Work Text:
“How do I look?” Jayce asks.
His reflection in the mirror speaks at the same time, turning his head to ensure that his tie is knotted correctly and his collar isn’t turned out the wrong way.
That had happened to him once at a benefactor’s ball years ago and Cait still makes fun of him for it.
Behind him, Viktor hums and doesn’t turn away from whatever he’s working on at his desk — Jayce knows because he’s made a habit of watching Viktor from this small mirror when Viktor isn’t looking.
“You look fine.”
“You didn’t even look at me.” Jayce doesn’t mean to pout as he says this, but he watches as his reflection turns down his bottom lip, eyes towards the ceiling out-of-frame.
Viktor sighs and Jayce watches as Viktor lifts his goggles from his eyes. They rest in his hair — wild from having gone un-trimmed for months as they’ve been feverishly completing the first hexgate — as Viktor makes a point to look Jayce up and down like he’s studying the result of an experiment.
Jayce sighs loudly and purposefully, ignoring the warmth rising in his cheeks as Viktor stares at him.
“You look fine,” Viktor repeats, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smirk.
“You should get ready,” Jayce says as he rolls his eyes.
Viktor tilts his head to the side. “Remind me why I must come to this event?”
“It’s the celebration of our first major achievement for the city, you have to be there,” he says, adjusting his tie. “Sorry but you can’t get out of this one.”
“We know who they want to see,” Viktor says wryly. “And it is not me.”
Jayce isn’t looking in the mirror anymore, but he knows that his facial expression falls into something harsher, nervous in anticipation of hextech’s first major contribution to the city.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” he snaps.
A startled expression flickers across Viktor’s face. If he hadn’t spent so much time mentally dissecting Viktor’s facial tics, Jayce would have missed it. Viktor steels himself quickly and shrugs.
“I’m serious,” Jayce continues. “We’re partners. This is part of your job. I know you don’t like the spotlight, but this is the first step in our dream! We’ve waited for this moment for so long. You deserve it. There wouldn’t be hextech without you.”
Viktor opens his mouth, presumably to disagree, and Jayce cuts him off before he can say anything.
“Hell, I wouldn’t be here without you,” Jayce says.
Narrowing his eyes, Viktor removes his googles from his head and sets them down on the desk, visibly bristling. Jayce hears Sky puttering around in the adjacent room and hopes she can’t hear their conversation.
Or worse, interrupt it.
“You would have done it without me,” Viktor says.
No. I don’t think I would have.
There’s no way to truly know, and Jayce finds himself at yet another impasse. Viktor hates when Jayce mentions anything about the first part of that night and Jayce usually avoids this particular fight in deference to Viktor’s wishes.
He doesn’t know how to tell Viktor that he doesn’t know one way or the other but that he owes Viktor his life regardless.
He doesn’t know how to tell Viktor that he never wanted to be the only face of hextech.
He doesn’t know how to tell Viktor that he dreams of Viktor at his side at parties and presenting their ideas to the council in tandem.
He doesn’t know how to tell Viktor that he looks for Viktor in every crowd at every stupid social function, despite knowing that Viktor refuses to attend.
He doesn’t know how to tell Viktor that he misses him when Viktor’s not there.
“I just…want you there, Vitya.”
Jayce clenches his hand into a fist and then releases it, stretching his fingers out in his leather work gloves so that his fingertips press against the seams.
“Oh,” Viktor says.
When Jayce looks up, Viktor’s face is uncharacteristically flushed and the tips of his ears are a bright red colour.
Viktor stands, tucking his modified cane underneath his arm.
“Where are you going?” Jayce tries not to let his annoyance creep into his voice as he prepares for another night alone.
“I should think that…I would think that you, of all people, would know that I need to change out of my work attire,” Viktor says, walking slowly towards the laboratory doors.
“Do you even own anything other than work clothes?” Jayce asks.
Despite his attempt to sound sarcastic, obvious excitement creeps into his voice and Viktor smiles back at him.
“I will find something,” Viktor says.
***
“It’s so…weird,” Jayce says, his voice dissolving into giggles. “Sorry, m’sorry.”
Viktor groans as the bulk of Jayce stumbles into his side, nearly sending both of them tumbling to the ground.
Fortunately, the academy is near-empty. Most students are home for the winter holidays, or were invited to the excessive party celebrating the maiden voyage of an airship from Piltover to Noxus.
He cannot bring himself to be too annoyed. If there is any night for them to celebrate, it is this one: the night their work finally produced life-changing results. And while Viktor himself despises the idea of losing his faculties in front of the Piltover elite — who no doubt already find him sickly, incompetent, and a leech clinging desperately to Jayce’s good name — he doesn’t judge Jayce for not sharing this sentiment.
Jayce is made to bask in the spotlight he’s earned — shining and beautiful.
Viktor feels a sharp tap on his forehead and glares at Jayce, who has decided to poke his forehead sharply.
“Stop that, Jayce.”
“Vitya, where did you go?” Jayce drags out the “oh” sound and rests his chin on Viktor’s shoulder.
Viktor shudders as Jayce’s warm breath, sickly-sweet from alcohol, brushes past his ear.
“I am right here,” Viktor says. “Although I may not be for much longer if you insist on leaning on me.”
“M’sorry,” Jayce slurs, stepping back and holding his hands out in front of him.
Viktor sighs.
“Let us take you to bed,” he says, walking ahead of Jayce with the hope that it will inspire the larger man to follow him to the end of the hallway where Jayce’s dormitory bedroom is located.
“Do you like the stars?” Jayce asks as he walks.
Moonlight streams in from the large windows that look out over the city of Piltover. Viktor notes that, with the full moon nearly here, it is not the best time for stargazing.
“Yes. I used to catalogue the stars as a child,” Viktor says, sparing a glance out of the large, floor-to-ceiling gilded windowpanes in the hallway.
“I bet you were a cute kid, Vitya,” Jayce says, stopping at Viktor’s side again, swaying slightly.
“Alright that is enough,” Viktor says. He leans on his cane for leverage as he prods Jayce in the side with his elbow.
They are only a few metres away from Jayce’s door.
“I can’t believe,” Jayce begins as he fumbles for his keys.
“They are in your back pocket,” Viktor says.
“Ah, thank you. Anyway, I can’t believe that—”
Jayce stumbles through his door as it opens, dragging Viktor in with him.
“— they made a mug with my face on it! A mug with my mug on it!” He dissolves into giggles and flops onto his bed.
Viktor tries and fails to look stern as he unlaces Jayce’s shoes, so he doesn’t fall asleep with them on.
“A mug with your…mug on it? What does that mean?”
He usually doesn’t ask after Piltover idioms, but he finds the Man of Progress mug hilarious in concept and even more ridiculous in practice.
He also wants to keep Jayce distracted while he helps Jayce into bed.
“Y’know like…my mug, my face.”
“Ah, I see.”
Jayce rolls over onto his side, towards Viktor, and places his hand over his face — an echo of his natural thinking pose.
As Viktor pulls the sheets up over Jayce’s body, he hears the larger man softly snore.
“If you are going to be sick, there is a bowl to your side,” Viktor whispers as he places a bowl from Jayce’s desk onto Jayce’s nightstand.
He fills the Man of Progress mug with water and places it next to the bowl before he leaves.
***
There are five mugs in their makeshift laboratory kitchen.
Admittedly, Jayce thinks to himself as he studies the small corner of the room, it’s more of a shelf with a hot plate, a steam kettle, and tiny cooler than it is a kitchen.
Four of these mugs belong to Jayce: the first that he brought to the lab with intent, two that he had subsequently brought when he had forgotten or misplaced the first and then the second, and lastly, the Man of Progress mug with his face on it.
One of them, a plain brown mug taken from the academy cafeteria, is Viktor’s.
Jayce likes serving Viktor’s sweetmilk in the Man of Progress mug because sometimes Viktor looks down at the picture and laughs. He makes it a point to ensure that Viktor’s brown mug becomes a holder for pens, pencils, his compass, and other assorted stationary rather than for drinking.
Once, Jayce had caught Viktor smiling proudly at the Man of Progress mug, running his thumb over Jayce’s face as he had placed it back onto his desk after taking a sip.
Swallowing, Jayce had looked away, hiding his blush and wide grin.
It’s unfair that Viktor doesn’t have a mug.
It’s unfair that people don’t recognize Viktor for the brilliant person he is.
Jayce had nearly asked about it at their celebration last month but Viktor had glared at him — anticipating his protests — and so Jayce had accepted the Man of Progress mug from a laughing Mrs. Kiramman with a nod and a smile.
The next morning, he had woken up with a headache and that same mug, now on his own nightstand, thoughtfully filled with water.
This is why, today, Jayce enters the laboratory with a mug that he had painted himself with Viktor’s face on it.
He has spent a lot of time studying Viktor’s face, after all.
Blushing as he makes his way over to the kitchen shelf, Jayce remembers how Viktor had teased him about the drawing Jayce had doodled into his sketchbook the night they met.
Viktor is already at his desk, like he is every day, goggles over his eyes and tinkering with something.
Jayce places the steaming mug of sweetmilk in front of him, like he does for Viktor every day, and watches as Viktor takes a sip.
“Jayce what is this?” Viktor asks immediately, pointing at the sketch of his face.
“Wow, I thought you appreciated my artistic talent,” Jayce quips, flexing his fingers as his sides nervously.
Viktor raises an eyebrow at him and takes another sip. “A crude likeness but passable.”
“I’ll take that.”
“I must ask why you thought this was necessary when we have five mugs in the laboratory already,” Viktor continues, pushing his goggles into his hair and staring at Jayce with a contemplative expression.
You deserve recognition.
You deserve more than recognition you deserve—
—everything.
“Think of it as a late winter holidays gift,” Jayce says, trying to sound as nonchalant as he possibly can about something that he’s come to care probably too much about.
Viktor nods and takes a sip, watching Jayce carefully.
“If it is all the same to you,” Viktor says, smiling. “I will use the Man of Progress mug. There is something hilarious about how it exemplifies the ego of my partner.”
Jayce laughs. “If you insist.”