Chapter Text
Viktor doesn’t remember exactly how it happens. One second, it’s a perfectly typical day in the lab — Jayce engraving rune combinations and testing them while Viktor watches and takes scrupulous notes — and the very next second, there’s a blinding flash of blue light and a burst of searing pain. Every square inch of Viktor’s skin burns.
Or is it cold? With the way his nerve endings are being fried, he can’t quite tell.
At least a few seconds pass before he gathers the mental fortitude to unfurl his doubled-over torso and look for Jayce, whether to see if he’s okay or simply to ask for help, he isn’t sure. He opens his eyes just in time to see the man staggering across the floor, heading directly towards Viktor. His hands close in around Viktor’s cheeks just as the pain begins to ebb away.
“Are you okay? Are you okay? What happened?”
Viktor can do nothing but stare, eyes wide and breath heavy. “I’m okay,” he says, and it sounds unsure even to his own ears.
Jayce is still watching him carefully. It’s clear just from his face, he doesn’t believe it.
“I’m alright,” he says again. “… It was the strangest thing. Pain like I’ve never known, but just for a moment. I don’t appear to have any physical symptoms as a result. Perhaps a consequence of using the…” Viktor pulls back from Jayce, doing his best to ignore those watery puppy dog eyes, filled to almost spilling with concern.
As Viktor stretches over to reach his discarded notebook, the pain begins to creep back up from the very base of his spine until a sharp gasp is forced from his lips. Jayce’s big, warm hands are back on him in an instant, and once again the pain subsides.
Viktor, inexplicably, finds his own expression mirrored on the face in front of him. Brow furrowed in confusion, eyes sharp with a piqued interest. “That’s strange,” Viktor says. “Do that again.”
It only occurs to Viktor a couple of seconds later to clarify exactly what he means by ‘do that again,’ but it seems Jayce understands perfectly. Jayce, as he often does, speaks Viktor’s thoughts aloud. “It stops when I touch you.”
“You feel it?” Viktor asks, and then when Jayce gives a small nod, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“You were— you were hurt,” he says, like there’s no other answer. So typical of him, ever the hero. Viktor has seen this look on his face before, intense and with a single-minded focus, but never this close – distractingly, devastatingly close enough that Viktor can make out every individual eyelash, see the slightly shiny quality of the skin of the scar embedded into his eyebrow, feel his breath ghosting over Viktor’s skin. The onslaught causes him to pull back, but Jayce follows in tandem.
“You should let go—” Viktor begins, and promptly interrupts when Jayce opens his mouth, presumably to refuse. “So we can see if it happens again.”
“No, no way, what if— what if it does happen again?”
“Okay, well, what if it doesn’t happen again and you spend the rest of your natural life glued to my side for no reason?”
A strange look crosses Jayce’s face at that, gone before Viktor has a chance to question it. Viktor recognises the look that replaces it well, and knows what Jayce is going to say before it leaves his mouth. “Fine. Three seconds. Three seconds, we write down whatever happens, and that’s it.”
“Okay.”
“Ready?”
“Ready.”
Even with a warning, even with ample time to brace for the pain, Viktor still isn’t ready for it. He’s no stranger to pain, but something about this feeling is bone-deep. No, deeper, down to the very spaces between his atoms. Inescapable and unignorable and terrible in a way he isn’t used to, for one second, two seconds, and then Jayce’s hands are back on him and he can breathe.
Jayce is breathing heavily, lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s–”
“Yeah, it’s–”
“Weird, right?”
“A burning pain, almost. What runes were you using?”
“Uh.” Jayce cranes his head back awkwardly to his journal, abandoned on the floor a few feet away. “A Wild rune and one of the, uh— hang on, can I hold your hand?”
In lieu of an answer, Viktor brings up one of his own hands to cover where Jayce is touching his cheek. Their fingers intertwine just as easily as Viktor had always imagined.
Their joined hands drop between their bodies, and Jayce seems almost hesitant to let go of Viktor’s cheek with the other. He pries it off slowly, watching Viktor’s face carefully for any signs of pain. A look passes between them, a non-verbal all clear before Jayce leans over properly to reach for the journal. He flips through the pages, albeit a little awkwardly with just one hand and the open book resting on his knee. “One of the Inspiration runes. The… oh. The one we didn’t come up with a name for yet.”
A little laugh of disbelief is punched from Viktor’s lips. “I suppose we’ll make good progress on that today.”
Today is rather optimistic. The artificial lights behind the window of their basement lab have dulled and warmed to match the time of day — it’s at least midnight, if not later. “We should reverse the Ouch rune and see if that works to solve our dilemma.”
“I could– oh.”
Viktor’s eyes follow to the spot Jayce is frowning at on the floor. The rune plate is, for lack of a better word, completely obliterated. “We don’t have any clean plates,” Viktor says, as uselessly as the shards scattered across the room.
“That new shipment was supposed to come today,” Jayce says, just as uselessly. “Delayed until next week.”
“Are there any in the Academy stores? Surely this would constitute an emergency.”
Jayce grimaces. “We took the last of the stores for the Precision set.”
“Right.” That had been Viktor’s suggestion.
“We should sleep on it,” Jayce says firmly, and that is just about the last thing Viktor expected him to say.
“Like this?” Viktor asks incredulously.
“It’s late. We can’t get into the forge, and even if we could, there’s nothing we could use for a new plate. There’s nothing else we can do.”
Viktor can think of a hundred things they could try — scraping an old rune plate, searching for scraps of Ionian steel around the building, testing new alloys until they find something close enough to use — a wealth of options before they have to awkwardly shuffle back to one of their apartments, hand in hand, and figure out how to sleep in a way that means their skin is constantly touching.
But… Viktor is tired. His body is sore the way it usually is after such a long day, he can feel his mind slowing, and he wants nothing more than to lie down.
“Alright,” he agrees.
Jayce’s eyebrows raise just a fraction, as though he hadn’t expected Viktor to agree so easily. His expression settles into a small smile, and Viktor immediately feels as though he’s made the right decision.
Although — someone has to ask. “... Yours or mine?”
***
The September air is frigid and bitter, and Viktor’s hand is deliciously warm encased in Jayce’s as they walk through the cobbled streets of Piltover in the warm lamplight. They’d decided on Jayce’s place after a little back and forth, with it being slightly closer and featuring a double bed, unlike Viktor’s own.
He knows he made a mistake in agreeing the moment they step through the threshold and, instead of feeling a little awkward and out of place, he just feels comfortable. It’s warm, Jayce tells him on account of the timed heating system. Viktor rolls his eyes at that, but he’s silently grateful for it. The furnishings are expensive, of course, with the space being provided by the council especially for their golden boy — the man who is, in their eyes, single-handedly keeping their precious Progress Day a spectacle that is sufficient for the eyes of the world.
It’s a far stretch from Viktor’s own apartment; cold and a little run down, not for lack of salary but rather due to negligence. Viktor barely spends time there anyway, so he doesn’t care to maintain it like he probably should. It doesn’t feel lived-in, and it certainly doesn’t feel homely in the way Jayce’s apartment does. His care and attention is evident in every corner of the space, bookcases filled with volumes and various trinkets, posters and certificates of achievement lining the walls. Photos, too — ample evidence of how loved he is.
Viktor notes with a slight catch of breath that he features in quite a few of the frames, too. The pair of them, fresh-faced and beaming at the Distinguished Innovators competition. One from the last Progress Day, back before anyone knew quite how big Hextech would be. Just the two of them squished into one little booth with their own homemade posters, eager to talk about their (then theoretical) research with anyone who wandered past.
And one just of Viktor. He doesn’t quite remember the whole night — it had been the week they met, the very night they’d agreed to work together. Jayce had brought up the idea as they were awkwardly milling around the front door of the ruined apartment, both of them knowing that the socially acceptable thing to do would be to say goodnight and part ways.
Neither of them had wanted to go home, both of them too caught up in their excitement but neither wanting to be the first to admit it. Jayce told Viktor, much later on, that he’d only managed to work up the courage to ask due to the lack of a bed to return to — “Maybe we could go for a drink?” — and Viktor, silently relieved, had agreed. They’d found a comfortable corner of a local bar (a place they still frequent) and talked long into the late hours. Jayce had asked to take a photo at some point, insistent that it would feature in their biographies one day as the night where it all began.
Looking back on it now, Viktor can’t believe he had let Jayce talk him into it. He had been unarmed, he supposes, by a lack of resistance to those puppy dog eyes and that infectious enthusiasm.
Viktor looks happy in the picture. Flushed, partially from the alcohol and partially from the attention, looking straight past the camera lens to the person behind it.
How embarrassing.
He looks away from the photo, eyes quickly finding something else to settle on. A coffee table book. Impersonal. Safe.
Viktor realises after a moment that he has probably been silent for a little longer than is acceptable. “You have a lovely home,” he says, and although it’s just one of those things a guest is supposed to say, he’s a little surprised to find how much he truly means it.
“Ah, thank you,” Jayce says. The strange quality to his voice makes Viktor look up from the safety of Demacian Marvels of Architecture to find Jayce with a hand rubbing the back of his neck and a smattering of pink across his cheeks. The classic picture of bashfulness, as though Viktor’s offhanded compliment genuinely means a lot to him.
“You clearly put a lot of care into it,” Viktor follows up, suddenly feeling a little bad that his superficial cover-up job was taken so seriously. “It’s very… homely.”
Jayce flushes even deeper at that. “I’m glad you like it. You’re welcome to stop by, you know, whenever— whenever you feel like.”
“You will regret saying this to me when I show up at your door after my heating breaks for the third time this month.”
Viktor knows his little joke hasn’t been received well when Jayce’s expression promptly turns horrified. “The third time?” And just when Viktor expects him to insist he pay a visit to fix it properly, he instead says, “I have a guest bedroom. There are a couple drawers in there you could have. Just in case.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose–”
“You wouldn’t be imposing. Seriously, I mean it.”
“Oh. Ah, thank you.”
“It’s important – y’know, for Hextech – that we’re both well-rested.” A couple of years ago Viktor might have felt a ripple of hurt at those words, perhaps taking it as a confirmation that Jayce’s concern with Viktor only reaches as far as their work is involved. Viktor knows better now – he’s spent long enough working with Jayce that he can see straight through this facade. Jayce is adorably transparent in his need to make sure the people around him are looked after, something he will pursue to no end but will always try to hide behind a forced, casual demeanour. Viktor thinks fondly back to when they first started working together and Jayce would bring him breakfast every morning with some muttered explanation of, ‘the barista gave me two,’ or, ‘it was buy one get one free.’
Jayce does, sincerely, insanely, want Viktor to seek refuge in his ridiculously expensive apartment. A smile forms on Viktor’s lips, unbidden. “I appreciate it.”
“Sure. So, uh, I think I have a spare toothbrush—” Viktor quickly tempers the incessant thought demanding to know why. “—And I could find you some clothes but they might be a bit…”
“A bit.”
“Yeah. Let me—” A moment, then an awkward laugh as Jayce tries to let go of his hand before seemingly remembering why they’re both here in the first place. “Okay, you’re coming with me.”
He pulls Viktor further into the apartment, past the kitchen and towards, presumably, the bedroom. “Oh, are you hungry?”
Viktor shakes his head. “Just tired.”
“Right. You sure?”
“Yes, Jayce, I’m quite certain.”
When Jayce stops in front of a low wooden dresser to search for spare clothes, Viktor takes the opportunity to look around properly, all too eager to worm his way further into the most intimate parts of Jayce’s life.
Just looking at that huge, plush bed pulls him deeper into his sleepy state. He already mourns for his future self, who will have to go through life knowing he’ll never be as comfortable as the night he spent in Jayce Talis’ bed.
And — Gods, that’s really what he’s about to do, isn’t it? Years of yearning for the moment Jayce would invite him home, whether it be a drunken mistake or an act of desperation on Jayce’s part, and this is how it’s finally happening.
He gratefully goes to reach out for the offered pile of pyjamas, and realises his mistake with a scowl — one hand on his cane, one hand in Jayce’s.
Ever aware of Viktor and the slightest struggle he might come across, Jayce says, “You could sit down.”
“Alright,” Viktor says with a light sigh. His scowl eases a little when the bed turns out to be just as comfortable as it looked.
It’s quick work getting Viktor’s outer layers off, vest and cravat falling to the floor at their feet, but progress halts when they get to his shirt. They share a look, and seem to realise the same thing at the same time — they’re going to have to touch for this. A lot. Jayce has never exactly been shy about touching Viktor, but it’s always limited to devastatingly casual and strictly over-the-clothes. A hand to the shoulder, a nudge of the foot, and if Viktor is particularly lucky, a palm pressed to his lower back.
Viktor looks firmly away as he fiddles with the buttons, each one taking a frustratingly long time to come loose. Staring down at the floor like this, he can almost pretend that Jayce’s eyes are fixed on him guiltily, taking in each inch of newly-revealed skin with fervor.
Viktor’s shirt falls loose around his shoulders, fabric pooling and catching where their hands are joined. He looks up at Jayce who is, of course, looking away.
“I may need some help with the…” When Jayce finally looks over, Viktor holds up his free hand caught around the shirtsleeve.
“Right.” Jayce reaches to pull on the cuff, freeing Viktor from the left hand side. He watches a second of deliberation pass across Jayce’s face before he reaches for Viktor’s other hand to pull the shirt away entirely.
“Wait.”
Jayce’s eyes snap to him properly for the first time since they entered the room.
“Should we, ah, shower?” Viktor poses it as a question, even though they definitely should, the last thing he wants is to make Jayce even more uncomfortable than he already is.
“Oh! I mean, I usually do it in the morning.” And then, because he has to overexplain everything, “I don’t feel clean if I don’t.”
“I always shower in the evenings. It can take a while with… everything,” Viktor says with a general hand-wave over his braces.
And maybe Viktor doesn’t know Jayce quite as well as he thought he did just a few hours ago, because when he opens his mouth, Viktor guesses he’s going to concede to Viktor’s wishes, just as he always does. What comes out of his mouth instead is, “We can do both.”
Viktor stares, open-mouthed for just a moment. “... Alright. Are you sure?”
“Yeah, no, of course. We’ll figure it out. You need help with the brace?”
“Ah, yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”
The sight of Jayce on his knees diligently working to remove Viktor’s brace isn’t exactly new, but that doesn’t mean the fifteenth time is any easier to deal with than the first. Just like every time before, Viktor holds his breath and silently thanks the universe for the fact that he can’t get a visible semi. If he could, the first time likely would have also been the final time.
Viktor finds himself stuck in this limbo for a little while longer than usual on account of the whole hand-holding requirement, and spends a proportionally longer time getting over it once Jayce is done. Still at his knees, hand in hand, Jayce gazes up at him. Is he gazing? Is Viktor, drunk on this impossible situation, making things up to suit his desire?
Jayce looks up at Viktor, completely normally and not at all smitten, and says, “And the back brace?”
“Ah…” The polite refusal catches in Viktor’s throat as he tries to force the words out that will keep him safe from another several devastating minutes of those soft hands on his body. He supposes, with their current situation, he’s fucked either way. “Yes, please, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“Around the back?”
“Mhm.”
Jayce settles close behind, legs either side of Viktor’s hips, awkwardly taking Viktor’s hand above his body and around to the back in the process. His hand twitches and tightens, the slightest hint of movement as though to let go before remembering their predicament. “I have to, uh…” He sits in silence for a few moments, leaving Viktor to fully suffocate in his embarrassment between the heat of Jayce’s big thighs.
And then, for the first time in hours, Jayce untangles their fingers. He’s careful to keep skin contact as his palm glides over Viktor’s wrist and slowly, meticulously up the length of his bare arm. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps the entire way until he stops with his hand curled around Viktor’s shoulder.
He’s never touched Viktor here before.
Viktor keeps his head facing steadfastly forward, ignoring every insistent prodding thought fragment that insists this is a lovers’ touch, that he should lean back into the contact, turn his head with his eyelids dropped and a bitten lip. An invitation.
He can’t let himself get lost in this.
Jayce is doing his best to make that impossible, seemingly using everything in his arsenal, every unfair advantage he has to induce desperation in Viktor. He’s doing it without realising, without even trying. He would stop if he knew.
He’s clumsier with this brace, inexperience made even worse by his lack of right hand. A few minutes are wasted fumbling, and little progress is made before Viktor decides to interrupt. “You can leave it.”
“No,” Jayce says, and the frown in his voice is clear. “I’m almost there. Just need to…”
And true to his word, the brace loosens with a click just a minute later. Viktor’s shoulders sag and his head drops, a groan of pure relief pouring from between his lips. Jayce’s hands follow dutifully, stuck to Viktor even as he stretches around liberally. Jayce’s thumb extends in a steady pattern back and forth across the delicate skin of Viktor’s shoulder. He can tell Jayce is rubbing over the brace mark from the stinging of pressure against skin rubbed raw and red.
“Thank you,” he sighs quietly. It’s all too intimate, but considering he’s half naked between Jayce Talis’ legs, his clever hands, and he can’t even touch, he may be spared a free pass for his behaviour.
“Of course. Whenever you need.”
Jayce is far too sweet. When Viktor tells him as much, he shrugs with a non-committal hum and begins to extricate himself from behind Viktor. He kneels at Viktor’s feet once more and, notably, is still fully dressed as he hooks both hands over either side of Viktor’s waistbands — both pants and boxers — in one smooth motion. “Last part,” he smiles, and Viktor feels rather inexplicably like a spooked horse being coaxed into calmness. They’re too close. It’s too much.
“What, you won’t even close your eyes?” Viktor half-jokes through the thick tension.
Jayce fixes him with another of those inscrutable looks. “Vik, we’re gonna be showering together in a few minutes.”
Viktor’s eyebrows fly up. “Together?”
“Yeah, I mean— the way my shower is set up. Well, you’ll see. We’re both gonna have to get in there.”
“Right.”
Viktor has spent an altogether unprofessional amount of time pondering the paradox of Jayce’s sexuality. Viktor had assumed him straight as a pole when they’d first met, but a few incidents during their time together has swayed Viktor slightly more towards the theory that Jayce is perhaps bisexual. A risqué joke here and there, the odd wandering eye directed suspiciously close to a bulge, things of that sort.
Viktor isn’t sure which side this particular incident sways him towards.
Jayce’s nonchalance, his willingness to jump straight in the shower with his best friend denotes a certain… apathy. As though he’s expecting Viktor’s body to evoke such a lack of emotion in himself that it’s hardly even notable. Not worth considering. Not a material factor.
Were he a few years younger, a few less years of experience in yearning for the Man of Progress, Viktor might delude himself into thinking that it’s because Jayce is eager to see, or is at least curious about, Viktor’s body.
He knows what hope will do to him, however, so he doesn’t allow himself to go down that path. He’s spent years indulging that particular vice, his heart shattering each time and leaving behind a few stubborn shards that refuse to slot neatly back into place. He knows better now. He’s swept them into a quiet corner of his ribcage for safekeeping. He reminds himself that Jayce is not interested, and the pile does not grow further. It’s fine.
Jayce will take Viktor’s clothes off and be utterly indifferent to the sight and it will be fine.
Viktor startles a little — not noticeably, thank Janna — when Jayce begins to pull at his waistbands. His big hands are fisted fully around the fabric, and he’s careful to keep his knuckles firmly against Viktor’s skin the whole time. As he moves, the touch leaves a trail of heat along the outside of Viktor’s thighs.
He presses his knees together, a subconscious twitch of the muscles quickly turning into a deliberate movement with the intention to hide. Jayce, ever polite and attentive, averts his eyes in response as he slides the fabric the rest of the way off, leaving Viktor fully exposed.
Viktor opens his mouth to speak, but thankfully is spared the task of coming up with the right words because Jayce is already turning away. He seats himself between Viktor’s legs to ensure their skin is still touching, and when he raises both arms, Viktor is struck with the realisation that not only does he have to undress around Jayce, Jayce also has to undress around him.
“Let me just…” Jayce untucks one side of his shirt messily and pushes his way back until Viktor’s bare leg is pressing into his side. “Okay.”
Viktor doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve the sweet torture of the gradual reveal of Jayce’s body. Perhaps Jayce is nervous, perhaps he’s reluctant, but he’s going so fucking slowly it almost feels like a show. Just for Viktor. And, somehow, Viktor is completely free to stare without shame. Well, perhaps the appropriate amount of shame will creep up on him later in the early hours of the morning, but for now he allows himself to look.
It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before — but where before he’d only been permitted a stolen glance on the odd occasion Jayce came to the lab straight from the forge, Viktor is now given a pass to fully appreciate.
Viktor’s eyes follow greedily as the broad expanse of golden skin is revealed to him, bit by bit. The thick jacket is removed first, muscles so clearly straining against the thin fabric underneath. Then, a loosened collar and a neck Viktor wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into. The shirt follows next, and Viktor hopes the little puff of air that involuntarily escapes his lips isn’t audible over the rustling fabric.
Jayce settles even further into the nook of Viktor’s legs once his shirt is off, affirming their skin contact, seemingly completely unaware of how far apart Viktor’s thighs are around his broad shoulders.
He wants so badly to wind a hand around Jayce’s neck. Perhaps he’d be brave enough to venture a thumb just under the base of his chin, perhaps even brave enough to use the leverage to tip his head back. Jayce would look up at Viktor with those puppy dog eyes he always uses, clouded with a confession that he needs this just as badly as Viktor does. He’d submit to the touch easily, lean further and further into Viktor’s space, and when Viktor would dare to trail his fingers upwards, Jayce would let his mouth fall open easily to accept them. He’d be eager, so, so eager to please. He’d use that clever tongue of his to swirl around the digits in his mouth, and it would only be a few minutes before he started to moan and whine because he’d just be so desperate to get his mouth on Viktor properly and—
What the fuck is he doing?
Viktor looks away sharply, but he doesn’t even last a few seconds before the clink of a belt pulls him back in. He feels relief and disappointment in equal measures to see that Jayce has left his boxers on following the removal of everything else — not that the flimsy piece of material that sticks to Jayce like a second skin hides much of anything.
Jayce moves to stand up, pressing a hand to Viktor’s thigh for leverage for a fraction of a second before seemingly realising what a poor idea it is. When he does stand up, his palm is feather-light and Viktor is treated to a front-row seat to those huge thighs flexing from the effort.
Hand in hand, Jayce leads Viktor to the bathroom. He hasn’t turned around since he began to undress, thankfully, because Viktor knows well enough that if Jayce did turn around, Viktor’s gaze would drop downwards instantaneously. It’s best for both of them if he never gets an eyeful of the half he has to make up while he’s fantasising.
Viktor is surprised to see that Jayce was indeed right about their limited options for showering. There’s no tub to delineate a separation line between them, not even a shower curtain for either of them to hide behind.
The shower head is set into the ceiling, enclosed by glass walls that are so far apart it makes Viktor feel exposed just looking at it. There’s no getting around the fact that they’re both going to have to get in there. Together.
Inexplicably, there’s a handrail screwed into the wall closest to the shower head. It matches its surroundings well enough that it could almost go unnoticed, if not for the fact that Viktor would recognise Jayce’s work anywhere.
Viktor’s head tilts a little, confusion written clearly on his face while Jayce continues to lead him forwards.
Does Jayce use this? Is this for someone he frequently invites to stay?
Is it for Viktor?
It can’t be. Of course it can’t be.
Best not to dwell on it.
“So I guess,” Jayce starts, and that awkwardness is starting to seep back into his tone, “I’ll hold your hand and kind of stand out of the spray?”
Viktor runs through the logistics of their situation, and it doesn’t quite add up. “Do you have a stool, or something of the sort?”
It’s quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t.”
“I could use the handle, but then…” Viktor jostles their joined hands pointedly.
“You can lean on me,” Jayce says without hesitation. “I’ll hold my arm out.”
“Should we… spin around?”
“Right.”
They begin their shuffle, back-to-back, tiny clockwise steps until Viktor is facing the shower and Jayce is facing outwards. Jayce starts to laugh first, just like always, and hardly a couple of seconds pass before Viktor joins him.
They fall into a comfortable silence, which Viktor interrupts with, “We’re not putting this in the biography.”
“The showering part?”
“All of it.”
“We’ll see how you feel in a few years.”
“You are insufferable. How long does this take to heat up?”
“Oh! Ah, it doesn’t— it just comes out hot.”
Jayce is looking the other way, so Viktor is free to roll his eyes. “Hm. Maybe I’ll move in after all.”
Jayce doesn’t say anything to that.
With the ice broken, the shower is a much less awkward affair than Viktor envisioned. Perhaps a testament to their compatibility, the way they adapt and shift to match one another. Jayce keeps a steady hand out, which Viktor tries his best not to lean on too much, even though he’s sure Jayce would be able to take his full weight.
Even though he’s plagued with thoughts of how it would feel to let himself fall backwards into Jayce’s chest, knowing he would be caught easily.
But those are thoughts to fold up and tuck away until this debacle is over. He can cast his mind to Jayce’s warm, soapy arms running down his torso at a later date, preferably when he’s alone and not physically attached to the object of his desires. So for now he makes use of Jayce’s expensive soaps and shampoos, and he makes quick work of it. He uses his hands, rather than inviting himself to the loofah or any of the various washcloths — he’s certain Jayce would offer one up if he were watching. But he isn’t, so he doesn’t.
All in all, it’s going fine. Not that Viktor is quite able to forget that Jayce is there, but the whole event is more comfortable than expected.
Once he’s finished, they hobble across the room together and Viktor wraps himself in one of the big, fluffy towels. It’s far too wide for him, circling around his hips nearly twice over, and it’s almost impossible to tuck it properly until the pair link arms to free up the use of Viktor’s other hand.
In his own home, Viktor would be in a rush against time before the chill set into his bones for the night, but Jayce’s heating system is a welcome luxury. He is, strangely enough, at ease. He’s sleepy rather than exhausted, an entirely unfamiliar feeling to Viktor’s weary body.
Jayce must be settling into this slower mood too, because his voice is quiet when he asks, “Is it alright if I sleep like this?” He’s gesturing down to the fresh underwear he’d managed to wrangle on as Viktor dried himself with the towel. “Safer if we link arms or something, just in case.”
Just in case.
Just earlier today, Viktor would have loved nothing more than to be subject to this proposition. Now, he doesn’t know if he could think of anything worse for his general mental wellbeing. He kind of wants to say no, kind of wants to run back to his own cold, tiny, safe apartment and suffer the pain in his own bed the way he’s so used to doing. It’s strange, the way his mind has warped the agony he felt just earlier into a mere ache, with the way it seems preferable to how much it will hurt to wake up next to Jayce tomorrow morning. He wants to say no. What comes out of his mouth instead is, “Of course.”
Viktor, luckily, did prepare enough to bring clean underwear of his own. They usually sit in his bottom desk drawer in case of unexpected overnight stays in the lab. He’s cursing himself a little for not regularly packing an entire change of clothes, but he’s grateful for at least this.
Once again, Jayce pointedly looks away, uselessly fiddling with trinkets atop his dresser while Viktor puts them on.
The awkwardness ramps straight back up as they settle into bed next to one another, and it’s as though that brief comfortable intermission never happened. Jayce’s forearm rests atop Viktor’s own, and they’re still. Silent.
Viktor breaks first. “When did you say the next batch was being delivered?”
He doesn’t have to specify; Jayce picks up on his meaning. “Early next week.”
“Right.”
“We’ll figure this out,” Jayce says firmly, words accompanied by the slide of his palm down to Viktor’s hand. He interlocks their fingers together once more and squeezes in a comforting gesture that does, admittedly, work to calm Viktor’s mind. “Wake me up if you need anything, okay?”
Viktor tightens his hand around Jayce’s in lieu of a response.