Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I swear, you’re in here more often than I am, you might as well slide Benzo your resume.”

Viktor chuckles at Ekko's teasing, making his way through the shop, cane tip-tapping at his side. It’s a bright day outside and the sunlight filtering through the windows shines on every trinket and machinery inside, making them glint kaleidoscope-like. It only adds to Viktor’s mood, feeling light-hearted and at peace.

The younger kid is scribbling something in his journal, pencil undulating furiously, barely keeping up with his mind, and he leans over the counter to take a peek at his work, earning himself a playful shove.

“Hey, competition’s on, old man,” Ekko reminds him, though he does let him have a look at what he’s writing. It’s mostly equations leading nowhere, hypotheses to be tested out at a later time, but it’s always a delight to pick apart the kid’s mind, “If you think I’m going to do you any favors you’re wrong.”

“I don’t need favors to win,” Viktor replies, casting his gaze back around the shop. There’s only one other customer inside, milling about one of the shelves, arms overflowing with what look like circuit boards and copper wires. A Piltie, one look at him confirms it, the posturing, the clothes, the air that screams outsider, but Viktor doesn’t pay him much attention aside from the little pang of alert he gets whenever he’s around anyone outside of his circle of friends and family, “Did you get what I ordered?”

Ekko disappears in the back, muttering something about overconfidence and who says you’re going to win. The inventors competition is fast approaching, and everyone in their group is coming up with a project to daze the adjudicators with. Ekko had immediately sought out Powder’s help with something or another, while he had seen Mylo and Claggor argue on whether or not their idea could work, and Viktor. Well.

He doesn’t want to say that he is going to win, but his idea is pretty good, if he says so himself. He had brainstormed it with Signed when it first came to him, then bounced it off of Vi, although she had little to add in terms of scientific knowledge, but both Silco and Vander had seemed enthusiastic, so he’s sticking with it.

He leans his cane against the counter and raises his arms to the ceiling, stretching. Something clatters behind him, and he side-eyes the outsider, who just accidentally walked into one of the stands, too busy looking at. Well. At Viktor.

It’s a quick glance, off of him before he can turn around and ask him what his deal is, but he still notices. He’s broad-shouldered, the man, but the glint in his eyes at Ekko and Benzo’s collection betrays his enthusiasm about scientific and mechanical matter, so Viktor doesn’t feel his skin prickle like it usually would.

Before he can mull it any further, Ekko reappears, an overflowing box held between his hands, “I don’t know how you’re going to come up with anything worthwhile with this,” he comments, dropping the box on the counter and offering him a kind smile, “No offense, V, but most of what you ordered is either metal junk or will be junk in a few years’ time.”

“None taken,” he replies easily enough, “Not all of us need to make a huge spectacle of their inventions. Understated doesn’t necessarily mean useless, much like myself.”

“I wouldn’t call you understated,” Ekko weights his products and punches a few number in the cash register, adding a generous discount. Family perks, he’d called it, and although none of them are related by blood – aside from Vi and Powder, of course – Viktor is not about to talk his younger brother into overpricing him, “Are you going to share with the class?”

He reaches for the box, but Ekko shakes his head, moving his purchase into a bag instead. Easier to walk around with when only one of your hands is free, “I’m building a protopye for a mining arm, something that can make the miners's work easier while also harnessing renewable energy. Signed believes it’s not at all an impossible task, I just need to figure out an alternate source of energy for the arm.”

The outsider is once again looking at him. Not unkindly, but enough to make Viktor very aware of him. Either he’s a fellow scientist, interested in what he’s explaining and bad at hiding it, or he’s never seen a cripple from the Undercity before.

“An invention to help the working class and one that would be environmentally friendly,” Ekko raises his eyebrows, handing Viktor his bag. It’s a little heavy, but nothing he can’t walk back home with, “Man, and I thought I had a good idea.”

He picks up his cane, dings the bell on the counter once, and smiles, “May the best scientist win, little man.”

The kid huffs, turning back to his journal, “Oh, I will.”

Life in the Lanes is good. Great, even.

Most of the younger kids don’t remember, or have blessedly only scarce memories of it, but it wasn’t always like this. Viktor remembers, well and clear, when every day would be a battle, with the world, with fellow Zaunites, with the Enforcers. Then the battle became a civil war, and everything changed.

He believes that it’s only through humanity’s inherent sense of kindness that they’ve made it this far, Zaun and Piltover. The war was fought, then a peace treaty signed. Martial law was recalled, and the Fissure started to look more and more like an actual livable place than a living hellscape. Friends forgave each other, enemies turned comrades, and soon the world they now live in came to be. Safe. Peaceful. Not lacking any injustice or preexisting prejudices, no, but still on its way to progress.

Vi remembers. She’s sitting across from him, arms around the back of the booth, feet propped up opposite her, beside Viktor’s waist, and she seems to be dozing off. She had stormed in not long ago, while Viktor had been busy nursing his afternoon coffee with a healthy dose of sweetmilk, and ungracefully dropped herself in his booth.

“I cannot believe the nerve of them,” she had started, arms crossed on her chest. Viktor had just thought that whoever had put her in such a mood must’ve been a fool, with arms like that.

“What are we talking about?” he had inquired, without lifting his eyes off his book, though he knew she would’ve gone off on her tangent regardless of his reply or lack thereof.

As it turned out, she had gone to Benzo’s earlier to pick something up for Power, and while she had just reached over the counter for it, not bothering to call Ekko, busy with a customer, a Piltie had called her out for shoplifting.

“Shoplifting!” she had thrown her arms in the air, “In my own brother’s shop, for fuck’s sake.”

“Preposterous of her to not know the two of you are so obviously related,” Viktor had snidely commented, loving when Vi’s reply was just her lifting her upper lip and showing off her teeth at him in an unamused snarl, “You have shoplifted before.”

“Not the point,” she made a face that in any other scenario he would’ve described as a pout, but he didn’t wish to be punched in the face just yet, so he kept quiet, “An off-duty Enforcer, and of course I’m the one to come across her.”

She had kept at it for a good five minutes, mentioning some details about the Enforcer like her hair and her eyes that had seemed irrelevant to Viktor, before finally deciding that she’d had enough, and just sprawled out on the seat like she owned the place. Which she sort of does, what it being her father’s and everything.

He likes to think she finds him therapeutic. She always seeks him out when she’s having a rough day, or when she needs to be talked down from doing something stupid or dangerous, and always treated him with respect, even back when they first met, when she’d been just a child. All of them, the kids, kind of orbit around him in a way or another, and in his heart he knows that they see him as their older brother, a sibling to look to when in need, but he tends to just see it as a matter of comfort. And regardless of how he feels, he does offer it. The comfort, he means.

Gert is refilling his cup when Power bursts through the doors. Everyone is so accustomed to her mannerisms that not even a single person stirs at the commotion. Her eyes glide around the place, offering Vander behind the counter a smile when she sees him, before landing on Viktor, and she’s off again, sliding in the seat beside Vi. Her sister grunts, annoyed to be stirred from her nap, but makes space for her nonetheless.

“You are not going to believe this, V.”

“Vi got called out by an Enforcer, I know.”

“What? No. What?” she turns to her sister, brows furrowing, “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Vi immediately snaps back, gesticulating wildly, “Can I help it that they’re such prejudiced assholes?”

“Not all of them,” Power shoots back, before turning towards Viktor, as if remembering herself, “Speaking of, I think we found you a partner for your project.”

Viktor finally does look up from his book, only to be met by two pairs of blue eyes, “The Enforcer?”

“Can we please stop talking about the fucking Enforcer–“

“No, I mean the guy she was with,” Powder puts her elbows on the table, chin on her hands, and starts kicking her legs under the table back and forth, “He’s a scientist from Piltover, apparently works under the Dean of the Academy there, and he overheard you talk about your project and asked Ekko all about it.”

Oh. That Piltie. That would explain why he kept looking at him.

“My idea is, you could try and seek him out, ask him to help you with the competition. He seemed really interested, and it would be amazing if we could include people from Piltover, open up the race, you know?”

“I don’t need a partner,” he immediately shuts the idea down, a sense of uneasiness gripping his stomach. If you don’t count his siblings, he’s terrible with people, even more so if we’re talking about Pilties. Past traumas have left him wary of them, and he doubts he’d have a decent partnership with any of them.

Power just levels him with a deadpan look, “V, everyone’s pairing off. Claggor and Mylo, Ekko and I, you need someone on your side if you want to have a chance at winning.”

“I have Vi!” he defends himself, pointing at the girl in question, who just mimics her sister. So now he has two women giving him deadpan looks. He wishes he could say it didn’t happen as often as it does.

“Using me to talk yourself through equations doesn’t count when I understand only half of what you say,” she points out, which is fair, actually, “I’m the first in line when it comes to not being mushy with our upstairs neighbors, but if Power says he seems legit…”

She looks at her sister to check, and she just nods vigorously, blue hair swishing up and down, “He seems super down to earth, you made quite the impression on him.”

“I–“ he huffs, cornered by his sisters. He doesn’t have a good comeback, “I will think about it, okay?”

Power does a fist pump in the air, disgruntling Vi further, “Yes!”

“I didn’t say yes!” he calls after her, already bolting up from her seat and out the door like a flash. He huffs, making eye contact with Vi, but she just shakes her head.

“Good luck talking her down from this,” she crosses her arms once more and tilts her head back, seemingly ready to resume her nap, “You’re on your own, old man.”

Viktor’s laboratory is, in a couple of words, his pride and joy. He used to hang out in Singed’s lab back when he was much younger, still a pupil, but soon moved up in the world when it became clear what a prodigy he was. He had started by making space for himself in his room – being the oldest he had one of his own, something he had always felt incredibly guilty about, even though his siblings never once complained about it – then by the time he turned 16 he was surprised by Silco and Vander, who had turned an old abandoned store into a proper workshop.

He can still recall that day, the joy he had felt, the way he had been crushed in a hug by an exuberant Vander and patted on the back by a more reserved Silco, and since then it’s the place he hangs around the most, aside from his apartment above the Last Drop. And far from being selfish, he had offered up the place to his friends and family, really anyone who wished to crash out somewhere quiet, where they could just sit with their thoughts, or seek out Viktor’s advice on some thing or another, or just wanted to hang out with him and the soft tunes of his music player.

Today is one such day. He’s currently busy working a few adjustments to his leg brace, welding goggles on and mind focused, while Sevika is resting on the sofa in the far back corner. She’s a woman of few words, Sevika, usually hanging by Silco and Vander’s side, or sometimes Powder’s when she feels especially patient, but he’s found they have in common a shared need to be left alone from time to time, and has quickly learned that she can seek out shelter under Viktor’s roof. She had come in unannounced as per usual, greeting him with a smile and a pastry, before sitting down in her usual spot with a sigh he felt deep in his bones.

He’s just finishing welding a piece of metal that had come loose when the door opens, and he looks up, half expecting it to be Claggor, another one of his usuals. Instead, he’s met by warm brown eyes and a meek smile, and he pauses, welder forgotten.

It’s the Piltie again. He looks almost awkward, wide shoulders framed by the tiny door, a flyer held in one hand while the other raises to offer a tiny wave, and Viktor immediately feels an odd sense of kinship with the guy. He’s very much still an outsider, even just one look at him could confirm he doesn’t belong in the Lanes, but there’s something approachable about him, almost friendly.

“Hi,” he says, closing the door behind him and making his way to the workstation. His lips quirk up, and Viktor knows it’s probably because of the goggles making him look like some sort of mole person – Vi’s words, not his – so he takes them off, offering an inquisitive look, “You’re Viktor, right?”

He glances at Sevika for a moment and finds her alert, having dropped any pretense of napping. She gives him a quick look, almost as if to ask, is this guy bothering you?

He shakes his head minutely and turns back to the guy in question.

“I am. I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” he chuckles awkwardly. The man immediately sticks out his hand, almost exuberantly.

“I’m Jayce,” they shake hands, once, before parting. Viktor realizes in horror that his is smudged with oil and soot from his work, but Jayce doesn’t seem remotely bothered by the dirt, “We, uh, actually kind of already met, back at the shop? I heard you talk about your invention, and, well–“

He reveals the flyer, and sure enough, it’s one advertising the science competition. Viktor leans his chin on his hand, amused by this turn of events, “You want to participate?”

“I want to be your partner,” Jayce says, and it surprises Viktor with its honesty. He would have understood if the man had wanted to join in the competition – after all, as Powder had put it, it wouldn’t hurt to include some of the upper city folks – but to outright state his interest in Viktor’s ideas, without actually knowing him? Bold, “I only heard snippets of your theories, and the shopkeeper explained a bit more, and then I asked the guy at the bar, uh, the one with the eyebrows–“

“Mylo,” both Viktor and Sevika say when Jayce makes an awkward little motion towards his own eyebrows.

“Right, that one, I asked where I could find you and he mentioned that you aren’t partnered yet, so,” he places the flyer down on the table, not too far from his leg brace. He looks determined, brows furrowed in single-mindedness, but after having heard his soft voice and his almost meek speech Viktor can’t help but make the comparison with a disgruntled kitten, “I want in. If you’d like, of course.”

He leans back in his chair, assessing Jayce. He’s leaning with both hands on the table, determination marking his every muscle – and it appears he has oodles of them – but underneath it, Viktor can sense some nervousness. He wonders how often he comes to the Lanes, if this is his first time doing something like this, and if so, does that mean that he really found Viktor’s idea so appealing?

“What do you have to offer?” he ends up asking against better judgement. He works best alone, only ever seeks out other people’s help when he needs to bounce off a theory or two, he’s sharp around the edges, anti-social, and with the most messed up sleep schedule of all time. He’s not an easy person to work with, and he’s fully aware of it, but the look in Jayce’s eyes offers a challenge, and he isn’t one to disappoint.

Jayce blinks, as if he hadn’t expected to make it this far, but quickly makes it through his surprise, “You said you haven’t figured out how to power your invention yet. I am currently working on a renewable source of energy, I just need to test it on something. If we worked together we would accomplish both our goals, and win the first prize while we’re at it.”

He joins his hands in front of his lips trying to hide his growing smile. Oh, this is more than he had expected from a random Piltie, this is intriguing, “I am not easy to work with.”

Jayce’s determination doubles, if possible, “I like challenges.”

“My methods are a bit… unorthodox.”

“I was once almost expelled from the Academy for blowing up my apartment.”

“You should probably keep that one to yourself,” he drops the act, and with it his hands, and smiles openly. This is more than intriguing, this is going to be fun, “I’ll see you tomorrow at 9am sharp. Bring everything you need here, I’m not making the trek up to Piltover with a lame leg. Take it or leave it.”

The other man does an odd movement, almost folding forward, as if the string that had been keeping him posturing was finally cut, “Wait, really?”

Sevika chuckles from the sofa. Viktor shoots her a knowing smile.

“Really,” he extends his hand again, not bothering to clean it, “It’ll be a pleasure to work with you, Mr…?”

“Talis,” Jayce shakes his hand again, with more confidence than before. Inexplicably, Viktor feels as if something just shifted in his life, like a path has been chosen and he cannot walk it back, “Likewise, Mr…?”

“Just Viktor,” a smile, and he picks up his goggles and welder again, “Just call me Viktor.”

True to his words, Jayce is at his lab the next morning at 9am sharp. As a matter of fact, he’s already there when Viktor wobbles towards the workshop, leg stiff from sleep and hair a mess tied up in a half-unmade low ponytail. They’re quite the duo, Jayce dressed in his Academy uniform, all pressed and straightened, while Viktor is wearing clothes to rival Powder, but he finds that he doesn’t mind. Jayce’s hands are full of boxes overflowing with pieces of metal and machinery, and he offers Viktor a bright smile when he spots him, almost dropping everything on the ground as he tries to wave at him, and that’s really all that matters.

“Morning,” he greets him, pulling out his keys to the workshop and nudging an overexcitable Jayce aside so that he can actually open the door, “I see you got busy.”

The other man lifts the boxes higher in the air as they make their way in, “I did. I found various bits and pieces of scrap from my family’s forge that we could use to create the mechanical arm. It’s not the best metal around, but it’s acceptable for a prototype.”

That makes him pause as he turns on the lights in the shop, “Your family has a forge?”

Jayce turns on himself a few times, before looking at Viktor with inquisitive eyes when he apparently doesn’t find where he could put his stuff. Viktor just points him to the workstation, telling him not to mind all the notes and doodles on the desk, “I come from a family of toolmakers, metal workers, so I know my way around metals.”

“Of course,” Viktor peeks inside the boxes, and sure enough finds a good selection of various materials they could use in their work. Along with what he’s gotten from Ekko, he’s sure they’ll make do quite nicely, “No wonder you got so invested in my idea.”

Jayce turns to him with a bright smile, evidently more than happy to agree with him, “It’s simply brilliant. Using science to help the working class? If that’s not what progress is for I don’t know what it is.

Viktor couldn’t agree more. He starts rummaging through one of the boxes, curious, and Jayce soon joins him, pointing to each piece of metal and explaining its properties. He’s quite knowledgeable, he has to admit, fills in the gaps that Viktor himself never knew he had, and after a few hours spent just talking, looking over notes and doodles, and hypothesizing, he has to admit that they’ll most likely make a great team.

He pulls down an old blackboard from the wall, one he usually reserves for his calculations but that today is covered head to toe in bits and pieces of paper, outlining a real-life scale of the mining arm, and Jayce whistles.

“Now, isn’t she a beauty,” he wonders, tracing each line almost reverently, “You’re quite good at drawing.”

Not the point, Viktor thinks.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, trying his hardest not to preen under the compliment. He knows he’s smart, and he knows he’s good at what he does, but compliments about aspects of himself he never bothered to cultivate or even acknowledge have always been his weakness, “As you can see, I was thinking of a three-pronged device, with the laser coming out from within the triad–“

“–the laser would emit a non-negligible temperature level that needs to be taken into account when choosing the metal–“

“–while also making sure to pick a durable material that would resist under the conditions of a mine,” he taps his pencil against his lip, smiling despite himself. He’s only ever finished his siblings’s sentences, and even that is a rare feat, he never had such an instantaneous connection with a stranger before.

Jayce nods, following some train of thought in his head, “I can ask around my family. See what material they recommend, but in the meanwhile–“

Viktor’s stomach chooses that moment to growl, loudly, and he quickly slaps a hand over it. Jayce smiles, evidently amused.

“But in the meanwhile, we should probably go eat something.”

They decide to take a break and grab something to eat at the Last Drop. Viktor leads the way, cane tip-tapping on the concrete, and has to stop a few times whenever Jayce gets distracted by the few stands lining the street. If he were anyone else, he would dare to call it cute, the way the Piltie’s eyes glint in excitement at every little thing he finds interesting, but alas, he is Viktor, and he just resorts to using his cane to pull Jayce away from the stands and towards him, shaking his head meaningfully.

“Don’t act like that, they’ll overprice you,” he says, as Jayce easily falls in step with him. Despite this height, it seems like the extra inches he has on Viktor are stored in his chest, so their legs swing together comfortably.

“Like what?”

“Like a tourist,” he points at Jayce’s, well, everything, then at himself, his clothes, his hair, the tiny braid Powder had tied up behind his ear a few weeks ago when she’d been particularly bored while he worked on one of his projects, “They’re good people, but if they sense you might have more money to spare they’ll take every last drop of it. You have to haggle.”

“I don’t think I know how to do that,” Jayce admits, eyes oddly fixed on Viktor’s little braid, “It feels mean.”

He rolls his eyes. Typical top-sider logic, “It’s custom. Next time you want to buy something tell me, and I’ll teach you,” he ponders it, seizing up Jayce’s Academy uniform, “Might do you well to wear different clothes too, help you blend in with the locals.”

Jayce sputters something incomprehensible at the idea of Viktor lending him clothes, but he’s too busy pushing the doors to the Last Drop open to pay it much attention. He’s immediately welcomed by the savory scented air of lunchtime, and by Vander waving him over with a smile.

“There he is. I was just about to send someone to come and fetch you,” he says, always the papa-bear of the situation. He’s not above sending anyone he can get his hands on to go and bully Viktor into leaving his workshop to go eat something, so he’s glad he beat him on time. Vander’s eyes slide to Jayce, who stands up straighter, some sort of show of respect, he assumes, before glancing back at Viktor, “The usual?”

“Yes, please,” he turns to Jayce, and nudges him gently, making him drop the odd posturing. He probably heard of Vander from word of mouth, the role he had in the peace treaty, and he’s being as polite as he can be, but that’s still Viktor’s dad he’s saluting, it’s just odd, “And an assortment of your finest cuisine for my partner, here.”

Vander snorts at the mention of fine cuisine, but does look Jayce up and down, intrigued, “Partner, eh? Never thought I’d see the day when Viktor admitted he needs help.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but Jayce beats him to it, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Vander motions for Gert to perp a table for the two of them, and offers the Piltie his most charming smile, “And drop the sir, it doesn’t suit me. It’s just Vander.”

Viktor can almost see the wheels turn inside Jayce’s head, evidently having a hard time with the fact that nobody seems to have a last name to offer him, but he just smiles at his father and leads him away toward their table.

“I never would’ve guessed you were in such good relations with the Hound of the Undercity,” Jayce half-whispers as they sit down. Viktor laughs, trying to keep his voice down. He leans his cane against their booth – it’s his usual table, one where Ekko had installed a little hook to keep his cane upright without risk of it falling – and regards his partner with an openly amused expression.

“I would sure hope so, that’s my father,” as if on cue Jayce’s mouth drops open, evidently surprised, and Viktor snickers some more, “Not by blood, I do lack his, huh, how would you say. Imposing figure.”

What he means is that Vander could easily snap his neck in half without breaking a sweat, but doesn’t want to do him the disservice of admitting that. What he does do amazingly well is crack Viktor’s back whenever he hugs him just right, something that has become a kind of habit between the two of them whenever Viktor is feeling under the weather, or has spent too much time bent over his work station, but he’s not ready to admit that either.

Jayce seems to mull it over, toying with his fork, “How did that come to be?”

It’s hesitant, as if he’s afraid of offending Viktor, or overstepping, but he just shrugs good-naturedly, “Lots of orphans in Zaun. Even more so after the war,” he makes a vague hand gesture, “I was taken under Vander and Silco’s wing when my parents passed, and then others joined in.”

Jayce’s eyes widen at the mention of Silco’s name, but he stays silent, just nodding. He seems to have sated his curiosity, for now, and Viktor doesn’t mind it. He’s not one to share his personal life with people he just met, but there’s something open and trusting about Jayce that make the words flow out of his mouth. It’s definitely going to be an interesting partnership, he can already tell as much.

Their food comes soon after, but instead of Gert carrying it it’s Powder, who smiles cheekily before sliding on the booth beside Viktor. Jayce eyes his food with interest, pupils widening just so at the sight of it, but his attention is caught by the girl at Viktor’s side, throwing an arm around him meaningfully.

“Got something to tell me, old man?” Powder teases him, and Viktor rolls his eyes. He offers her a bite of his food and she accepts gratefully.

“You were right,” he sighs, shaking his head at Jayce, as if he could understand. He just smiles back, confused by the interaction but still intrigued, “Is that enough, or do I need to do the little apology dance?”

“Nah, that’s just reserved for the others. You haven’t been wrong enough times to lower yourself to their level,” she nudges his shoulder with hers, before turning towards Jayce, offering him her brightest smile, “I’m Powder, Viktor’s sister and the whole reason why he even considered getting a partner.”

“Now, don’t give yourself so much credit–“

“Nice to meet you,” Jayce smiles, and they shake hands over the food, “I guess I do owe you for that.”

Powder chuckles, sliding back out of the booth just as quickly as she had slid in, but not before trying to steal another bite of Viktor’s food. He slaps her away, and playfully threatens her with his cane, “Don’t go owing favors to your rivals, now,” she admonishes, winking at Jayce before nodding at them both with a flourish, “I’ll see you around. I need to find my partner before he blows something up. Again.”

And she’s off, leaving an amused Jayce to look back at Viktor with a smile.

“I’m assuming she isn’t by blood, either,” he says, not unkindly, diving into his food. He makes a little sound of surprise at the first taste of it, and Viktor smiles to himself. Regardless of how high the cuisine is in Piltover, Zaunite food is just something else entirely.

“None of them are,” he replies, then shakes his head when Jayce looks at him quizzically, “You’ll meet them all soon enough.”

Their work soon develops a routine. Jayce usually shows up early in the morning, all bright smiles and glistening eyes, and they’ll work until lunchtime, where they’ll either head to the Last Drop or find a good street food stand around the Lanes. Then, in the afternoon, Jayce will bid him goodbye and retreat to Piltover, and the whole routine will repeat.

It’s not every day, Jayce does have lessons to attend back at the Academy, but it’s enough days for Viktor to start looking forward to it. They work well together, quite literally finish each other’s sentences, and he’s not too shy to admit a blooming friendship is growing between them. He looks forward to his days with Jayce, and when he’s not there he works on other projects, mostly commissioned to him by his fellow Zaunites, as it doesn’t feel right to work on their prototype without Jayce there.

And he does eventually meet the rest of his little ragtag family. One morning, while they’re welding together one of the arms for the prototype – they haven’t settled on a metal yet and have just started testing different kinds to see their resistance to both heat and pressure – the door to the workshop dingles open and Vi saunters in, two cups of coffee in hand. She freezes momentarily when her eyes land on Jayce, and he too does a double take, before glancing at Viktor as if to ask for help.

He suddenly remembers her shoplifting accident, what must’ve been quite the first impression on the Piltie, and he snickers to himself, “Ah, Vi. I assume you already met my partner, yes?”

Vi shoots him an icy stare that can only be interpreted as fuck you, to which he replies with a placid smile that reads try me.

Jayce is the first to break the silence, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Yes, we’ve already met, though we didn’t get the chance to introduce. I’m Jayce.”

“Pretty boy, yes,” Vi nods, before offering her hand to shake. By the look on Jayce’s face, she squeezes a bit too hard, “I’m Vi. It’s good to finally see Viktor work with another human being.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Viktor wonders, definitely not pouting. Vi and Jayce exchange a knowing glance, and she just shakes her head.

“You should ask yourself a couple of questions and give yourself a couple of answers, V,” his sister says, not unkindly, before offering him his cup of coffee. Jayce makes a wounded noise beside him.

“What, no coffee for the pretty boy?”

“I didn’t know there would be two pretty boys today,” Vi sing-songs, before falling quite literally on the sofa in the corner, sprawling out on it, “I’m sure Viktor doesn’t mind sharing.”

He doesn’t, and hands his cup for Jayce to try. He accepts gratefully, takes a sip, then pulls a face, “This is violently sweet.”

“You’re welcome,” Viktor grabs his cup back, gratefully taking a sip of his well-earned coffee.

It’s like an indirect kiss, the Powder in his brain taunts him.

What the fuck, the Viktor in Viktor’s head replies.

“The prince doesn’t like bitter drinks,” Vi points out from her spot on the sofa. She’s already got her eyes closed, cup held loosely in her hand, and he knows she’ll fall asleep soon enough, “Take notes, pretty boy.”

Two weeks pass before Jayce is introduced to more of his family. They’ve just started experimenting with Jayce’s alternate energy source, first trying it out in one of the testing chambers for safety before starting to handle it themselves, when the door jingles open and two figures stalk in.

Viktor doesn’t look up, too preoccupied with his work, but could recognize Mylo and Claggor’s footsteps anywhere. Plus, he hears paper rustling, no doubt one of them – Mylo, most likely – sliding his fingers along their notes, and he shakes his head.

Jayce, at his side, seems to have a different reaction to their visitors. He sees him stand up straighter and give his brothers a look-over, “Can I help you?”

“Just wanted to peek in and see how the old man is faring,” Mylo says, and Viktor turns around, placing his goggles on his forehead, “You know, it’s always good to see how far behind our rivals are.”

He’s about to reply something snarky when he notices that Jayce is stiff at his side, fists clenched and jaw working. He’s looking at Mylo with an icy glare, and it takes a moment for Viktor to connect the dots, but when he does he feels his heart do a flip in his chest.

Oh. He’s being defensive. Of Viktor.

He doesn’t know that Mylo is just joking around, has interpreted his over confidence as aggression, his nickname as bullying, and he’s being defensive.

Viktor has had people by his side all his life, ready to stand up for him or even throw a punch or two if needed, although he always manages to talk down any escalation and handle most situations himself, but, well. There’s something about Jayce having no clue about Mylo and Viktor’s relationship and immediately jumping in as a buffer between the two that gives him pause.

It’s silly, it’s unnecessary, it’s kind of embarrassing, and he loves it.

“Jayce, Mylo and Claggor,” Viktor introduces, making sure to shoot his partner a smile and let him know everything is okay and he’s not being bullied by Undercity hooligans, “Yet again some more of my younger siblings. It seems you’re finding out about them all bit by bit.”

Jayce immediately relaxes, fists unclenching, and a meek expression comes over his face, evidently embarrassed by his behavior. Mylo doesn’t seem to register the change, only offers his partner a flourish and a bow as is his habit, but Claggor shares a meaningful look with Viktor, one that he tries not to meet.

He’s not sure how he should feel about this whole interaction but he’s sure the fuzzy feeling in his stomach is entirely misplaced.

“And your rivals are very much not behind,” Viktor adds, motioning for Jayce to hand him his cane, walking to the counter and flicking Mylo on the forehead when he gets there, “What are you really here for?”

Mylo looks helplessly back at Claggor, who just sighs, resting their prototype on the workstation. Both he and Jayce immediately pour over it, interested like a pair of magpies, as his brother begins explaining, “We’ve run into a few complications. There are a few kinks that need fixing before we can proceed, and–“

“And we’re not the mechanical engineers of the family, so we need some help,” Mylo continues, tapping the glass of their prototype in exasperation, before offering Viktor a pleading gaze, all puppy-dog like.

“Why not ask Powder or Ekko?” Jayce asks, curious, gaze fitting between the two brothers, who in turn look at each other.

“That was going to be our second resort,” Claggor confesses, shooting Viktor a warm smile, “But V is always our first choice in everything.”

The fuzzy feeling is back, this time fully justified. He likes this, the need to be needed, and he’s never one to turn down his siblings when they need help.

“Is this even allowed?” Jayce inquires as Viktor begins carefully tearing the machine apart under his brothers’s attentive gaze.

“There really aren’t many rules in this competition, different teams can help each other if they so see fit,” he muses, reaching for a screwdriver, and looks up at Jayce, “Unless you’re against it.”

As it turns out, Jayce is very much not against it. The four of them spend the better part of an hour looking over Mylo and Claggor’s work, talking through every hypothesis behind the kinks and fixing every last one of them as they go. When they finally do finish the machine whirs to life, reactive under Jayce’s expert hands, and Claggor whistles in satisfaction.

“You’ve once again worked miracles, V,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder gently. He recalls a time when he was shorter than him, one of the kids that would huddle around their older sibling and harass him into doing everything they wanted. Now, he’s as tall as Jayce, and a well-placed pat on the back could easily send him flying. How funny, the passage of time.

“Eh, you should thank my partner,” Viktor brushes the compliment off, motioning to Jayce, “He’s the man of wonders.”

Jayce very obviously preens under the praise, an information Viktor decides to file away for later, along with gets defensive of me. Claggor and Mylo stay a while longer, chatting about this and that and that other thing too, until they eventually leave, promising to bring Jayce and Viktor some breakfast the next day as a thank-you.

It’s only when the door closes behind their backs that Jayce rounds on him, amusement dancing across his face, “Do you have any other siblings hiding somewhere or is this all of them?”

Viktor laughs, leaning back in his chair to stretch his back. He hears a few bones pop with a satisfying sound, and smiles when Jayce winces at it, “That’s all of them. Five siblings, two dads. None of them related by blood.”

“And none of them have a last name,” Jayce adds, taking a seat beside him.

He shakes his head, meeting his partner’s gaze. It’s openly friendly, he would almost dare call it affectionate, and the fuzziness is back in full force, “Zaunites, very few of us have last names,” he shakes a hand, dismissively, before adopting a much thicker accent, “We were so poor growing up mama had to sell our family name to afford bread.”

Jayce laughs openly at his terrible joke and he smiles, feeling content and at peace. The energy source for their prototype whirrs in the testing chamber behind them, the sunlight of the setting sun is filtering through the window, painting his parters in hues of blue and orange.

He’s beautiful like this.

“Well, do you at least have a nickname?” Jayce asks after a moment in which Viktor panics at his own thoughts, “What do your friends call you?”

“My siblings are my friends, and as you can attest they tend to call me old man,” he replies, trying and failing to hide how much he actually loves the epithet, “I guess you can call me V.”

“V,” Jayce rolls the letter around his tongue, before smiling brightly, “I like that.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Does that mean that you will call me J?”

“Absolutely not.”

Viktor is busy working on one of his commissions – one of his neighbors had broken their music machine and had immediately sought him out to fix it – when Jayce comes in one morning, followed closely by a blue-haired girl. Viktor pauses, taking in her straight back, her darting eyes, and can’t help but smile. That’s the off-duty Enforcer that had called out Vi the first time Jayce had shown up in Ekko’s shop. Oh, this is going to be fun.

“I’m feeling at a disadvantage with your onslaught of siblings, so I figured I introduced you to mine,” Jayce says, motioning for the girl to step closer. She offers him a meek smile when her blue eyes land on him, still bright enough to light up the whole room, and Viktor immediately decides that he likes her, “Viktor, Caitlyn. Her family are my patrons and we basically grew up like siblings.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she offers him her hand, and he takes it, giving her a smile in return, “Jayce only ever talks about how amazing you are, so you better live up to the expectations.”

“Oh, does he now?” Viktor smiles mischievously, and turns to a flustered Jayce, who looks like he’s regretting ever letting his sister near him.

“Cait! I do not!” he whines, earning himself a deadpan look from both Viktor and Caitlyn.

“It’s incessant,” she confides, ignoring Jayce’s spluttering, “Every time we meet it’s all oh Viktor is so brilliant and oh Viktor is so smart, it’s actually pathetic.”

“Caitlyn Kiramman! I will walk you all the way back to Piltover and never invite you out again if you don’t stop this instant,” Jayce threatens, and Viktor is delighted to see that when he blushes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Jayce, it’s okay,” he shrugs, smiling good-naturedly, “After all, you haven’t said anything that isn’t true.”

His partner gapes at him for a moment, before covering his face with his hands, “I will actually kill both of you and then myself.”

“I’d love to see you try, Mr. please Cait get that mantis out of here or I will pass out,” Jayce splutters some more, and that’s when Caitlyn finally decides to take pity on the man. She turns fully to Viktor, leaning on the counter, and smiles, “As much as I’d love to stay here and humiliate Jayce further, I actually wanted to take a good look around the Lanes. I’ve only been here a couple of times and I don’t believe I did it justice. Do you have a good guide to recommend me?”

A spark goes off in Viktor’s brain and he smiles almost maniacally. This is going to be perfect.

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he says, then turns in his chair to face the sofa in the corner.

The sofa where Vi is sitting, motionless, staring at the newcomer.

She blinks, almost owlishly, before snapping out of her trance and sizing Caitlyn up like she would with an opponent in a fight.

“Oh,” Caitlyn says, leaning away from the counter, “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Vi smiles her most winning smile, getting up and sauntering towards them, all swagger and overconfidence condensed in her robust frame. To Caitlyn’s credit, she barely reacts, “I think we got off on the wrong foot, cupcake. How about a do-over?”

Caitlyn shoots Viktor an alarmed gaze, apparently not trained to deal with Vi’s flirting, and Jayce has to hide a laugh behind a cough, “You’d be in great hands, I assure you. And if she steps out of line, just tell me and I’ll be sure to report to our father.”

“Snitch,” Vi sing-songs at him, not taking her eyes off the Enforcer.

“Play nice,” Viktor warns, motioning for the door. Caitlyn hesitates only a second before accepting the offer with the same look of someone who has just been dared to do something highly questionable, and gives Viktor a little nod, Jayce a shove in the arm, before she’s off, Vi trailing after her and shooting both men a quick wink.

They’re silent as the door closes, just looking at each other. Jayce is still flushed, but he’s smiling, evidently amused by the interaction between their sisters.

Better change it.

“So… you think I’m brilliant?”

That night at the dinner table Viktor can’t help but remark that Vi’s head is very much in the clouds, smiling to herself as she stuffs her face with food. Apparently, he’s not the only one to take notice.

Claggor glances at his sister and smirks, handing Mylo a plate of potatoes, “So, are you going to share what made you this happy or are you just a big fan of Vander’s cooking?”

Vi’s next bite stops in mid-air as she looks around the table. Sure enough, almost everyone is looking back at her, curious, and she swallows loudly, mouth still half full, “’S good food.”

“Thank you, Violet,” Vander nods, scooping a healthy portion of food onto his daughter’s plate, “Though I don’t believe you answered the question.”

“Does it have anything to do with the girl you went out with today?” Silco speaks up, sipping his wine with a knowing look, and Vi starts spluttering.

“How would you know?” she snaps back, doing a proper good job of not blushing, though she’s fooling no one. Ekko and Powder share a look, intrigued, and Viktor carefully works at his food lest he be dragged into the conversation, “I thought you were too busy brooding in your office.”

“I see everything,” Silco jokes, tapping the cheek below his good eye, then it’s Benzo’s turn to jump into the conversation.

“Besides, you can’t very much take a girl shopping in your uncle’s store and not expect him to notice.”

Vi groans, throwing her hands up as her siblings snicker, “Fine. I gave a tour of the Lanes to Viktor’s partner’s sister,” she confesses, sees Mylo mentally walk himself through the family tree as she speaks, “There. There’s your gossip for the day.”

“You never told us Jayce had a sister,” Ekko interjects, this time pointing at Viktor. So much for staying out of the conversation, “I thought you guys were best friends, and you didn’t know?”

He takes his time swallowing his food, hoping that his brother will drop the matter, but it’s futile hoping, “Who said anything about best friends?”

“Please, you quite literally finish each other’s sentences,” Powder deadpans, and swiftly moves her legs out of the way when he kicks his good one under the table. He hits Vi instead, who almost chokes on her food, “Just admit it, V, it took you three decades but you finally got yourself a best friend.”

“Or maybe more than a best friend,” Mylo snickers, and Viktor decides right there and then to disassociate from the conversation. Thankfully it goes back to Vi and her supposed date – it wasn’t a date, how many times do I have to say it – and it saves him from acknowledging what he’s starting to realize are his growing feelings for Jayce.

Viktor is not ignorant of matters of the heart. You would assume so, taking one look at him, but he’s not. He’s introspective, spends most of the time with his own thoughts, so he can safely say that he knows his way around his brain and heart alike.

Others don’t seem to agree. It’s probably because he doesn’t voice those feelings, appearing aloof to those around him, but he’d had his fair share of snide comments about his supposed lack of tact. One comment in particular came from Claggor when he pointed out that a fellow Zaunite girl obviously had a crush on him, and that he was emotionally constipated at best or willfully obtuse at worse to not notice it.

Viktor did notice.

Viktor notices a lot of things.

As a matter of fact, the girl’s infatuation with him had been hard to ignore, but he’d done his best, turning her down whenever she offered to walk him back home or help him with one of his projects until the crush died down and she moved to other things, and other people. Not only does he, to use a metaphor, play for the opposite team, but he also simply never found anyone more interesting than his work to bother pursuing a romantic relationship with them.

That’s until a certain Piltie made his way into his life.

Falling for Jayce is slow, but painfully noticeable. It begins with little things, the more obvious ones, like Jayce’s sharp brain, or the way his hair falls in his face when he’s bent over the workstation, not to mention the arc of his back when he does so, but it surely devolves into more inane matters. Like the way he scrunches up his nose in disgust whenever he takes a sip of Viktor’s too-sweet coffee – something he’s still stubborn enough to keep trying, despite the taste never changing – or the careful way he pats Viktor on the shoulder whenever they make progress in their work, too exuberant to keep his hands to himself but attentive enough not to smother his partner.

Then Jayce gets invited over for dinner one evening, shyly taking his seat between Viktor and Silco, and the way he just fits right in, seamlessly, like he was always meant to be there does nothing to alleviate the butterflies in Viktor’s stomach.

He laughs, jokes, passes plates over the table, and Viktor pines.

He hands him his cane, points at something on the blackboard, welds pieces of metal together, and Viktor yearns.

He stretches his back, strong arms raised to the ceiling, groaning softly when a vertebrae pops, and Viktor longs.

Sooner or later, he’ll have to do something about it, about the onslaught of raw feelings he gets whenever he’s as much as in the mere vicinity of his partner, the need to reach out and touch him just to see if he’s as warm as he feels just standing next to Viktor, the desire to pull at that stupid cravat of his and throw all caution to the wind, but. Well.

He needs to compare data, so to speak. And he’s never been one to dismiss the scientific method.

His hypothesis gets confirmed approximately two months after the start of their partnership, on a day that Jayce spends fretting most of the time, leg bouncing as he sits, feet tapping as he stands.

It’s obvious (and annoying) enough that Viktor does ask him what his deal is on more than one occasion, but his partner just dismisses him, and they leave it at that. If he wants to keep his secrets, so be it, as long as he doesn’t drive Viktor insane with his little nervous tics.

He finally seems to snap as the afternoon slowly turns into evening, rounding on Viktor as they’re standing in front of an impressively long equation drawn out on the blackboard, “I heard there’s some sort of party to celebrate the beginning of the science fair.”

It’s spoken too carefully to be just a passing thought, something he’d heard, and Viktor frowns, looking back at him. Jayce tries a smile, one that screams I am just having small talk with you, no second motive. He doesn’t believe it for a second.

“There is,” he states, reaching out to wipe away a wrong number with the back of his hand, “It will be celebrated at the Last Drop, hosted by Vander. It’s something they do for the younger scientists, as I feel too old for it.”

Jayce fixes the equation, adding the correct number. Viktor tries to not think about how much he loves the mixture of their handwriting in one string of numbers, “Does that mean that you’re not going?”

The tone is odd, calculated, and Jayce is definitely up to something. He turns to him, sizing him up, and Jayce smartly avoids his gaze, “Why? Are you going?”

His partner frets, then turns, finally deciding to deal with this conversation face-first, “I wouldn’t go without you. I don’t know many people here, I think I’d stick out.”

“I didn’t really plan to go,” he says carefully, cataloguing each one of Jayce’s reactions, “I usually just show up out of politeness, then go hang out on the rooftop to smoke.”

Jayce blinks, “You smoke?”

Viktor’s mouth quirks in a flat line, “Jayce.”

“Right,” he shakes his head, takes a breath, lets it out, “Right. I just. Cait is planning on asking Vi to take her to the party. Although I’m pretty sure Vi is also planning on asking Cait out to the party, but that’s their own problem, not mine. And I figured I might– I mean, I’m okay with not going at all! Or showing up out of politeness, then going to the rooftop to smoke– actually I don’t smoke and don’t really plan to, I was just–“

“Jayce,” he stops abruptly, mouth snapping closed and cheeks coloring, and Viktor can’t help the smile that splits his face. Oh, the absolute oaf, “Are you asking me out?”

The blush intensifies, covering him nose to ears, and he nods meekly, “I suppose I am, yes.”

He’s standing up straight like a toy soldier, or like a man waiting to be executed, and Viktor ponders that maybe the fuzzy feeling he feels around Jayce is to be attributed to a specific sentiment that begins with an L, but more testing is required to reach that conclusion.

He shakes his head, he has to if he wants to get a word out right over the fucking fuzziness of it all, and can’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, okay.”

Jayce perks up, smile wide, “Yeah?”

“Yes, I will go to the party with you, Jayce,” he clarifies to avoid any confusion, then drops his head in his hand when the 28-year-old man does a fist pump in the air in triumph, “On second thought, I’m not going at all. Party? What party, there’s no party to be had.”

“Too late, no take-backsies,” Jayce giggles, actually giggles, before turning back to the blackboard, quite literally thrumming with excitement. He lasts about two minutes before he rounds on Viktor again, “Can I tell Cait?”

The fuzziness only grows, and Viktor smiles as it fills him inside and out.

Without meaning to, Viktor begins to look forward to the party more than the actual science competition itself. It’s silly, it’s foolish, yet he can’t help himself.

Their work progresses much as usual, making headway after headway, putting them miles beyond anyone else who’s entered the competition (in his humble option, at least), but now all of Viktor’s brain cells are dedicated to analyzing the way his hand brushes against Jayce’s when they’re standing together, or how his smile seems to brighten the entire workshop, or yet again the tiny glances his partner keeps throwing him when he thinks he’s not looking.

He never thought he’d find himself having a proper crush in his 30s, yet here he is.

It also doesn’t help that Jayce is just as far gone as he is. He’s caught him staring at him with what can only be described as smitten affection more times than he can count, and he now tries to find every opportunity to wrap Viktor up in a hug whenever he can, something he cherishes and thinks about when night comes and he’s laying awake in bed, alone. His breaking point had been when he’d accidentally fallen asleep at the lab one evening, and he’d awoken to a blanket around his shoulder and a note by Jayce gently telling him off for overworking himself, and that had been so much for Viktor to handle that he’d had to put his head in his hands and muffle a pathetic whimper under the blanket.

So, yeah. He can’t wait for the party, for the excuse of social interaction, and for them to retreat to the rooftop to live out the night their own way. And if he finds himself fantasizing about what, exactly, he wishes to do to Jayce when they’re alone, well, that’s his own business.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Viktor looks up from his work, currently busy testing out their prototype on a wide arrange of scrap material they’d collected from around the Lanes, and sees Jayce bouncing on his heels. It’s not a rare sight, he’s been giddy since he asked Vikor out a couple of weeks prior, but right now he’s properly beaming, and Viktor has no choice but to abandon his task.

“What is the occasion?” he asks as Jayce rounds the table to stand in front of him.

“No occasion, it’s just something I’ve been working on for a while,” he’s got his hands behind his back, hiding something, and Viktor’s interest is very much piqued, “I’ve just gotten around to it and, well, I’ve been dying to see your reaction.”

“Well, let’s see it then,” Viktor encourages, and watches as his partner produces a folded piece of paper from behind his back. He reaches for it, fingers brushing against Jayce’s, and unfolds it.

It’s a letter. Addressed to him, though there is no last name attached. Signed by the Dean of the Academy no less.

He skims over it, eyes growing wider with each word.

It’s a job offer.

“What…” he breathes softly, throat feeling suddenly tight, “What is this, Jayce?”

His partner smiles at him, but all warm and fuzzy feelings he would usually get at the sight of it are replaced by a sense of uneasiness, “I talked to Heimerdinger, and convinced him to offer you a position at the Academy. He’s looking for an assistant right now, and I told him all about our work and how smart you are and–“

“I don’t–“ he turns the letter in his hands, mulling over Jayce’s words, and finds that he’s not sure how to properly respond. He starts with the first thing he can think of, “I don’t really have any aspiration to be a professor’s assistant.”

“I know, but think about it,” Jayce argues, still smiling brightly, “You’d start small, but I’m sure you’d make your way up the Academy in no time. You could become an esteemed scientist!”

“I’m already a scientist, I don’t need to be esteemed to be one, and I don’t really care for fame,” he frowns, finding that the tightness in his throat has turned into a claw, clenching his poor esophagus. Surely Jayce isn’t saying what he believes he’s saying, “And I already have a job.”

He points around him, at the workstation, at the lab, and sees Jayce falter a moment, his voice getting an edge sharper, “I know, but… you would have a better-paying job, and get to work on whatever you want instead of having to deal with commissions.”

“I like having to deal with commissions,” Viktor replies, sensing his blood pressure spike up. A thread of defensiveness highlights his words, a sense of possessiveness for his hometown and his people, and he’s so incredibly confused by where Jayce is coming from, “I love what I do. I don’t need a fancy job with a fancy name to be satisfied.”

Jayce shakes his head, his smile long gone, and his voice is a little louder when he exclaims, “Well, at least you wouldn’t be working in the Undercity!”

A pause. It’s quiet enough he could hear a pin drop, but all he hears is Jayce’s breath hitching in surprise at his own words. He can see the exact moment he realizes what he’s said, his eyes widening, his hands coming up in a placating manner, as if Viktor could bolt at any second, and a grimace covers his face.

Viktor stands up straight on sure feet, and for the first time he’s taller than Jayce, whose back is hunched in regret.

“I didn’t–“

“I’m from the Undercity,” he spits, tone cold and emotionless. Jayce flinches, no doubt surprised by the hardness in his voice, but he can’t find it within himself to pity the man, “My family is from the Undercity. My friends are from the Undercity.”

“I know, I know, V, I didn’t mean–“

“I don’t need your charity, none of us do,” his fist is clenching around the letter, and he slaps it against Jayce’s chest, ignoring when the man’s hands come up to try and reach for him, “Life here has been good long before you, and it will keep being good long after you.”

“Viktor, I’m sorry, let me just–“

“Goodnight, Jayce,” he snaps, and heads for the door, their work long forgotten on the counter. For the first time since they’d become friends, Jayce doesn’t follow him out.

He refuses to head to the lab the next day.

He wakes up with a throbbing headache, the events of the prior day coming back to him in full force, and he groans against his pillow, turning over on the bed and fully intending to go back to sleep.

The utter nerve. To assume that Viktor’s life work is worth nothing compared to what they do at the Academy. To think that he could only ever be fulfilled if he worked in Piltover. To believe that anything or anyone in the Undercity is less than their topside counterpart.

He thought… well, he thought that Jayce was different. He thought they understood each other, thought that their bond wasn’t just built on a shared interest in science, but on something more profound, a deeper understanding of each other, their ideals, their desires.

Apparently he’d been wrong.

He’s so busy reminiscing on how much he had wanted to reach out and grab Jayce’s hand between his these last few days – something that makes him nauseous to even think about now – that he barely notices the knocking on the front door. He frowns, annoyed, and huddles further under the blankets.

“Go away,” he calls out, hoping that whoever it is will take pity on him and leave him be. They usually do, leaving him alone whenever he’s having a bad leg day – or a bad mental health day, for the matter – but instead he hears someone lean against the door.

“Open up or I’m gonna break it down.”

Vi. Of course.

He huffs, knowing that the threat is very much real, and forces himself to leave his cocoon and sit up. He reaches for his cane and winces when his leg twinges in pain beneath him, and crosses the short distance between his bedroom and the door. It’s a small apartment, compact in a way that has turned out to be useful for someone with issues ambulating like him, but cozy enough to feel well-loved.

None of the cold marbles and metals of Piltover, he thinks angrily.

He opens the door to an utterly miserable Vi. It’s no different from her usual self, she’s great at hiding her pain, but being her older brother he can see the subtle signs. The downturn of her mouth, the lack of glint in her eyes, the slouched posture. Whatever it is, it seems she’s having as much of a bad day as he is.

She’s holding two cups of coffee, and offers him one with a tired smile, “Got room for another lovesick fool?”

He doesn’t pretend. Not in front of his sister.

He steps aside to let her in, and follows her to the tiny couch in the equally tiny living room. She all but throws herself on it, sighing defeatedly, and he follows in a more organized manner, mindful of his leg. He has to get around to pulling on his brace sooner rather than later, but the mere thought is tiring more than the action itself probably is.

“So. What did your rich asshole do?” Vi is the first to speak up, her tone soft and understanding, and Viktor all but collapses against her, letting his head fall on her shoulder. She immediately responds to the touch, leaning her own head against his, and they both revel in the small display of affection.

“Offered me a job at the Academy,” he confesses. She’s the first one he’s said it aloud to. His family had thrown him odd looks all throughout dinner the day before, but he had just dismissed them, the hurt too raw to be fondled with, “Implied that I’m too good to be working in the Undercity.”

Vi scoffs, “Dickhead.”

He kind of agrees, but deep down he knows that Jayce isn’t at fault here. He probably thought he was doing him a favor, had framed it as a surprise, even. Didn’t realize how his words would come off, too much of an outsider to realize how wrong his innate opinion of Zaun is. Can you really blame a tree for being intrinsically made of bark?

“I think he meant well, but needless to say I wasn’t a fan,” he sighs, and scrunches his nose when Vi’s hair tickles his face, “I left and I have no plan of going in today.”

“I don’t blame you,” his sister takes a sip of her drink. Something black and bitter, no doubt, “If I see him around I’ll make sure to let him know what is what.”

He chuckles, “Please do not. It would give Vander a headache,” he pauses, “Plus, the fool has too handsome a face to have it smashed open.”

“Fine. But only because I love you,” Vi pats his hand on his leg, and he leans in closer.

A moment passes before he finally asks, “What did your rich asshole do?”

“Offered me a job, too. I bet they brainstormed their grand plan together,” another sip, then she hisses out the next words, “She asked me to join the Enforcers.”

Viktor freezes, and any offense he had taken at Jayce is immediately redirected toward Caitlyn, “She did not.”

Offering Viktor a high-paying job away from his family and hometown is tactless, out of touch, but overall harmless. Asking Vi to join the Enforcers is downright diabolical.

“Does she know…?”

“Not in full detail, but she does,” she sighs heavily, a sigh that weighs with its disappointment, “I don’t think she meant any harm with it, either, but. Gods. Can you imagine me joining the betty bracelets?”

“I’m sorry, Vi,” is all he can think to say, nursing his own cup of coffee. Now that he’s talking it out with another person he realizes that the anger inside him has taken the form of heartbreak, of losing trust in someone he deemed close, and he can’t handle it being something his sister is going through, too.

“I just,” she sighs, pushes her face into his hair, “I thought she was different. I thought she understood me. I thought I had been wrong, mistrusting the Enforcers all this time, thought maybe I could start to move on,” a scoff, and she props her feet up on one of Viktor’s many chairs he keeps around in case his leg fails him, “Loads of good it did me.”

“I don’t think that’s the lesson to be taken from this,” he says carefully. He looks out the window, at his world existing behind the pane of glass, and feels a pang of hurt at the mere thought of abandoning it, “They were both wrong, mind you, but I think they realized it too,” he looks down at his cup. The whitened coffee has no insight to offer him, “I think… we should still have faith in them. In humanity. And not take it too personally.”

“Aren’t you in a forgiving mood today,” Vi muses, and he snorts.

“I’m not, I’m still very much pissed at Jayce and I expect an apology,” he sighs. Gods, what had he been thinking, “But I’m not about to deny myself any happiness on the basis of being right.”

Vi seems to mull it over. A bird lands on the windowsill and they both stare at it until it flies back away, a few seeds secured in its mouth (Viktor is in the habit of leaving some out for them).

“Fine,” she settles on, crossing her arms, accidentally knocking their cups together, “But I’m not reaching out first. She has to go the whole mile. Might make her do Powder’s little apology dance, even.”

He chuckles, and settles back against his sister, “Now that I would love to see.”

“Your Piltie missed you,” Silco’s voice carries easily over the sound of the city below, smooth and comforting, “He came looking for you at the bar.”

Viktor doesn’t turn from where he’s sitting on the rooftop, legs dangling off the side of the building. The light breeze ruffles his hair and he breathes out the smoke from his cigarette, “He’s not mine.”

Footsteps as his father approaches, then finally sits next to him, looking out towards Zaun with him, “Could’ve fooled me, the way he was panicked at your absence at your workshop.”

He mulls it over, reaches for his packet of cigarettes and offers Silco one. He accepts gratefully, cradling the tip with one hand as Viktor lights it. Takes a deep breath, then lets it out. They watch the smoke from their cigarettes mingle and become one.

“Am I being unreasonable?”

Silco chuckles, leaning back and enjoying the view. It’s hard to tell where the lights of the city end and the stars begin, “I don’t think you could ever be unreasonable if you tried,” he says, fixing him with his good eye, “Violet has told me bits and pieces of what went down.”

“I never thought you’d be one to take interest in our petty gossips,” he points out, not unkindly, and Silco just smiles ruefully at him.

“You’re my children,” he says easily, like it’s natural, “Your gossips are part of your lives, which are part of mine.”

Viktor takes another drag of his cigarette. It warms him from the inside, but only for a moment, before he has to blow the warmth back out. He wonders if kissing Jayce would make the warmth stay longer.

“There’s something to be said, about forgiveness,” his father eventually settles on, flicking his cigarettes. Embers fly away in the breeze, soon to confuse themselves with the lights of the city, “I don’t think there’s anything harder to do, as a human being, than to accept your pain and move on from it.”

Viktor frowns. It’s not rare for Silco to get introspective, especially with him, but this is almost philosophical, “You believe so?”

He turns to him, pulls at his scarred eyelid with a finger, “I know so.”

Right. In the grand scheme of things, his disagreement with Jayce is incredibly childish, if not outright inconsequential. Silco seems to sense his thoughts because he shakes his head, taking another drag.

“You’re allowed to be hurt. I would be too,” he says, “But don’t let that hurt get in the way of a good thing. That man cares for you, I could tell from the first moment I saw you two together, but today showed just how much that is true.”

“He does?” he asks, hating how small his voice sounds. Silco just smiles, and raises his free hand to lay it on his shoulder. He gives a soft squeeze, and he feels like a kid all over again, being shielded by two odd men and offered a place to stay, eat and sleep. He just didn’t know he still needs those men as much as he used to.

“Trust me, I have an eye for these things,” he winks, evidently amused by his own bad joke, and Viktor can’t help but smile, “You’ve got something special going on with that boy. Don’t let it go to waste.”

He’s trying, and failing, to fall asleep that night when he thinks he hears something.

He stills under the covers, straining his ear to try and seek the odd noise, but all he can hear is his own heartbeat and the bustle of the city below. He’s about to dismiss the thought and go back to nursing his hurt heart when it happens again.

Ping!

It’s small, somewhere below his floor, but loud enough to be heard over the noise of the cityscape. He’s about to try and figure out what it could be when again–

Ping!

Something tiny hitting glass. He’s about to sit up to investigate when one of the windows below him opens.

“What!” Powder yells out, and he’s definitely not going to sleep now.

Movements from the lower floors, and another window opens, “Oh look who came crawling back. Typical.”

“Vi, I can explain–“

“I’m not the one you should explain shit to, buckoo.”

“What is this about?” Powder again, softer, then loud enough for Jayce to hear, “Is this about your fight?”

“It wasn’t a fight, it was–“

Another window opens, and a booming voice calls out.

“What in the hells is going on here?”

“It’s Viktor’s boyfriend, dad. He’s here to–”

“Oh he better be here to apologize, I’ll tell you that much–“

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“And that’s what I’m here to do,” Jayce tries to speak over Vi and Vander, and he can imagine him with raised hands, trying to placate the myriads of Zaunites he’s waking up, and failing miserably, “Can anyone point me to Viktor’s window please?”

“It’s right there at the top, on the left.”

Ping!

“My left, not yours, Jayce!”

Yet another window opens, and Viktor covers his face with his blanket, whining pathetically.

“Jayce? What are you throwing rocks at our window for?” it’s Claggor now, followed closely by a curious Mylo, opening a window of his own.

“Is this about your fight? Are you here to make up? Literally, perhaps?”

A groan from down below on the street, “Why do you people all live in the same apartment complex?”

“Oh, not good enough for the Piltie, is it?”

“Come on, that’s not fair, Vi.”

“Shut up Clag, I know what I heard.”

Another window opens, and it’s become a tragicomedy at this point.

“If I may, I think Viktor might be receptive to an apology,” comes Silcos’s voice, somewhere beside Vander, and really why are people who live together opening separate windows, even? “Do go ahead, he’s right up top.”

Ping!

“That would be the attic, son.”

He groans loudly, before throwing open his own window, narrowly dodging a flying pebble as he does so, “What!”

Seven pairs of eyes turn to look up at him. That would make for fourteen eyes, thirteen if we don’t count Silco’s. That’s a lot of eyes to have trained at you at eleven in the evening.

Jayce offers him a timid smile from the street, still visible despite the distance, “Hi,” he says, softly, “Can we talk?”

He looks down at him, leaning against the windowsill, and feels his heart ache in his chest. He glances at Silco, a couple of floors below him, and his father offers him a reassuring smile.

“I’ll buzz you in.”

Jayce is in his apartment. He had imagined him there countless times during just as countless sleepless nights, but he didn’t quite get the circumstances right. What he did get right is how much space he seems to take up with those wide shoulders of his, and the fact that he’s nervously standing around the entrance, eyes fixed on Viktor like he might disappear at any second if he stops looking.

“Stop hovering,” he admonishes, patting his shoulder with his cane as he walks by, headed for the sofa, “It’s unnerving.”

“Right,” Jayce breathes, making no effort to hide how he’s glancing around the room, taking in every detail. The family photos on the walls, the books overflowing on every flat surface, Viktor’s desk covered in different projects, “Right.”

Taking pity on the man, Viktor gestures to follow him, and lets himself fall back on the sofa. His leg aches in complaint, used to already being horizontal by this hour, but ignores it in favor of watching Jayce fret before he finally follows suit. He’s big enough that their shoulders brush. He doesn’t hate it.

“I just, wanted to apologize,” Jayce begins, carefully, turning his thumbs together, “For yesterday.”

Viktor doesn’t say anything back. He waits, watching as the man seems to gear up for the conversation, taking a deep breath in then letting it out.

“I didn’t realize how insensitive it would come off as,” his partner eventually says, glancing back at him. His eyes are open, honest, and Viktor fights the urge to look away, “It’s just… we have been working together so well, these past few months, the idea of it coming to an end is killing me.”

Viktor blinks, surprised. He hadn’t even thought of that.

“I want to keep working with you. As partners. As friends. But I didn’t see any reason to keep doing that after the competition is over so I tried to find a way to make it possible,” he chuckles, humorlessly, leaning his head on one hand, “It was stupid, in hindsight. I was only thinking of myself, how much I wanted you here, next to me, that I didn’t think how it would come off.”

His other hand raises, hesitant, and hovers over Viktor’s knee. Aching, he reaches for it, slotting their fingers together. He almost shivers with the contact – almost, but not quite – while Jayce doesn’t try to hide the shaky breath that leaves him at the touch.

“You’re a brilliant scientist and your work here for your community is admirable,” Jayce continues, voice much softer than his words would expect, “You don’t need a fancy job or a fancy title to be fulfilled, and I’m sorry for every implying that you do.”

Viktor finally breathes, feeling his chest much lighter, an uncomfortable weight being lifted, and offers Jayce a shy smile. He returns it, squeezing his hand, “Thank you, Jayce. I’m sorry, too, for being so harsh with you.”

“Honestly, it was deserved,” his partner chuckles, head canting forward for a moment, like he wants to touch it to Viktor’s shoulder or forehead, before aborting the movement at the last second, looking sheepish, “I’m sorry for being an idiot.”

He mulls it over, transfixed by their joined hands. Jayce gives him another squeeze, and he glances up, finding him already looking at him, “Just because we’re almost finished with a project doesn’t mean we should stop working together,” he says, and finally decides to cross the distance between them to lean his head against Jayce’s shoulder. He feels him stiffen for a second before he relaxes, going pliant under him, “We’re scientists. Inventors. I’m overflowing with ideas to try with you and I’m sure you are, too. No reason to end such a profitable partnership.”

“Profitable, eh?” Jayce jokes, playfully swaying left and right, carrying Viktor with him.

“You’ve had no problem working here in Zaun, and I could come over to Piltover when needed,” he pauses, thinks about his next words carefully, then very eloquently thinks fuck it, “We could get a lab near the bridge, halfway between you and me.”

His partner looks at him in surprise, then softens against him, carefully leaning his chin atop his head. He fits in seamlessly, like he was always meant to be there, “I think I’d like that.”

They sit in silence, the only noise to be heard is the ticking coming from the wall clock, indicating that it’s half past eleven. Jayce takes in a sigh, straightening up, leaving the safe cocoon against Viktor’s head, “I should probably head back. It’s pretty late.”

Viktor tilts his head this and that way, a thought occurring to him, “You could… stay here,” his partner blinks, evidently surprised. He just shrugs, “It is pretty late, and Zaun isn’t always safe. Neither is Piltover this time of night, for the matter.”

“I can’t sleep here,” Jayce scrunches his nose, pointing at the sofa, and Viktor’s heart pangs with affection, “I don’t think you could fit on this couch, let alone me.”

He fixes him with a look that is meant to be exasperated, but that he knows comes out as painfully fond, “I didn’t mean on the couch, don’t be daft,” he stands, patting Jayce’s shoulder as he goes, “There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. Help yourself to it.”

Half an hour later, after dropping by an amused Claggor to ask for a sleep shirt and pants that could fit Jayce, and after straightening his blankets to make his room look more presentable, they carefully get into bed. There’s a bit of awkwardness in the air, as they hover around each other, not sure how to act, but soon they find themselves laying face to face on the bed, wide enough to host them both quite comfortably but small enough that their knees end up touching. He doesn’t hate it, and doesn’t think Jayce does, either.

He debates with himself for a few minutes, before letting his head cant forward and come to rest on Jayce’s chest, under his collarbone. He can feel him breathe this close, feels him stifle a chuckle before he moves, one arm raising to carefully come rest on Viktor’s waist.

“Good night, Jayce,” he says, none of the spite and pain from yesterday, and lets himself be lulled to sleep by Jayce’s steady breathing.

(They wake up in a tangled mess. Apparently, Jayce is the kind to hang onto anything in his sleep, and Viktor can attest to it when he finds himself wrapped around in strong arms, Jayce’s head under his chin and what feels like a pool of drool drying on his neck. He’s beyond mortified when he wakes up, rambling about being a heavy sleeper, and Viktor laughs at him until his sides ache. Somehow, he falls a little bit more in love with him.)

The night of the party finally does come, and Viktor looks on in amusement as his siblings all scramble around the place, prepping the bar, making drinks and food, but most importantly trying to look their best. Ekko pulls out a nicely pressed suit, tying his hair back, Powder lets hers loose while Vi asks anyone she can find if they think Caitlyn will like her outfit, and Viktor finds himself being dragged to his sisters’s room before he can even think to stop them.

“Jayce will be here any second and Cait told me he’s putting on his best suit, you can’t show up looking like that!” Vi scolds him, dropping him in a chair in front of their bathroom mirror. Powder follows closely, rummaging through one of her drawers and pulling out more makeup than Viktor has seen together in his life.

“Like what?” he asks, trying not to sound defensive, and looks down at himself. He’s wearing his usual clothes, perhaps a bit casual but nothing to scrunch your nose at.

“Like a lab rat,” Powder replies for her sister, then produces a handful of clothes out of practically nowhere, throwing them in Viktor’s general direction and clocking Vi in the face instead, “Lucky for you, I knew you don’t have anything fancy in your wardrobe, so I went shopping at Mylo’s usual tailor.”

He takes the clothes from Vi, and looks them over. It’s a black suit, sleek and elegant, with a dark cravat and a burgundy button-up shirt. It’s not in his style, per se, but he has to admit it does look pretty nice.

“Alright, I understand the clothes,” he eyes Powder carefully, watching as she plucks more and more objects from the drawer. He recognizes eyeliners and mascaras but his knowledge ends there, “What about… all that?”

His sister bats her eyelashes at him. She must’ve put something on them because they’re longer than usual. She looks pretty good, and he smiles despite his nerves, “I think some eyeshadow could really make your eyes pop.”

“Sources tell me Jayce loves your eyes,” Vi sing-songs, evidently enjoying herself too much.

“Plus, the suit would go great with some dark eyeshadow, think about it.”

He blinks, tilts his head, “What’s eyeshadow?”

Eyeshadow, as it turns out, is something that looks exceptionally sexy on him, to borrow Vi’s words. It takes them a while to get the look together – most of the time is spent trying to undo his leg brace in the illegally narrow bathroom and then doing it again – but soon he’s fastening his cravat, looking at himself in the mirror from under darkened eyelids.

“I think…” he begins, carefully turning to properly take in his look. He sees his sister bounce on her feet, excited, and he can’t help but smile, “I think this looks good.”

“Good? You look amazing,” Powder shoves at him, not unkindly.

“It really does make your eyes pop,” Vi agrees, proffering him his cane, which he takes gladly, “Now let’s go and find your boyfriend.”

“He’s not actually my boyfriend, you know,” he comments, begrudgingly dragging his eyes away from his reflection.

“If things go according to plan tonight, he will be,” Powder states matter-of-factly, “And several people will walk away 20 bucks richer.”

When his eyes finally land on Jayce on the other side of the bar he finds himself breathless. He never thought he’d be the kind to fall into such corny cliches, but he does.

He hasn’t spotted him yet, he’s busy showing Caitlyn around, their arms interlinked, and he’s a sight to behold. He, too, has opted for a dark suit, but while his follows the Zaunite fashion, sleek like the towering buildings around the Last Drop, Jayce is wearing something that would probably befit a councilor, a dark blue with embroidered golden swirls around the sleeves and buttons. He glints under the purple-and-pink lights, and he realizes with a pang in his heart that he’s everything he wishes for.

Jayce glances around, evidently feeling watched, and when their eyes finally meet he stops in his tracks, making Caitlyn bump into his side. Luckily for her, Vi is soon there to sweep her off her feet, both literally and metaphorically, which now leaves Jayce and Viktor alone, or as alone as they can be in the middle of a busy bar.

He tries for a smile, feeling incredibly out of his element, and makes his way towards his partner. He glances at the side, where Vander is prepping cocktails for his guests, and he gives him big thumbs up before going back to his work.

They meet in the middle, and Jayce is the first to break the silence, “You look amazing.”

He immediately blushes, surprised by his own outburst, and Viktor smiles something smitten, “Thank you. You look great, too,” he points at his face, quirking an eyebrow, and a thrill goes through him when Jayce hungrily follows the movement, “You don’t think it’s too much?”

“Not at all,” he gulps, and he never thought he’d ever manage to render his partner quite so speechless yet here they are, “It makes your eyes look even more yellow.”

The Powder in his head jumps in triumph. The Viktor in his head yells somewhere among his synapses.

The Viktor in the present reaches out for Jayce, palm facing upward, and is thrilled when Jayce meets him halfway, covering his hand with his. There’s a sizable difference between the two, Jayce’s is bigger, and that stirs something in Viktor’s gut.

The music shifts to something slower, the few people on the dance floor pairing up to swirl around aimlessly, and Jayce offers him a meek smile.

“I know you’re only here out of politeness before you sneak away for a smoke, which I’m totally here for, but would you care for a dance?”

It’s a simple question, spoken softly, so soft he almost misses it, but the way Jayce is holding his hand suggests that it means everything.

He nods, transfixed by his partner, and lets himself be led to the dance floor. He’s not one to be dragged around so much, despite his siblings’s tendency to physically carry him in and out of rooms whenever and wherever he’s needed, but he does feel out of his depth here, and allows Jayce to take the lead.

Tes yeux pourraient me voir comme un rempart, comme un abri.

He sees a few people properly slow dancing, following steps and taking turns bending each other down, while others are doing what he can only describe as interpretive dancing, but Jayce doesn’t seem to want either of those. Instead, he simply pulls Viktor closer until they’re only a few inches apart, and hesitantly places his hands on his hips.

J'aurais volé le soir confié tes peines à la nuit.

“This okay?” he asks, lowering his head so that he can speak in Viktor’s ear and be heard over the noise around them, and he shivers, knowing full well that Jayce can feel it through his hands – the very hands that react by squeezing just lightly at his waist.

“More than,” he sighs, and lets himself get lost in the music, swinging from side to side. His pendants – borrowed from Powder to replace his usual steel hoops – sway with each movement, and Jayce keeps track of the arc they form, transfixed.

Ou les porter sur mon dos, sur mon dos.

“I know it was only a day, but I really missed you,” his partner says, not bothering to hide the affection coating his words. It’s almost too much, the fondness of his eyes, the tenderness of his tone, and Viktor feels like he could fall in it if he’s not careful.

He smirks, feeling a surge of boldness, and pulls Jayce closer by his golden lapels, “Well, we can’t have that.”

Je t'aime après la guerre, si c'est trop, si c'est trop, je t'aime après l'enfer.

He hears Jayce’s breath hitch as he presses himself closer to his chest, resting his head against his collarbone. This close he can hear Jayce swallow, mull over his next movement, before strong arms come around him, pulling him even closer. He’s not sure where one begins and the other ends, their feet shuffling, mindful of his cane, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating against each other.

What he does know is that when he dares to place a kiss at the very base of Jayce’s neck he gasps, like an electric shock went through him. He smiles, can’t help but recreate the experiment to see if he’ll get the same result, and his time Jayce’s arms come around his neck, effectively hiding him from sight.

“V,” he warns, tone tense, though he does nothing to deter him, “Your whole family is here.”

“I heard someone might win 20 bucks from this,” he muses, placing another kiss, slightly higher this time, and letting his tongue peek out enough to taste Jayce’s skin. Skin that immediately gets covered in goosebumps as its owner swears under his breath, “Plus, I like to start rumors.”

“It’s gonna be more than a rumor if you keep it up,” his partner says through gritted teeth. Mmm. Teeth. He revels in the gasp that leaves Jayce when he nibbles at the skin he just licked, and before he knows it a strong hand has come up to his chin, pushing him back as dark eyes meet his, “Don’t start shit you don’t plan to finish.”

He smirks, and like the bastard he is sticks out his tongue to lick the thumb close to his lips. Jayce looks at him like he’s simultaneously amazed and terrified of him, “Who said anything about not finishing?”

His partner blinks, once, twice, three times, before he nods to himself. He must’ve walked himself through a thought process or two because next thing he knows he’s suddenly aware of his surroundings again, of the slow music having turned more lively, of people starting to mill around the dance floor, of Jayce’s breath as he leans down to his ear and whispers, “Wanna get out of here?”

They find their way up the rooftop. The music from the bar is loud enough to still be heard up here, but at least they’re alone, and Viktor can finally breathe and clear his mind.

He goes to light a cigarette, the habit coming easy to him, and smiles as he hears Jayce shuffles behind him, hands on his shoulders, “Are you sure this is safe?”

“I haven’t died yet,” he points out, taking the first drag and letting it flow out into the city air. Jayce mumbles something or another, just to be contrary, but then finally does sit next to him. He doesn’t let his legs dangle like Viktor does, preferring to stay cross-legged, and it’s quite the look on him. Big, wide adult man, sitting like a kid.

“What.” Jayce deadpans, knowing full well what Viktor’s different smiles each mean, and no doubt guessing that he’s being made fun of in his head. He just shrugs, letting his cigarette dangle from his lips. He doesn’t miss the way Jayce stares at them.

“Nothing, just finding you adorable,” he points to his once slicked-back hair, the wind running through it mercilessly, “You look like a raven chick.”

Jayce frowns. Contrary to a fault, “What do you know about raven chicks, anyway?”

“Loads of ravens and crows in the Undercity,” he says, leaning on his good leg so that he can turn towards his partner, “They have blue eyes.”

“The ravens?”

“The chicks. That’s how you know it’s a juvenile, by its eyes.”

Jayce hums. He’s not sure how they’ve gotten from necking to ornithology yet here they are.

His partner is silent for a while, so they just sit there, admiring the city landscape. The stars are out tonight, reflecting themselves in the dark windows, and it hits Viktor once again just how much he loves this city. How much he’s lucky to share it with someone else.

Jayce seems caught in his thoughts, too, except that when he speaks them aloud they’re nothing like what Viktor had expected, “Can I try?”

Viktor frowns, looking down at his cigarette, then back at Jayce. He has a mad glint in his eyes, like he’s plotting something, which could be anything, from what to get for lunch to an experiment that could blow up the lab, “I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“I don’t, but I would like to try.”

He takes a drag, holds it in, and is about to pass the cigarette over to Jayce when strong hands cup his face and he’s being pulled forward into a kiss.

He immediately melts into it, hand going limp and cigarette tumbling to the street below, and exhales in surprise in Jayce’s waiting mouth. He’s just about to fully reciprocate, get some tongue action so to speak, when the absolute oaf of a man pulls back spluttering like an actual baby.

“Gods, that’s awful!” he spits, swiping at his tongue uselessly, and Viktor just watches on in amusement, “How could you even enjoy smoking that?”

“You thought you were being romantic,” he states, crawling forward towards his partner, “You thought that was sexy.”

“Yeah, of course I did! What else would I do that for?” he tries for a whine but it dies in his throat when Viktor paws at his legs, asking permission, he nods, numbly, and watches on in amazement as Viktor makes his way into his lap. His leg twinges in discomfort at the position, but he ignores it. There are more important things to deal with, such as:

“You could have just asked me for a kiss, you know?” he points out, arms coming to rest around Jayce’s neck.

His partner rolls his eyes, though it’s not very effective, what with him having another man in his lap and furiously flushing at his presence, “Not very romantic, now, is it?”

“Indulge me.”

Jayce looks up, huge, dark eyes meeting Viktor’s, reflecting the stars above them. He’s all ruffled, the wind taking no pity on him, and he probably still tastes the smoke on his tongue, and he’s his.

“Kiss me.”

He leans forward, capturing Jayce’s lips again, and this time neither pulls back. He makes quick work of Jayce’s pliant mouth, licking his way in, and the thrill that runs through him when the man moans underneath him is certainly memorable. He expected his partner to want to take the lead, but just like most of their work he’s happy to follow Viktor, leaning this and that way, letting his head fall back when Viktor pulls at his hair, and opening his mouth wider when he thumbs at his bottom lip.

He eventually pulls back, takes a moment to look at his handiwork – Jayce’s pupils are blown wide, and his lips are swollen where Viktor is pressing his thumb against them – before diving for his neck teeth first, earning himself a surprised yelp.

“Isn’t this– ah, fuck – isn’t this kind of a public space, still?” he gasps, though he does nothing to deter Viktor, baring his neck to his ministrations, straining underneath him, being overall exceptionally receptive.

“It is,” Viktor agrees, sucking a mark right on Jayce’s pulse point, smiling against his skin when that makes him curse something fierce. He pulls back, looks at him, and licks his lips, loving the way his partner’s eyes follow the movement, “You’re sleeping here.”

Jayce nods, dumbly, “Oh absolutely.”

“You’re not walking home like this.”

“What would the people think.”

“It’s best to adjourn to the bedroom.”

“A sensible choice,” Jayce nods, empathically, before all but throwing himself at Viktor for another kiss.

They win the competition.

They almost miss the first day of the fair, too busy wrapped in each other’s arms – and legs, and lips – but they make do. Nobody mentions anything about their current state, or Jayce’s blossoming hickeys, though he does see Mylo and Claggor hand some money to Powder.

The adjudicators deem their prototype a game-changer, and they’re given grants to make it a reality, build the actual mining arm. Viktor is so happy he doesn’t find it within himself to complain when Jayce pulls him into a kiss right there and then.

Heimerdinger himself sends his congratulations. He makes no mention of the job offer, but does let them know they can refer to him for any help they may need.

The workshop is a bustle of activity, Vi and Caitlyn chatting on the sofa while Ekko and Sevika play cards in a corner, and Jayce and Viktor look down at their workstation, filled to the brim with new ideas, projects, and commissions.

“Well,” Jayce says, throwing an arm around him. He lets himself be pulled closer, and smiles when he feels a kiss being dropped into his hair, “Time to get back to work.”