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Jayce is sitting atop his desk near the Brainstorming Board, twirling his latest hammer miniature, when Viktor slams through his skylight like the world’s most disappointing meteor.
“Viktor! So good of you to join me.”
“Defender. You’re looking worse than usual. Might I suggest a mirror the next time you get dressed?”
Well. He’s not wrong. Jayce has not slept in approximately five days (108 hours, murmurs the part of his brain that’s always counting down grains of sand), and it’s only through the miracle of heavy gloves and mildly-illegal stimulants that his hands aren’t shaking. His skin is still dewily moisturized and his hair is still soft, but shaving has damn near become an extreme sport. Especially since he’s taken to avoiding reflective surfaces.
Point is. He definitely looks like shit. “No idea what you’re talking about! You should really get those eyes checked, old man.” But he’s not about to admit that, now is he?
Like a windup toy getting its key twisted, Viktor steps forward to monologue about his Gloriously Evolved eyeballs with Gloriously Evolved augments that shed Gloriously Evolved coolant, probably, because saltwater tears are far too passé, and Jayce really, really isn’t in the mood.
“Up bup bup! I don’t actually care. Fill your eye sockets with binoculars for all I give a shit! Shut up.”
Jayce hops off the desk and saunters his merry little way over to the Board. Ultra-light rebar blueprints flutter to the floor and are crushed underfoot.
He still has not looked at Viktor.
“See, I’ve been doing a bit of thinking–”
“That must have been difficult for you.”
“Vitya,” he croons, sickly sweet. “Shut up.”
Maybe it's the resurrection of a long-dead name, a lingering ghost of the men they were not and never would be again. Maybe it’s the way Jayce’s voice soars light and airy in the manner it only gets before a truly spectacular meltdown. Maybe it’s the hammer miniature that has shattered in his fist and is now slicing through his soldering glove.
Viktor shuts up.
Blood carves a searing path down his palm. Jayce flexes his fingers. Drives the shrapnel deeper.
“Where was I? Right, right…ladies, gentlemen, and those inapplicable, if you’d kindly direct your attention to Exhibit A,” and here Jayce does a theatrical turn and grandly gestures towards the Brainstorming Board like he’s at the annual Engineers Symposium. A fat bead of blood flies off his finger and punctuates “REASONS NOT TO KILL JAYCE TALIS.”
“Let’s go through this step by step, hm? I have a hypothesis I want to test.”
Viktor’s leg stutters, like he can’t calculate the optimal decision between stepping forwards or flinching backwards. “Jayce…”
Jayce digs out a particularly large shard of metal from his forearm and spins it like one of those godawful pointer-sticks Heimerdinger collects. He raps it sharply against the first option: “JAYCE MIGHT JOIN THE GLORIOUS EVOLUTION.”
“I think we can rule this one out, hm? You and I both know I’d never become one of your fucked up meat puppets by choice, and–I’m willing to give you a shred of credit here–as far as I know, you don’t actually augment people against their will.”
Aw, Viktor still puffs up his chest when he gets defensive. “Defender, you know fully well that I—”
Jayce scratches a line through the first theory. The metal makes a hellish screech. Viktor flinches.
“Option number two! You think that, regardless of my annoying habit of thwarting your plans, my continued existence is still a net positive. If only for my contributions to science.”
Jayce cocks his head, waiting if Viktor has some insight on the matter. Bastard’s always cooking up a monologue.
Silence.
Jayce raises an eyebrow, and scratches that out too. “This, while slightly more plausible and infinitely more flattering to my ego, is still demonstrably untrue. Yes yes yes, I’m a brilliant inventor, an unparalleled engineer, a gift to the scientific community, et cetera et cetera—but. I’m not the only scientist out there! It might take twenty of them to replace one of me, but there are cute little kiddies running around in the Academy right now training to replace me when I finally bite it!”
Viktor himself is statue-still, but his claw recoils like it just let out an overcharged laser. Hm.
Jayce leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “I would know. I teach them myself.”
Oh, now that gets him a reaction. Viktor fully commits to that step backwards, his fingers curling in that way it used to when he was supremely uncomfortable with a situation.
“Aw, don’t leave yet! I still haven’t explained my conclusion, and you know how I adore my peer reviews.”
Viktor snarls. “You are babbling nonsense, Defender, and I shall not be privy to this time waste.”
“It’s ‘waste of time,’ and no. I think you’ll stick around.”
Jayce thrusts his hand upward with a flourish, fingers curled into a three. Blood trickles down his elbow. “Number three, the most hilarious option of them all: You just don’t kill! But,” Jayce smiles, his pearly whites on full display, “we both know that’s not true.”
Viktor’s flinch is full-body this time.
It was a simple situation they’d found themselves in: 121 hours ago, during a routine brawl, Viktor accidentally triggered a building collapse. Thirteen dead, dozens wounded, Zaunite and Piltovian alike. INEFFICIENT CONSTRUCTION STANDARDS! headlines have been screaming ever since. NEED FOR REGULATION GROWS!
It was the biggest infrastructural disaster of Jayce’s lifetime.
See, the factory was about to come down, and the Machine Herald was presented with a choice. Save Jayce, who had been knocked unconscious and would have certainly been crushed…or, stop the building from coming down, which would have undoubtedly prevented mass injury and death.
And dear, sweet, utilitarian Viktor chose wrong. Sure, he came back later, like a dog returning to its vomit. He helped lift rubble, he recovered bodies. Some of those bodies were even alive enough to be saved.
But the facts are such: Viktor had the opportunity to get rid of his fiercest opponent and ingratiate the people to him in a single heroic act. Instead, he dragged Jayce back to his lab, treated his wounds, and delivered him to a hospital. Caitlyn told Jayce as much when he regained consciousness 13 hours later, feeling suspiciously not-flattened.
Jayce twirls his makeshift wand and curtsies, a magician having explained the greatest trick of them all—Jayce Talis’ continued existence.
“Based on the evidence provided, I hereby propose the following conclusion: You, Machine Herald, Architect of the Glorious Revolution, Number Three Pain in my Fucking Ass…are embarrassingly attached to me. And!” Jayce interrupts Viktor’s predictable outrage, “I shall demonstrate with Exhibit B.”
Jayce locks eyes with Viktor and drops the metal shard. Leisurely, like a predator eyeing up a choice morsel, he stalks forward.
“Kill me.”
It’s amazing how startled an emotionless hunk of metal can look. “Jayce, I don’t—”
“There will be no struggle. I’ve laid down all my weapons, and there’s no one around to stop you. I’m not even wearing armor. All you’d have to do…”
Jayce takes the final step towards Viktor and tugs the HexClaw forward. Dumbly, like a stunned animal, Viktor lets him.
Jayce tenderly unfurls the claw. Presses it directly over his heart. Savors the chill of metal against his thin cotton shirt.
“…is shoot.”
In a measured voice, almost comically monotone when filtered through his mask, Viktor offers, “Suppose I simply don’t want to deal with the trouble of your death’s aftermath?”
Jayce snorts. “That would be the coward’s reasoning. And I’ve never known you to be a coward.”
“Suppose I am.”
“Well,” Jayce says, “now’s your chance to redeem yourself. Don’t ask permission to change the world, isn’t that what you told me? Go on, Viktor. Change the world.”
A nervous laugh. “Eh, giving me permission defeats the purpose, no?”
He hums. Strokes the claw’s fingers, memorizing the ridges of its joints. Circles the laser. “Regardless, it’s always nice to have someone in your corner. Stars know I regret not being there for you, once upon a time.”
“Why are you telling me this.” Viktor seems angry, almost. Angry at the apology’s existence itself or the little-too-lateness of it all, who can say.
“Call it a deathbed confession.”
“You are not in bed.”
“Why Viktor,” Jayce flutters his eyelashes, half-mocking, “if you wanted me in bed, all you had to do was ask.”
Viktor tries stepping back, but Jayce’s grip is firm. “I do not understand you, Jayce! One minute you beg for death, the next you proposition me! What do you want from me?” He sounds desperate, like he truly does care what Jayce wants. Like he’d bring down the stars, if only Jayce wished it.
With a bloody palm, Jayce cups Viktor’s armored cheek. “Honesty, Viktor. A sincere answer to a question that’s haunted me since the day I met you.”
“What?”
“Do you love me, or not?”
Viktor inhales sharply.
“Because if you don’t, you really should just kill me now. Spare us both this decade long farce.”
“…you don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Oh, but I do. You could have saved dozens of innocent people, but you picked me instead. That doesn’t scream hatred to me.”
“I don’t…whatever I feel for you is—is the opposite of love!”
“The opposite of love is indifference, Viktor. And if you were indifferent to me, you certainly wouldn’t have made that choice.”
“Shut up.”
“The way I see it, there are only two possibilities here. Either you are, in fact, in love with me, which means your lobotomy wasn’t quite as successful as you’d like. Or, it worked a little too well, and now your wires are crossed and you’d prioritize any old idiot at random. Option two seems a little…ah, what’s the word…pathetic! Extraordinarily pathetic of you.” Jayce raises both eyebrows expectantly. “So?”
Viktor grits his teeth. Up close, Jayce can hear the squeal of his mechanical fists clenching. “Damn you, Jayce Talis.”
“If you wanted to damn me, all you’d need to do is fire that death ray and—”
In a jerky series of movements, Viktor fumbles behind his neck, unlatches his mask, and flings it to the floor. He grabs Jayce’s hand and presses his cheek into it again, desperately.
“Don’t ever ask me to kill you,” he snarls.
Viktor’s just as beautiful as the day he left. Jayce strokes Viktor’s upper lip. It trembles, possibly in rage, possibly in despair, and Jayce’s heart finally returns home to his chest.
“Your teeth are still crooked.”
He sounds wretchedly fond, even to his own ears.
Viktor rushes forward and finally, finally, finally kisses him. Their teeth clack and their noses bump and Jayce has to go on his tiptoes and it’s the best moment of his goddamn life.
Viktor walks him forward, free hand pressing down to Jayce’s ass. He squeezes, and Jayce breaks the kiss to laugh. “I’m afraid I don’t put out on the first date, Mr. Herald.”
“Shut,” Viktor rains kisses upon him, “the fuck,” kiss, “up.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. He’s not even aiming for Jayce’s mouth anymore, peppering kisses anywhere he can reach. Jayce’s heels knock into the legs of his desk, and Viktor sits him atop it. “God damn you, how dare you make me feel this weak, do you know how long I’ve been wanting this?”
Jayce nestles his head into the crook of Viktor’s neck, reveling in the overwhelming fact that this is something he can do now. “Hopefully for as long as I’ve wanted you.”
He feels Viktor’s throat tighten. Like he’s in a rush to rid himself of the words, Viktor says, “The first Distinguished Innovator’s competition. You were notching gears in the carriage and I wanted to kiss you so badly my jaw ached. And you?”
Jayce feels floaty, like the day he and Viktor had defeated gravity itself. “I already told you, didn’t I? Since the day you saved my life.”
Viktor scoffs. “You’ll have to be more specific Jayce, I’ve saved your life many times—”
“The very first time. All the way at the start. You were passionate and confident and a little awkward and a lot handsome and my god, Viktor, you were the first person to truly believe in me. How could I have ever resisted?”
A sniffle. Jayce parts with his resting place and stares up at Viktor. The indomitable Machine Herald, emotionless and ruthless, stares back down with watery eyes.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me? We could have…I would have…”
A tear slips. Jayce kisses it off his cheek, and marvels at the humanity of it. Saltwater.
“You know, you were my first ever friend, too? A real one, not a pseudo-sister like Caitlyn. I just thought all friends felt that way. By the time I realized…well. I broke my promise. I brought you back, and you hated me, and you left.”
“Jayce…”
“I don’t regret it, by the way. If it was you dead or you hating my guts? I’d bring you back every time. Sorry.”
“No. No. I…” Viktor shudders. “I. Understand now.” He presses a kiss onto Jayce’s forehead and breathes deeply, like he’s refamiliarizing himself with Jayce all over again. “…I really thought you were dead. I rushed you to my lab and you were barely breathing and there was so much blood. In my mind I suppose you are invincible. I forget, sometimes.”
Jayce presses Viktor’s claw to his chest again. Not a plea for euthanasia, this time. Just a reminder that his heart still beats.
“…I built you a body, when I left. I still tinker with it. Reinforced spine, to reduce the skeletal shock of working in a forge all day. Stronger hips, because I remember you complained about them aching all the time.” He coughs, sounding embarrassed. “Ah, I even, ehm. Made customizable genitalia. In case you wanted the full, eh, experience of manhood. I was unsure if you’d want to keep your birth-parts, if you had the choice.”
Jayce blinks at him helplessly. Then, shoulders shaking with laughter, he leans up for a kiss. “Vitya, you stupid, wonderful man. You built me a customized cock. You’re perfect.”
Viktor nips at his jaw. “Call me that again.”
“Vitya,” Jayce sighs. Cranes his head back, gives Viktor access to his neck. “Vitya, Vitya, mi corazón…”
“What was that?” Viktor murmurs, engrossed in his task of kissing every inch of Jayce’s skin.
Jayce strokes his thumb on the curve of Viktor’s sunken eyebags, dark from a lifetime of late nights and early mornings. He presses lightly at a mole, so familiar and dear to him. “My heart.”
“Oh, zlatíčko, sweetheart…” Viktor kisses his thumb. “I would have saved you too. I would have transplanted your brain if your heart stopped and I would have spent the rest of my life piecing you back together if you died. I don’t care if you would hate me for it.”
Ah. The sting in Jayce’s eyes is no longer simple sleep deprivation.
“I could never hate you, Viktor. No matter what. I think I’ve spent my whole life waiting to love you.”
Viktor takes both of his hands and kisses them, reverently. He runs his fingers over Jayce’s callouses. Viktor’s metal feels blessedly cool—Jayce feels like he’s burning, like he’s been burning since Viktor first arrived.
Suddenly, Viktor hisses. “Jayce, your hand!”
Jayce blinks his eyes open. His mind is made of cotton and the world is bright. He glances down, and—oh. Right.
“It’s fine, Viktor, I barely feel anything.”
“Shut up. I will not have my…my…” Viktor stutters.
“My?” Jayce prods, obnoxiously wide grin on his face.
“I will not have you get nerve damage after all I’ve done to preserve your delicate flesh!”
Jayce clicks his tongue. “What I’d like you to do is ruin my ‘delicate flesh,’ actually.”
Viktor looks torn between rolling his eyes and leering. He settles for a shake of the head and a “What happened to not putting out on the first date, O Defender of Tomorrow?”
“Y’know, I think I’ve decided that we’ve probably had our first date already.”
“Oh no, absolutely not. We will have a proper date and I will spoil you horrendously. You will never be able to date anyone else again.”
Jayce ducks his head, feeling stupidly shy. “Never wanted anyone but you, and I never will.”
“Oh, lásko,” Viktor coos. “I love you too. But…” Viktor stands properly, and Jayce whines at the loss of contact. This is quickly rectified when Viktor picks him up, stars above Jayce forgets he can do that now, and presses Jayce’s face back into his collarbone. He drops a quick kiss onto Jayce’s hair while he’s at it, like he’s powerless to resist.
“First, I will tend to your hand. You still keep the first aid kit under the sink, yes?”
Shocked by the embrace he’s found himself in and shocked that Viktor still remembers, Jayce just nods quietly.
“Good. You will let me take care of you, and then you will go to sleep—”
Jayce whines again.
“No. You look awful, Jayce. Cute-awful, but awful nonetheless.”
“…will you be there when I wake up?” Jayce mutters, afraid of the answer.
Viktor’s sigh ruffles his hair.
“Jayce, my love. I am never leaving you again. This is a promise and a threat.”
“Good. I’m not letting you leave again either.”
“I am glad to hear it. Where was I? Ah, yes. I will tend to you, and then we both will sleep, and then,” Viktor squeezes Jayce’s thighs, “I will look into the, eh, ruination of your delicate flesh. Does that sound amenable to you?”
Jayce grins, delighted. “Sounds like a deal, V.”