Chapter Text
“Jayce.”
Warmth. That’s what he notices first.
Slowly returning to the surface of consciousness, he feels warmth on his shoulder.
“ Jayce .”
Pressure. Pleasant. Also on his shoulder.
“I will splash water on your face, Talis.”
His eyes snap open.
He’s confused. He heard threatening words, but the face that comes into focus is far from threatening - wisps of brown curls, sharp cheekbones, a smattering of moles that look like unmapped constellations. Amber eyes that match the lamplight, like warmed honey.
Any tension in Jayce’s chest releases, and a smile slips over his face. Despite those strangely threatening words from earlier, this is the warmest, comfiest, safest he’s ever felt. Probably. Maybe that’s just the sleep talking.
Above him, the thin line of a mouth quirks into a smirk.
“Finally,” his lab partner says. “He wakes”.
“What time is it?” Jayce rubs his eyes. He would sit up, but he realizes Viktor is sitting by his hip on the shitty office couch Jayce is stretched out on. He doesn’t want to accidentally knock Viktor off the couch with his sleep-addled limbs.
“Late. Early. One of those.” Viktor says with the wave of a hand. “I don’t trust you with a soldering iron at this hour. We should go home. Rest. Return tomorrow.” Viktor uses his cane to pull himself up, then turns and offers Jayce a hand.
Jayce takes it, following this charade that Viktor could pull Jayce’s giant form to his feet. He yawns.
“You sure?” Jayce asks. “I just need a coffee and I’ll be ready.” He yawns again. “Two coffees.”
There’s a wry chuckle from Viktor, but Jayce knows his partner considered his offer for a good half-second. “You get sloppy when you are sleepy,” Viktor says, grabbing his coat from the hanger and passing Jayce his. “No point in burning yourself.”
Jayce snorts, nestling his head into his coat like it’s a balled up blanket. He is sleepy. Viktor clearly didn’t wake him up after the agreed upon thirty minute nap. Traitor.
“Fine,” he resigns himself to the necessity of rest. “We go home for five hours of sleep. Maybe six.”
They shuffle towards the door, Jayce still drowsy, Viktor leaning on his cane a little more than usual at the late hour.
“Remind me why I can’t just sleep here?” Jayce says around another yawn as Viktor turns to lock up the lab.
“Because,” Viktor says, fishing for his keys, “that is my couch -”
“That I bought!” Jayce interjects.
“For me.” Viktor counters. “If I can’t sleep on it, no one can.”
“We could have shared,” Jayce grumbles, but the thread of this conversation is already slipping away from him like a leaf floating down a winding river. His drowsy eyes drift to Viktor’s hands, slender fingers nimbly catching the proper key and turning the lock. Skilled hands, Jayce thinks. Viktor’s fingers always move with precision, a deliberate dance with pens and chalk, keys and pliers.
Delicate but strong.
Beautiful.
Huh .
Jayce shakes the thought out of his head. It must be the crack of dawn for thoughts this…reverential. About hands, of all things. Gods, he needs sleep.
Luckily, it’s not a far walk to Viktor’s Academy housing, or Jayce’s own apartment from there. In the cover of night and the glow of the lamp posts, Jayce’s eyes keep drifting back to Viktor’s hands. He’s still thinking about them when his head finally hits the pillow. And if the slender beauty of Viktor’s hands follows him into his dreams, Jayce insists he doesn’t remember.
*** *** ***
The lab door is unlocked and the smell of coffee grounds wafts through the air when Jayce returns after his five (and a half) hours of sleep.
He already feels more alert, refreshed. Coffee can only help with that.
“How are you already here?” Jayce asks, hanging up his coat just as Viktor tips the last spoonful of coffee into the pot, knocking off any final grounds with a firm tap. “I thought we agreed on six hours of sleep.”
“Five was plenty,” Viktor replies. “For you too, it seems. Coffee will be ready soon.” His fingers turn the edge of the bag over and over on itself with precision, so no air can ‘corrupt the potency’, as Viktor likes to complain when Jayce inevitably does it wrong. His fingers are meticulous but gentle.
What would those fingers feel like in Jayce’s hair?
Jayce freezes. Where did that come from? Maybe he’s not as awake as he thought.
“I’m - uh - going to get a start on soldering.” Jayce moves towards the other side of the workshop. Can you bring me a cup when it’s ready?”
Clearly he still needs it.
***
Jayce eventually puts aside the soldering, grabbing his notebook to refine some prototype sketches. Hunched over his notes, his mind races, pencil barely keeping up with his train of thought.
Finally, once he’s sure he captured the bare bones of the idea before it’s escaped him, Jayce tucks the pencil behind his ear and rolls his shoulder with a groan. He really should stop curling into a tense ball when inspiration strikes - does he really think that much better with his nose all but pressed against the page -
A mug of black coffee slides next to his notebook.
“Thanks, V,” Jayce turns, smiling at his partner. Viktor sips from his own mug cradled between both hands, a mug that Jayce knows contains a sickeningly sweet concoction that barely counts as coffee. A tuft of brown hair flops across Viktor’s forehead mid-sip. He smiles through the drooping bangs at Jayce.
“It might be a little cold. It was ready earlier, but I did not want to…interrupt.” Viktor says.
Jayce can’t seem to look away from the hair over Viktor’s eyes. He is usually so put together and deliberate about how he presents himself, as though his buttoned shirts and pressed slacks are a suit of armor that defend him from Piltover’s prejudice. Something about this wisp, about Viktor seeming unbothered by a visible imperfection around Jayce makes his throat tighten. It feels vulnerable. A chink in the armor that Viktor doesn’t hasten to hide.
Before he realizes what he’s doing, Jayce’s fingers stretch out, moving to tuck the stray hair behind Viktor’s ear.
“There you go,” Jayce says.
And immediately blushes.
What was that?! Viktor’s eyes widen, but with his cane propped against the desk and both hands wrapped around his mug, he can’t really escape. He must have been waiting a while for Jayce to finish writing before passing the coffee.
Should Jayce apologize??? Won’t apologizing make this more awkward?? He’s always been impulsive and affectionate, but that wasn’t exactly lab-partner-like behavior -
“Thanks,” Viktor says softly, shocking Jayce out of his panic. “My hands were full”. He lifts the mug for emphasis.
“Uh, yeah, any time.” Jayce hurriedly takes a gulp of his own coffee. He prays the caffeine will kick in soon. Whatever these drowsy late night lab thoughts are, he needs to chase them away fast. The sun is up. No time for dreaming about slender fingers or wisps of hair or how that hair might flop down over Viktor’s eyes again if he leaned to whisper in Jayce’s ear, or press his lips against Jayce’s throat -
Jayce chokes on another gulp of coffee as it goes down the wrong pipe.
“Jayce?” Viktor asks. The concern in his voice makes Jayce’s stomach feel light and his cheeks flush. He reassures himself that while Viktor is brilliant and observant, he can not read minds.
“All good,” Jayce flashes a weak smile, draining the rest of his coffee. “I’m gonna pour another cup. Do you want some?”
He’s halfway to the kitchenette before Viktor can respond.
*** *** ***
Time passes. The distracting thoughts don’t disappear.
If anything, they get worse.
It’s as though something woke up inside of him. And now that it’s awake, Jayce can’t seem to shut that part of his brain off.
With a growing sense of panic, Jayce begins to notice how much he touches Viktor.
Little moments, careless brushes: claps on the shoulder, nudges for emphasis, steadying arms. More trusting moments too, like when Viktor lets him adjust his back brace or replace padding in his leg brace.
Before, Jayce barely noticed the contact. He’s a friendly guy, he’s affectionate with all his friends, with Caitlin, with his mom - but now, after whatever-this-is started - his brain perverts every brush, every glance, any moment of contact. It makes him cringe. He can’t shut it off.
These thoughts come unbidden at the most random moments. He’ll glance up from his notes and see Viktor across the lab at his workbench with his back turned, using the magnifying glass to adjust prototype parts. He’s focused, professional, the same way he’s been every day Jayce has known him - except now Jayce wants to roll his chair over and pull Viktor into his lap. Wrap his arms around Viktor’s waist. Bury his face in the crook of Viktor’s neck.
He’s suddenly aware of how slender Viktor is, all sharp angles and long limbs, achingly beautiful - brilliant. Jayce can appreciate his lab partner’s brilliant mind, right? It’s not a crime to appreciate his lab partner.
Except Jayce knows these new thoughts, this new… awareness of Viktor is not exactly professional.
For example: Jayce has always passed Viktor a rag when his partner removes his goggles after a failed experiment or when he absentmindedly leaves a streak of grease on his forehead after pushing his hair out of his eyes.
It’s considerate. Jayce knows it’s important to keep lab tools clean. And isn’t Viktor one of the most valuable assets in the lab?
It’s just that these days, instead of passing the rag, Jayce wants to brush any offending oil grease off of Viktor’s forehead - cheek - eyebrow - lips - with his thumb.
Wants to press his lips to those spots, too.
Jayce doesn’t know where these thoughts come from. Why they keep bubbling to the surface unbidden at the most innocuous and mundane moments.
One especially humiliating moment happens roughly two months in. It’s late spring. Maybe that’s why it happens - the warm weather? Not that the why matters.
It’s the what that causes problems.
They’re working side by side this afternoon. Jayce quickly learned that this was the best way to maintain his productivity - keeping Viktor out of his line of sight minimized the number of distracting fantasies. Occasionally their elbows might brush together as they work side-by-side, but Jayce refuses to pervert those moments through sheer force of will.
He still remembers the days when Viktor kept everyone at arm’s length.
The fact that Viktor no longer minds working side-by-side in such close proximity was a hard-earned victory for Jayce. He wasn’t sure what happened during Viktor’s Zaunite childhood, but he had started their partnership like a feral cat, wary and distant. Jayce had worked so hard to win him over, coax him out with warm smiles and avoiding sudden movements. He even learned how to make sweetmilk, bribing the kid at Benzo’s scrap shop to supply him with the Undercity spice blend Jayce couldn’t replicate in Piltover. He’d left these offerings for Viktor, slowly won him over with science and smiles, patience and warmth.
These days, any time Viktor’s elbow bumps against his arm, or Viktor holds out an impatient hand, wordlessly waiting for Jayce to pass the right tool, Jayce’s heart sings.
Earning this comfort, this trust, was one of Jayce Talis’s proudest achievements.
But this newly-awakened beast inside him keeps jeopardizing that.
On that fateful spring day, Jayce glances up, about to ask Viktor a question.
But the words sputter and die in this throat.
At some point, Viktor had rolled up the maroon sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Suddenly transfixed, Jayce is too mesmerized by those lean forearms to even feel embarrassed. Viktor isn’t muscular like Jayce, but he is still strong in his own way. Dexterous. What he lacks in brute force he more than makes up for in intricate skill. Arms like those - persistent, nimble, slender but firm - what would they feel like between Jayce’s legs, running up his thighs, sliding towards his -
Jayce takes a sharp breath. Digs his nails into his palm.
But it’s too late.
There’s a heat rushing to his face and elsewhere.
He tears his face away from those forearms, forcing himself to stare at the forgotten scribbles in his notebook. He cradles his face with his hands, trying to play the pose off as puzzling through equations, when in reality he’s just struggling to block Viktor’s body from his peripheral vision. Jayce tries to breathe slowly, praying that this will get the bulge in his pants to disappear faster.
Gods, this is embarrassing. These are not professional thoughts.
Hot shame and guilt fester in Jayce’s stomach. These thoughts, these wants - they scare Jayce. He knows they are a betrayal of Viktor’s trust. He’s a terrible lab partner. He’s a terrible friend.
And yet, even though Jayce logically knows this, the beast within him continues to bare its teeth, demanding more, craving more, conjuring more each time Jayce refuses to act on its impulses. It’s a new feeling.
Jayce has had lovers, sure. He knows people find him attractive, and if they are kind and caring, if he feels safe with them, Jayce doesn’t mind taking them to bed. Sex is fun. He likes making people feel good. But Jayce has rarely desired. Has rarely been distracted by desire. And never for someone who started out as a friend.
This is new and strange and, Jayce thinks, terribly confusing. And it makes him feel guilty. The last thing he wants is for Viktor to think Jayce had secret ulterior motives from the start of their partnership. His friendship with Viktor, the way he touches Viktor - none of that was ever meant to be lustful. But this new creature in him whispers in his ear, cooing that he could pervert any of these moments if he was just brave enough.
Jayce often wonders which sound is louder, the horny fantasies whispered in his ears or the crashing waves of guilt that slam his mind immediately after.
It’s a miracle he gets any work done in the lab.