Chapter Text
All children knew the rules. Words blazed into being across one’s skin if somebody liked them; revealing that person’s deepest thoughts and feelings. They could appear at random, all over the body, but were unlikely to stay for long on the face or hands, or anywhere a person shed skin cells quickly.
Viktor's skin was covered in moles, not words.
He had learned not to mind it.
He had on occasion found some scattered across his chest while at the Academy. An ‘I like your eyes’ here or ‘great cheekbones’ there. They had faded quickly. Viktor didn’t think about it a lot. He had long since accepted that he was not a particularly desirable person.
Once, when he was still a young boy living in the undercity, somebody must have liked him. He could recall with a jolting intensity waking up one morning to an enormous ‘clever’, sprawled across his abdomen. He had gotten undressed immediately and peering into his mirror, inspected every inch of skin.
A couple of days later he found ‘pretty smile’ sprawled across his clavicle. The words were deep and rich, as if someone out there really believed them. He remembered his nerves before walking into class, knowing it was likely someone at school who was thinking these things about him. They never introduced themselves.
Sometimes when Viktor couldn't sleep he would wonder what had stopped them.
After he left for the Academy, the uniform his parents had saved for still foreign against his back, the words began to fade. Whoever had once thought them must have started to forget. It had been a bittersweet goodbye, and one he was not expecting to be so overwhelmed by. They had been his first and only words after all. Out of all the things he missed from Zaun, he didn’t anticipate that his faceless admirer would be one of them.
He had steeled himself quickly however. The cutthroat competition inside of the academy was merciless, and he needed to shine brighter than all the rest were he to stand out to Heimerdinger. He had no room for such sentiment.
Viktor could easily recall the first time he got an inkling of what was written on Jayce. He had met the man for the second time on a precipice in a half-exploded apartment. Both figuratively and literally.
“It’s not a theory,” Jayce had said, exasperated, finally turning to face him, “I saw with my own eyes what magic can do, the lives it could save. You have no idea how beautiful it is,” he said earnestly. There was a concealed anger to his words; a violent belief that burnt out a second later, “And now it’s gone. No one believed me.” He faced the opening once more.
Viktor fell in love with his conviction, just a little, just for a second. He pressed past it regardless; that kind of sentimentality had been pushed out of him long ago. He had to make Jayce see.
“Nobody’s ever believed in me, poor, cripple, from the undercity.” He moved to stand beside him, “I was an outsider the moment I set foot in Piltover. I didn’t have the benefits of a patron or a name, I simply believed in myself. Which is why I’m here.” Viktor could see Jayce’s interest, open in his face, “because I think you’re on to something. I want to help you complete your research.”
“No one thinks it can be done.” Jayce said disbelievingly, but there was a frail hope to his words.
“When you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission.” Viktor held out the man’s arm band.
He had snatched it up on impulse. He’d seen it on top of the letter neatly signed ‘Jayce Talis’, a blue gem set in leather. It wouldn’t have taken an idiot to figure out the immense sentimental value it must hold to the man, and Viktor was no idiot.
Jayce took the band from Viktor slowly, hesitantly. As if Viktor held his second chance at life in his very hands.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said tremulously.
“It’s Viktor.”
Viktor looked intently into his eyes, but he needn't have worried. He had done it. Jayce had seen.
Jayce nodded, a determined expression breaking through the doubt.
Wonderful.
This was better than disbelieving or angry, Viktor reasoned. Jayce rolled up his sleeve partway to put on the brace. Symbolic of their newly bound working relationship, Viktor thought distractedly.
And then he saw the words on Jayce’s arms.
They were everywhere.
Viktor had never seen that much ink on a person before.
And if this was just one forearm, the rest of him…
Jayce had so many words some were overlapping, criss-crossed around his wrists. Silent confessions of adoration.
Jayce caught his gaze, noting that Viktor was clearly taken aback.
“They’re...” Jayce started hesitantly, red tinging his cheeks. Viktor blinked and looked towards the blackboard.
“Yours,” He supplied for Jayce, “They’re yours.”
Jayce scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
He hoped the air of finality in his statement communicated to Jayce that he need not expound on the topic. The tattoos were fairly personal after all, even if that number of them would usually warrant commenting on in conversation.
Walking away, Viktor picked up a piece of chalk. They still had a lot to do before the night was through.
Viktor never saw Jayce act so freely with his clothing again. Unlike some people, who preferred to wear revealing clothes to put their words on display, Jayce proved far more conservative. Viktor didn’t quite understand it.
Jayce was not infallible. He was admittedly cocky, even arrogant, on occasion. But his shirts remained fastened to the highest button, bound tightly by his red cravat. Viktor had never seen the man wear shorts, even during a scorching summer heatwave. Viktor had worn short-sleeve shirts into the lab all that week, and had watched as sweat had stained through Jayce's layers.
The olive branch extended between Jayce and him had long since borne fruit to something greater. Now the two men viewed each other as partners in science, and perhaps more shockingly, trusted friends.
It was not an easy relationship budding from mutual convenience, but from evenings of sacrifice together in their lab. Building of top of one another’s theories leading them to a creation that belonged to neither of them, it was simply theirs. One hand before the other, they lifted each other to heights neither could have reached alone. Viktor saw all of this in their work, every page a reassurance. I see you. I’m here. We’re in this together.
Viktor’s purposeful non-thought about the tattoos covering Jayce was just one necessary part of their partnership. They couldn't work together effectively if Viktor was stressed over those who would rather take Jayce’s attention for themselves.
Jayce turned up at the lab, every day, and chose to spend his time there. And that was enough for him.
Even Viktor himself had noticed, over the increased exposure as part of their Hextech work, that he had gained a few tattoos on occasion. They were rather small, and often tucked away in places where Viktor could have easily missed them for days. ‘Nice hair’ sprawled on the side of his rib, a dark and bold ‘smart’ on his shoulder blade, ‘lovely face’ hidden at the the back of his left knee.
He tried not to pay much mind to them. They would fade in time. But he couldn’t deny it felt nice. Flattering.
One had taken him by surprise in the lab. After rolling up his sleeves to alleviate the creeping heat of the Piltover summer, he saw ‘cute mole’ scratched on the inside of his wrist. It had made him pause for a moment, wondering which of the passing politicians, philanthropists, or scientists he had met at last weeks gala had noticed that about him. He had never thought his moles were cute before.
Hearing Jayce behind him he quickly rolled down his sleeves once more.
He was not embarrassed; it was a perfectly normal part of life after all. But Viktor had accumulated so few lines over the years, he felt surprisingly protective over those he did have.
If not to anyone else, they were intimate to him.
Viktor started his day as any other. After staying in the lab late last night, he arrived back in the mid morning. He faced down the notes he had left scattered across his desk.
He had hoped with a fresh perspective and caffeinated mind in the morning he would find the answer, and sitting down to work, he looked over the theorems once more. Maybe if he… he looked up and the sun was slipping behind the horizon, burning orange seeped across the sky.
He rubbed his hands over his face. He knew he was prone to hyper-fixation but it did have its drawbacks. His stomach growled angrily. It was exhausting, he thought, the daily maintenance required for an organic body.
He still hadn’t solved all of his problem. It was proving to be rather tricky. Passing out of the lab doors and down towards the cafeteria, he mulled it over in his mind. He picked up a sandwich absently and paid for it, scarfing it down as quickly as he could without bothering to find a seat.
Jayce might know, he thought. The man's absence in the lab all day was a tell-tale sign of one thing. He was in his family's forge.
Jayce was predictable in certain patterns, and had confessed one evening to Viktor that whenever he needed to blow off some steam, he would take the day among the furnaces. It helped him focus he said, though Viktor thought him crazy at the time.
There was no time like the present, Viktor figured. Besides, it’s not like he’d make any more progress in his problem alone. He needed his partner.
Viktor slipped through the doors of the Talis' forge and felt his words of announcement die in his throat.
Jayce’s chest is covered in black ink.
There is a lot of chest to cover.
Viktor blinked once before regaining control of himself.
“Hello, Jayce?” He called, as if he did not see the man standing right there, trim silhouette outlined against a burning fire behind him.
“Viktor?” Jayce beamed, “Come in, I didn’t expect to see you.” Jayce conjured up a chair and gestured Viktor into it.
Sitting, Viktor glanced at him. He didn’t know what was expected in this situation. Jayce glanced down at his sweat covered chest, just then realising how exposed he was.
“I can-,” Viktor started, politely averting his gaze.
“No,” Jayce said a small frown on his lips, “It’s okay. I don’t mind. I don’t mind if it’s you.”
Viktor sought out Jayce’s eyes and waited for the man to give a small nod, before he allowed to sink his gaze lower.
“They’re quite embarrassing. I don’t, I don’t like to show them to people, I can't imagine what they’d think.” Jayce got out in a flustered rush.
“Well apparently they’d think this,” Viktor murmured, with very little tact.
“It’s not like I have a choice” Jayce said defensively.
“No, no, I didn’t mean that you did. I just-,” Viktor trailed away.
The more words he picked out the more he understood.
These tattoos were... obscene.
They were dripping in sheer filth and carved angrily into his chest, as though Jayce's very skin rejected the concept of them. Viktor had never seen words like these before.
“This is how people see me,” Jayce said, gesturing his arms widely, “And I can't ever forget it.”
“I’m sorry,” Viktor said, it was all he could say. All there was.
“I suppose I should be flattered.”
“No,” Viktor said harshly, thinking of the quiet adoration of his few comments, the tender care behind them, “You don’t owe anything to these people Jayce.”
Jayce looked at him, taken aback.
“No body has ever seen them and not laughed before,” he said quietly. The furnace whooshed a spurt of flames behind them.
Viktor felt a stirring as he had on that first night. He had to make Jayce see.
He reached up to his cravat and slipped it off, hands starting at his waistcoat buttons, plucking them apart.
“Viktor, what are you doing?”
Viktor shook his head, not responding and not looking at the other man, moving only to slip off his waistcoat and start on his shirt. Jayce watched him in silent anticipation, eyes wide. Viktor knew this was madness, but he pulled his shirt off regardless and used his cane to push himself to his feet.
He stood next to Jayce, bare chest heaving.
“They do not define us,” He said with burning passion, reaching up to Jayce’s face and tapping his forehead, bringing it in a trailing thread back towards his heart, “These do.”
Jayce looked at him, something more than tears in his eyes as he nodded.
Viktor smiled. He saw.