Chapter Text
It’s well past sunset when Jayce looks up from his work, the lab silent and dark except for two desk lamps and, in Viktor’s case, a flickering monitor illuminating the stark planes of a haggard face.
Jayce is the one who brings it up. He doesn’t believe in God, but he believes in tradition and the power of faith. His mother took him to church every Sunday, but shortly after Confirmation he made a case for not returning and mostly hasn’t.
“It’s the first night of Chanukah, isn’t it?” he asks gently.
Viktor doesn’t respond immediately, instead finishing the line of code, slender fingers flying across his keys. He pushes back from his desk, blinking. “Is it?” he mutters, before reaching for his mouse to click on a browser tab with the calendar. He squints, and frowns. “So it is.”
“Are you doing anything?” For it? About it? To observe it? Do you care? Jayce doesn’t ask those questions, only the first, but when Viktor catches his eye, he knows that he’s too transparent.
“For Chanukah?” In Viktor’s accent, the chet is pronounced in a way Jayce never quite manages, voiceless and unforced. He shrugs.
“Yeah. Is it important to you?”
“Some years more than others. My mother was observant. My father-” Viktor shrugs again and sighs.
“Yeah, my mom too,” Jayce agrees too readily and then realizes what he’s said. “I mean, she’s not Jewish. But she’s religious. Observant.” If he could physically kick his own head, he would right now.
Viktor’s lips pull into a tight smile. “I didn’t buy candles.”
“I saw a display at the market. We could pick some up. Get some dinner.” Jayce is grateful that he has to be blushing hard before it really shows on his cheeks. “If you wanted,” he adds lamely.
Viktor’s amber gaze turns briefly to his monitor, then with a couple of keystrokes he locks the screen.
“All right.”
-=-
Jayce has been to Viktor’s apartment, but he’s never spent much time there. It’s a cramped one bedroom in what passes for a bad part of Piltover without actually crossing the bridge into the Undercity. But it’s where the Judaica lives, so they get some takeout, a bottle of wine, and a box of candles from a Chanukah display that bafflingly features matzah and jars of gefilte fish in addition to an untouched and tidy stack of candle boxes, where it’s clear theirs is the only purchase, before returning to Viktor’s tiny apartment.
“So… do we eat first? Do the candle lighty thing first?” Jayce vibrates with nervous energy as Viktor points him to the kitchen.
“Properly, we’d have done this at sunset, but…” Viktor lifts a shoulder. “Needs must. There are plates in the cupboard to the right of the stove. I’ll be back.”
Jayce finds the plates as Viktor disappears into the bedroom, from which he can hear rustling, then a heavy thud. He’s known from his short association that rushing in to help is not going to go well, so he concentrates on plating their dinner and looking for wine glasses.
At the point that he gives up on wine glasses and settles for a pair of mismatched small jelly jars for their wine, Viktor reemerges with something that looks like a brass box with dried candle wax drips. “Found it! The family chanukiah, such as it is. Grab some foil. And I think there’s a lighter in the drawer?”
It doesn’t take long for Jayce to find both, and set them on the tiny table in the nook that doubles as a pantry and dining room, followed by their dinner plates. A bare bulb hanging from the ceiling just above the table serves as a lamp and Jayce has to duck to avoid hitting it.
Jayce isn’t sure what’s supposed to happen, but Viktor gestures for him to sit while he tears off a piece of foil and folds it, then sets the box on top of it. In the dim light, he can see that the box has nine holes in it, one on a blob of brass slightly higher than the others, and carvings of bricks? Letters? A bird maybe? It’s hard to tell and Jayce doesn’t think it’s polite to ask, what’s the deal with your religious paraphernalia?
Viktor taps out two short, slender candles from the cardboard box they just purchased, and with the air of a professional long used to precisely this action, he flicks on the lighter, melts the bottom of one of the candles, and places it in the right-most hole in the brass holder, the melted wax adhering to the metal.
He lights the other candle with the lighter, and murmurs words Jayce doesn’t quite catch - but he recognizes the melody as one Viktor sometimes hums under his breath when he’s deep in thought.
He also recognizes the amen at the end and realizes belatedly that it was a prayer. Viktor was praying. And he didn’t even clock it.
Viktor picks up his fork, but Jayce sputters, “is that it?”
“What did you think it would be?” Viktor asks with an infuriatingly mischievous smile. “It’s a small holiday. A small observance.”
“But- all of the-” Jayce gestures expansively, sending the overhead bulb swinging, and singeing the back of his hand.
“For some people. For Piltover, trying to show how important diversity is, it’s made larger. My mother usually has some people from the neighborhood over for a get together at some point. And the rabbi at the old temple would do a nice service for the shabbat.”
“That sounds great!” Jayce winces at his own enthusiasm.
Viktor doesn’t respond immediately, instead spearing a piece of broccoli and chewing thoughtfully. “Why do you care so much about this?”
The question surprises Jayce, but he doesn’t have a ready answer. And if he’s learned anything in the months he’s known Viktor, it’s that kneejerk responses are rarely the right ones.
“You’re here for all the Piltover holidays. You go to the parties when you can’t avoid them-” he lifts a hand to forestall Viktor’s frown, “but I know they’re not yours. You do all the right things, say all the right words, but I can tell they’re not… familiar?”
At this, a line appears between Viktor’s eyebrows. “No, no. That’s not what I mean. Not exactly. It’s um… like, you know all the things to do, but they’re not comfortable. They don’t belong to you. This, though-” he waves at the menorah, his awe in Viktor’s assured motions. “ This is yours. And I want to know that part of you.”
Viktor meets his eyes steadily, evaluating. Jayce can’t tell what he’s thinking and he wants to melt into the floor. His cheeks burn and he knows that his darker skin isn’t hiding his blush this time.
“If that’s okay,” he amends, wishing his voice wasn’t shaking.
Viktor nods after a long moment.
“I’ll show you.”