Work Text:
Jayce drops the filament he’s working on, letting it fall against his desk with a soft click as he presses a frustrated hand to his forehead. From the corner of his eye he sees Viktor’s head pop up in concerned-interest, but Jayce is too overstimulated to acknowledge the man.
Threading filament is delicate, time-demanding but important work. He and Viktor had split the latest batch between the two of them in hopes of knocking it out faster but…
Jayce presses his palms flat against his desk, eyes tracking over the irritated, red and bumpy patches that spill their way across his fingers, wrists, and tops of his hands. They’re ugly, and itchy, and sore. Jayce reaches up to scratch one particularly bad patch on his right wrist - where his skin touches paper while he writes - and the relief is extremely fleeting. Scratching the itch only encourages the urge, and Jayce knows if he keeps going he’ll eventually draw blood, and the irritation and pain will only become worse.
He drops his hands again, frustrated.
His eczema has bothered him since he was a child. Raised, red patches that covered his arms and legs, with small amounts of relief brought by moisturizers, and on rare occasions, steroid creams. He remembers not being able to visit the beach because the sand and salt stung. Badly.
It has calmed down, somewhat, as he’s grown older. Now, it is only his hands and arms that are primarily affected. Unfortunately, that happens to me the appendages that Jayce uses the most.
When he was studying at the Academy he learnt how to manage it. He carried hand creams wherever he went and applied them religiously, he bought his own hypo-allergenic hand-sanitiser, and on break-out days had a trusty steroid cream that he would apply liberally at night. And it was fine. It worked.
His work with Viktor has thrown a spanner in the works, unfortunately.
Their work with HexTech is delicate. Jayce can’t bring hand creams into the lab, let alone have any on his skin while working with the Arcane crystals. It’s not like he has much free time to apply it anyway.
The delicate nature of their work also means regular hand washing - so their natural skin oils don't affect the results - leaving Jayce’s palms overly dry more often than not.
The chalkboards, the amount of paper he has to write on– he’s always holding something, whether it be a pen, hammer or wrench. It was only a matter of time before Jayce’s skin broke out in dry, painful patches.
The forge offers no relief from the lab. The heat and sweat irritates his skin to the point where he can’t stand to be in there for longer than he has to.
He’s started wrapping his hands every night, layering probably too-much steroid cream beneath the ivory bandages and tape. It’s not doing much though, and at this point Jayce feels like his hands look scaled.
He huffs, frustration pulling uncomfortably at his chest. There’s no way to fix it, no way to manage it just– he just needs to live with it.
He frowns down at his desk. Picks up the filament he was working on and twists it between his fingers, accidentally knocking it against a patch of irritated skin - the one taking up a good chunk of his right index finger, at the bend where he holds a pencil.
It seems like an impossible task to focus on something so delicate when all he wants to do is rip his own skin off.
He sighs, places the filament back down, and stands from his desk. I can work on it tomorrow, Jayce defends himself as he heads for his bag hanging beside the door. He digs around in the front pocket and manages to pull out some tape, loose gauze, and his well-used tube of steroid cream with little trouble.
He drops them against his desk when he returns, and takes a reluctant seat, preparing himself for the difficulty of wrapping his own hands. Viktor shuffles around on the other side of the lab, but not enough for Jayce to glance over.
He feels a bit like a kid with an art project as he begins, cutting up squares of gauze, making sure they’re large enough to cover the patches but small enough that Jayce doesn’t lose too much of the mobility in his hands. The scissors he has are too small and rigid, fitting awkwardly in Jayce’s hands and taking more effort then they should to cut.
By the time he pulls out the tape, he’s aware of a presence hanging over his shoulder.
Jayce is tempted, fleetingly, to hide his hands. They’re not exactly the most attractive thing at the moment, and although Viktor has definitely seen them before, Jayce could convince himself that it was only in passing and not long enough for Viktor to really notice the gross, raised patches.
He doesn’t tuck them away, though. He continues his ministrations with only a brief stutter, and he allows Viktor to observe.
He uncaps his cream and smears a generous amount against the top of his right hand - even just that is enough to soothe the immediate itch. He tugs an abandoned glass of water he has on his desk closer to him, and dunks a piece of gauze inside. Viktor makes an interested noise, and despite himself, Jayce grins.
“It’s to help with absorption,” Jayce explains as he lays the wet gauze against his skin, basking in the immediate relief it brings for just a moment. He layers a dry piece immediately on top, and then awkwardly grapples for the roll of tape with one hand.
“Let me,” Viktor says, plucking the tape from his hands before he protests. With deft fingers Viktor unwraps and cuts a piece of tape. In his hands, the small and rigid scissors look almost elegant. He passes Jayce the piece he has cut, and watches with keen eyes as Jayce presses it against his skin.
“Another, please,” Jayce asks softly. The immediate guilt he feels at needing Viktor’s help is tapered by the curiosity in the man’s gaze.
They go like that for a few, silent minutes, and Jayce manages to wrap most of the bad patches on his right hand before Viktor speaks again.
“Why do you not just wrap your entire hand?” He asks as he passes Jayce the tube of cream.
“It’s uncomfortable,” Jayce shrugs. He hates having his hands restrained like that, even while he sleeps. “I like being able to still use my fingers. And this,” He lifts his hand up, as if to show Viktor. He curls his fingers into his palm, demonstrating the mobility the wrap still offers him. “The pressure helps with the–the irritation.”
Viktor hums, curiosity satiated for a moment.
Jayce moves on to his left wrist, and Viktor speaks again. Ever curious, ever prodding.
“It wasn’t this bad when we started working together.” It’s not a question, but not necessarily just an observation either. A prompt.
“Can’t use hand creams with runes,” Jayce explains simply, insecurity making a sudden reappearance. So Viktor has noticed his issue. “And it doesn’t like… paper. Or chalk.”
“Ah,” Viktor exclaims, quiet and sympathetic. He plucks the piece of tape out of the man’s hands when he sees him struggling to balance the gauze against his wrist, and sets about wrapping it himself.
Eventually, Jayce’s hands are covered in gauze and tape. For the first time in weeks he is relieved from the itching-irritation of his own skin. The wrappings on his left hand are noticeably neater than his right - Viktor’s workmanship easily identifiable by its grace. Jayce will grant himself lenience - it is a difficult thing to do one handed.
He thanks Viktor when the man stands to leave, but he brushes him off with little comment, and they go back to their respective work. Jayce puts away the filament he was working on, and instead pulls out his notebook of equations.
Later, when he’s leaving the lab, Jayce digs out a pair of gloves from the bottom of his desk drawers and slides them over his hands, being careful of the bandages. He doesn’t want to remove the bandages just yet, but he also doesn’t want all of Piltover to be gossiping about Jayce’s mysterious hand injuries.
Really, he thinks, amused, it does kind of look like he had an accident in the forge.
Viktor doesn’t mention the incident the following morning, and though the wet-bandaging gives Jayce a small reprieve, it’s not long before his skin starts bothering him to the point of distraction again. He can’t put off these filaments though, not without dramatically stalling their progress.
Viktor leaves for his lunch break - a rare enough occurrence that Jayce takes note of it - and when he returns he drops a small jar on top of Jayce’s desk on the way to his own.
Jayce picks up the item curiously, lifting it up to the light so he can study the glittering, cream-coloured substance inside.
“Hand cream,” Viktor answers at Jayce’s curious glance. “One that should react neutrally to our work. I can show you my calculations, if you want.” Viktor offers, slightly smug as he holds his closed notebook. “It works as a sanitizer as well, so,” He shrugs. “Less hand washing for you.”
“You made this?” Jayce asks, in disbelief. He unscrews the lid and dips his finger inside, surprised at the cool texture and slight minty smell. He smears the cream across his hands generously. It’s not like his steroid cream - there is no immediate relief, or even any real promise of relief. Hand creams are preventative. Still it’s… it’s a chance at actual management of his skin, without interfering in his work.
“No,” Viktor grins. “I am no chemist. I only theorised the formula and delivered it to a friend of mine, who actually made it.”
“Thank you,” Jayce whispers, slightly reverent as he stares down at the small jar. Something warm pulses inside of his chest, growing until Jayce feels it along the back of his neck, cheeks and ears.
“Now you won't be able to get out of filament duty,” Viktor jokes, a handsome grin curling his lips as he turns away and takes his seat.
“Yeah,” Jayce agrees, too dazed to joke back. He tucks the jar next to his pen holder, giddy and already making plans to wrap his hands again tonight. Maybe he could ask Viktor to help again.
Soon, he won't have to do it as often. Soon, he might actually have all the skin on his hand back.