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The first time it happened, Jayce let it slide.
Their lab had grown unbearably warm in the disgusting humidity that usually came with the piltovian summer, which initially left them scrambling to move their desks together, as close to the electric fan they shared as possible. For how tiny it was, its comically small blades and its clicking engine kept them cool... for a while. Jayce had mourned its death for a whole week, begrudgingly resigning himself to tripling his laundry. Viktor, for the most part, hadn't seemed too affected.
"You pilties are so soft. The slightest inconvenience incapacitates you," he had mumbled around a chewed up pencil when Jayce brought up buying a new one, barely taking his eyes off the math on his notebook. "We are short enough on funds as it is."
"I told you already, I'm not from here," Jayce had started, "My mom--"
Viktor had looked at him in that particular sharp way of his then, the one that said words could never ever fathom how stupid Jayce was, always focusing on the wrong things at the wrong time. Somehow, the elegant arch of his eyebrow conveyed a surprising amount of expletives.
"Funds, Jayce."
With a defeated sigh, Jayce had closed his mouth, and that had been that.
Yet, it soon grew to be a common occurrence. Choosing the path of least resistance. Working towards a fruitful partnership.
Folding to Viktor.
It seemed to amuse Cait to no end whenever she crossed paths with them. At a local science fair, serving for all sense and purposes as a cart Viktor could just keep piling up scrap metal on as he haggled with merchants left and right. Standing watch as they left the council, wordlessly offering up the crook of his arm as they walked down the stairs, despite the fact that Viktor would always roll his eyes and ignore the offer. They certainly painted a funny picture, and Jayce often wondered what the likes of the old piltovian houses made of the whole ordeal-- prone as they were to hiding behind flowery words their distaste for any favor extended to the undercity. And the untrained politician in him knew better, enough to scold himself each morning in front of the mirror.
Do not show your cards so readily. Keep any attachments out of the lab, out of the rumor mill. Don't show them where your heart lies.
He knew he should be carefully documenting every action and reaction, like every single one of his experiments. Half of the problem was, Jayce often got distracted.
Sometimes the light coming from the stained glass windows would swirl colors into Viktor's hair as he twirled his locks in thought, drawing all his attention away from the very explosive crystals trembling before him. He would catch his speech halting, his words failing, and if the silence lasted more than a minute, the sound of chalk on blackboard stopping would often bring him back just in time to face Viktor's impatient look.
Other days, he would find himself mapping out the harsh lines of his partner's face, trying to figure out if that was a new mole under his eye or if Viktor had stayed the night sleeping over his smudged notes again. When the heat was bad enough, Jayce felt himself going downright delirious, following droplets of sweat slide down a pale nape, out of sight and so very not out of mind. Picturing all sorts of things that would put his mother's teachings to shame. Moving his chair next to his. Reaching over. Catching them with his tongue.
Perhaps, if he were the only fool trailing after an unobtainable dream, Jayce would have handled it better. Pitiful crushes, dangerous tension between colleagues, he was no stranger to any of them. But others also had eyes, and Viktor--
He didn't exactly help.
"I am just not sure where I could have gone wrong," a doe eyed student whined, bending exaggeratedly over Viktor's desk as he examined the calculations she had clearly hastily drabbled onto a sheet of paper.
Jayce watched them out of the corner of his eye from the other side of the room, fighting back a wince as he loosened his tie. Her auburn hair looked radiant even in the shadowy corner of their lab, and her gown was undoubtedly worth more than half of their equipment. Back in his academy days, he might have followed her himself into her bed, should she proved interested. The way she arched her spine now, though, he could probably start drafting a new back brace matching Viktor's.
Viktor hummed, eyes not leaving the paper to meet her bosom. The girl's expression soured considerably.
"It is merely an issue of perspective. It is not the equations themselves that have mistakes, your logic is flawed."
Undeterred, she didn't falter, placing her hand on top of his. Jayce almost scoffed. "Professor Heimerdinger is never quite as open to office hours. You are so kind."
"I was a student, once." Viktor replied. Far from returning the gesture, his hand slid from under hers to grab his cane as he raised to stand. Left to stare at his back, the poor girl frowned. "Perhaps I can eh, take a look once you have something worth while. Good day, miss...?"
If anything, her expression crumbled further. Jayce stifled a snort in the cuff of his sleeve.
"Sofia."
"Good luck with your thesis, miss Sofia."
It seemed that even such a desperate creature knew when all was lost, because she left with nothing more than a forlorn sigh. Her heels clicked on the marbled floors of the hall outside, taking Jayce's good mood away with them. It was only once he noticed a shadow looming over the notes he was busy pretending to read that he realized-- her heels were not the only thing clicking. A cane stood still next to his desk.
Turning on his chair to look at the person holding it, Jayce found himself the target of an unreadable stare.
"What?"
Viktor's eyes flicked over to the -- he then realized -- upside down blueprints on the table. His lips twitched. Fuck.
"You're pouting."
Jayce opened his mouth, then closed it. "I am doing nothing of the sort. You know I really admire you tutoring new students."
"Really. Then I suppose you are fine with me bringing over more of them. They have such wonderful dreams. It would be a shame for their creativity to go unsupported."
Jayce could think of a couple of things that had quite desperately lacked support, barely a minute before. "But of course. This is my space as much as it is yours."
Viktor took a step forward and leaned back against the edge of the table, taking some weight off his leg. The fingers of his unoccupied hand brushed against the annotations on the schematics, like he wanted to feel the etched words on the paper. Like this, his legs barely touched Jayce's, encased by them on each side. For someone seemingly concerned about sharing his space, he sure waltzed into it like he belonged there.
It would be so easy, he thought, to let his hands find the curve of his thighs and bring him down into his lap. His nails dug into the fabric of his own pants, inwardly reaching for a distraction. The value of pi was 3.141592653589793238462--
Something hooked him behind his neck, forcing his head to tilt forward and up to meet the curve of Viktor's deeply amused grin.
"Jayce Talis, afraid of taking what he wants. Always a first for everything, I suppose."
His cane--
"Do not think I will always let you off this easy."
There had to be a sensible warning behind those words, some hyperbole foreshadowing more excruciating times at the hands of his partner, but the only punishment his mind could heed was the feeling of Viktor's lips on his, of teeth nipping his lower lip. Jayce gasped against a smiling mouth, blinking out his shock. The curve of the cane tugged him harder into Viktor, and he found himself standing up to crowd him into the table, hands rising to cup his infuriatingly smug face.
Like he knew. Like he had long since found the answer to the world's easiest riddle: the source of Jayce's infatuation. The lengths he would go to for even an ounce of his attention.
Later, he would find a way to get back at him, and perhaps they would make a game out of it-- playing their part, satisfying an urge left to fester for too long. Viktor let his cane fall to the floor, using his freed hand to curl into his hair.
Yeah. Later.