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It’s not often that Jayce gets angry with Viktor.
Annoyed, sure. Viktor can be infuriatingly stubborn sometimes, and when they both disagree on how to approach a problem, Jayce sometimes has to spend hours coaxing Viktor into trying his method.
But the thing that Jayce really cannot—will not—stand for is Viktor denying his own intelligence, his own worth, which includes the value of his health. He has gotten into full-on fights with his research partner about Viktor’s utter disregard for himself, whether it’s Viktor’s tendency to hork down half-raw packs of instant ramen in lieu of an actual meal or his insistence on spending longer and longer nights at the lab, puzzling through discovery after discovery in the lonely light of his desk lamp. It pisses Jayce off to no end that someone as brilliant (and beautiful) as Viktor is so careless when it comes to himself and so careful with others.
But most of all, it’s frustrating. Viktor literally pulled Jayce from the brink, and all Jayce can do for Viktor is get into arguments with him about the lack of nutrition in a pack of cup noodles. It makes him feel small and useless, two things he is never fond of feeling. Nevertheless, Jayce keeps trying, and he knows he always will, for Viktor’s sake if not for his own.
Like now, for instance. Jayce has spent the last few hours ignoring the small sniffles from Viktor’s side of the room, but as the hours wear on and Viktor’s coughs and curses in his native language grow more frequent, he’s starting to worry.
Viktor isn’t exactly the healthiest person to begin with (he’s prone to random sneezing fits, particularly when aggravated by chalk dust in the air) but with the steadily increasing mound of tissues piled on Viktor’s desk, there’s definitely something wrong.
He can see Viktor biting back a groan as he stands from his desk and tries to make his way to their chalkboard, bottom lip furrowed between his teeth. In any other circumstance, it’s a sight that would take Jayce’s breath away, but as he watches Viktor sway, eyes closed and leaning heavily on his cane, he feels something shattering in his heart instead.
Against his better judgement—he knows after all these years that Viktor doesn't need to rely on him, but that doesn't stop him from offering—Jayce crosses the room in two long strides, already reaching out to stabilize Viktor before he can give him that withering look Jayce knows so well.
But when his fingers come up to cradle Viktor’s elbow, he gasps.
“A-are you okay? Vitya, you’re burning up!” Without thinking, Jayce cages Viktor against the desk with his body, pressing his palm to Viktor’s forehead. Little wisps of Viktor’s unkempt hair cling to his skin, and the smaller man pants softly, little puffs of breath falling on Jayce’s crystal wristband. For the briefest of seconds, Viktor shivers and leans into Jayce’s touch, but blearily shakes himself out of it, blinking owlishly as he processes Jayce’s sudden, panicked movements.
“It is just a cold, Jayce,” Viktor snaps, turning away from Jayce.
“You need rest! And fluids! And warmth! You’re literally trembling, you can barely stand, what the fuck, why didn’t I notice, why didn’t you say anything-”
“I need to finish this first,” Viktor mutters wearily, the bite draining from his voice. Something painful twists in Jayce’s chest at Viktor’s obvious exhaustion. He’s clearly at his limit, unable to even play along in their usual fight. Jayce needs to do something, and fast. If Viktor won’t listen to his own body, and Jayce’s entreaties, then he has to listen to reason.
Jayce stabs his finger vehemently towards the chalkboard. “Ten minutes ago, you said the cosine of 30 degrees was 2. Just now, you forgot to factor in the force of kinetic friction, so everything you do after this point will be wrong.” Jayce knows he's being cruel, and it hurts him deeply to see Viktor wince at his own mistakes, murmuring something undoubtedly self-deprecating in his native language. But this is the only way he can get through to him.
(Besides, he knows he can just make it up to Viktor later, with a couple of casual half-hugs and some well-deserved praise.)
“Please, Vitya,” Jayce continues. “You’re not gonna do any real work like this. You need rest. And I need you—” he coughs, realizing the potential implications of his statement— “I need you to be healthy, okay? Nothing about our research—no stabilization angle, no terminal velocity—is more important than you. Just...let me take care of you, okay?” Jayce doesn’t realize how much he means it until the words are tumbling out of his mouth. He’s desperate, he knows, and probably overwhelming Viktor right now, but he needs Viktor to surrender himself, to relinquish his pride and just let Jayce love him. He doesn't know how to tell him all of this, so he settles for another, broken “please”, his hand coming up to cup Viktor’s sallow, sweat-dampened cheek.
Using Viktor’s nickname and their physical proximity against him is an underhanded tactic, and both of them know it. But Jayce doesn’t regret it, not when Viktor’s looking at him with widened, fever-bright eyes like he’s never had someone offer to do this before, not when Jayce can feel the taught lines of Viktor’s body relaxing into Jayce’s hold.
With dusk falling around them, it reminds Jayce a bit of the night they met, when Viktor had reached out to him with his gentle hands, his amber eyes beholding him like something precious in the half-frame of Jayce’s exploded apartment wall. He knows he shouldn’t be reminiscing about the past right now, but he is suddenly struck by the sudden jittery warmth that beats in his own ribcage, as if Viktor’s fever has already infected him. He thinks, inanely, that he wouldn’t mind that.
Even in his fever-addled state, a ghost of a smile flits across Viktor’s lips. “Just this once. You know, for a scientist, you are not so bad with words,” Viktor says fondly, leaning his head against Jayce’s shoulder. It’s a concession, and it’s enough for Jayce to flush with pride. He hesitates for a moment—he didn’t actually expect to get this far—before he wraps his arm around Viktor’s waist and helps him to the bed he'd thrown haphazardly into the corner of their lab after one too many of Viktor's devastating all-nighters.
It’s not much, but it’s a start, and Jayce is willing to take what he can get. For now, he busies himself with taking care of Viktor. He bans him from leaving the bed, and reheats some soup for Viktor from their fridge on their rickety laboratory stove. He races back to his apartment to get some medicine and blankets. He looks stupid, waddling back to his lab with three blankets of different thicknesses, a change of comfortable clothes, and a packet of painkillers bundled in his arms, but it’s worth it, he knows. It’s worth it, because it’s Viktor, and for once he’s letting himself be taken care of.
It’s worth it, for as Viktor falls asleep, Jayce already half-snoozing in a chair beside his bed, he whispers thank you into the air between them, like a prayer, like a promise, and it’s all Jayce has ever wanted and more.