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When Viktor had put in his transfer request for a position in the field campus of his university, he’d thought he was ready. It was a big decision, to be sure, and a daring one—he and Jayce had only been dating for six months. But he was tired of the 3-hour bus commute and the online booty calls—and though he and Jayce had their ups and downs like any regular couple, Viktor, who would never admit to optimism if he could help it, was feeling…good. He was feeling good about the whole enterprise.
Besides, his supervisor had said, it would be healthy to get out of the city. So Viktor had packed his meager belongings into two suitcases—one of them filled with books, of course—and moved into Jayce’s farm in rural Piltover.
He’d been ready for the early mornings, the strange quiet nights, void of the sounds of the city. He’d been ready for the sun and the dirt and even the bugs.
What Viktor hadn’t been ready for were the chickens.
Not their existence—Viktor was well-acquainted with Delilah and Marigold and Clementine—but their relationship with his boyfriend. His boyfriend.
“Gooood morning, Ms. Delilah,” Jayce sang, picking up the hen and kissing her squarely on the beak. Viktor squinted at them from the porch, blinking sleep out of his eyes and waiting for his coffee to cool. “And good morning to you too, Ms. Clem!”
It was their ritual, Jayce had explained to him calmly, when Viktor had expressed…not jealousy, but disgruntlement about the whole affair. “And besides, they were here first, Vik. Technically, you’re the hussy who came in and stole my heart.”
“Did you just call me a hussy?” Viktor said, eyes narrowed.
“I love you,” Jayce had said, ignoring the question. He’d kissed Viktor’s forehead, and then got down on his knees to suck Viktor off. And thus Viktor had been mollified—but still. He didn’t like it.
“Good morning, Vitya,” Jayce said finally, snapping Viktor out of his thoughts as he arrived with a plate of scrambled eggs from the kitchen and a kiss for Viktor.
Viktor ate the eggs with a grim satisfaction.
-
–
Jayce didn’t expect him to help with the farmwork, but Viktor liked to watch him work. If he got up early enough, he could watch Jayce water and weed the small garden, shirtless and shining in the sun. Though Viktor couldn’t be expected to carry sacks of fertilizer, or till soil, he could scatter seeds, turn the sprinklers on, or hose Jayce down and then make out with him while he was wet. All very helpful things, necessary to keep a farm running.
Most days, Jayce drove him to the university in his pick-up truck, which made Viktor feel equal parts embarrassed and fond, though he always insisted that Jayce drop him off at the parking lot. No one in the university knew much about his personal life, and he wanted to keep it that way.
So when his beautiful, buff, wind-swept boyfriend showed up in the lab one day, Viktor had to bite his tongue to keep from making a horrified noise.
“Hi,” Jayce said, smiling so hard his eyes were almost gone, “I’m looking for Vit—Viktor?”
Viktor was already scrambling towards him, but his colleagues managed to get one very important question in— “Sorry, but who are you?”
“I’m his boyfriend—hi, babe.”
Viktor could almost see the heart emoji drifting over Jayce’s head when he saw him. Fuck. Goddess, help him.
“Out,” Viktor hissed. How dare Jayce come here, he thought, frantically shoving him out the door. With his ridiculous hair and his plaid shirt and his big, sturdy work boots.
“I came here to bring you your coat.” Jayce beamed, as if Viktor was not huffing from exertion as he pushed his big beefy body down the hall.
“Thank you,” Viktor said, grabbing the coat. “Good bye.”
“Vik,” Jayce said, raising an eyebrow, “Are you ashamed of me?”
“What—that’s not—”
“Is it because I’m just a big buff man, and not a skinny nerd—”
“Jayce—”
“I see how it is,” Jayce sighed, lifting a hand to his forehead dramatically.
“Jayce Talis, last month you were literally published in the Journal of Agricultural Science—”
“I’m sorry I have more muscles than brain cells—”
“Jayce,” Viktor huffed. “Please don’t make a scene.”
“For one kiss, I will leave the premises,” Jayce said brightly.
Viktor blushed. He looked around them for a moment before leaning up and kissing Jayce on the mouth. Just a little peck, despite how, as previously mentioned, beautiful and buff and wind-swept his boyfriend was.
“See you tonight!” Jayce said. “I’m baking bread!”
Viktor’s knees were weak, and even his cane wobbled as he walked back to the lab.
-
–
Jayce made most of his living off of the acres of apples he grew on his own land, which he sold as fruit, or pressed into juice and ciders, or preserved into jam. Viktor appreciated the apples and the juice and the pastries that Jayce made, but most of all he appreciated the orchard.
One thing he hadn’t realized before he’d gone to live on a farm was how much more keenly he would feel the seasons here. In the city, the sky turned grey in the winter and slightly less grey in the summer, and seasons were tedious things signaled only by changes in the weather.
On the farm, spring bloomed heavy on the apple trees, bringing their sweet scent into his and Jayce’s bedroom. In the summer, they found shelter under those thick branches, catnapping in the shade after a day in the lake. Autumn was the season of harvest, when they could reach out and pluck an apple from the stem. Jayce taught how to do it properly, how to twist his wrist so the fruit would come easy. Nothing was as satisfying as a perfectly ripe apple crunching under his teeth, juice dripping down his wrist.
Even winter was beautiful on the farm, hushed and muted. It snowed properly out here, and the cold made the warmth of their home all the more lovely.
–
A year after Viktor had moved in, a brood of ducklings wandered onto Jayce’s farm from the nearby pond. He and Jayce escorted them back to their mother, and spent a few minutes watching the turtles duck in and out of the water.
As Viktor turned around to go back, Jayce cleared his throat.
He was kneeling on the ground, which was dirty and would get caked on his trousers. Viktor was definitely not doing laundry this week, that was for certain.
“Vitya,” Jayce said, clearing his throat.
“I am not washing those dirt-caked trousers,” Viktor reiterated. There was only so much he could take.
“Will you marry me?” Jayce asked, his eyes wide and suspiciously wet.
Viktor knocked his cane into Jayce’s stomach as he leaned down to kiss him, hard.
“Yes,” Viktor said. “I suppose.”
“You’ll have to tell all your coworkers about us,” Jayce said, brushing the tears from his eyes.
“The horror,” Viktor said. He dragged Jayce up to kiss him properly, deep and lingering, until they had to pull away for air.
“And we’ll have joint custody of the ladies,” Jayce said.
“I’ll never eat another egg again,” Viktor promised, and laughed when Jayce swept him off his feet and cradled him in his arms.
Viktor had to admit, maybe there were benefits to having a boyfriend—a fiance—a husband—so big and strong and buff. He would keep Jayce, he decided. For the rest of their lives, if he could.
“I love you,” Viktor whispered, as Jayce carried him through the orchard, cutting through the apple trees to make their way home.
For once, Viktor was starting to feel optimistic.
–
-
Viktor could not for the life of him fathom how Jayce had managed to get tiny flower crowns on the ladies’ heads. Clementine, Delilah and Marigold clucked regally, preening as they strutted amongst the guests gathered in the apple orchard.
Jayce had somehow convinced Viktor to wear a crown himself, one made of apple blossoms, white petals and pink buds. He was sure it was clashing horribly with his complexion, but given that he’d spent the entire wedding ceremony blushing and was showing no signs of stopping, maybe it wasn’t so bad.
Later on, at the reception, Jayce sliced him a neat little corner of apple cake and fed him a forkful. Viktor even allowed Jayce one dance with him, though all they could really do was sway in place.
“My mom always told me that an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” Jayce said, tugging him close as their song started. “I don’t think it worked, though.”
He waited for a beat, grinning.
Viktor stared at him.
“Because you have a doctorate,” Jayce said. “A PhD. An apple a day—”
“You are so lucky that I’m already married to you,” Viktor sighed.
“I really, really am,” Jayce said, kissing him. He tasted like frosting, like apples. Sweet and crisp, like a beautiful spring morning.
Viktor wanted to devour him. He would, when they were alone. He’d have Jayce in any way he could, and let Jayce have him the same way.
For now, he turned his thoughts to apples, to spring. To love, bursting sweet and crisp in his mouth with every kiss.