Work Text:
I knew that look dear
Eyes always seeking
Was there in someone
That dug long ago
So I will not ask you
Why you were creeping
In some sad way I already know
I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask you and neither would you
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
We should just kiss like real people do
--
The sun is still up when they make their way into their apartment, but honestly, all Jayce wants to do is collapse in their bed and sleep. He wouldn’t be surprised if Viktor wanted the same thing -- his partner has been sleeping in the lab lately, and Jayce’s new role on the Council has kept him from being able to coax Viktor into an actual bed for a few hours. Not to mention, even if they weren’t kept apart by their work, Viktor had barely gotten out of the hospital. His body needed rest, even if Viktor was insistent on warring against it.
It makes Jayce nauseous to think about, the ticking clock they’re up against. He’s trying, he’s trying so damn hard to be everywhere at once, but between the Council and Jayce’s ever increasing awareness of the corruption this city seems to be built upon, the burden of finding a cure -- or even a treatment option that’ll provide a balance of both quality and longevity of life -- for Viktor’s failing lungs has fallen on his own shoulders. Frankly, between Viktor’s health and Mel’s push to use Hextech for weapons (Jayce has no idea how to explain to Viktor that part of him not only agreed with his friend’s instinct, but he had already made a Hextech powered weapon of his own), Jayce isn’t surprised that his partner’s mental health had been pushed to where it was.
Devastated, but not surprised.
Jayce holds the door open for Viktor, keeping his other hand on the small of his partner’s back. He brushes a ghost of a kiss against Viktor’s hair. He just… he needs to feel Viktor. To know he’s still there.
Viktor had saved Jayce’s life in a way that Jayce had hoped to never repay.
“Tea?” Jayce asks, heading to the kitchen without bothering to take his suit off. It can wait. “Or…?” Jayce reaches into the fridge and pulls out a can of sweetmilk. He waves it in the air, hoping the playful teasing can bring something of a smile to Viktor’s face.
It does, though only for a brief moment before Viktor shakes his head, setting his crutch against the wall and settling on their couch. Jayce will take the small victory for what it is.
He goes ahead and empties the can into a pot anyway, lighting the stovetop to warm it up. It's Viktor’s favorite treat, after all, and, well, Jayce knows how easy it is to deny yourself any and all comforts in this state. He strips his jacket off at last, draping it over the back of a chair, leaving his tie with it. He pours the warmed drink into a mug (one of those stupid Man of Progress mugs that Jayce is convinced they only own because Viktor gets a kick at how put off Jayce is by them). Jayce pauses at the kitchen counter for just a moment and takes a deep breath.
Is he stalling? Probably a little. He’s exhausted, he’s ashamed of all the morals he’s let go of lately, he’s horrified things have gotten to this point, and he’s terrified of losing his partner. He’s entitled to a moment to breathe.
Then, taking the drink, he turns back to Viktor, finding him with his face in his hands. Jayce sits beside him, putting one hand on his shoulder. Viktor looks up ever so slightly and Jayce takes the opening to hand the drink over.
“Jayce…,” Viktor scolds, but he takes it anyway, taking a sip.
If Jayce were to close his eyes, he could pretend they had just spent the day in the lab, notching gear, pouring over theories in books Heimerdinger would never approve of, bickering over math equations. They just got home, and Viktor probably had blueprints in his hands, never one to relax until he’s certain their current project has made enough progress in his mind. They’re laughing over some dumb inside joke they could never explain to anyone even if they tried. Jayce would tease Viktor over his sweet tooth, and everything would be fine.
Or maybe, if Jayce were to close his eyes, he could probably imagine a thousand and one scenes where he was a couple seconds too late earlier. Either was likely, in all honesty.
They sit in silence for a moment, only occasionally broken by the sound of Viktor sipping at his drink, and Jayce wonders if he should contact his mother to have her come over tomorrow. Given Viktor’s concerning insistence on destroying the Hexcore, he doubt his partner will be going into the lab -- on one hand, probably a good thing, given how much of a fight it normally is to get the workaholic to take a day off, but on the other, an idle mind combined with isolation is a bad idea. And, unfortunately, everything is just too fragile politically for Jayce to get away.
Maybe he could convince Viktor to come with him to his new office if he needed to.
Finally, Viktor sets the mug aside, still half full, and says, “...I need to tell you something.”
Jayce turns more towards Viktor, reaching for his hand. “Hey, it's alright. Take your-”
Viktor yanks his hand away.
“...Time,” Jayce finishes lamely. It's the second time in a week his partner has denied his touch.
How did this all happen? It's like he blinked and everything started collapsing in on itself.
Viktor worries his hands together for a moment, and Jayce notices something strange. Viktor’s wearing only one glove.
Then, Viktor holds out his gloved hand, looking away. “It… might be easier to show you,” he says in a tight voice.
Jayce hesitates, not sure where this is going. He reaches for Viktor’s hand again.
Viktor flinches, ever so slightly, and Jayce starts to pull away when suddenly the hand is in his face. “Just take it off ,” Viktor snaps at the wall.
Jayce has always been a tactile person, always using touch to comfort himself and others. Viktor has always been more reserved, coming off as closed off to those who didn’t know him, but he’s always welcomed Jayce’s touch, always seemed to enjoy it. To see him so distressed by it makes a knot of pain grow in Jayce’s chest. Still, he doesn’t argue, and, gently, he takes Viktor’s hand in both of his.
He goes to take it off when he sees something on Viktor’s wrist. A snake of purple peeking out from the rim of Viktor’s glove.
Jayce pulls the glove off in one go, and suddenly he’s cradling a tangle of purple and gold. Logically, he knows its a hand, and he knows that its machinery of some kind -- its solid, and there’s a faint wrr when the finger twitches that couldn’t be heard through the fabric, yet there’s an ever so slight give to it that metal doesn’t have -- but its so different from any prosthetic that Jayce has ever built or seen-
Wait.
Viktor has a metal hand.
Jayce stares down at it mutely, his thumb unconsciously stroking over the tendrils that make up the border between flesh and- whatever this material is.
“Oh,” Jayce says as it hits him all at once. “Oh, my god. Viktor, I-I- When did you lose your hand?!”
It had to have been after Viktor had been in the hospital, but when? Had Jayce really been so distracted running over paperwork that he hadn’t noticed Viktor had been injured to the point of amputation? Viktor had to have built the prosthetic himself, Jayce realizes with a strange amount of grief -- he had always taken pride in the fact he had built his mother’s prosthetic fingers, that he had helped design and build Viktor’s leg and back braces, that he had handbuilt and gifted Viktor’s crutch for him, and here was the man he loved, forced to one handedly build his own prosthetic while likely not even properly treating the injury because Jayce had been playing Council-
“It's the same hand I’ve always had,” Viktor interrupts. “Just… changed.”
“ How? ” Jayce tears his eyes away from the hand, trying to search Viktor’s face. “What could’ve-” Jayce blinks, the answer obvious in the way Viktor’s mouth thins. “The Hexcore.”
“I didn’t mean for this. I swear.”
Jayce slowly turns his eyes back to Viktor’s hand. It's beautiful, he thinks, in a strange way. It looks like it's made up of exposed muscle and bone, the crisscrossing pattern mesmerizing. “I- huh. Okay.” Jayce tries to think of something to say. “Its-”
“Sky is dead.”
Jayce opens and closes his mouth, stunned.
“She- what? No.”
“Its-its my fault.” Viktor finally turns to face him, rare tears in his eyes. “I swear, I didn’t mean- it doesn’t matter. I-I killed someone, Jayce.”
Jayce blinks, and a red haired child flashes before his eyes, staring up at him in agony and terror before falling horribly still. He shudders, and Viktor starts to pull away from him again.
“Hey, hey, no no no.” Jayce rushes to gather Viktor in his arms. “No. It-its-” Sky Young, dead? Their latest assistant, a brilliant, if quiet, young woman? “It was an accident.” A child. A fucking child, at Jayce’s own hand- “It was an accident.”
Viktor fists Jayce’s waistcoat tight enough that it’ll probably wrinkle. “That doesn’t make it right!”
Jayce had been allowed to walk away scot free. Casualtie happened, the Enforcers with him had said. It was just the price you paid for the sake of the greater good.
Greater good. Jayce grimaced with disgust at the words. What had Viktor said earlier? “In our pursuit to do great, we failed to do good.”
“It's okay,” is all Jayce can say.
“It isn’t.”
“It- okay, I know you. I know you were doing something good ,” Jayce rationalizes. “Accidents in the lab happen, Vik, and we’re experimenting with things no one has ever thought of before. Whatever you were doing-”
“I-” Viktor starts and stops.
Jayce runs a hand down Viktor’s back, grounding himself in the feel of his partner's brace through his clothes. “Go on.”
“...I fixed my leg.”
Jayce stares at the wall for a moment, finding he somehow still has the capacity for surprise.
“Oh?”
Viktor says nothing, lightly pushing Jayce’s chest away. He lifts his right leg up to rest on the ledge of the couch. He pulls up his pants’ cuff just enough to expose the ankle, and sure enough, there’s that same crossword of purple machinery.
Jayce moves away from the couch to the floor, crouching before Viktor, needing to get a better look. “How high does it go?”
“Nearly to my hip.”
Jayce reaches for Viktor’s pants buttons, waiting for permission. Viktor nods, once more refusing to meet his eye.
Jayce, on his knees before Viktor, removing his pants -- this is supposed to be fun, something they do to make each other feel good, he thinks bitterly.
Inch by inch, Jayce finds more and more of that machinery. The gold that decorates the leg is in a familiar pattern, one that reminds Jayce of the leg brace Viktor wears under his clothes and to bed occasionally. It probably is the brace, Jayce realizes, and then, to his horror, Jayce also realizes he hadn’t even noticed Viktor wasn’t wearing his overbrace at all.
Jayce runs his hand up and down Viktor’s leg, simply taking in its new form. The gold was firmer, feeling like proper metal. There was a slight twitch, visible in the crosswork, when Jayce brushed his fingers along the backside of Viktor’s knee. There was no other reaction. Jayce wondered if Viktor was still ticklish.
Jayce gave Viktor’s caff a slight squeeze, aiming for comfort in the action.
Lights sparked out from between Jayce’s fingers.
Jayce jumps slightly, and he sees Viktor’s hand clench at his sides.
“Did I hurt you?” Jayce asks.
“No,” Viktor answers. “I… I think I still have pain there, but it feels… distant. Encased away. I don’t think you could hurt me if you tried.”
Jayce rests his head against Viktor’s knees. Viktor was still here. They were both still here. He just repeated those words in his brain, pushing away everything else that’s happened lately.
Viktor brushes a hand through his hair -- his unchanged left hand, Jayce can’t help but notice.
“...I ran, for the first time in my life,” Viktor says softly. He’s crying, Jayce can hear it in his voice. “It hurt -- my hip, my back, my lungs, they burned in ways I never realized they would.”
“But not your leg?” Jayce asks.
The Hexcore had given Viktor’s leg the strength to support his body while he ran, Jayce thought. He thought about Viktor’s dying lungs, the thing that they’re fighting against. What if-
“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it ,” Viktor says, knowing him too well. Viktor pulled at Jayce’s shoulder, and Jayce moved away reluctantly. Rising to his knees, he takes Viktor’s face in his hands, thumbing away the tears.
So the Hexcore could save Viktor. And Jayce would have to destroy it.
“You don’t understand, zlatíčko. Just- look .” Viktor had unbuttoned his vest and shirt, and across his shoulder and upper arm, Jayce sees-
Fuck.
Carved into Viktor’s skin were runes, most barely healed. Viktor had done this to himself, Jayce just knew.
“I’ve taken Shimmer,” Viktor confessed. “I’ve ruined this already damned body. I killed an innocent person. Jayce, nothing I have done has been worth it.”
Jayce, frankly, disagrees. Viktor was still alive. Of course it was all worth it.
Jayce pulls Viktor’s face towards him and kisses the mole beneath his eye, tasting salt. Then, looking Viktor in the eye, he took Viktor’s changed hand in his and placed a kiss there as well.
“I’m going to find a way to save you,” he says.
“I will never understand why you think I’m worth saving.”
Viktor kisses him before he can reply. He tastes metallic -- blood, Jayce knows. Jayce relishes in it, relishes in the breath against his cheek, the teeth and tongue and lips that move against his.
Eyes opened and closed, all he sees is Viktor.
Jayce pulls away, lasing their fingers together and resting his forehead against Viktor’s. He wishes he had the words to tell Viktor how brave he is, much braver than Jayce, who can’t even confess everything he’s done since becoming a Councilor, but he knows Viktor won’t hear it.
“Finish your drink,” he says instead. “We should get to bed soon.”