Chapter Text
The clock on the wall had long since ticked past midnight, its sound swallowed by the hush of the lab. Papers were scattered across like fallen leaves, some kind of chaos neither had the energy to fix. Beneath the low, golden hum of the overhead lamp, Viktor sat hunched on the cold tile, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pencil forgotten behind his ear, ink dried in constellations across his fingers. Across from him, Jayce lay sprawled on his back, arms spread like a starfish, limbs splayed, and eyes fixed on the ceiling as if it held answers.
“You know,” Jayce said, voice sanded down by exhaustion but colored with the curl of a smile, “if someone walked in right now, they’d assume we've gone mad.”
“We have,” Viktor replied without looking up from his notes. “It is called academic burnout. A well-documented condition among those cursed with genius.”
Jayce huffed a soft laugh, the sound low and lingering. “You’re including me in that diagnosis now?”
Viktor glanced up, a flicker of dry amusement in his eyes. “You built Hextech. I think the title is well earned.”
Jayce arched a brow. “Didn’t realize you were handing out compliments tonight.”
“I ration them. You've had your quota for the month now.”
Jayce smiled, warm and a little crooked. “Guess I better savor it then.”
Silence settled between them again. Not empty, but full. The kind that came only from nights like these. Nights stitched together by stubborn ambition, shared glances, and the low, persistent thrum of purpose. Outside, Piltover was asleep, but in here, the world was still alive with equations, potential, and something neither of them dared name.
“Come sit up before your spine fuses with the floor,” Viktor muttered.
Jayce groaned in protest but shifted, dragging himself upright. When he folded his legs beneath him, their knees brushed. Just barely. He glanced over, brow softening. “You okay like that?” Viktor didn’t respond at first, focused still on his notes. But Jayce noticed the subtle way his leg was bent a little too tightly, his weight uneven. Without a word, Jayce reached behind him, grabbed a spare cushion from their sofa, and slid it over. “For your leg,” he offered gently. Viktor paused, then accepted it with a brief nod. Quiet thanks, wordless and warm.
Viktor passed over a slip of paper with a new schematic sketched out in his sharp, angled handwriting. “I adjusted the stabilizing crystal parameters. It should stabilize the energy surges.”
Jayce studied it, squinting. “That’s… actually brilliant.”
"Obviously."
Jayce bumped his shoulder lightly against Viktor’s at that. “Careful. That almost sounded like pride.”
Viktor’s eyes didn’t lift from the schematic, but the corners of his mouth curled. “I allow myself a little. You are exhausting to mentor, after all.”
“Mentor?” Jayce scoffed. “We’re partners.”
“I'm older. Therefore wiser.”
Jayce narrowed his eyes, playful. “You’re barely older.”
“And yet, the maturity gap is vast.”
Jayce laughed again, this time more softly. He liked these moments where Viktor let the sarcasm slip into something gentler, less guarded, where their minds brushed as easily as their shoulders did now.
“You ever think about sleeping?” Jayce asked, stretching lazily.
“I do it occasionally. Not a fan.”
Jayce tilted his head. “You need it, though.”
"I’ll sleep when the Hexcore is stable."
Jayce frowned, eyes tracing the lines of Viktor’s face, the sharp cheekbones catching the light, the shadows under his eyes deepened by too many nights like this, the quiet, unwavering drive etched into every inch of him.
“You'll burn out,” Jayce said softly.
Viktor finally looked at him. “So will you. But here we are.”
Jayce searched his face. He wanted to say more. ‘You don't have to do this alone, you can lean on me, I worry.’ But the words tangled in his throat, too heavy for now. So instead, he nudged Viktor’s leg with his own. “Well, if you're going to be stubborn about it, I’m making tea.”
Viktor blinked. “It’s nearly three in the morning.”
“Exactly. Witching hour tea.”
Viktor held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary. Then: “Fine. Oat milk. Four sugars.”
Jayce turned, eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
“I like it sweet," Viktor said simply. "Don't judge me.”
Jayce grinned. “Wasn't judging. Just...didn't expect it.”
“That's the point.”
Jayce shook his head in disbelief and made his way to the kettle. The lab was quiet, save for the soft bubbling of water and the low hum of the lights. “You drink dessert,” he said.
“It keeps me going.”
Jayce smiled to himself. “I’ll allow it.”
“Very generous of you.”
“Hey, Viktor?” he called over his shoulder.
“Hm?”
Jayce hesitated to ask. “Why do you stay here so late?”
Viktor didn't answer right away. When he did, his voice was low. “Because it’s quiet. Easier to think. And because…” A pause. “You stay.’’
Jayce stilled, kettle in hand. His heart tripped over itself for a moment. When he turned, Viktor was watching him. Not defensive. Not deflecting. Just honest.
“I like working with you,” he admitted simply. “Even when you're infuriating.”
Jayce’s chest tightened. He didn’t let the silence stretch too long. He poured the tea, steady hands despite the sudden pulse in his throat, and returned to Viktor’s side, handing him the mug.
“Oat milk, four sugars,” Jayce said, passing one over. “Just how you like your sarcasm.” Sharp but sweet. He didn’t say that part aloud.
Viktor huffed a laugh. “Exactly.”
For a while, they drank in silence. The steam rose between them like breath. Jayce glanced sideways over the rim of his mug. “You’re not so bad to work with either, you know.”
Viktor hummed in response. “You say that now. Wait until I make you rewrite your notes again.”
“Sadist.”
“Disaster.”
Jayce grinned. “Maybe. But your disaster.”
Viktor blinked, and something flickered in his expression. Surprise, fondness, a sharp exhale that might've been a laugh or something more fragile.
Jayce didn’t look away.
They were close. Closer than they’d ever dared be. But something about the silence between them made it feel less like a boundary and more like a question.
Not rushed. Not dangerous. Just... inevitable.
Viktor looked down at his tea, then back at Jayce. “We should sleep soon.”
Jayce nodded. “Yeah. Soon.”
But neither moved.
Jayce set his mug down gently, the sound of ceramic on tile delicate and final.
“Can I ask you something?” His voice was quieter now, hesitant in a way that caught Viktor’s attention immediately.
Viktor looked over, brow tilting. “You usually don't ask for permission.”
Jayce gave a crooked smile, not rising to the bait. “I'm being serious.”
That seemed to land. Viktor nodded once, slowly. “Alright. What is it?”
Jayce studied him for a moment, gaze flickering over his face as if searching for something he wasn't sure he’d find. “If I weren't here... would you still stay this late? Would you still push yourself like this?”
Viktor blinked; the question lingered. “It's not about you,” he said carefully. “It's... the work.”
Jayce nodded slowly, but the answer didn’t sit right. “Right. Of course.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. Just heavier than before. Viktor’s hand hovered over his mug, but he didn’t lift it.
Then, quietly, he muttered, “...But the work is easier with you.”
Jayce looked over at him. The words settled somewhere behind his ribs.
Viktor didn’t meet his gaze this time. “I don't stay because I have to. I stay because I want to.”
Jayce's breath caught slightly. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't a confession, not really. And yet it landed like one. He swallowed the urge to laugh or tease. It didn’t feel like the right moment to make it easy.
“That's... good to hear,” he stated instead, voice lower than before. “I like being here with you, too.”
Viktor gave a faint nod, still not looking at him. “Even when I'm difficult?”
Jayce let out a breath that wasn't quite a laugh. “Especially then.” He meant it as a joke, but the silence that followed gave it a different weight. The space between them shifted. Jayce’s hand moved without thinking, brushing Viktor’s.
He could have pretended it was an accident.
But Viktor didn’t move away.
Jayce’s pulse ticked faster. He didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t think Viktor did either.
Viktor glanced down at their hands, then back toward his tea. He took a sip and winced faintly. “Too sweet.”
Jayce raised an eyebrow. “You added the sugar yourself.”
“And the oat milk. Poor judgment on my part.”
Jayce smiled at the deflection but didn't call him out on it. It was Viktor’s way. It always had been.
“You've been drinking sugary tea all week,” he said lightly. “I think you're turning soft.”
Viktor huffed. “Unlikely.”
Still, the quiet between them didn’t feel cold. It pulsed, uncertain, yes, but warm.
Jayce leaned back slightly, not enough to pull away. Just enough to breathe.
Viktor set his mug down beside him, fingers resting loosely on the rim. Then, after a pause:
“I always thought collaboration would interfere,” Viktor said, almost absently. “That working alongside someone would slow the process down, make it less efficient.”
Jayce turned slightly, watching him.
“But with you,” Viktor continued, “it’s the opposite.”
Jayce didn’t respond right away, and Viktor glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Perhaps we're... compatible.” Jayce let out a soft exhale, half a laugh, half something else.
“Yeah. Maybe.” Viktor nodded slowly.
The silence after that wasn’t empty. It was full of questions. Full of almosts. And maybes. And not-yets.
As the lab lights hummed around them, Jayce reached for his mug again.
His fingers brushed Viktor’s.
This time, he didn’t pretend it was by accident.
And Viktor didn’t pull away.
(This artwork isn’t tied to the story, but I’ll definitely draw one for it later!)