Work Text:
There is a scuff on the wall from where his shoulder drags, a gentle lightening of the paint after months of walking the same late-night path back to the room. His feet drag, never lifting his slippers enough that they fall off, steps shuffling alongside the gentle click of his crutch down the hall. His partner is already in bed, asleep, home from a fundraising party or a councillor’s meeting an hour or so before. He doesn’t exactly recall the exact amount of time, just that he should have followed him to bed when he had come home. If only because then, it would be him wrapped in his arms and not one of their pillows; clutched tight to his chest. It is too late for that and regretting it will change nothing. It would be nothing but a waste of time to dwell on what he should have done, after knowing the outcome when he had denied the offer. Dwelling would just make it take longer between not being in bed, and being in bed. And Viktor is far too tired to dwell productively.
In truth, he does not mind too much; because Jayce sleeps more deeply than anyone Viktor has ever known prior. Which means he does not have to worry about waking him up while wandering around their room. Opening drawers and closing them to find clothes for the next morning; not for himself, but for Jayce. Laying his workout clothes out before filling a set of water bottles, one lays with the clothes, while the other is placed on the nightstand next to his meds.
The bed barely dips as he sits on the edge to undress. His clothes end up in a pile on the floor at the foot of the bed. Each bit of metal from his braces clicks and clatters as he maneuvers himself free of them. Removed with ease after years of practice, years of removing them with no help. Turning bolts and loosening screws, freeing pins from their structures. They are discarded with only slightly more respect than he had his clothes. Dropped to the pile of clothes to avoid denting them or the floor; or break any of their more delicate and intricate pieces. His back bends forward, slumping his shoulders inward. There is no point in fighting to keep himself up straight without the support of his backpiece. A sigh follows a hard cough that does not disturb the body behind him; looking around knowing now that he has to find something for himself to sleep in. He would be far too cold if he slept like this. Even with the furnace of a partner he shares the bed with every night. Luckily he is just as careless with his clothes as Viktor, or perhaps as considerate as he is; because despite the mess of blankets twisted into knots by the other, on the other end of the bed, ready to fall to the floor, is a sweatshirt and shorts. Good enough. Perfect actually, oversized and warm. They’re Jayce’s.
Pulling the sweater over his head, the neckline hangs most of the way down one shoulder, exposing his collarbone and a good portion of one arm. The drawstring of the shorts gets pulled tight and tied into a neat bow in hopes of keeping them up for the night. And finally, finally, he breathes out and lifts his legs onto the bed, taking only a moment more to fit his oxygen tubing on. Wrapping it around his ears and under his nose; flipping the machine on to feel a breath of calming air fill his lungs. The machine hums a familiar tune, one just as familiar and comforting as the broken snores of the man beside him in the bed. He’s certain it would not be hard to stop Jayce from snoring, his own oxygen mask or even a strip on his nose, anything to stop it, it might help his sleep. As if he does need any help, fast asleep and undisturbed by anything that may be going on around him. Anyway- the lack of a snore would affect Viktor’s sleep, after so long with it he believes it would be next to impossible to sleep without it. Not as soundly in any case.
He tugs on the blanket in Jayce’s arms, attempting to pull it free. Jayce doesn’t use blankets often himself, he says they’re too hot, and Viktor does not mind having the many blankets on their bed to himself… When Jayce is not laying on top of them or wrapping his arms in knots around them as he is now. His fingers press in under Jayce’s ribs, making room between him and the blanket, and pulls harder. When it does come free it is because Jayce, in his log-like state, has decided to roll over, not because Viktor had made much leeway on pulling it free. He rolls, tossing his arm over the side of the bed, and causing Viktor to nearly topple over backwards as a result of the sudden release.
Viktor huffs, nose scrunching, and shakes his head. He should not have expected anything else this long into them sharing a bed. Jayce is just as difficult and stubborn in sleep as he is awake. More so when sleeping, if only because Viktor cannot use reason and kisses against him. Or simply ask him to sit up so he could grab the blanket. As is, he has to pry it from under a man made of stone and hope a sleep-dead arm does not swing his way as though he was a fly. He wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Maybe a night's sleep without fighting for blankets and space in the bed- but even then, he finds it very unlikely that he would rather it any other way. Because there is little better to Viktor than what he can wake up to with Jayce. A heavy arm or leg over his body, the blankets being tucked further against him. Better still- Jayce partway on top of him; applying an even greater pressure than the weighted blanket on the bed, or any blanket he had tried before. It is only by some dumb luck that Jayce has yet to pull out his tubing. He counts himself lucky every morning he wakes up with it still in.
Still, with all the work he’s done, he has yet to truly tuck himself into bed, to be ready to sleep. Now he has to actually go to sleep; despite a mind that is spinning with thoughts that bite at their own tails like an ouroboros. Despite the aches in his limbs and the heavy weight that never leaves his chest- he has to sleep and in the morning, he might just be lucky enough that those things will be eased.
He fluffs the pillows and pushes them into place to fit his shoulder perfectly into them, nestling into place behind Jayce. Pressing against his back, an arm draping over the width of his torso as they lay on their sides. His leg hooks over him to match. The blanket pulled right up to his chin, and the edge tucked under him, wrapping him in the soft embrace and warmth. He knows they will switch positions by the time they wake up, but for now, Jayce is a perfect leg rest, and his back is just the right place to put his forehead. Fitting snuggly between his shoulder blades, leaving him open to be kissed. The arm tucked between their bodies will become numb with time, but Viktor has never minded and knows the coming morning will be no different. It will not be numb by then. His eyes close with a final sigh, willing the comfort of their shared bed to take him. To let the time that will pass between when he closes his eyes and opens them be peaceful.
Because time is lost in that room.
Time is lost in the mornings, the street lamp light turning to the beams of sunlight that slip between the folds in the curtain to trail along the walls and floor of the room- time is lost. Because the coffee in the kitchen has a deep scent that drifts through the small crack left by the open door, and he would not know if it had been made minutes or hours ago. Only still warm due to the diligence of the man who had brewed it. The same diligence that had him leave a cup next to the pot for when Viktor woke up. With time lost in this way, he does not fear hiding beneath the weighted blankets for as long as he wants; work will wait. It owes him that much, cool to the touch or humming softly on the desk it was left on the night before. And maybe if he lays here for long enough someone will join him in the comfort of the bed.
Soon enough, the bed dips and calloused fingers trace the line of his cheek, careful, tender. They trace until he blinks his eyes open, letting the light of day hit him. They trace until he glances over his shoulder and is greeted with a gentle smile and comforting eyes. The hand slowly leaves his cheek, sliding down his side and under the blankets. Not to pull them off, but to rest against the sharp jut of his hip. ‘Let me help,’ breaks the quiet of the room. The quiet returns, leaving only the hum of Viktor’s oxygen, acting as permission for Jayce to continue. Pressure being slowly applied to the joint of his hip, large fingers encircling the entirety of his thigh, the heel of Jayce’s hand pressing in. His movements slow as he begins to travel down Viktor’s thigh. Once, twice, the fingers uncurl, press into his hip, and repeat. Each motion feeling for any knot in the muscles, and careful of each screw and pin buried in his bones.
Viktor’s head is turned back to the blankets. Pulling them up to his face, muffling the sounds of relief that slip from his lips. Jayce’s head is close to his, a hand in his hair, and lips kissing the cuff of his ear.
The warm hand continues to work his leg until Jayce can ease it straight. Muscles giving in to the careful, practiced movements. Jayce’s fingers curl around his hip once more, thumb rubbing circles into the soft spot just beside the bone, rolling him onto his back. Tussled wet hair and warm eyes look down at him. His eyes are heavy, and his hair has been slept into knots. The fingers in his hair have found a few, and have carefully teased them free. A kiss is placed on his cheek, the tip of his nose, the corner of his frown, and his lips.
‘Want me to stop?’ A shake of his head earns him another kiss, then another, and another. Each one filled with nothing less than love.
With the given permission, both of Jayce’s hands slip below the blankets to repeat the process. Both curling around his thigh, one above the other, and working down to his knee. His thumbs press against his knee, working it slowly back into place, and then bending it up. Bringing Viktor’s thigh slowly up to his chest, then encouraging it straight again. Hands slide down to his ankle, making his twist as fingers brush his heel and arch; he catches Jayce’s lips upturning in a smile. It is hard to tell if it was done on purpose or accidentally, but it does not happen the next time. Large hands work him through a routine he has done since he was too young to do it himself. Jayce’s warm hands hold him securely, easing his uncooperative muscles and untying knots, following the curve of his bones. It goes on, Viktor in a half-asleep state, until the numbers being said aloud make sense and he is truly blinking awake. Feeling the warmth of the room and the weight of the blankets. His leg is slowly allowed to rest on the bed with one more squeeze to his thigh.
A kiss is placed to the mole under his eye, and he scrunches up his face, creasing his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. Reaching up, he finds Jayce’s face, fingers resting along his cheeks, and leads him down to his lips, leaving a soft kiss there. A silent thank you only shared between them, secret even to the air around them. Their foreheads rest together, soft and simple. Jayce has been awake for hours now. Dressed twice and undressed once, been on a run, showered, and made them both coffee and maybe breakfast. Or lunch. Viktor still isn’t sure what time it is. He had done all that before Viktor had opened his eyes for the first time that day. And Viktor loves him.
“Come back to bed,”
‘I’m sorry V, I have a Councillor’s meeting, and if I lay down my hair will get all messed up and-’ Viktor pushes him away playfully with a crinkle of his nose and a huff. He shakes his head at the turned down offer, ‘Ah- well maybe a little while wouldn’t hurt.’