Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A change was looming, impossible to ignore. Two pairs of watchful eyes followed Viktor and Jayce around with all the stealth and subtlety of twin house cats waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Not that their “surveillance team” had any real authority. They were six and seven years old, after all. But authority, Viktor had learned, wasn’t always about age. Sometimes it was about persistence – and in that department, both Mae and Elara were relentless. They also begged a lot, of course; Mae most vocally in gestures and voice, like a lawyer in training. Elara played the long game, her approach quieter but far more difficult to counter – small nudges, perfectly timed sighs, eyes that mirrored her father’s talent for patience.

Their combined petition read as followed:

Nr. 1: It wud bee more fun if Papa and Daddy lived tugether!!

Nr. 2: We wudnt hav 2 pack r stuf bak an forth all the timee <3<3<3

Nr. 3: We cud hav moovie nites evry day!!! ^^^^

Nr. 5 (4): Daddy is nicee an brings cendy :)

At first, Viktor brushed them off, lips twitching into a tight smile as he adjusted his glasses. “This is not how housing arrangements are decided,” he would mutter, earning dramatic groans from both girls. Jayce fared no better; his answer was usually a laugh and a playful ruffle of Mae’s hair, which only made her squeal indignantly and shove him away.

But the weight lingered heavy in the air anyway. The house already looked lived in by more than two. Viktor’s mug sat beside Jayce’s on the counter every morning. Elara’s books piled next to Mae’s crayons on the den floor. Coats hung doubled on the hooks by the door. And when Viktor wasn’t there, Jayce caught himself glancing at the kitchen doorway, expecting him to walk in.

So maybe the girls weren’t wrong. The idea felt reckless and tender all at once, like leaning too far over a balcony rail. It wasn’t about convenience. It wasn’t about the petitions in bubble letters and backwards “r”s. It was just – complicated.

Weeks slipped by before Jayce finally worked up the nerves to ask. 

“Dinner?” he asked one evening, leaning casually against the doorframe like it was no big deal. His arms were folded loosely, but there was a telltale bounce in his knee, a betraying sign of anxiety. “Just you and me.”

Viktor blinked, completely caught off guard, fingers lingering on the rim of his teacup. “Dinner?” he repeated slowly. “But what about the girls?”

Jayce’s mouth curved as he pushed himself off the doorframe, closing the distance in an easy stride that somehow still managed to make Viktor’s chest feel tight. “Don’t worry,” he murmured.

Before Viktor could question further, Jayce leaned down and pressed a quick, oddly suspicious kiss against his cheek. “It’s taken care of.”

Jayce’s car rattled with the sound of giggles and the occasional high-pitched whisper that wasn’t nearly as secretive as the girls thought. Mae and Elara were plotting in the backseat, heads bent close like tiny masterminds while he drove them across town. Every so often, their laughter would spill out, filling the car so loudly Jayce wondered if the whole block could hear.

He pulled up in front of Vi and Caitlyn’s townhouse, his stomach tightening in a way that made no sense. It was just a sleepover drop-off. Normal.

“Alright, here’s the deal, girls,” Jayce announced, turning in his seat with such seriousness, as though he were about to brief them on a top-secret mission. In each hand, he brandished their favorite chocolate bars. “This is… an incentive. For keeping your mouths shut about the fact that your Daddy and I are going out tonight.”

Mae’s eyes narrowed instantly, suspicious, so much like Caitlyn’s that Jayce had to fight the urge to laugh. “You mean Aunty Cait.”

Jayce groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes. Aunt Caitlyn specifically.” His voice lowered to a whisper, as if Caitlyn could hear everything within a 5-mile radius. “She doesn’t need to know every detail.”

Before he could say more, Elara leaned forward and plucked the chocolate out of his hand, no hesitation, nodding like a true business woman – it’s very obvious that her favorite aunt was Mel. “Deal,” she hummed, already unwrapping it like the conversation was over.

Mae, however, sat back with her arms crossed, nose wrinkled in consideration. She was clearly weighing her options – how much trouble she could stir, and what it was worth. Only after a long, theatrical pause did she reach out and snatch the bar, though not without giving her dad a look that promised this wasn’t over.

Jayce squinted at her knowingly. “Don’t even think about it, bug. Remember the cookies you swiped last week?” He arched a brow, his voice smug in that infuriating way only dads could manage. “Yeah. No extra bargains.”

Mae groaned loudly, collapsing against her seat like she’d just been caught in the greatest heist of the century. Elara, already chewing contentedly, offered a muffled, “Told you so,” which only made Mae’s glare sharper.

When they all piled out of the car, Caitlyn opened the door – and immediately froze at the sight of Elara. Her brows shot up, gaze darting from Mae, to Jayce, and finally back to the grinning little girl at Mae’s side. “…Did you–” Caitlyn’s voice carried that same icy tone she used when interrogating suspects. She pointed directly at Elara, who waved enthusiastically as though she’d been invited. “Did you kidnap her?”

Jayce nearly fumbled Mae’s overnight bag right onto the stoop. “What? No! Goodness, Cait, come on!” His voice cracked in sheer panic, as if he’d been caught red-handed in some serious crime. “She just… wanted to come too, alright? They planned it. Don’tmakeitathing.”

Caitlyn didn’t move, one perfectly arched brow climbing higher in that terrifyingly patient way that made him sweat. Behind her, Vi leaned casually against the doorframe, already biting back a grin. “I’m not even–”

“Okay, great, thanks– Bye!!” Jayce blurted, panic winning. He shoved Mae’s bag into Caitlyn’s arms like it was contraband, tossed an awkward wave in Vi’s direction, and turned heel down the steps faster than either girl had ever seen him move.

“Very subtle, professor!” Vi called after him, her muffled snort of laughter chasing him all the way back to the car.

Now, with Viktor staring at him in wary confusion, Jayce only smiled. “They’re fine. Trust me.” He pecked him on the lips this time, thumb brushing over Viktor’s hand. “Tonight’s just for us.”

Viktor raised a brow, lips twitching despite himself. Then came the indulgent sigh, the one that always gave Jayce a little victory thrill. “Fine,” he murmured, though his eyes betrayed him; clearly amused, carrying the spark Jayce craved. “Just the two of us. But,” he added, tilting his head with challenge, “you better get ready fast.”

Jayce grinned like a man who had just been handed the world.

Later, he showed up at Viktor’s place and – for all the gravity of who they were now – it startlingly felt like something ripped straight from their youth. That nervous anticipation between them, the same electric feel Jayce remembered from nights spent sneaking out, from eye contact across classrooms.

Viktor closed the apartment building door behind him, shoulders squared as though this were a routine already, while Jayce sat waiting in his car, careful not to press the gas with his leg bouncing so much. It was almost laughably cliché – a teenage kind of date-night ritual – but this time, they both knew exactly what they wanted. Each other.

The passenger door opened with a click, Viktor sliding in, accompanied by a huff. The moment he looked at Jayce, though, he stilled. Jayce had… done something to himself. His hair, usually messy and curlier as it grew out, a look Viktor had always secretly liked, was slicked back and neat, styled the way he used to wear it back in high school.

For a few beats, Viktor just stared, his lips twitching like he was caught between laughter and disbelief. Jayce, painfully aware, tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he started driving, his chest prickling with embarrassment he hadn’t felt since he was seventeen.

Then, Viktor reached over and mussed it with his long fingers, sending the neat lines into disarray.

“Viktor!” Jayce hissed, scandalized, batting weakly at his hand while trying not to swerve into the wrong lane.

Viktor only leaned back into his seat, the faintest smirk curling at his mouth, his fingers lingering just long enough to make Jayce’s skin burn. “That’s better,” he murmured, tone deceptively casual but his eyes brighter than the headlights. “You always looked more like yourself this way.”

Jayce’s ears flared, a heat creeping up his neck and settling squarely across his cheeks. He tried desperately to school his expression into something neutral but his brain betrayed him entirely. His hands twitched against the wheel.

“You–” he started, voice cracking just a fraction. Jayce cleared his throat, cursed under it, and tried again. “You… like it… like that?”

Viktor hummed. He leaned back just slightly, letting Jayce squirm under his gaze, enjoying the victory of knowing exactly what he’d done to the other man’s carefully maintained composure. “M-hm. Much better.”

Jayce’s chest went tight. He could feel it, a strange, fluttering pressure that made him want to melt into the seat. I’ll never touch gel or scissors again. Ever.

At the restaurant, Jayce kept himself in check. He didn’t leap ahead to open Viktor’s door, didn’t hover the way others did. He let Viktor walk at his own pace, didn’t constantly ask if he needed help. And though Viktor said nothing, though his face gave away little, his heart softened in warmth at the absence of fussing. At being seen not as something fragile, but simply as himself.

They slipped into their seats across from one another, the red liquid in their wine glasses reflecting the orange glow of the cozy lamps above. Somewhere between the second glass and their laughter over a menu item that had clearly been lost in translation – “chicken of the sky”? Really?” – Jayce’s face shifted, his eyes darkening with a mixture of nerves and resolve.

“So,” he began between a sip of wine, “what would you think… about living together?”

Viktor blinked, caught off guard. “Already?” His brow furrowed, perplexed, though not unkind – just something caught somewhere between curiosity and caution. “Jayce… that feels… a bit too soon, does it not?”

Jayce immediately nodded, holding up both hands, a little defensive, a little hopeful. “Yeah, yeah, no, I don’t mean full-on, like– we’re not storming each other’s places yet. Not like that.” He paused, swallowing, his fingers brushing the rim of his glass. “Just… spending more time at my place. Bringing over some of yours and Elara’s things. Making it feel… less like you’re just visiting. Like it’s ours.”

Viktor tilted his head, studying him across the table, his heart tugging in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Too soon? Maybe. But unwelcome? Not even close.

Viktor hummed, and speared another bite from his plate. He chewed thoughtfully, eyes flicking up to Jayce with that sly smirk that could make any grown man melt. “I’ll think about it…”

Jayce groaned dramatically, tipping his head back like someone performing a tragic opera. “C’mon, Vik! Give me a straight answer. Or I swear, I’ll publicly humiliate you again.”

Viktor’s fork paused mid-air, and he leveled him with a sharp, almost predatory glance. “You would not dare,” he gritted, deadpan.

Jayce leaned forward anyway, resting his chin on one hand, smug as ever. “Valencia ring a bell?”

The fork clinked against the plate, a very restrained sound. “That was… different,” he muttered, picking up his wine glass to hide his rising pink flush.

“Different?” Jayce echoed, eyes sparkling, grin widening until it nearly split his face. “You looked like you wanted to strangle me, and the entire restaurant thought it was the most romantic thing they’d ever seen.” He slid his hand across the table, slowly interlacing his fingers with Viktor’s. “I could do it again here.”

Viktor’s reply was wordless, but eloquent: he slid his leg under the table and delivered a precise kick to Jayce’s shin – sharp enough to make him yelp, gentle enough to avoid drawing attention from the waiter hovering nearby while squeezing his hand like an Anaconda trying to kill him

“Ow– hey!” Jayce yelped, retreating his leg and rubbing it, glaring at his partner. But the challenge in his eyes didn’t falter. Arms crossed, he stared Viktor down like a general refusing to surrender, even as his lips twitched with suppressed laughter. Sometimes Viktor wondered if Mae was a spitting image of Jayce or the other way around – or maybe they just both had a bad influence on each other.

Viktor let out a long sigh, deep from his lungs, though the smirk tugging at his mouth betrayed him. His eyes softened, the fight draining away as easily as it had sparked. “…Fine,” he conceded.

The moment the news were broken to the girls, nothing could separate them anymore. Mae and Elara immediately claimed the den. Every pillow and blanket in the living room vanished into their colossal fortress, a mountain of fabric in the center of the floor. When they clambered in, triumphant, they announced it was now their “office.” Inside, with crayons and glitter pens, they drew up a co-parenting schedule like they had any kind of education in bureaucracy. Mondays: Dad J. makes dinner. Tuesdays: Dad V. helps with homework. Wednesdays: movie night. Thursdays: Dad V. makes pancakes.

Sliding the completed masterpiece across the coffee table, they looked up like strict generals daring anyone to argue.

Jayce laughed so hard he almost tipped his wine glass. Viktor muttered something about inefficient distribution of labor, but neither of them refused it.

After that, Viktor started staying over more often. Mornings were the first to change. He’d be in the kitchen before anyone else, brown hair rumpled from tossing in Jayce’s far-too-comfortable bed, sleeves pushed up as he measured out grounds like a chemist. The coffee he brewed didn’t sear Jayce’s throat or taste like someone had wrung out a car battery. It was warm, smooth, something that actually woke Jayce up in the morning.

Jayce, of course, pretended not to notice a difference. He made a point of grimacing at the first sip, mumbling something about “not bad” while reaching for his second cup… then his third. Viktor never called him out on it, though there was always the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he was perfectly aware of the hypocrisy.

One morning, Jayce grinned over his mug and said, “We’re gonna need a chore wheel at this rate.”

The wheel never happened – because Viktor wasn’t one to be instructed. The stuck kitchen drawer that Jayce had learned to wrestle closed with a hip bump? Smooth within the next week. The flickering hallway bulb Jayce had ignored for months? Replaced before he even thought to buy one. The door that squeaked loud enough to announce Mae’s midnight snack raids? It suddenly fell quiet one evening, a newfound oil can now tucked under the sink as precaution.

One afternoon, when Jayce came home earlier than expected and Viktor had a day off, he stopped short at the sight in his living room. Viktor was on the couch, shirtless (due to the kids’ shenanigans forcing him to wash all his clothes daily now), and folding their combined laundry. Shirts were stacked in neat towers, socks paired without a single orphan left behind – a miracle Jayce himself had never achieved.

At the bottom of the basket, though, Viktor’s rhythm faltered. His hand brushed against familiar fabric – an old hoodie, navy blue, the university crest barely clinging on after too many washes. Jayce had forgotten it existed, forgotten how often he used to wear it on nights when the empty space in his house felt like a weight pressing down. Viktor held it for a moment longer, thumb grazing over the worn hem as if debating whether to acknowledge it.

He didn’t. He slipped it over his shoulders, hood hanging low against the curve of his neck. He adjusted it once, tugged the sleeves down to his wrists, then returned to folding clothes like nothing at all had happened.

Jayce stood in the doorway, pulse tripping over itself. His throat tightened, chest a little too full for the air it needed. He said nothing – because what was there to say, really, when every word would come out too… let’s say, immature?

But Viktor, of course, noticed him anyway. His head tilted, smile ghosting on his mouth, never lifting his eyes from the shirt he was smoothing flat. “Didn’t know you were so sentimental, Talis.”

Jayce opened his mouth, and nothing – absolutely nothing – came out. He just stared, stupid and struck, like Viktor had folded him instead of the laundry.

“And it still fits like a glove,” Viktor went on, chuckling under his breath. He tugged at the loose cuffs. “Although, I admit – it’s not exactly my style anymore.”

Jayce finally broke free of his trance, words tumbling out before his brain had a chance to stop them. “I’m really struggling not to make you take that off – including the rest of your clothes – right now.”

The room went very still. Viktor’s fingers froze, the fabric slipping from his grasp. He looked up slowly, expression deadpan in a way that should’ve defused the moment – but the slight bloom of color rising along his neck said otherwise.

“Jayce Alejandro Talis,” he warned flatly, mouth caught between a scold and a smile.

Mae barreled through the back door, shoes still on, leaving streaks of wet mud across the kitchen tiles and smudging the rug in a fine, dirty line. Jayce’s shoulders tensed before he even fully processed it; the day had been long, the project deadlines merciless, and the last thing he needed was a miniature tornado leaving destruction in her wake.

“Mae Ximena!” His voice snapped, sharper than he meant. It cracked like a whip, echoing too loudly in the small space. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the knot of tension in his chest. “What did I tell you about coming in with your shoes on?”

Mae froze, one foot hovering above the floor, mud glistening on her little boots. She turned slowly, eyes wide. “I– I forgot–”

“Forgot?” Jayce ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. “Mae, look at this!” He gestured at the rug, the muddy trail, the chaos of the kitchen. “Do you think this just cleans itself? Do you know how long it took me to get this all in order after work?” His voice boomed, unintentionally thunderous, and he immediately winced at the volume.

Mae’s lip trembled, and her small shoulders slumped as if the weight of his frustration had landed squarely on her. “I’m sorry, Dad…” she whispered, voice small as a raindrop.

From the couch, Viktor set down his mug with a harsh clink. “Jayce,” he spoke calm but cutting, “that is enough.”

Jayce turned toward him, pulse still racing from the day more than the mess. “She tracked mud all over the–”

“She is a child,” Viktor cut in, his accent thickening as his patience thinned. He pressed his cane to the floor and pushed himself upright, the tap punctuating his words. “Children make messes. It is our task to guide them, not to frighten them. She has apologized.”

Mae shrank further behind Elara, who had materialized at her side without a word, arms folded across her small chest. She stared at Jayce with a fierce glare that only a seven-year-old could summon, as if daring him to speak another word.

Jayce’s throat worked, shame and defensiveness tangling tight. “I wasn’t shouting,” he muttered, though the echo of his own voice in the kitchen still rang in his ears.

“You were,” Viktor replied evenly. He didn’t raise his tone, but each word landed with a precision that stung more than anything else could have. “I understand your frustration Jay – but as adults, we should not let our bad days decide hers.”

The words dug under Jayce’s ribs, where guilt already burned hot. He hated the look Viktor gave him – disappointed, as if he’d fallen short of something he should have known better than to break. It made the panic rush up in him, quick and ugly, and the words slipped out before he could stop them, cruel in their haste:

“She’s not your daughter, Viktor.”

The silence that followed was devastating.

Viktor’s expression didn’t flare with anger the way Jayce almost wished it would. Instead, it went still, like a door quietly locking from the inside. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkened, and that was somehow worse than shouting. For one aching second, Jayce thought Viktor might argue, might meet him head-on. But Viktor only adjusted his shoulders, setting them straighter, and reached for his mug.

He didn’t say a word. He just rose, cane tapping against the floor, and crossed the room with a dignity that made Jayce feel even smaller. The front door opened, closed again quietly – wood on wood, but heavier than stone.

Jayce stood rooted, lungs tight, his chest a hollow ache. The words replayed in his head, sharp and ugly, a thing he hadn’t meant but had still let slip.

What the hell did I just do?

Later, the house was uncomfortably quiet.

Upstairs, the girls were tucked away in their rooms after cocoa, bellies warm and shoulders unknotted. Jayce had sat with them at the kitchen table, head bowed, and apologized from the bottom of his heart. He crouched down to Mae’s height, told her he’d overreacted, that he shouldn’t have raised his voice. He’d asked her to help him fix the mess instead of scolding, and she and Elara had jumped at the chance, giggling as they dabbed at the muddy streaks with damp cloths. The tension broke slowly, like sunlight creeping back after a storm. When Mae finally hugged him, cocoa mustache and all, Jayce pressed his nose to her hair and promised her he’d try harder to be patient, no matter how long his day had been.

Now, hours later, his own mug sat abandoned on the counter, tea long gone cold. Jayce moved his glasses up to rub a hand over his face, shame still heavy, before finally pushing himself toward the porch. There was one more apology left to make.

The night was cool. Viktor sat in his chair, blanketless, his tea untouched beside him, staring into the dark horizon as if it would answer something. His guitar rested across his lap, fingers tugging at a melody too unfinished to be called a song but somehow, the chords sounded familiar.

Jayce stepped outside carefully, almost timid in his own home, the weight of a folded blanket in his arms. “...Hey,” he began, voice softer than the night air. “You’ll catch a chill.”

Viktor didn’t look up when Jayce draped the blanket over his shoulders. He glanced down briefly, fingers pausing on the strings, before resuming the strumming. Jayce recognized the tune now: Kissing in Cars by Pierce The Veil.

Jayce stayed standing for a moment, awkward in the doorway, before lowering himself onto the seat next to Viktor. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he admitted, staring at his hands. “Any of it. I was tired, I was frustrated, but none of that makes it okay. Not to Mae. Not to you.”

The chords faltered again, Viktor’s head tilting slightly, though his gaze remained fixed on the darkness in front of them.

Jayce swallowed hard, searching for something – anything – that could make it right. “I am so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have–” His breath stuttered, hands curling uselessly on his knees. “You’ve done more for Mae than I could’ve asked for. You’re the one who sits with her when she’s anxious, who teaches her things I never even thought to explain. Elara trusts me because she sees how much Mae trusts you. That’s not… that’s not something I can ever take for granted.” His voice cracked under the weight of his conscience. “You’re not just some… passing piece of this. You’re family, Viktor. Whether we planned it or not.”

For a beat, Viktor remained still. Then, slowly, he shifted, turning just enough for his gaze to cut sideways, tired eyes catching Jayce in their periphery. He studied him for the truth. “Words are easy, Jayce,” he murmured, fingers brushing over the strings again though no sound came. “Too easy, sometimes.”

Jayce’s chest tightened. “Then I’ll prove it,” he said, almost pleading now. “Every day, if I have to. I’ll prove to you – and to them – that I mean it.”

That earned him the smallest twitch of Viktor’s mouth, almost humorless. “Mm. You are still very stubborn, I see.” But after a pause, he let his shoulder press against Jayce’s, his body angling in. The guitar shifted in his lap, a chord breaking the stillness.

Jayce let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and slid an arm around Viktor, holding on like he might never get another chance. He pressed a kiss into Viktor’s temple, voice barely audible. “I’ll do better. For all of you. I swear it.”

This time, Viktor didn’t pull away, instead pulling at the guitar strings again. He let the chords play softly between them again, his weight settled against Jayce’s side. After a long moment, he spoke again. “Do not swear, Jayce. Just… keep showing up.”

The outlook wasn’t exactly safe. The ladder rattled every time you touched it, bolts whining like they could pop loose, and the whole frame tilted just enough to remind you that a wrong move meant tumbling straight into the bushes below. But for Jayce, that was the point. Nobody else ever came up here. It was quiet, just him and the skyline, somewhere he could breathe without teammates yelling, without professors breathing down his neck.

Except tonight, it wasn’t quiet.

Halfway up the ladder, Jayce paused. A sound filtered down through the creaking metal – a… guitar? Someone was up there, plucking strings, and singing, though the voice was almost swallowed by the night.

“Your face is the first thing I see…”

Jayce blinked, the rungs cold under his hands. Raccoons he could handle. Ghosts? Mayhaps. But ghosts with a guitar? That was new.

“The first time I’ve seen love…”

He climbed slower, one rung at a time, until his head peeked over the edge of the platform. And–

“BOO!”

The sound that ripped out of the guitar was hideous, a metallic screech that could’ve woken the entire Lanes. Viktor jerked so hard he nearly lost his grip, fingers splayed across the strings like claws trying to silence a beast. The instrument gave one last pitiful twang as he spun around, wide-eyed, black bangs falling into his face, and a glare venomous enough to melt steel.

“Jayce!” His accent sharpened the syllable into a curse. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jayce flinched, guilt written plain across his features as he scrambled the rest of the way up, nearly tripping over his own boots. “Sorry, shit– sorry! I didn’t know it was you! I thought–” He faltered, caught under Viktor’s blazing stare. “I thought it was, like… a raccoon or something.”

For a beat, there was nothing but the night wind between them. Then Viktor blinked, incredulous. “…A raccoon?”

Jayce winced, shoulders hunching. “…A musical raccoon?” he offered sheepishly.

Viktor’s mouth pressed into a thin line, his whole posture radiating disbelief. For one dangerous second, Jayce was sure the guitar was about to be weaponized and hurled straight at his head. But then the corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched upward, the tiniest betrayal of amusement. He turned back to the instrument instead, plucking a chord as though to prove his composure had never cracked.

“And the last I’ll ever need…”

Jayce, relieved, dropped onto the platform beside him with all the subtlety of a sack of bricks. His grin crept back unbidden. “So… you play guitar.” 

“No,” Viktor said bone-dry, “this is a blender.”

Jayce burst out laughing. Viktor’s chord faltered again, but this time he didn’t snap – he only shook his head, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “idiot.” The taller shoved his shoulder lightly against Viktor’s. “Okay, okay, point taken. But seriously; why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

Jayce groaned, dragging a hand through his hair until it stood up in every direction. “That’s cheating! You knew I’d freak out. You know I love this stuff. And you’ve just been – what? Secretly serenading raccoons with PTV behind my back?”

Viktor didn’t even dignify him with a glance. His hands stayed moving, coaxing notes out of the guitar as though Jayce’s outrage was just background noise. Jayce couldn’t stop watching; the way his fingers trembled sometimes, but never enough to ruin the rhythm, the way he ducked his head like the music was safer to look at than Jayce was.

“You remind her that your future would be nothing without her…”

“You’re really good,” Jayce hummed while following the curl of Viktor’s thin hands with his eyes.

“I am not,” Viktor shot back instantly, almost too fast, like Jayce had just cast a curse on him. His accent sharpened the words, but it didn’t hide the flush creeping up his ears. 

Jayce grinned, leaning an elbow on his knee as though to better study him. “You are. Way better than me. I tried guitar once. Snapped three strings before my teacher quit.”

That startled a short laugh out of Viktor, his shoulders shaking just slightly. He shook his head, still plucking at the chords, refusing to meet Jayce’s eyes.

“Never lose her, I'm afraid…”

Jayce sat there, pretending the goosebumps on his arms were from the cold. Pretending his chest didn’t ache just from watching Viktor’s hands move. Pretending he wasn’t already falling, hard and fast.

“Better think of something good to say but it's…”

He leaned back on his palms, forcing casual into his voice even as warmth bloomed, hot and dangerous, behind his ribs. “So,” he drawled, tipping his head like he wasn’t afraid of the answer, “who’s this ‘she’ you keep singing about?”

“All been done more than once…”

The question hit its mark. Viktor’s fingers faltered just once, a snag on a fret, a dissonant twang that betrayed him, before smoothing back into the melody. His eyes stayed down, lashes casting shadows. “…There is no ‘she.’” – which technically, wasn’t untrue.

Jayce let out a hum, tilting his mouth into a lopsided smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hmmm. Right.” He made it sound like an easy joke, but the words tasted bitter as they lingered on his tongue. Because if it was someone – if Viktor had someone – Jayce wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“So I'll keep on trying…”

So he didn’t push. He just let the silence stretch, let the notes fill it instead. The song was so hesitant and intimate, like it wasn’t meant for an audience at all, only for the space they shared. Jayce hummed along under his breath, his eyes fixed forward but his attention hopelessly tilted sideways – toward Viktor.

And maybe Viktor knew. Maybe that was why his hands trembled on the strings, why he never looked up.

“Oh, God, don't let me be the only one who says…”

Jayce nudged his sneaker against the wood, the dull thunk carrying louder than he meant it to. He tried to look relaxed, shoulders loose, like his heart wasn’t lodged somewhere inconveniently close to his throat.

“Y’know,” he started, aiming for offhand but landing somewhere more sincere, “if you ever wanted… I’d love to hear more. I mean–” he gestured vaguely at the guitar, at Viktor, at the space between them (though, Jayce had already scooted so close, it was zero to none), “–just us.”

“"No" at the top of our lungs…”

Viktor didn’t look up. His expression stayed composed, but the betraying color now crept into the apples of his cheeks. His fingers carried on, though Jayce noticed the way his thumb lingered too long on one chord, as if buying time. “…I’ll consider the offer,” Viktor murmured.

And that was all. Jayce caught the pink in his ears, the pause, the way Viktor’s playing seemed more private now. It was enough to make Jayce’s chest pull tight.

So he just smiled and let the silence say the rest.

“There's no, no such thing as too young…”

The cinema smelled of butter, old carpet and that tang of moldy velvet. This building was the epitome of those small neighborhood places that hadn’t been renovated in decades but definitely should have – yet could never lose their charm. The screen glowed bright in the dark, flickering over rows of occupied seats. Jayce and Viktor had settled near the very back, knees brushing, sharing a tub of popcorn that balanced on the armrest between them.

It was their one quiet time in the week: date night. Mae and Elara had been left with Vi and Caitlyn for the evening under the excuse of Jayce’s mother “needing help with her dishwasher.” She didn’t own one.

Jayce and Viktor had claimed two seats near the very back, knees brushing, sharing a tub of popcorn perched precariously on the armrest. Jayce kept inching his arm toward Viktor’s shoulder before pulling it back, face flushed in the dark. Viktor, amused, let him hover a few more seconds before finally taking the initiative, curling their fingers together and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Jayce’s hand.

For once, Viktor allowed himself to relax, head tipped slightly toward Jayce, the warmth of his presence–

Until his spine went rigid. “You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

Jayce’s heart skipped in alarm. “What? What–?” He half-expected there to suddenly be an entire zoo a few rows down, judging from Viktor’s horror, but… when Jayce followed the line of his vision, he nearly groaned aloud. It was almost worse.

Because there, unmistakably, sat Mel Medarda. Regal posture, designer scarf, those golden accessories in her hair catching the pale light of the projector. And beside her – was Sevika. She had one arm draped over the back of Mel’s seat, smirk plastered firmly in place, already clocking them: I know what you are.

Jayce’s mouth went dry. “Oh no,” he hissed, barely able to get the words out without drawing attention.

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Why wouldn’t she be here of all damn times?”

It was too late. Sevika had already spotted them the moment they walked in. Jayce could see it clearly now – the curl of her smirk sharpening with recognition, the tilt of her head like a predator savoring a catch. Her prosthetic arm caught the glint of the screen, and the smug satisfaction radiating off her could have filled the entire theater.

Both men sank into their seats, a silent, shared groan between them.

Sevika snorted, loud enough to turn a few heads, as if announcing to the world that she’d just witnessed something scandalous. “Shhh,” hissed someone from the row behind, blissfully unaware of the chaos she was orchestrating.

Jayce’s hand found Viktor’s under the armrest, gripping just a little tighter. Viktor, cool and composed – or at least trying to be – pressed a finger to his lips, eyes narrowing with restrained irritation.

Mel, meanwhile, was leaning toward Sevika, whispering something animated, clearly confused why her girlfriend was ignoring her commentary on the film. Slowly, she followed Sevika’s line of sight.

Her gaze landed on them.

She froze.

For a long, horrifying beat, she simply stared; expression flickering from surprise, to calculation, to hot betrayal. Then her eyes narrowed, sharp enough to draw blood. In a perfectly silent, venomous pantomime, she mouthed each word, stabbing her manicured finger toward them with every beat:

“YOU. TWO.”

Jayce went stiff, like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner. Viktor, meanwhile, took an innocent sip of his soda, refusing to flinch. “Do not react,” he hissed through his teeth. “If you react, she wins.”

Mel threw her hands up in exasperation – silently, of course; even she wouldn’t dare disrupt a film – but her glare lingered, molten, unblinking. Beside her, Sevika leaned back further in her seat, clearly delighted, giving them the laziest salute imaginable.

Another round of “shhh” rose from annoyed patrons, and Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose again. “This is ridiculous.”

Jayce coughed into his fist to hide his awkward grin, leaning close enough that his breath stirred Viktor’s hair. “So… do we leave? Or pretend we don’t know them?”

“Pretend they do not even exist,” Viktor replied without missing a beat.

Mel’s eyes narrowed further, clearly mouthing something else now – longer, angrier. Viktor did not look. Sevika, however, definitely noticed Viktor’s stubborn posture, because her grin spread wider.

Jayce nearly lost it when Sevika casually leaned over and plucked a kernel of popcorn from Mel’s lap, earning herself a furious silent swat.

The film droned on, utterly ignored by half the back row.

Jayce practically vaulted into the car, slamming the door behind him. “Oh god, Sevika’s going to tell everyone! Mel is going to put me back on coffee duty. I’ll be demoted to high school science fairs, I know it!” His hands were fidgeting, one gripping the steering wheel too tightly, the other drumming nervously on the dash.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, his tone low. “Are you… ashamed of me?”

Jayce nearly swerved, jerking the wheel before catching himself. “What! No– oh my god, no. Never.” He ran a hand through his curly hair, exhaling sharply. “It’s… it’s just a lot. My divorce is only a year ago, okay? I don’t want people thinking I’m… some lonely douche.”

Viktor’s lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. “Ah. Reputation. Of course. Between the Noxus project and–” He gestured vaguely toward the dashboard. “–you.”

Jayce groaned, pressing a hand in front of his mouth. “I just… we haven’t exactly been public, and now Mel’s glaring daggers at us in a theater! Sevika’s probably preparing an announcement.”

Viktor leaned back, utterly calm. “I understand. People will talk. But you are not alone. And neither am I.” He intertwined his fingers with Jayce’s free hand, giving a small, reassuring squeeze. “Whispers, gossip, even a dozen cinema rumors; none of it can touch what we have.”

Jayce glanced at him, eyes tracing every line of his face. “I know. It’s just… a lot to process. Not the you part, I–” He paused, worrying his bottom lip. “–really like you, more than I can say. That part is easy. It’s… the rest.”

Viktor’s thumb brushed lightly over Jayce’s knuckles slowly, grounding him. “Then let us focus on what matters. Now. In this car. You and I. Not the rumors, not the deadlines, not the coffee duty or science fairs.”

Jayce exhaled, letting the tension melt from his shoulders. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if Sevika starts a newsletter about this, I swear–”

Viktor’s amused hum cut him off. “Then I suppose I will read it. With you beside me, of course.”

Jayce shook his head, laughing despite himself, fingers relaxing on the wheel. “You really have no shame.”

“And neither do you, my love,” Viktor murmured, leaning closer to press a kiss to the back of Jayce’s hand. “Now focus on the traffic, or we’ll have the next rumor about us being road hazards.”

Jayce had barely made it halfway down the hall between lectures, fingers around Viktor’s sleeve, intent on tugging him into a deserted corner for a quick, private moment, when a firm grip seized the collars of both their shirts from behind.

“Not. So. Fast,” Mel’s voice cut like a whistle through the corridor. Both men froze, startled.

“What– Mel?!” Jayce spun around, but she held them fast, eyes sparkling with an unreadable mix of anger and pure fury. Viktor leaned back slightly, trying to pull free, but Mel’s hold was ironclad.

A quick shuffle and many protests later, and they were planted like scolded children on the plush chairs in her office. Mel perched on the corner of her desk, arms crossed, staring down at them as though they’d been caught conducting unauthorized experiments.

For a moment, there was sterile silence. Then she suddenly leapt up from her position, eyes wide, grin spreading like wildfire. “How could you not tell me? Congrats! I’ve been waiting for this! I was practically counting the days!”

Jayce opened his mouth to reply, Viktor started to shake his head – but before a word could leave either of them, Mel’s expression twisted. Her brow furrowed, eyes narrowing like twin lasers. “I mean, how could you not tell me? I’ve been your best friend since high school! How could you keep this from me?!”

Neither had time to answer before her shoulders sagged, and she was suddenly sobbing into her hands, muffled little hiccups escaping. “I’m just so, so happy! I missed you both! You had me worried for weeks! I can’t believe you’re finally… together!”

Viktor finally cleared his throat, chuckling softly, and Mel blinked, looking down at him with tear-streaked cheeks. “Mel,” Viktor began gently, squeezing Jayce’s hand away from her view, “we didn’t mean to keep it from you. We just… we needed to work through our pride first. Jayce and I–”

“Yeah,” Jayce added, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “We were idiots. But we’re finally past it.”

Mel exhaled, shoulders lowering, a small laugh bubbling out of her. “Finally. Finally, you two stop making my life a soap opera.” She shook her head, still giggling, reaching over to poke Viktor in the shoulder. “But I am happy. I really am. You both deserve this – I meant it, I’ve been waiting forever.”

The three of them sank back into the chairs, laughter filling the room as the couple caught her up on what exactly had happened. Even the pile of paperwork on Mel’s desk couldn’t compete with the warmth and chaos of friends finally being honest – and in love.

The moment Mel finally kicked them out – apparently remembering a Teams meeting she had completely forgotten – Jayce pounced. His heart was hammering, adrenaline and relief mixing into a jittery sort of boldness.

“Now. About those ten minutes,” he breathed, fingers curling around Viktor’s arm. “I missed you.”

Viktor arched a single brow, lips twitching with that mix of amusement and disbelief that Jayce had come to know so well. “You saw me this morning. And just now.”

“Doesn’t count,” Jayce shot back, tugging him toward the narrow supply closet behind the biology wing. His movements were careful as he didn’t want to alert anyone and yet there was an ushering to them. He clicked the door shut behind them. “Wasn’t enough.”

Viktor’s sigh was theatrical, the kind that made Jayce want to laugh despite the way his chest felt like it was about to explode. “Jayce Talis,” he said, rolling his eyes, “renowned professor and absolute teenager.”

Jayce said nothing, only let the words fuel the want in his chest. He stepped closer, lips pressing against Viktor’s in an urgent kiss. This time it wasn’t gentle, wasn’t polite or teasing. It was claiming, rougher and more desperate than either of them had allowed in public.

Viktor let out a muffled chuckle into the kiss, his hands finding Jayce’s shoulders. He didn’t pull back; instead, he leaned in, tilting his head just enough to deepen it. The smell of caffeine and citrus from their morning rituals mixed with Viktor’s cologne and cigarette smell, and Jayce thought, absurdly, that he could die happy right here, right now, in this cramped supply closet.

They stumbled between shelves of jars, microscopes stacked precariously, and boxes of chalk. Each laugh vibrated through the kiss, each shared breath mingled, their teeth bumping accidentally, tongues brushing, all of it electric.

The door creaked ominously under the weight of their fumbling. Viktor froze, nose brushing Jayce’s. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” he muttered, eyes gleaming in the slit of light.

Jayce grinned, tightening his hold around Viktor. “Then I’ll just kiss you until you forget to care,” he whispered, letting the words trail into a heated, lingering press of lips.

Viktor’s lips quirked into a reluctant smile, free hand sliding up to rest on Jayce’s shoulder again, thumb tracing idle, intimate patterns. “You’re incorrigible,” he breathed.

“And yet, completely irresistible,” Jayce shot back, tilting forward, pressing another desperate kiss to Viktor’s mouth.

Viktor chuckled into it, pressing Jayce back just enough to regain balance on his cane. “Ew,” he said disgusted, but his eyes betrayed him, glowing with amusement and warmth.

Jayce laughed, leaning in again despite the protest. “You love it,” he murmured, lips brushing Viktor’s jaw.

The evening wind whipped across the rooftop, tugging at Jinx’s blue braids and rattling the edges of a chain-link fence. She sat crouched low, can in hand, letting a swirl of cobalt and neon pink blossom across the concrete wall.

“That’s not legal, you know,” Caitlyn called from the stairwell.

Jinx spun, a streak of paint slashed across her cheek, grin flashing like a neon warning sign. “Neither’s that ugly trench coat,” she shot back, tossing the can lightly in her hand.

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow, arms folding over her chest. “Touché,” she admitted, stepping forward.

For a moment, they just watched, silence made bearable by the hiss of spray paint and the occasional metallic clang from the fence swaying in the wind. Caitlyn leaned back against the brick, gaze lingering on the mural as if it were a living thing. Jinx dabbed at a smear on her cheek, smudging it further rather than cleaning it off.

“So,” the shorter girl piped up after a pause, tilting her head and smearing a streak of bright orange across the wall with a flick of her wrist, “what’re you even doing up here? Keeping tabs on me, Ms. Local Law Hero?”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched into the smallest, tight-lipped smile. “Something like that. There’ve been complaints… about spray painting. I had a hunch who it might be. And I needed to see Jayce anyway.”

Jinx’s grin softened, but only slightly. “Jayce, huh? Thought he’d be stuck in his ivory tower all the time.”

Caitlyn’s eyes drifted to the glowing cityscape beyond the fence, almost wistful. “Sometimes even the ivory towers have cracks.”

The wind shifted again, scattering a few loose papers from the stairwell behind Caitlyn. She bent to scoop them up, tucking the crumpled sheets under her arm. “Kids disappearing from the streets again,” she murmured quietly. “All Zaunites. There’s… more happening than the Council wants to admit.”

Jinx leaned against the wall, paint can hissing as she set it down, fingertips smudged with various colors. She shrugged, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t bother. Change doesn’t come from the top.”

Caitlyn nodded slowly, her eyes tracking the sun dipping behind the sky scrapers of Piltover. “Something we can both agree on.”

Jinx smirked, smudging one last streak of paint with her thumb and flicking it toward the wall like she was marking territory. “Maybe. Or maybe we just both like watching the world burn – in different color palettes.”

From their perch on the fire escape, Caitlyn and Jinx’s eyes suddenly locked on the pair slipping through the campus gates; Jayce, Viktor close at his side, looking oddly… intimate.

Both of their mouths flew open at the same time, a simultaneous “Wait… what?!” escaping in disbelief.

For a long beat, they just stared at each other, disbelief mirrored in wide eyes. Then the panic hit, a perfectly synchronized jolt. 

“I HAVE TO TELL VI!”

“I HAVE TO TELL EKKO!”

They froze, realizing the volume of their outburst, hearts pounding. Neither moved for a second, the campus below oblivious to the chaos above. Then, without exchanging a word, instinct took over – they bolted in opposite directions, sprinting toward the nearest exit with the same single-minded determination reserved for stopping a heist, a disaster, or anything that might ruin the world… or at least their best gossip.

It’s late. The girls are asleep. The living room is quiet, the hum of the refrigerator and the rustle of trees outside the window the only sound. Jayce sat on the couch, lost in thought, when Viktor appeared from the hallway, holding a worn, battered box. He set it carefully on the armrest.

“Letters?” Jayce asked, curiosity flickering in his voice, though a small crease of concern tugged at his brow. 

“To you,” Viktor replied quietly. “I never sent them.”

Jayce blinked, hesitation hovering in his chest before he lifted the lid. Inside were neatly stacked envelopes, some yellowed at the edges, others bent and folded from repeated handling. He picked up the first one, dated back to college. The handwriting was furious, like it had been written in a storm of anger and longing.

Viktor shifted slightly beside him, cane tapping against the hardwood floor. “I… I wasn’t ready, back then,” he murmured. “I couldn’t… I didn’t know if you’d want to hear it.”

Jayce swallowed, fingers brushing over the paper. “Viktor… you don’t have to–”

Viktor shook his head, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “I want you to. I want you to see everything I felt. Everything I still feel.”

Letter #1, shortly after the incident:

Dear? Jayce,

I don’t know why I’m even writing this. Maybe because if I don’t, it’ll all rot inside me and I’ll explode. I hate you. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate that every stupid thing you do sticks in my head. I hate that I can’t…

God, I can’t even finish that sentence without wanting to scream. I miss you. I hate missing you. I want to tell you everything I’m thinking, but I can’t because I’m too scared, because every time I try, I picture you walking away and I…

I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. But I can’t let it go. I shouldn’t even be writing this, but I am. I want you to know I’m alive, that I’m thinking about you, and it’s killing me to think you might be moving on without knowing what you mean to me.

—Viktor

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ ‎♡‧₊˚

Letter #2, after his first date:

Jayce,

I don’t even know if this makes sense. I… I started seeing someone. She’s kind, bright, she laughs at the right things – but every time I try to talk to her, or even think about her, my brain – my heart – snaps back to you. To us. To the stupid things we did, the reckless nights we spent pretending the world didn’t exist. The fact that I can’t stop thinking about you is unfair to her, and maybe to me.

It’s not about her. It’s about you. And yet, I feel like a fool, because here I am, dating someone else, and all I want is to tell you, to make you see that I never stopped wanting you – but I can’t. I can’t put words to it.

God, it’s maddening. Every time she smiles at me, I think of your laugh, the one that makes the air feel lighter. Every time she brushes my hand, I remember yours, the way it fit perfectly against mine. How are you supposed to move on from someone like that?

I should stop. I should stop torturing myself. But I can’t.. Not when every choice I make reminds me of the one I didn’t make with you.

—Viktor

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ ‎♡‧₊˚

Letter #3, dated from his wedding day:

Talis,

I’m supposed to be happy today. Everyone tells me I should be thrilled, smiling, moving forward. And yet… here I am, sitting in this small room before the ceremony, and all I can see is you. The memory of you. The laugh that claws into the corners of my chest. The way your eyes made me feel like maybe I could be enough.

I never stopped wanting you. Not once. And yet, here I am, saying “I do” to someone else – because it seemed like the right thing to do. Because I convinced myself that I couldn’t be what you needed, that I had no place in your life after I left. But it’s too late to go back, isn’t it?

The world is watching. They expect celebration. I feel hollow. And still… a tiny part of me hopes you’ll never fully forget. I hope that wherever you are, you’ll remember us – not as mistakes, not as lost time, but as…

I’m terrified, Jayce. Terrified that I’m about to spend my life where my heart isn’t. Terrified that you’ll have moved on entirely, and I’ll never be able to tell you again. But I want you to know this, even if you never read it: I never stopped loving you.

—Viktor

જ⁀➴ ✉︎ ‎♡‧₊˚

Many years had seemed to pass until the next letter, dating to Elara’s birthday.

Letter #4, when Elara was born:

Dear Jayce,

She’s here. Tiny fingers curling around mine like she’s already staking her claim on the world. I never imagined I could feel this much at once – love, fear, wonder… and a gnawing ache for everything I’m missing. I wanted it to be different. I wanted to be free to share this moment with you.

She’s perfect. Terrifyingly perfect. And yet, I’m trapped in the shadows of a life I didn’t choose, tied to a marriage that feels like a cage. I’m supposed to be happy, but all I can think of is what I lost – what I should have had. And here she is, a piece of light in the corners of my life I can’t fix.

I want to do right by her. I want to love her in a way I never got to love before. I want to protect her, teach her, let her grow beyond the walls around me. But God… I wish you were here. I wish you could see her, Jayce. I wish you could see what she makes me feel, even in the middle of all this… wrongness.

—Viktor

Jayce’s voice was barely more than a thread. “You’ve always been the only one,” he confessed, each word dragging up years of silence and regret. “I was just… too much of a coward to say it.”

For a heartbeat, Viktor didn’t move. Then he leaned in, closing the space between them. His hands rose, fingers trembling slightly as they cupped Jayce’s jaw, thumbs brushing over the heat blooming in his cheeks. His touch was featherlight despite the weight behind it, so reverent. “Say it now, then,” Viktor whispered.

Jayce swallowed hard, pulse hammering against Viktor’s thumbs, and finally let the truth spill free. “I love you,” he said, the syllables catching. “I loved you then. I love you now. And I’ll probably love you when we’re bitter and old and Elara won’t let us rearrange the furniture because she’s tired of us fighting about where the sofa should go.”

It should’ve been ridiculous, but Viktor’s laugh cracked out uneven, halfway to breaking – part disbelief, part sheer relief. The sound slipped out like sunlight breaching a long, dark morning. His shoulders eased for the first time in what felt like years. “You’re assuming we’ll live long enough for arthritis and matching slippers.”

Jayce tilted his head, eyes shining with a mix of mischief and tenderness. He leaned harder into Viktor’s hands, greedily soaking in the heat of his touch as though afraid it might vanish. “I’m hoping,” he whispered back. “I’m hoping every day we get to hope. Even on the stupid ones.”

Viktor’s forehead rested lightly against Jayce’s, their breaths mingling in a rhythm that had taken years to find. “Then we’ll hope together,” he murmured softly.

Jayce stood, the golden glow of the living room lamps deepening his dimples as he smiled. He hit play on the speaker, letting The Night We Met by Lord Huron fill the space. Viktor groaned under his breath, rolling his eyes, but the laughter that bubbled up betrayed him, the sound Jayce would spend lifetimes chasing. “Oh, my god,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable. Such a sap.”

“I am not the only traveler…”

Jayce only grinned wider, extending a hand as if he were about to lead him onto a ballroom floor instead of a cluttered living room. “Another dance, perchance?”

“Who has not repaid his debt…”

Viktor raised a brow but his fingers slid into Jayce’s anyway. That familiar warm contact was enough to make Jayce’s chest squeeze with the nostalgia of that one summer night. Viktor stepped closer, and almost immediately their feet tangled, Jayce bumping awkwardly into the coffee table. Viktor’s laugh spilled against his collar, and Jayce quickly shifted, steadying him before gently offering his feet as a place for Viktor to step. It was natural – it carried no pity, only a promise: I’m always here for you. 

“I've been searching for a trail to follow again…”

The weight settled easily between them, Viktor’s body leaning into his. “Don’t let Elara hear you say ‘perchance,’” he teased, golden eyes scanning Jayce’s hazel pair, over his freckles and beard down to his lips. “It’s against our codebook to use outside of casting a spell.” His hand squeezed Jayce’s.

“Take me back to the night we met…”

Jayce laughed, cheeks warm, and bent to brush his lips against Viktor’s cheek in a kiss that lingered longer than the joke called for. “Maybe I am casting a spell on you,” he murmured against his skin, “to fall in love with me all over again.”

“And then I can tell myself…”

Viktor leaned into him, letting the heat of his chest press against Jayce’s. His lips found the curve of Jayce’s neck, enough to send a shiver lancing down his spine. “Whatever shall I do?” he whispered.

Jayce tilted his head, letting the music and Viktor’s warmth envelop him, the beat of their hearts trying to find rhythm with the song. His lips brushed the crown of Viktor’s hair as his own voice dropped heavy with love. “Well… you could start by admitting you already have.”

“What the hell I’m supposed to do…”

Viktor chuckled against his skin, a warm vibration. “I might just do that,” he murmured, dragging his lips back up to Jayce’s, catching him in a slow kiss that tasted like home and honey and everything they’d ever left unsaid.

“And then I can tell myself… not to ride along with you…”

Before they can indulge further, the door bursts open.

“Ewww!” Mae groaned, clutching her face with both hands in melodramatic agony, though her fingers parted just enough to peek through. “You guys are so gross.”

Elara, already giggling, shook her head at her best friend-slash-sister. “You can’t say that! That’s… that’s hydrophobic, Mae!”

Jayce froze, his arm still wrapped around Viktor’s waist, and turned slowly, lips pressed together as if it might stop the laugh threatening to burst out of him. His eyes went wide as he leaned toward Viktor, whispering, “She means… homophobic, right?”

Viktor’s shoulders trembled as he tried – and utterly failed – to keep his composure. His cane clicked against the floor as he steadied himself, jaw tight to smother the chuckle rising in his throat. “No,” he managed in a low rasp, “She genuinely believes it has something to do with water.”

Jayce stumbled back a step, face blazing crimson, his hair tousled from Viktor’s earlier touch and his grin hopelessly wide. Viktor, though he straightened and schooled his features with the air of a man desperately clinging to dignity, couldn’t hide the twitch of his lips.

“Everything… okay?” Viktor asked, his eyes betraying a flicker of trepidation as they darted between the two kids.

Elara and Mae looked up at him with the widest, most imploring puppy-dog eyes imaginable, and Viktor’s heart dropped.

“We just remembered,” Elara said, tilting her head like a bird considering a worm, “that we need… twenty muffins… for class tomorrow.”

Viktor’s face fell, the sudden request draining all warmth from his expression. “Twenty?” he muttered, the number hanging in the air like a personal affront to his very existence.

Jayce buried his face in his hands, muffling a groan. “I swear to–”

Mae cut in, voice disgustingly sweet, dragging out the words like they were magic. “Can you pleaseeeee bake them for us?”

Viktor’s jaw tightened, his hand curling around the top of his cane as he straightened with a resigned sigh. He cast a glance at Jayce, who peeked at him through fingers still hiding his flushed cheeks. “I… guess we better get started,” Viktor muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching in a reluctant sort of amusement.

Elara clapped her hands together, completely oblivious to the annoyance. “Yup! You’re our dads. Responsibilities shared. Totally fair!”

Jayce groaned again, dragging a hand down his face as though the sheer weight of fatherhood might crush him, but when he finally lifted his head, his eyes found Viktor’s. That was all it took – his shoulders eased, the irritation softening into warmth. A fond smile tugged at his lips.

Mae bounced eagerly on the balls of her feet, practically vibrating with anticipation. “Oh, oh!! Can we add chocolate chips?” she burst out, eyes wide and shining as if this was the most important clause of their agreement.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Fine,” he said, voice softening despite the looming avalanche of muffins. He tipped his head toward the girls, resigned affection slipping through every syllable. “But only because it is impossible to say no to these faces.”

Jayce chuckled. “You’re hopeless,” he whispered, shaking his head, as he pressed a quick kiss to Viktor’s temple.