too good to stop. 

***

It's early morning. Barely dawn. Shy rays of sunlight are just starting to shine through the stained glass of the windows. Gentle golden light, a contrast to the cold outside, drowning in the heat of the lab. 

The windows are closed: neither of them can stand the cold, though each for their own reason. 

Viktor is first to open his eyes as soon as the early glare touches his face. 

He squints, covering his face, and tries stretching. His body naturally responds with tremors and throbbing aches. His cramped muscles are sore, the leg is uncomfortably stiff, promising a particularly bad day. Viktor knows it's his own fault: he should've at least gotten to the couch, which was, actually, specifically ordered for that purpose, instead of falling asleep at the table. Again. 

He never remembers who falls asleep first. That's how it often goes after late-night discussions: they talk, heated and energetic at first, sharing their opinions, picking through options, then slower, then, finally, very quiet. Then darkness falls, and then the morning follows. 

It’s not even the worst now – at least there isn't a bruise on his forehead from the too-quick contact with a surface unfit for sleep. 

He rubs his temples and looks over yesterday's notes, but he can't see the sketch properly – a good half of it is covered by Jayce's head and the arm he's settled it on. Jayce is completely unaffected by the light hitting his face, he's snoring evenly, every third exhale shaky, his mouth is open and a string of saliva is stretching from his chin onto the paper. Viktor can't even find it in himself to be mad about it. Jayce squints in his sleep, a funny expression making its way onto his face, his hair is glowing a deep chocolate brown in the golden sunlight. He looks too domestic, too relaxed to be mad at him. A quick sketch made haphazardly at 5 am definitely isn't worth the hassle. 

Jayce smacks his lips in his sleep – a weirdly attractive sound from someone drooling on their research. Mouths something unintelligible; Viktor looks down, below his waist, and averts his gaze the next second. 

It's one thing to be observing Jayce's sleeping form, but shamelessly staring at his morning wood is another. 

Viktor rubs his eyes and gets up, pulling the crutch closer. His leg is throbbing. The brace is supposed to be taken off at night, but he never does it in front of Jayce. Doesn't want to see the worry clinging to his features at the sight. 

A cough sends spasms through his chest. Viktor puts every effort into suppressing it. He knows it'll get better after he's done with his morning routine. Or it'll be easier to pretend the disease it's eating him alive. 

Jayce is still asleep when he comes back. 

Viktor takes a few steps towards him, trying not to look down while shaking him awake. 

– Jayce? 

– Vik, – Jayce murmurs in his sleep, and his voice is deep, gravelly, – Yes, Vik… 

He doesn't react to Viktor shoving him. 

– Get up. You've slept through a meeting with the Kirammans, – Viktor says ruthlessly loudly. 

Jayce opens his eyes in horror. 

Viktor hums. 

– There you go. 

Jayce jumps up so smoothly, like he was sleeping on the softest pillows instead of a lab table. Shakes off some non-existent dust, then notices the bulge in his pants and tries pulling his shirt down with one hand. His ears go red with embarrassment.

– You were drooling on the blueprints, – Viktor finishes him off with a grin, – We need to start over.

Jayce gives a crooked smile instead of an apology. The dried trail of saliva cracks at that, just a second before he wipes it with his sleeve. 

– I'll remake it. Good morning, Vik. 

Jayce is sleepy, his hair ruffled, cheeks red, looking all cute. And stunningly beautiful. Viktor swallows an offer to help with the erection. 

– Good morning, – he chuckles, sitting down again and pulls the bad leg closer, – of course you will. And you'll bring me coffee. But first, – Viktor shoots a glance below the belt, – deal with your problem. 

Jayce is splotchy red, darting out of the lab. Viktor wonders if the blush spreads below his collar and what else he could say to get that reaction. 

Viktor just stares at the notes, trying to get his mind off of those thoughts. Starting this early in the morning is sure to lead to an unproductive day.

Jayce is weirdly silent when he comes back. He paces back and forth, tracking the sweet scent of his shampoo through the air, stretches, makes coffee, wipes the board. Viktor follows his movement out of the corner of his eye.

– What’s wrong, Jayce? – he asks, when the movement starts making him dizzy.

– Everything’s fine, – Jayce’s reply is dull and dry.

He sets down Viktor’s mug of sweet black coffee and a plate with a good half of yesterday’s unfinished sandwiches. Viktor doesn’t feel good in the morning as is, and Jayce’s silence just adds to that; he doesn’t even try eating.

Jayce goes to the other side of the lab. Sips his – Viktor doesn’t dare call it coffee – milkshake. Then shakes off his hands and comes up to the workbench.

– Jayce.

– Viktor, – not even turning his head.

– Talk to me. This is unproductive.

– Maybe I don’t wanna be productive.

Jayce throws his hands up, turning around, and, yeah, that’s more like him.

– Rubbish. What’s up?

– Viktor, everything is fine!

He sounds so tense that Viktor recoils. Jayce instinctively takes a few steps forward, like he’s ready to catch him if he falls.

Both Viktor’s knee and his chest tighten, cramping.

– If my presence is boring you so much, I can work from home, – he hisses, reaching for his crutch.

Jayce takes another step and sighs heavily.

– No, I… It’s not that. I just can’t handle this anymore.

– You’ll have to be more specific.

– Waking up like this… Next to you.

Jace looks at him through his lashes, and Viktor stifles a laugh.

– So I’ve embarrassed you?

– No. Yes! That too.

– I’m not going to comment on your morning wood anymore. Are we done here?

Jayce relaxes his shoulders, leans on the table and doesn’t say anything. His gaze is distant and dreary, and he’s looking somewhere down, through journals and blueprints, through the metal of the table, through the floor, into the deep far-away void.

– Jayce, – Viktor says softer and taps his healthy leg lightly to get his attention, – come here.

Jayce takes off so quickly, like he’s been waiting for the signal all this time, gets closer, mere inches away.

Viktor doesn't even try to get up. Tilts his head, then lowers it immediately.

Jayce goes down with it, on his knees in front of Vikor and looks up. Breathes so heavy, worse than after the forge, and a vein pops up on his forehead.

– What’s up? – Viktor tries again.

– I… Let me get it out. I have to get it out or I’m gonna explode.

Despite his own words, Jayce is silent. For a long, miserable moment.

Viktor wants to ask. A dozen questions swarm in his head at the same time. Instead he offers quietly:

– I’m listening.

– I love you, – Jayce blurts out, and his eyes flash with fear.

– Jayce-

– Wait. I… I love you. And I mean it, Vik. Love. Gods, I’ve wanted to say it every day. Since the day we were floating in zero gravity, and you smiled, and I knew I was done for. I know that I have no right. We’re colleagues, partners, it’s wrong.

– Jayce.

– I know! But you’re so close, every day, and I look at you, and sometimes the only thing I can think about is how badly I want to kiss all of your birthmarks. Carry you in my arms. Go to sleep and wake up together, in a bed, not on a workbench. Hug you.

He blushes again, not as feverish this time – soft, just tinting his cheeks lightly. Viktor clenches the crutch’s handle so hard it hurts.

– Jayce!

– I know, I know. You… You only want to work together. I know how much this means to you. To us. Our dream. And it’s dumb that I can’t. Can’t focus on work, can’t stop feeling, can’t stop wanting you whole. Maybe you’re right – everyone in Piltover is a selfish prick, – Jayce stares, doesn’t blink, and tears threaten to spill from his eyes.

– Jayce…

– I’m sorry, – he drops his head onto Viktor’s knees, probably hitting it on the brace, but he doesn’t care anymore.

– Are you done?

– No, – pressing his forehead further into the knees, he shakes his head, – Really. I’m so sorry. I’ll try to keep it together, okay? You can’t imagine how hard it is, but I’ll try. Just… Please, don’t leave.

The sigh sounds painstakingly similar to a sob.

– I can, – Viktor replies quietly.

– What?

– I can imagine. How hard it is.

Jayce looks up at him unbelievingly with wet eyes, and Viktor doesn’t say anything. Instead, he lets go of the crutch – it falls to the floor with a clang, deafening in the thick silence of the lab.

Viktor places a hand on the back of Jayce’s head and pulls with as much force as he can manage. Closer, closer, until their mouths collide.

Viktor’s kiss is hungry. Hot. Wild tongue, exploring or just moving blindly, he can't say. Teeth clash, and he hisses, but doesn’t let go of Jayce, who is trying to grab the back of the chair to gain some balance, moaning into the kiss.

Kissing Jayce tastes like fire, like coffee and magic. Better than magic.

They part – after an eternity – when Viktor runs out of air. He doesn’t let go of Jayce, though, moves his hand to his neck, places the other one on his chest and presses his forehead into Jayce’s. Smiles at the warmth outside and the bubbling, tender warmth inside.

– Is that a good enough answer?

– Vik-

– I love you. Happy now?

– More than that.

They catch their breath, shared air hot and tender on their lips.

– Just so you know, I’m not going anywhere. It’s my work too.

– I got that already, – Jayce grumples in response, and his smile is so open, so carelessly sincere, that Viktor’s heart twists.

– I’ll think.

– About?

– Everything else you’ve said. But I draw the line at carrying me. I’m not helpless.

– I know, – Jayce replies, moving back just a bit to look into his eyes, – you’re strong.

– Still no.

Viktor pulls him in, and he doesn’t care about the sore neck, the searing pain in his knee and the door slamming, announcing a morning guest.

***

Jayce’s flat is a mess. Viktor nudges a box of spare parts with his crutch, stopping in the doorway, and argues with himself: this isn’t a mess, it’s chaos.

In the lab, they’re able to find a balance. At home, Jayce’s work is sporadic and random, between days – mornings, evenings, nights – at the lab, between sunday lunches with mom, monthly dinners with the Kirammans, councilor Medarda’s business, work in the forge and rare outings. As a result, his flat looked tidier when there was a hole in the wall.

The windows are half-covered in sketches of some new devices. The walls are adorned with old posters, definitely still there from his youth. Alongside them are some drafts, blueprints, notes on tiny pieces of paper, pictures of runes with their meaning signed below. Viktor notices a few coffee-stained napkins with Jayce’s neat handwriting pinned to the wall. Any flat surface, including the bed and floors, is covered in tiny boxes filled with tools, screws, old parts that were deemed defective or in need of redesign, rolls of blueprint paper, disassembled – or not yet assembled – builds. In the corner, collecting dust, sit two compressor models Jayce took home for some adjustments and, apparently, never touched again. A soldering iron, still connected to the outlet, sits on the table, and this is such a blatant violation of safety regulations that Viktor can only roll his eyes.

– I hope you’ve never invited professor Heimerdinger here. He’d have a heart attack.

Jayce is standing in the middle of the room, not so much trying to clean up, but shove everything aside to free up some space.

– No, – he replies sheepishly, throwing a stack of papers from the bed on the table, – just you.

Viktor just hums quietly. He doesn’t know why he’s here today. Pretty much nothing changes after that morning – fortunate or not, it’s hard to say. Work continues as normal. Calculations, construction, experiments and daily testing of some options they came up with late at night. Research that raises more questions than it answers. Except, from time to time, Jayce looks into his eyes, especially tender, and Viktor kisses him, short and sweet. After that, they go back to work and don’t talk about it. Viktor’s chest keeps throbbing disastrously; Jayce’s gaze is indescribably sorrowful.

Small doses. Not enough to satisfy, but enough to get addicted.

Jayce doesn’t ask. He wants to. It’s noticeable. The question is trying to escape, but he stifles it again and again. Raises his eyebrows, snuffles intensely, looks up through his lashes and doesn’t ask.

Today is no different. They just leave the lab – shockingly – on time, and keep discussing their latest hypothesis on the way home. Viktor follows Jayce to the exit and thinks he’s just gonna walk a block or two, then stop, buy something to eat on the way and go back to his own dorm. He forgets that they can never shut up when discussing something. The train of thought, completely in sync, pulls stronger than any gravitational anomaly. Viktor doesn’t even notice when they end up at Jayce’s porch. Declining the offer to come in feels rude, and it’s not like he wants to take the walk all the way back alone.

Now he’s just standing there, succumbing to the thick uncomfortable silence stretching between them. Viktor sighs and makes a few steps, trying not to trip over the piles of equipment laying around. Sits down on the edge of the bed – standing’s getting increasingly uncomfortable.

Jayce rubs his neck and, catching himself, locks his hands behind his back. A tell-tale sign that he’s nervous.

– Want a glass of water? I can try to find something to eat, you’re probably hungry, you didn’t eat any lunch today. Again…

– We can just continue, – Viktor replies calmly, – you left off on where we had to use the strengthening rune and combine it with the acceleration.

Jayce looks around, lost. Sure, he can find a piece of paper to write down their latest ideas, but stays in place instead. Then makes a few steps towards Viktor and gets on his knees, smooth and natural, without being asked. Doesn’t want to hover.

Viktor clenches his jaw.

– I can go. If you want to rest.

– Stay, – Jayce blurts out before Viktor can finish what he was saying. Exhales nervously, – Stay the night. With me.

– Jayce…

– It’s nothing.

Jayce blushes quickly, and it’s patchy and out of line. A stark contrast to his words.

Viktor raises his eyebrows in question and hums.

– Really. Just… sleep with me, Vik. Rest.

Viktor looks away.

– I’m used to sleeping in my own bed.

– I can sleep on the floor. If you don’t want to…

– Jayce, – Viktor rubs the bridge of his nose, – I’m a cripple, not an impotent.

– Oh.

– Really?

– I thought you weren’t… interested. Like, in general. Didn’t go into detail as to why.

– It would be easier if you did.

Jayce shakes his head slightly.

– I don’t get it.

– Being intimate requires certain actions. I’m not sure I can perform them properly.

Viktor looks down at the leg bound by the brace. Shackles he has to wear every day.

– And you’re not sure because… – Jayce frowns, like a freshman who doesn’t understand an exam question.

– Since when do I have to spell it out for you? – Viktor spits out, – Due to the lack of practical experience.

– Oh.

– Stop opening your mouth like that.

– Like what? – Jayce blinks up at him.

– Round, – Viktor laughs smoothly, – It’s terribly suggestive.

– Oh.

– Jayce!

– Sorry, – Jayce apologises, but despite that, looks positively satisfied.

– So yes, I’m interested, if that’s what you’re worried about, Jayce. Of course I’m interested. You’re… – Viktor places a hand on his cheek, petting his chin and bottom lip with his thumb, – so handsome.

– You’re handsome, – Jayce whispers.

– I doubt it, – Viktor closes his eyes.

Everything about Jayce is balanced. Perfect. Every feature just screams with vitality. Viktor can look at him for hours and still only want more. When Viktor – rarely – looks at himself, he only sees broken angles, uneven bone structure and asymmetrical muscles.

– You're handsome, – Jayce insists. 

He turns his head, kisses Viktor's hand, and then does it again. And again. Rubs his cheek on it, presses his hand to his own chest. 

– Very noble of you. 

– Viktor. 

Jayce looks him in the eye and presses his palm in harder. His burning heart in Viktor's hand. 

– You're handsome. No, more. You're… incredible. Phenomenal. Flawless. 

Viktor chuckles nervously. 

– I love you, – Jayce continues, and it's hot, his heart is beating so fast Viktor can feel it under his fingers, – I love all of you. As a whole. Head to toe, and your beautiful mind. 

Viktor's eyes sting helplessly. 

– If your self-consciousness about your abilities is the only thing that's stopping you, then we'll figure it out. I want to be yours, entirely, with everything that comes with it. I know, I can't always predict what you… need, and I can't promise that I'll do it right away, but I'm ready to work on it. Just let me know. 

Viktor pulls his hands away and covers his face. Jayce is so close. He holds his wrists, pulls them down, away from his face. 

– Don't hide from me, Vik. 

– So you're attracted to sick people? Curious. 

– I'm attracted to you. 

– And before me? 

– Never this much. 

Stubborn as always. Viktor admits that he loves Jayce maybe a little for this exact reason. 

His throat feels tight. Viktor tries to clear it, but to no avail. 

– I love you too, – Viktor almost whispers. 

Jayce presses his face into his knee, leaves a light kiss on the fabric. 

Viktor pulls him up by the neckerchief, luring him into another kiss. It's different this time. Slow. Long. He licks Jayce’s lips, memorizing every crack, pulls them into his mouth. Lets him do the same, until their tongues crash, and it suddenly becomes too wet, too hot and narrow, and Jayce’s hands are on Viktor's thighs, and he is between them. Viktor pulls harder, catches Jayce’s strained exhale – and lets it go. 

Jayce breathes heavily, fired up, and keeps mindlessly rubbing Viktor's thighs. His fingers keep catching on the brace, and the leg starts aching in response. 

– Jayce, – Viktor pulls away from his questioning gaze, touches his own knee, – Since I'm staying, it would make sense to take it off. Do you have-

– One sec. 

Jayce reaches out for the bedside table. His ears are red as he opens the drawer. Viktor examines its contents. 

– I see you were hoping I'd come over. 

Jayce slams the drawer closed, almost jamming his fingers. 

– Don't be catty. 

– I haven't even started. 

Viktor chuckles softly. Jayce uses the opportunity to lift his leg onto his knee. 

– Jayce, I can do it myself. 

– I know. But you don't have to. 

Viktor props himself up on two pillows and lies back. Jayce meticulously takes the brace apart, and Viktor is in awe at how gentle he is. 

– Thank you, – he whispers when Jayce puts away his tools and sets the brace close to the bed, where Viktor can reach it if needed. 

– I'm not done yet. 

Viktor raises his eyebrow when Jayce starts untying his shoelaces, pulls the socks off and takes his foot. Doesn't do anything in particular, just warms it, massages gently, until he starts to feel blood rushing to it. Then does the same to the other foot, and it's weird. It's nice. And it's trust. Care and love that Viktor can only imagine now poured into the gesture. 

Jayce props Viktor's feet up on his knees. Smiles softly, and he's so handsome his heart skips a beat. 

– You're still not done, – Viktor chuckles. 

Jayce gets what he wanted to say. Stands up, slowly takes off Viktor’s vest, shirt, then trousers. Viktor chuckles – Jayce undresses himself. Viktor studies his muscled legs, solid chest, round shoulders and strong arms. 

– Are you cold? – He asks, and for the first time, Viktor sees the true reason for his worry, and doesn't feel any frustration towards him. 

– You're warm enough for the both of us. 

Jayce nods confidently and gets on his knees again. Presses his lips into Viktor's calves, then again, and again, a little higher this time. Viktor props himself up on his elbows, and then falls right back – Jayce kisses the marks the brace left on his skin, every single one. Stubborn, stubborn Jayce. 

Viktor rubs his nose and heaves a loud, shaky breath. The kisses are warm and tender, every one causing a thick wave of pleasure coursing through his body. 

When Jayce goes higher and starts kissing trails onto his thighs, Viktor bites his palm. Jayce immediately stops and looks up. 

– Did I go too far? – his gaze is blurry too, and burning hot desire is starting to take control of him, but Jayce manages to resist it. – Can I continue? 

– Yes. Yes. Keep going. 

And Jayce keeps going. Zealous and eager, he kisses every trail, then switches to something only he understands. Either his kisses have become too erratic, or he's trying to kiss every inch of his body or count every mole – Viktor's too into it to try to make out the meaning. 

Jayce is just licking him now. Viktor squirms under the touch, moans hoarsely, bites his lip, clenches the blanket harder. 

When Jayce presses kisses between his thighs, and it makes sense to unavoidably and essentially assume what's next, he looks up again:

– Can I? 

– Jayce, – Viktor hisses through his teeth, – Keep going. 

– I love you, – Jayce murmurs in response, pulling Viktor's underwear down. 

Viktor hears a hot muffled sigh from below when Jayce returns to where he left off. 

Jayce kisses his thighs a few more times and moves to his cock, even though Viktor – obviously – doesn't need more stimulation. He wraps his hand around it – hot rough skin against one soft and stretched. 

Viktor thinks he will not last long, if he lasts at all. The thought comes and goes as Jayce presses his lips to his cock. Kisses the head a few times, licks along the shaft, takes it in – carefully, not deep at first, moves slowly, getting more confident with time. Takes him in deeper, covers his teeth with his tongue and manages not to scrape him. Sucks with effort, uses his hand where he can't reach – it's so hot, so wet, and mind-blowing, and so fucking awesome Viktor's about to fall apart, and when he closes his eyes, blue sparks dance on his lids. 

Viktor moans into his hand, shuts his eyes and decidedly can't manage to say anything. 

The orgasm hits so hard, electrifying that Viktor feels like his spine is about to break. He shakes his head, arches his back and suddenly falls back into the sheets. Breathes heavily and only props himself up on his elbows after a few minutes. 

Jayce looks drunk, smiles happily, sitting on his knees in front of Viktor with cum dripping out of the corner of his mouth, and Viktor thinks this sight alone is enough to make him hard again. 

It really is testing the limits of the human body. 

His head starts to clear. 

– Is everything okay? – he asks, noting his unpleasant raspy voice. 

– Did you enjoy it? 

– Does it look like I didn't? 

– I need to know. 

–Yes. 

Viktor slumps back against the pillows. Pats the bed beside him. 

Jayce gets up, and before Viktor can protest, pulls him closer along with the pillows, turning him around so they can both fit. 

Viktor looks at Jayce’s cock still sticking out from his underwear. 

– Take them off too. 

Jayce doesn't argue. He's so hard that Viktor wonders how he's able to hold back. 

– Good, – Viktor chuckles, and Jayce squints briefly, – lay down. 

Viktor reaches out, wipes the cum from his mouth. Jayce shivers. His face is burning up, eyes clouded. 

– You're not even gonna ask? – Viktor trails his fingers along the broad chest. Smiles lightly, relaxed. 

– If you still want to. 

– Jayce. Just for the record. I always want you. 

Viktor doesn't wait nor does he ask for permission. Wraps his cold fingers around Jayce’s cock, and they barely touch. He moves without elegance, but Jayce still moans and presses his mouth into Viktor's shoulder. 

– Just like that. Great. Good boy. 

Jayce is going insane, trails wet messy kisses along Viktor's shoulder and clavicle, moans long and loud. 

– I love you. Love you. Love you. Love y-

Viktor gasps when Jayce shakes and grabs him by the waist. His palm is covered in hot wetness, and Viktor shamelessly wipes it on the sheets. 

– Next time, – he notes right away, – I want to see it closer. We need to choose a different position. 

Jayce murmurs something illegible and closes his eyes. 

– Any advice on technique? Suggestions for next time? – Viktor eggs on, and Jayce laughs. Relaxed. 

Viktor wants to see him like this all the time. Undividedly happy. Undividedly his. 

They don't get out of bed, don't get dressed. Just pull the blanket higher – the cold air prickles their warm bodies, but it's impossible to be cold this close to Jayce. 

Viktor settles his leg on Jayce’s hip to lessen the muscle tension. It's surprisingly more comfortable than stretching out every muscle to lay down. Jayce is warm, so soft, and doesn't even try to protest. 

Viktor traces a pattern along his chest, thinking of what to ask next. 

– So all this time you've been thinking I didn't want you? How did you expect it to go then? 

– Any way you want to, – Jayce shrugs. 

– Then what were you worried about? You've obviously been wanting more in the last two weeks. 

– I have, – the confession so easy to make now. – Wanted all of this, – he pulls Viktor closer, – to fall asleep with you. And introduce you to my mom. Of course, you've met, but… properly this time. 

– And you want to introduce me as?..

– As my partner. 

They laugh together. 

– I'm afraid she'll think you've gone crazy. 

– I'll specify. 

– How? 

Jayce pulls Viktor closer and kisses him instead. Viktor grins into the kiss. 

– Will you go on a date with me? 

– Don't you think we're way past this question? 

– Want me to pull out a ring? 

– The words “pull out” imply you have it. 

– Will you or will you not go on a date with me? 

– I will. 

Viktor pecks Jayce’s chin. 

– Turn around. 

Jayce does so, carefully, as not to disturb Viktor's leg resting on him, and freezes. 

– How did you know? – his voice barely a whisper. 

Viktor hugs him across the chest. 

– Silly question. I've always known. 

– I love you too. 

Viktor hides his smile in Jayce’s shoulder blades. He can feel his heart beat under his hand, and nothing else matters.