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It’s late November. They’re finally acquiring funding for their personal projects.
The cold sheets of metal warble when shaken, and Viktor squeals with laughter, abruptly. Jayce peels off his goggles and grins.
“That’s such a funny sound,” Jayce says, exhaling a small laugh. He can’t help but laugh when Viktor does; everything his partner does is contagious.
His good moods, and his bad ones. His moods of inspiration or deep insecurity. Jayce loves to share them all with him, determined to make him feel less alone.
He’s mostly inspired that Viktor considers Jayce in everything he does. He consoles Jayce when he’s discouraged, he laughs with him when he’s feeling proud, he reminds Jayce to take care of himself. He’s loving, and Jayce is determined to offer that love back, tenfold.
Viktor wiggles the metal sheet again, laughing hysterically when it makes a strange rippling sound, almost like an onomatopoeia for “wobble”.
“It’s dancing!” Viktor giggles, gleefully.
“Sure is, Vik.” Jayce watches intently as Viktor entertains himself.
Viktor’s gaze is soft around the edges, his soft lips curled upright, his dimples deep in his skin, cheeks bunched up like pink apples. His hair falls into his eyes, the chestnut curls have been long overgrown as of late. He looks like an angel. Jayce wants to scoop him up in his arms and kiss him senseless.
Jayce wishes he could stop time, and simply let Viktor live with this kind of timeless joy, forever. A smile in every experience. He tries to sigh, to lessen the tight strain, the deep yearning that settles in his lungs and in his heart; all for Viktor.
It never goes away, and for that, Jayce is grateful.
____
Shame runs deep in Viktor’s life. Jayce knows bits and pieces.
The first time he had experienced shame was when he was five, and tried to help his neighbour; a crabby old man who lived two houses down from his family’s little shack.
Viktor earnestly tried to help him move his boxes of newspapers, but his leg curled inwards in the midst of his shift in weight, as he struggled to hold the box’s width with his short arms. He fell forwards, chest tumbling hard into the ground, as he lay wheezing weakly.
When he opens his eyes, his neighbour’s shoes fill his view, the man towering above him.
Soft, rich dirt coated his finger nails as he struggled to stand upright. The man had just watched, his lips pressed into a taught line.
“You’ll never amount ta anything, if ya can’t even stand uprite’.” His thick, Scottish-adjacent voice piercing five year old Viktor in the heart, where it lay there with him, in the dirt.
“Really?” Viktor’s meek voice was almost pleading, and the man simply shrugged.
“S’only the honest truth, lad.”
Viktor couldn’t help but believe him.
And for a while, everything he did felt like it amounted to nothing, because he couldn’t stand upright; not on his own, anyway.
_____
Viktor’s embarrassment is rather, (and oddly,) endearing to Jayce.
Perhaps, it’s due to Jayce’s ego. Like when Viktor wants something he believes is unrealistic, Jayce will find a way to give it to him. To provide for him. To love him in every, exceptional way.
Sometimes, however, it got frustrating, like right now.
Viktor’s brows are taut, his lips wobbling as he demands Jayce hand him back the stuffed animal. A ragged, purple cat stuffed animal with a white muzzle and a pink nose. It smells like old, pilling cotton, and mildew.
Jayce wrinkles his nose at the toy, sighing, and failing to be discreet.
“Just tell me what this is doing here, okay? I don’t like it when you feel like you have to hide things from me.” Jayce reasons, teeth grit with sheer determination (of understanding).
Viktor bounces on the balls of his feet, cane scraping against the tiling. He whines, sounding similarly to that of a child.
“It’s… mine.” He murmurs, and looks up at Jayce with big, wet, glossy eyes. Jayce’s hard expression instantly softens into something gentle.
Jayce gently places the toy in the middle of their bed, and shuffles towards Viktor. His large warm palms come down to rub at Viktor’s sides, his hollow cheeks, his lithe back. He pets his hair soothingly, humming quietly.
“Do you like soft toys?” Jayce asks, voice tampered down as he speaks into the crown of Viktor’s head. His soft curly locks tickle at Jayce’s chin.
Viktor nods quietly into Jayce’s shoulder, his sharp jaw knocking against Jayce’s neck.
“It’s my only one,” Viktor whispers, voice shaky and pitiful.
Viktor yanks his head backwards to stare upwards at Jayce, lips bowed down into a soft pout.
“Please don’t make me throw it out,” He pleads, lashes clumped together, damp.
“Why would I do that?” Jayce’s brows furrow with immediate irritation; “Why are you assuming the absolute worst of me?”
Viktor sniffles, “I just… it’s an oddity for a man my age to carry such a precarious… and rather, sentimental attitude towards a stinky toy…” He pecks Jayce on the cheek, “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to assume anything…”
“I… even if it’s odd, I’d just rather not take a chance to part with it…” Viktor admits, but the attitude of worry — the idea that Jayce would be judgemental breaks Jayce’s heart.
“It’s not odd, baby boy. You can have it, I don’t care,” He soothes, a large palm rising to cradle the back of Viktor’s head.
“ — I’ll get you even more, if you want, V.” Jayce soothes, lips pressing soft patterns into Viktor’s scalp. A litany of kisses; a promise.
Viktor stiffens, pupils dilating with childish want, tears springing to his eyes, “Really?” He asks, reverent and gentle.
Jayce’s eyes soften beyond belief, “Of course, Viktor.”
Viktor eyes Jayce wryly, almost jokingly, “Even if I want a lobster toy?”
Jayce laughs, chest shaking with a low rumble — his eyes shine with love. “Even if you want a lobster toy.”
“How will you find one? I doubt that’s very common.” Viktor grins, exhaling a puff of a laugh.
“I’ll make one if I have to, baby. How’s that sound?”
_______
It’s December, and the month of Viktor’s birthday. Their apartment shines brightly with their shimmery pine tree.
It sits in the corner of the living room, which is now considerably cramped. Jayce continues to unravel the yard of red tinsel, smiling fondly while Viktor sits on the floor to dig through the Christmas ornaments.
Viktor pulls out a snowman ornament which is covered in painted glitter that subsequently gets all over his palms. Once he realizes his fingers are now sparkly, he squeals with laughter.
He pushes the snowman upwards and into Jayce’s line of grasp. “Here,” he babbles sternly. Jayce laughs, heart singing to see Viktor so carefree.
It’s his first time celebrating Christmas with Jayce, actually. Viktor was elated when Jayce brought him along to pick out a tree. They even considered making a string of HexTech gems to decorate the tree with, before realizing it’d be too expensive and pointless to manufacture.
Jayce plucks the snowman, and turns it over twice in his hand — the ornament is tiny in his large palm. Viktor gapes at Jayce’s large, gentle hands, simply comforted by the sheer shape of Jayce.
‘He’s so…. Papa shaped’, Viktor thinks, before abruptly laughing heartily. He claps his hands together, almost singing as he garbles his words, “Papa, Papa!”
Jayce blinks at the name. He gently allows the tinsel to escape his hold and fall to the floor with a soft sigh.
He kneels down to match Viktor’s height on the floor.
“Hi baby,” he says, gently. “How old are you, Viki?” He grabs Viktor's socked foot playfully, almost like you would to a baby to get their attention.
Viktor giggles as he brings a hand up to his mouth, and chews on his index finger. “Papa,” he says, pawing at Jayce’s closed fist with his free hand. He wants the snowman.
“Your papa is here, yes baby.” Jayce whispers, opening his hand to reveal the shiny ornament. Viktor squawks with excitement, good leg bouncing childishly.
Viktor takes his wet, drool-covered hand out of his mouth to point at the snowman, and asks, “What?”
His voice is so earnest, so laughably soft and sweet. He really is Jayce’s baby.
“This is a snowman Viktor, like you know… one you’d build outside?” Jayce answers, nudging the snowman into Viktor’s sticky hand.
Viktor smiles, drool tacky on the side of his sweet mouth, “Huh? ‘Ou’side?” He babbles, eyes wide with deep curiosity. He’s probably around two years old right now, Jayce realizes.
“Yeah, outside! You remember Minty the pony when she had her Christmas? Her friends built a snowman,” Jayce reasons, trying to jog Viktor’s memory.
Viktor grins, and whacks the snowman on the floor excitedly, “Minty! Minty!” He squeaks happily.
“A Very Minty Christmas” is a silly pony movie, and Viktor’s favorite all year round. He even has a toy pony of her, which is also his only other toy. He doesn’t need much to enjoy himself, but that upsets Jayce — Viktor deserves the world.
“Do you want to build a snowman?” Jayce asks, hands coming down to soothingly put pressure on Viktor’s shoulders, to calm his rambunctious excitement (sometimes if Viktor is too loud, he ends up scaring himself with his own volume. How silly.)
Viktor makes grabby hands for Jayce, whining excitedly; “Ou’side!”
Jayce weighs his options for a moment — either they get cold outside and come back in, with wet gloves and boots, and have hot cocoa, or stay inside to finish the tree, where it’s warm.
He looks down at Viktor who’s smiling up at Jayce so sweetly, “Papa?” He asks, arms still out for uppies. Jayce sighs, he really can’t say no to his baby.
“Okay, Viki, okay. But let’s put on our coats so we stay warm, okay?”
____
Viktor lays on their bed while Jayce changes him into his winter gear. He slips a sweater over Viktor’s head — one Viktor chose. It’s green and red, with a knitted reindeer in the middle. Very cute.
Unfortunately, dressing Viktor is very frustrating. His body is rigid and stiff; babycare is still very uncomfortable for him to adapt to, so he doesn’t really know what to do with himself. He pouts when Jayce takes off his pajama bottoms to put his jeans on. He doesn’t like jeans. They make his leg brace even harder to bend.
Viktor whines in dismay, before bringing his hands up to his mouth, again.
Viktor makes babyish sounds, almost fighting with Jayce to keep his fingers in his mouth. Jayce pulls them out, for the third time, and says in a very stern tone; “No. You want to go outside? No fingers in your mouth, Viktor.”
His expression is unwavering — he’s sort of fed up at this point. Papa is not being silly anymore, and that frightens Viktor. Confrontation of any kind is scary to a baby, and so is being told “no”. It’s almost foreign in Viktor’s mind, because he wasn’t doing anything wrong… he was just trying to keep himself busy. He turns his head to the side, biting his lip.
Before Viktor can realize it, fat tears are spilling down his eyes and dripping off the slope of his nose, especially from such an odd angle. Jayce doesn’t notice, and continues dressing Viktor in silence. He pulls Viktor’s red puffy coat over his arms, and buttons his jeans. He puts on Viktor’s thick socks, pulling them gently over his cold feet.
He pats Viktor’s knee; “All done.”
Viktor doesn’t try to sit up, or stick his hands out for uppies, or ask for Papa, or anything. He lay on the covers, silently watching the ceiling, tears leaking onto the duvet under him.
Jayce tries to pull Viktor up, only to have Viktor’s lithe fingers claw to cling to Jayce. He buries himself into Jayce’s chest, hiccuping quietly.
Jayce’s heart drops, and he immediately starts checking Viktor over, “Did I pinch you by accident? Are your pants too tight? Do you not like the socks I picked?” He pleads, desperate to make sure Viktor is okay.
“Papa,” Viktor’s voice wobbles, snot dribbling down from his nose, he’s crying hard. “M’sorry,” he whimpers.
“Sorry?” Jayce asks, confused. Viktor looks up at Jayce with red, wet eyes.
“Mad, papa?” He inquires, bottom lip trembling.
Jayce realizes Viktor is anxious Jayce is upset with him for not listening about his ‘hands in the mouth’ rule.
“Oh baby,” he moves to sit on the bed, so he can cradle Viktor in his lap. “Just because I say no, it doesn’t mean I’m mad at you, or that I don’t love you.” He kisses Viktor’s damp cheeks. Viktor just stares at him, vacant from the conversation. He’s too little to understand.
Jayce licks his lips nervously, “Papa is not mad, sweetie. I love you, baby.”
Viktor's grip on Jayce’s back tightens; he’s clinging on for dear life. “Papa,” he slurs, weeping quietly.
“Papa loves you, baby. I’m sorry for upsetting you, Viki.” He kisses Viktor’s shoulder, his neck and then his forehead.
Jayce pats around the bed and finds Viktor’s stuffed kitty buried underneath his pillow. He drags it out with one hand, waving in front of Viktor, hoping to make him smile.
Viktor doesn’t turn around, and keeps sniffling defeatedly into Jayce’s arms. “Hey, baby look.” Jayce nudges Viktor’s shoulder with the kitty, where Viktor steals a glance at the toy. He smiles warmly.
“Kitty!” He smiles, completely forgetting his aforementioned anxiety. Jayce gives him the stuffy, his heart pounding with deep warmth as he watches Viktor snuggle into it lovingly.
“Do you still want to go outside, baby?” Jayce asks, shifting his knees so Viktor can sit comfortably in his lap.
Viktor hums, and has to tear his eyes away from his kitty. “Ou’side? Kitty?” He asks, pouting as if to convince Jayce.
“You want to bring your kitty outside? Sure, baby. Just be careful so he won’t get cold.” Jayce agrees, easily. He tucks a loose lock of hair behind Viktor’s ear.
Viktor grins, cheeks pink and blotchy from his crying prior. “Ou’side!” He claps, in between sniffles. Jayce wipes his nose lovingly with a tissue.
_____
Only once Jayce is dressed in his warm coat and strong winter boots, do they go outside. The two men trudge through the sidewalk and onto the pavement, where they flag down a carriage to head for the park.
Jayce helps Viktor climb in first, and climbs in after him. He holds Viktor’s cane next to him, just as a precaution. His baby is too little to be responsible right now.
Viktor sits quietly in the backseat with Jayce, toy kitty sitting delicately in his lap. Viktor has wrapped the toy’s neck gently with some red cray paper decoration as a “scarf”. How sweet, Jayce thinks fondly.
The carriage rattles on for approximately ten minutes until they arrive at the Hedge Peak park. The iron gates are huge and pretty, the top columns are decorated by gargoyles. Viktor points to them eagerly, “Dragon,” he says earnestly.
Jayce pats his thin shoulder proudly, “Good job, Viki.”
The park is covered in snow - there’s a long twisty walkway path for people who come here to walk around/their pets. There’s half a field covered in snow and trees. They walk around until Jayce urges Viktor to start on his snowman.
Jayce holds Viktor’s kitty for him while Viktor sits on the icy ground, while he packs together a bunch of snow, (and has to have Jayce gently remind him to not put any snow in his mouth).
Jayce makes the body of the snowman and helps Viktor by lifting the head onto the lower half.
“It’s a very short snowman,” Jayce comments, and Viktor laughs. His toy kitty is sitting next to him, while Viktor rolls a small snowball for his kitty to “play with.”
“That’s so nice of you to include your kitty, Viki.” He praises, and feels proud when Viktor’s cheeks turn pink and his gaze now shy.
After a while of Viktor collecting stones for the face, and babbling incoherently, Jayce helps Viktor to his feet, “Do you wanna put the nose in?” He asks, taking out a small cellophane bag that holds a medium sized carrot.
“Papa!” Viktor chirps happily. Jayce smiles. He always has to include Jayce.
“Together then, okay?” Jayce places the carrot into Viktor’s grasp, and wraps his own palm around Viktor’s hand. He gently guides Viktor to the snowman’s head, and together they push the nose in.
Viktor claps excitedly. “Minty!” He says.
“Yeah baby, just like Minty did. Let’s do the face now, okay?”
____
Viktor doesn’t stop talking about his snowman experience, which was later revealed to be his first one he’s ever built.
Jayce recalls that day fondly, even though it was a mere week ago. They had sat at home afterwards, Viktor’s nose a bright pink as he nursed on a yummy hot chocolate, the television set bright and noisy as it replayed “A Very Minty Christmas” for the millionth time.
“Papa.” Viktor says, lashes fluttering as he looks up at Jayce from his seat on the floor. He’s sitting on a dozen cushions and wrapped in their duvet; Jayce always goes overboard when it comes to making sure Viktor is comfortable and warm.
His plastic Minty pony sits next to him on one side, and his plush kitty on his other side.
“Yes, baby?” Jayce asks, a gentle hand coming down to pet Viktor's head lovingly. Viktor smiles — he just wanted to be acknowledged. Jayce brings two fingers to his lips and places them down onto Viktor’s forehead, eliciting a bright and happy laugh.
_____
It’s Christmas morning, Viktor’s back snuggled against Jayce’s chest, the white snow falling silently outside illuminates their dark bedroom. Jayce wants to live in this moment forever.
Jayce shuffles to stretch, earning a grumpy whine in response. Viktor doesn’t like to wake up, especially when he’s being cuddled.
Jayce rubs along Viktor’s chest, his hips, “It’s Christmas, Vik. C’mon,” he says, a yawn interrupting his very convincing plea.
“Let’s get up.” Jayce tries again, bumping Viktor’s bony shoulder. Viktor cracks an eye open, and smiles softly.
“Pancakes?” He asks, accent thick on his tongue. Jayce wants to kiss his leisurely vowels out of his throat.
Jayce rolls his eyes, “Yes, sure, I’ll make us pancakes. Will you get up now?”
Viktor moves drowsily and slowly, craning his head back to blink up at Jayce in a sickly sweet, and rather taunting manner.
“Kiss?” He asks, voice weak and as gentle as warmed cotton.
Jayce nuzzles his nose against Viktor’s, before connecting their lips together for a chaste, Christmas kiss. He pulls away to kiss Viktor's cheeks, causing Viktor to squirm and laugh gently.
“Always, Viktor.”
____
“Do you want to open presents first?” Jayce asks, once they’ve made their way successfully into the living room.
“Pancakes?” Viktor pouts — he knows that works on Jayce too well. Jayce wills himself to look away.
“I’ll make pancakes, I promise. I just… I got you some things and I’m excited to see your reaction.”
Viktor smiles, “You’re so sweet, Jayce. I got you some nice things, too.”
Viktor wobbles tiredly as he makes his way to sit on the couch. It’s not long before he’s sitting in Jayce’s lap as he hands him a present.
Viktor blinks nervously, “Why don’t you open one of mine first?” He’s always been so embarrassed to accept anything.
“No, baby. I want you to go first,” Jayce kisses Viktor’s knuckles.
Viktor gently picks at the paper, careful to peel the tape off the pretty wrapping paper. It’s decorated with red and gold dots, with pictures of snowmen. Viktor traces them his finger, fond memories flooding back to him.
When he opens the package, it’s revealed to be a lobster plush. It has silly eyes and soft, fluffy red fabric. The claws are sewn with precision, with enough wiggle room for Viktor to put his fingers underneath the top claw.
Viktor’s eyes are watering, “You remembered?”
Jayce scoffs, like Viktor just asked the most absurd question possible. “Of course I remembered.”
Viktor pets the stuffed animal with such great enthusiasm, smiling ear to ear. “Oh, Jayce…” he curls up to hug Jayce tightly. “Thank you.”
“I told you I’d get you a lobster toy, baby.”
“You allow me to indulge too much,” Viktor says, bashfully.
“Nonsense,” Jayce shakes his head, already plucking another parcel for Viktor.
Viktor gently urges Jayce’s hand down, “It’s your turn now, my love.” Viktor hands Jayce a medium sized parcel.
It’s wrapped in silvery paper, adorned with a blue snowflake pattern and wrapped in a beautifully blue, and silky ribbon. Jayce unravels the present slowly, looking at Viktor with a playful, quirked eyebrow.
He opens it and is shown a handmade journal, an exact replica of Jayce’s first journal from when he was twenty, all the way to twenty-four; the journal that Viktor read that brought them together.
He turns it over in his hands, where the back has the phrase “I love you,” engraved in Jayce’s mother and father’s handwriting.
When Jayce opens the journal, the first page is stamped with Viktor’s timeless quote; “When you want to change the world, don’t ask for permission.”
Jayce blinks away tears, squeezing Viktor in his arms. “You little pretentious thing. You always go overboard,” he teases. “I love it, Viktor. Thank you.”
“I love you most,” Viktor smiles brightly, moving his lobster to pretend-kiss Jayce on the cheek.
It’s the perfect Christmas.
___
Viktor is regressed on his birthday. He hadn’t meant to, of course he never really means to, but this particular day had gone awry from the start.
Early in the morning he had cut his thumb on a butter knife, (of all things), when spreading jam on his toast. Viktor was pushed over when stepping off the carriage bus, and he forgot to bring his lunch along to work.
When he came home to their shared apartment, he buried himself underneath the covers, plush kitty snuggled underneath his chin. The soft fur against his face is beyond soothing, and so grounding.
It’s late in the evening, the room darkened as Viktor’s breathing evens out, blinking in the soft sunlight wafting through the curtains.
—-
Viktor doesn’t even realize it’s his birthday, not even until Jayce is lifting off the covers to peek inside; face etched with worry.
“Baby? Why are you hiding honey?” Jayce’s warm, loving hands come down like the sun's rays, firmly lifting up Viktor’s chin with a gentle forefinger.
That’s all it takes; Viktor’s embodiment of safety and love made tangible once again. Tears well up in his eyes, his voice cracking with strained relief; “Papa,” Viktor pleads.
“Oh my baby Viki,” Jayce coos, “Did you have a tough day?” Jayce soothes his thumb over Viktor’s wobbly bottom lip, his free hand swiping at the stream of tears.
“Bad,” Viktor whimpers, sucking in a ragged breath, “Papa,” he pleads once more — sticking a hand out from underneath the covers, yearning to be held. Jayce would be a fool to not oblige.
Jayce climbs into bed with Viktor, wrapping the blanket around his partner’s lithe frame, cradling him to his strong chest.
“Did you miss me? I’m so sorry I came late. I was picking something up,” he explains, but Viktor cuts him off with a weak sob, “Jayce,” he whines, again. Jayce quiets down to hold Viktor tighter, and even begins rocking them back and forth.
“I’m here baby, I’m so sorry,” Jayce cringes, heart practically bleeding at the sight of Viktor’s tears. It always hurts to see him cry.
Jayce pulls his satchel from where he had placed it on the bedside table, rummaging around with his free hand as he tries to soothe his fussy baby.
When he recognizes the familiar container, Jayce exclaims a proud “Aha!”. It’s the container that holds Viktor’s emergency pacifier. This one is white with lambs patterned adorning it.
He offers the pacifier to Viktor, where he accepts it into his mouth immediately, and eagerly. He suckles with an urgency for something familiar; something to soothe him, to numb his afflicted heart and mind.
Jayce pets Viktor’s cheek kindly, “Happy Birthday, my precious boy. Papa has something for you.” Jayce teases gently, bopping Viktor gently on his nose with a finger. Viktor just stares back, vacant and confused.
“Papa will be right back, okay?” Jayce whispers, before getting up and off of their bed. Viktor whines, voice muffled behind his pacifier. He reaches a hand out anxiously, which Jayce grasps, kissing his fingers reassuringly, “I’ll be back, I promise.”
___
Jayce comes back with a cute little baggy, one decorated with colorful dots and a cartoon puppy wearing a party hat. Viktor smiles weakly at the sight.
“Puppy,” he says sincerely. He looks at Jayce with tired, grateful eyes; as if this gift bag was the greatest thing he’d ever seen.
Jayce sits down on the edge of the bed, and offers the bag to Viktor’s crumpled form. “Yeah, it’s a puppy. Do you want to look inside?”
Viktor blinks sluggishly, pointing at the bag and smiling softly. He doesn’t even realize he’s been given a gift.
“Here, can I help you? I want to show you something,”
Jayce coos, reaching inside the bag. Viktor blinks owlishly in waiting.
Jayce slowly drags out a pretty stuffed animal; an aqua pony with soft pink hair. It’s a plushie of Minty the pony; Viktor’s favourite character.
Upon just the slightest glimpse, Viktor forgoes his sadness and begins squealing excitedly. His pacifier drops out his mouth almost immediately,
“Minty!” He squawks, flapping his hands with exploding joy.
Jayce chuckles warmly, gently lifting the toy from the bag and into Viktor’s hands. “Here you go baby,”
Viktor hugs the pony to his chest, babbling contentedly. He even begins rocking back and forth to express his excitement.
Jayce just watches fondly; gently smoothing Viktor’s hair with his hands lovingly.
“Happy birthday, Viktor.”
“Papa!” Viktor curls into Jayce’s chest, grinning ear to ear.
Papa really does make everything better!