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English
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Published:
2024-12-05
Updated:
2024-12-07
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3,085
Chapters:
4/?
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Lost in Translation

Summary:

Viktor grew up in Zaun, speaking a different language as a kid. When he moves to Piltover, he brings his culture and language with him. Even though he sometimes feels out of place, Jayce actually finds his accent and the way he occasionally forgets words pretty charming.

Or:
Viktor’s bilingual, which changes a few things here and there, but overall, he’s still the same.

Chapter 1: Hasák

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Working late into the night was expected for two scientists trying to change the world. Jayce had grown accustomed to the ache behind his eyes, his mind desperately begging him to shut them. He sipped from his big mug filled with something Viktor called coffee. Jayce secretly referred to it as paint stripper, though he made sure never to complain about it within Viktor's earshot.

When they started, it was all paper and pens—meticulous calculations paired with geometric perfection. Days spent drawing and erasing lines.

Now it wasn’t just about the calculations; it was about understanding how materials reacted. They needed to know how the metal handled being warmed under the hextech energy created by the crystal.

Jayce looked up when he heard his partner calling his name.

“Jayce, can you pass me the…” Viktor furrowed his eyebrows, snapping his fingers in frustration. “You know, the… thing.” He made a vague twisting gesture with the hand that wasn’t submerged in metal, wires, and cogs.

“The pliers?” Jayce asked hurriedly. Working around hextech had taught him to work fast. You never knew when hextech might decide to explode, but it was usually faster than anyone would prefer—especially in the alpha testing models.

“No, I want... uhh, how do you say that again—” Viktor's sentence was cut short by an angry whistling sound from the half-built machine. That was their first warning.

Viktor started twisting the wires, almost climbing onto the table to use his body weight as leverage. “Jayce, pass me the—you know—hasák.”

Jayce froze in confusion. “I don’t know what a hasák is.” He wasn’t even sure he was pronouncing it right. He glanced at the shaking machine, then grabbed a screwdriver and handed it to Viktor.

“No, Jayce, I don’t want this. Kurva, ten hasák!” Viktor snapped.

Inside the machine, there was a loud crack as one of the metal cogs crumbled under the pressure. Viktor shot Jayce an accusing look. Look what you did.

Jayce wanted to defend himself, but there wasn’t time. The model exploded.

Blue electric energy blasted them to the floor. Their equipment scattered as the force swept it off the shelves, like a cat with a temper. Jayce instinctively wrapped his arms around his stomach, trying to shield his vital organs.

After a moment, the machine ran out of energy, leaving them in silence.

As they sat in their crumpled-up workspace, Jayce turned to look at Viktor. His partner in science was lying next to him, resigned, staring at the ceiling. Viktor’s hair stuck up from the shockwave of the small explosion, random bits of their hextech dream tangled in his brown strands. With an awkward shrug, Jayce leaned closer to him.

“Were you trying to describe the wrench?”

Viktor’s eyes widened with realization. He brought a hand to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose and smearing charcoal under his eye. “Do prdele, ehh... I think I’m way too tired to use your stupid language,” Viktor muttered into the silent lab.

Jayce smiled. Under the grime and frustration, he noticed Viktor blushing. He loved these little slip-ups, even if they were occasionally painful, because they offered a glimpse into Viktor’s true character.

“Fair. I think it’s time to call it a night. We can clean up tomorrow.”

Jayce helped Viktor stand up and they stumbled out of the room together.

Notes:

Soo uhh kudos and comments appreciated. I will just continue to yap about slavic culture in this corner of the internet.

Chapter 2: Dobrou chuť

Summary:

Viktor sharing a family recipe

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Among people, it was common knowledge that Jayce should never be allowed in the kitchen. It wasn’t that he couldn’t follow instructions or that he lacked a sense of what tasted good together. The problem was that cooking alone bored him to death.

To pass the time, Jayce would start daydreaming. Before he knew it, he’d completely forget about the food and rush off to write down some brilliant new idea. That’s when dinner would catch fire—sometimes the whole kitchen. Once, it was the entire apartment. After that incident, his mom made him swear off cooking altogether.

So Jayce usually lived off take outs. It wasn't a bad life, little pricey but he could afford it. Still he missed home cooked meals.

He was sitting at one of their work tables, looking out the window, contemplating where he should buy food today when his lab partner walked through the door.

“I brought you something. Here.” Jayce caught the package Viktor tossed to him. He could feel the warmth through the wrinkled plastic.

“That looks amazing. Thanks, Viktor,” he said, glancing down at the container. Inside was soup, a scarlet red broth dotted with soft chunks of boiled potatoes. His stomach let out a loud grumble.

“It looks delicious. Did you make this?” he asked, already unscrewing the lid.

“Yeah. Take it as a rare occasion—I only cook when I’m feeling homesick,” Viktor replied, settling into one of the sturdy wooden chairs. The chairs had been a gift from the Kirammans, and they were probably worth more than Viktor’s entire wardrobe. The small reminders that he was from somewhere else. He always felt out of place in Piltover like a cog in the wrong machine.

“What do you miss most about the Undercity?” Jayce asked. He had so many questions, but he didn’t want to overwhelm Viktor.

“About Zaun?” Viktor paused, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “I miss the family get-togethers the most. There were always so many people crammed into a small house—relatives and ‘relatives’ who weren’t really related at all. We’d share stories, help each other out... It was chaotic, but it felt like home.” He handed Jayce a spoon.

“How does that even work?” Jayce asked. Growing up in Piltover, it had always been just him and his parents. As an only child—and something of a loner—he found people hard to figure out. They’d pretend to be interested in what he was saying, but he could see the boredom in their eyes. Before Viktor, his only real friend had been Caitlyn, and even that was a little embarrassing. She was almost nine years younger than him.

“I guess it’s just an unspoken rule,” Viktor said, shrugging. “When you’re part of the community, you’re family—blood ties or not. That soup, by the way, is called goulash. It’s perfect for feeding a lot of people.”

Jayce brought a spoonful of soup to his lips. It was hearty, with bits of meat swimming in the broth. But before he could savor it, the spice hit him like a truck. His mouth felt like it was on fire.

“Oh, that’s spicy!” he managed, coughing. Viktor burst out laughing—a loud, bark-like laugh that Jayce secretly found beautiful despite the humiliation. Tears stung his eyes as the heat spread to his nose. Viktor just laughed harder.

“You’ve got terrible spice tolerance!” Viktor grinned. “Imagine if I killed my science partner with my mother’s seasoning. But it’s supposed to be spicy—it keeps you warm.”

“Well, job well done,” Jayce muttered, shoving another spoonful into his mouth despite the burn. He could still hear Viktor cackling

After a while the noise stopped. Jayce looked up. Viktor was giving him a puzzled look, his golden eyes darting as if trying to remember some obscure fact.

“Eh... What do you say before eating?” Viktor asked, clearly struggling to translate.

“I don’t—uh, we don’t say anything?” Jayce replied, confused.

“You don’t have a ‘dobrou chuť ' or something? That’s so rude.” Viktor shook his head, offended on behalf of his culture. “It roughly means ‘enjoy your meal,’ but it feels strange in your language. Honestly, your language is stupid.”

Jayce clutched his chest in mock despair. “Nooo, my feelings! You’ve hurt my feelings!”

Viktor smirked. “You’re overselling it, pretty boy.”

Jayce felt his ears burn. People had called him handsome before, even pretty a few times, but never with an accent like Viktor’s. He’d sell his soul just to hear it again.

Unaware of Jayce’s staring, Viktor continued, “Well, if you don’t have a saying, I’ll keep using mine. Maybe I’ll start a trend. Dobrou chuť, Jayce.”

Jayce made a mental note to remember the phrase—and the story about Viktor’s family. Another piece of the puzzle that made up Viktor’s world.

Notes:

I can't stand the taste of goulash but i love goulash soup. Anyway kudos and comments appreciated :3

Chapter 3: Debilní hajzl

Summary:

Viktor and his swearing vocabulary

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Jayce stepped out of the lab, still annoyed but ready to find Viktor and smooth things over. He wasn’t thrilled about it, but compromise wasn’t exactly Viktor’s strong suit. He almost tripped over his lab partner, who was perched stubbornly on the edge of their staircase.

Jayce rolled his eyes. Those stairs were always a fight. No matter how many times Jayce brought it up—”aren’t they a pain for you? wouldn’t something closer to the ground be better?”—Viktor just waved him off like it didn’t matter.

“It’s a better space than the labs downstairs,” Viktor had said, like it was obvious. “Plus, we’ve got a view, and we don’t have to share. I’m not moving.” End of story.

Honestly, he was lucky Jayce hadn’t just tripped and sent them both flying down those narrow steps. That would’ve been a hell of a way to make up after a fight.

Viktor could be so frustrating sometimes. His stubborn streak was the main reason they argued. That, and Jayce’s bad habit of forgetting. Together, they were a disaster waiting to happen.

People didn’t get it, though. No one believed Jayce when he said Viktor could be an absolute menace. Sure, Viktor looked quiet and reserved, but he had a temper and a petty streak that could level cities.

When it wasn’t directed at him, Jayce kind of enjoyed it. Viktor had this dry, cutting humor that came out at the worst—and funniest—moments. Like at parties. Jayce hated Piltover parties; they were all small talk and fake smiles. But Viktor? Viktor made them bearable.

At the last Kiramman party, Jayce laughed so hard he lost his voice by the end of the night. He’d sounded like he’d smoked a pack of cigarettes. It had started when Viktor leaned over, his movements slow and deliberate, and whispered into Jayce’s ear.

“Why does Madam Lincoln have a new dress already? That’s her third gown tonight. Overcompensating, maybe?”

Jayce had snorted into his champagne, trying not to make a scene. The party was a disaster for a bunch of reasons, but Viktor’s running commentary had saved the night for Jayce. Moments like that reminded Jayce why he liked him so much. Still, no one wanted Viktor’s sharp tongue turned on them. It could ruin your whole day.

Jayce stared down at Viktor, trying to figure out the right thing to say. Viktor didn’t even look up. He wasn’t interested in being the bigger person. What Viktor had said really hurt.

“I think I owe you an apology.”

Jayce blinked in surprise. Viktor almost never apologized first.

“I sometimes forget which words are curses in your language,” Viktor said, still not looking at him. “I didn’t mean to swear at you. Your curse words just sound so soft—I can’t imagine anyone getting mad over them.”

He was tapping his fingers against the wooden plank he was sitting on, some unrelated rhythm. To Jayce, he looked nervous, which was funny because Jayce hadn’t thought Viktor could feel that emotion.

“Either way, my words hurt you, and I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.” Viktor’s eyes stayed fixed on the wood grain.

“But I promise, I wouldn’t call you a ‘stupid asshole’ if I was really angry. That just sounds too soft. If I were mad, I’d say something like, V mozku nemáš nic víc než slámu, debilní hajzle, tvoje babička kouří péra v pekle.”

Jayce blinked, processing. He liked the bouncy vowels, but from Viktor’s tone, he could tell whatever had just been said was definitely filthy. His face warmed at the accent—it will be the death of him.

“Did you just curse my entire bloodline?” he asked, confused but unable to hide the amusement creeping into his voice.

“What? No, no—I only cursed your brain… and your grandmother. I went easy on you. You should hear my aunt when she’s mad. Once, she told me she’d boil my teeth because I accidentally blew up her coffee maker.”

Jayce stared, lips slightly parted. Viktor’s family sounded wild, but he could definitely see where Viktor’s temper came from.

“V, you could’ve just come back and apologized. No need to sit on the stairs and sulk—it looks like I put my science buddy in time out.” Jayce leaned against the doorframe, chuckling at the idea.

“I wasn’t sulking,” Viktor snapped, his cheeks turning ruby red. “Besides, maybe I was just hoping you’d trip over me and fall so I wouldn’t have to apologize.”

He muttered the last part under his breath, but Jayce caught it.

When Jayce shot him an annoyed look, Viktor grinned. “That was a joke. I’m joking. I wouldn’t wish you the horrible, embarrassing death of falling down the stairs. Even if you are a messy, forgetful person.”

“Wow, thanks. I really appreciate that,” Jayce replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Come inside, you insufferable cryptid.”

Notes:

Sometimes I forget English sees fuck as a swear word. It just sounds so soft. Kudos and comments appreciated

Chapter 4: Zamilovaný

Summary:

Sky the not so helpful wingwoman.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Sky was the newest addition to their team. When the science duo found themselves in over their heads, Viktor had remembered someone who could help. Jayce, naturally, was thrilled. He couldn’t wait to meet Viktor’s childhood friend—maybe they’d actually talk, and Jayce could finally uncover some juicy details about Viktor’s mysterious past.

Sky turned out to be a lean woman with wild, curly hair and a sharp mind to match. After watching her work, Jayce quickly realized she was crazy clever and ridiculously efficient. The only snag? She didn’t seem to like him. Worse, she seemed to enjoy blatantly flirting with Viktor right in front of him.

Not that Jayce was jealous—obviously not. He just hated sharing his best friend’s attention, okay? That was totally normal. Sure, it might have sparked a tiny rivalry between him and Sky, but maybe he was imagining it.

Except... little competitions kept cropping up: who could pass Viktor tools faster, who could offer him the best advice, who could solve problems quicker.

And Sky was hard to beat. She and Viktor shared a language, a childhood, even holidays and family recipes. They had private jokes, and, yeah, Jayce hated those stupid jokes.

The worst part was when they’d start speaking in that language—fast, full of laughter—and Jayce couldn’t follow a word. Sure, he’d picked up a few phrases here and there (thanks to Viktor), but not enough to keep up.

And when Jayce asked for a translation? Viktor would give him this amused look and say, “You wouldn’t get it. You weren’t there.” Meanwhile, Sky would be in the background, laughing so hard she looked like she was going to collapse.

It all came to a head one day when Jayce walked into the lab and saw Viktor and Sky sitting together. Viktor was mid-story, gesturing wildly: “Ne vážně, on má stehna velikosti mé hlavy. Tak jsem se na něj otočil a řekl: ‘Tvé nohy v těch kalhotách vypadají dobře, ale líp bys vypadal bez nich.’ Já si nedělám srandu, on se na mě otočí a jako idiot povídá: ‘Bez nohou?’ Sky, já umřu. Proč jen jsem se zamiloval do takového trdla?”

Sky was dead silent, except her shoulders were shaking as she tried not to explode with laughter. Jayce had no idea what was so funny, and at this point, he didn’t even bother asking. Instead, he walked over to the table and furiously scribbled notes, pretending not to care.

But it kept happening. Over and over. The knot in Jayce’s stomach grew tighter every time he saw Sky and Viktor together, talking, walking, eating—always together.

By the third incident that week, Jayce had had enough. He marched into the lab, where Viktor was reading some impossibly thick book.

“Okay,” Jayce blurted. “I don’t care if Sky flirts with you” (a blatant lie). “You can date her for all I care” (another lie). “Just—just don’t do
whatever this is in the lab, alright?” He turned away, hoping Viktor wouldn’t notice the hurt in his eyes.

Viktor blinked at him, clearly confused. “Uh, Jayce? Sky doesn’t like guys.”

Jayce froze. “What?”

“Sky doesn’t like guys. At all.” Viktor’s lips curled into a smirk. “Actually, when we were kids, she thought I was a girl and had the biggest crush on me. Followed me around everywhere. Then, when she realized I was a boy, she got so embarrassed she threw me into a river.”

As if on cue, Sky waltzed into the lab. She’d clearly overheard because she slammed her hand on the table and pointed an accusing finger at Viktor.

“Viktor,” she said, mock-serious, “trust me, you do not want to start a war over embarrassing childhood stories. Remember, I was there for all of it. I’ve got enough dirt on you to keep you quiet for life.” She grinned and jayce shuddered at the wild and crazy in her eyes

Viktor rolled his eyes, his face coloring crimson but thinking nothing about the threat. “Fine, fine. No childhood stories. You’re the worst.” He swatted her hand away.

Sky grinned, her dimples popping. “Smart man. I could ruin your reputation with half the stuff I know.” Adjusting her glasses, she grabbed her books and walked out of the lab, leaving Viktor and Jayce alone.

Jayce scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “So... she really wasn’t hitting on you, huh?”

Viktor gave him a look. “What gave you that idea?”

“You’re always talking in your secret language, and she makes you laugh. I figured you had... I don’t know, something special.”

Viktor snorted and leaned against the table, his face suddenly a little too close to Jayce’s. “Most of the time, she’s just calling me dumb and laughing at how bad I am at conversations.”

Jayce’s breath hitched. Viktor was close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the way his lashes framed them just right.

Viktor leaned back, an amused grin spreading across his face. “By the way,” he added casually, “Sky laughs at my flirting attempts with you. You’re as dense as a brick, you know that? Honestly, we’re both disasters, and she’s just here for the entertainment.”

Jayce could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. “Wait, what?”

Viktor just laughed, standing, grabbing his cane and walking away, leaving Jayce to stew in his confusion—and maybe, just maybe, a little hope.

Notes:

Translation of what Viktor said
“No seriously, he has thighs the size of my head. So I turn to him and say, 'Your legs look good in those pants, but you'd look better without them,' and he turns to me like an idiot, 'without my legs?'. Sky i am going to die. Why did I fall in love with such a stupid man?”

It's a dumb cheesy line but I love it.
Kudos and comments appreciated :3