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Chapter Text

Gavil is already three weeks into his research internship at Piltover Academy, but the part of the day he dreads the most is lunchtime.

He finds his way to the office easily in the morning, a quick five-minute walk from his dormitory; his office and tools are modern, and his deskmates, clean, polite, and quiet. But the canteen is one place he’s still learning to navigate. It’s a slightly-overpriced buffet, with almost endless lunch options that are paid for in weight, which is a system he’s never encountered before. Then comes the time to navigate through the bustling area with a loaded tray and actually find someplace to sit and eat alone, without looking like a total loser, so that vetoes sitting on the floor by the trashcans. He had eaten a packed sandwich at his desk that first week, before a coworker heavily hinted to him that it wasn’t wise to bring food and drink around the research materials. Embarrassed, he’s made sure since then to make himself scarce from the office between noon and one.

He’s standing in line at the buffet and considering a tray of baked baby potatoes (one of the lighter, and therefore cheaper, items) when a conversation from across the bar drifts over, and he listens in casually without changing his posture or averting his eyes to give himself away.

“I told you,” says a low, rumbling voice, with a touch of exasperation to it, “the copper-gold ratio is perfectly calibrated. The casing should be able to handle up to 9,200 PSI before showing any structural compromise.”

“Under ideal conditions, yes,” says a second voice; also decidedly male, but with a slick, Zaunite accent, “but in practical application, the crystalline structure will begin to degrade at approximately 7,800 PSI. Especially after repeated exposure to arcane energy fields.”

Gavil chances a look up from beneath his eyelashes, and– yep, he’s standing across from Jayce and Viktor, possibly the two most talked-about researchers at the Academy as of their breakthrough a few weeks ago. The technology had yet to break into the public sphere, but talk was growing, and the two had practically transformed into legends of the academic community overnight. He ducks his head, more than a bit starstruck at overhearing what seems to be a research-related debate, and hopes in vain that they don’t notice him eavesdropping.

Jayce reaches for a serving spoon, but his companion seamlessly cuts him off and instead begins to scoop a different salad onto the other man’s plate.

“That one has tomatoes,” Viktor says by way of explanation, “you won’t like it.”

“Did you read the plans for the three-step cooling process I developed?” Jayce asks in response, holding his tray in front of him and allowing Viktor to serve him whatever he pleases. “It would temper the material, the molecular bonds are 30% stronger.”

The two continue their discussion as they head towards the register to pay, and like a sad, tethered ghost, Gavil finds himself drifting behind them. It’s just so interesting; his coworkers whisper and follow with shining eyes whenever the pair pass through the office – which is rare, with how long their stints holed up in the laboratory are – and seeing them interact in a public setting, close enough to touch, is almost surreal. 

“I will rerun the simulations when we return to the lab,” Viktor acquiesces, doubt injected into his tone as he pays for both of their lunches with some cogs he had pulled out of Jayce’s pocket using the hand not grasping his cane. The other man, balancing a tray in each hand, doesn’t even blink, as though his partner rifling through his clothing is something that happens all the time. Maybe it does.

“Uh, no you don’t,” Jayce says, halting Viktor’s movement towards the door with a large hand around his forearm. “We’re eating down here today.”

Viktor, honest to Janna, whines, a low protest in the back of his throat, and Jayce chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no, maybe the change of scenery and some sunlight will do you some good,” he says, scanning the room for a free table, “plus, how often do we get to spend time together without…”

“Sir?” 

Gavil whips his head around to greet the unimpressed stare of the cashier, who’s waiting for him to pay for his own meal. He quickly apologizes and goes through the motions, but inside, his head is whirling. If they’re eating in the canteen, this is a unique chance. He looks over to where Jayce and Viktor have found themselves a more secluded table, out of the way and making them less likely to be noticed, but it does have extra space. Jayce has set both their trays down and is pulling out Viktor’s seat for him like it’s second nature, while they still seem to be in deep discussion about their work.

And sure, Gavil is loathe to interrupt that. And they’ve clearly chosen their table with the intention not to be disturbed. And yet– 

As a boy growing up in Zaun himself, with a passion for science that reached as high as the Piltover skyscrapers on the horizon and nowhere to channel it, he never thought he would be able to achieve the level of education and opportunity that the Topsiders had available to them just by virtue of being born. He had to claw and scrape his way to the Academy, and seeing someone like Viktor, who sounded the same way Gavil did, elevated to such a high position, gave him hope that times really were changing. He wanted to reach out to the man – not that he wanted anything from him, exactly, but just to express his admiration. Also, the research he and Jayce were doing was really, really fucking cool.

And if he did get something out of it for himself, well, no one from the Undercity was stupid enough to turn down opportunities that were staring them right in the face.

Both men look up sharply when Gavil gets within a few feet of their table, and he almost falters, but steels himself to push forwards.

“Hi,” he says, quickly swiveling his gaze from Jayce to Viktor, then back again. “I’m Gavil. I’m, ah, an intern? In the robotics lab?”

There’s a beat of silence before Viktor goes back to methodically eating his food, unbothered, and Jayce’s face collapses into an easy smile. “Oh, of course,” he says, and gestures to a free seat on his left. “How are you liking it?”

“It’s great!” he responds, gratitude rushing over him as he sets his tray down and takes a seat before Jayce can inexplicably change his mind. “Everyone here is– is insanely smart, and helpful. And I’m loving the city too, since it’s my first time living in Piltover. I’m from, ah, the fissures.”

He directs that last sentence more towards Viktor, half-expecting to be ignored, but the other man does take a pause, looking up at him with golden eyes.

“I am, as well,” he says, almost redundantly, as though he doesn’t know his name has been spoken in rooms he’s never set foot in. “I still remember my first time in Piltover. How overwhelming all–” he gestures around the canteen, at the food, the lighthearted chatter, the high vaulted ceiling, “this was.”

Jayce nods at that as well, although there seems to be a bit of sadness in his eyes; not pity, but something like regret, as he gazes at his partner. “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he turns back to Gavil, “And the work, it’s interesting? Challenging?”

“Oh, yeah,” he nods vigorously, “I’m liking it a lot. Although–” he tries to smoothly transition, “I’ve also heard a lot about the work the two of you are doing. The Hextech. It’s– it’s fascinating stuff, no?”

From there, the hour almost flies by. Gavil completely forgets about any reservations he had about intruding on the two’s lunch with his presence as he’s caught up in the passion and excitement that the pair clearly share about their work, all the people that it could help. They’re both clearly geniuses, and the breadth and level of knowledge needed in their research is so high that most of the technical jargon goes way over Gavil’s head, but he nods along all the same.

And the whole time, Viktor and Jayce interact with an easy camaraderie as though they’ve known each other all their lives, finishing each other’s sentences and casually stealing food off of each other’s trays. Viktor, Gavil thinks, is a generally reserved man, speech matter-of-fact and never superfluous, but with Jayce, he’s almost funny, returning Jayce’s teasing with his own jabs, while Jayce stares at him with something soft and mushy in his gaze that Gavil feels almost bad about bearing witness to. Eventually, Jayce checks his watch, a nice gold timepiece worn on the inside of his right wrist, and reaches across the table to tap Viktor’s hand a few times, which the other man takes as an unspoken signal to stand.

“This has been great, Gavil,” Jayce says, giving him a firm handshake, “but we should get back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course!” Gavil says, beaming. “Thank you so much, the both of you. This was really interesting.”

Viktor raises a hand to him in farewell, pushing up against his cane. “Yes, it was nice to meet you. Good luck with your own research. I look forward to viewing the results.”

Jayce stacks both of their trays as they turn to go – Gavil’s own food sits only half-eaten in front of him, absorbed as he was in the discussions – but the pair get only a few steps from the table before Viktor says, “Oh, Jayce, wait–” 

The taller man stoops down, slightly, allowing Viktor to reach up and gently brush something from his cheek. “You had an eyelash.”

Jayce smiles at him in thanks, and Gavil watches them walk away, noting how Jayce keeps a hand on Viktor’s lower back the entire time. Suddenly, many things add up at once and hit him on the head with the force of an anvil. The food sharing and knowing the other’s dietary preferences, the pulling out of each other’s chairs, casual touches and anecdotes and inside jokes. He covers his face with both hands, sinking slightly in his chair. Did he just interrupt their date??

Chapter Text

11 pm on a Saturday finds Yira sitting at a long table in a small meeting room, waiting for a talk on nuclear thermal hydraulics to begin. It’s an optional talk at the weekend-long conference she’s attending, a talk none of the other scholars from her university have elected to show up to, but she’s interested in the subject matter and the instructor is a leader in their field. Said instructor is currently standing at the front of the room, writing his contact information on the blackboard with as much zeal as though it were the middle of the day. The couple dozen-or-so attendees seated along the table seem much the same; for people used to staying up for unholy periods of time and working at all hours of the night, 11 pm is a perfectly acceptable time to attend a four-hour long talk on physics.

“Alright,” the man says, causing the light chatter in the room to dissipate, “it’s five past so I guess that means we’re good to start! I hope you’ve all had a good time so far this weekend, enjoying the weather and facilities, connecting with colleagues from all around the world. I’m Dr. Karan, professor of mechanical engineering from the University of Palclyff, and I’m very pleased you’ve all chosen to attend my workshop tonight.”

He turns and gestures to a tall man seated across the table from Yira with a beam. “I’m also happy to have here in attendance with us tonight, Dr. Jayce Talis from Piltover Academy, the founder and mastermind behind Hextech!”

There’s a smattering of polite applause. Dr. Jayce Talis is on the younger side, clean shaved and handsome, with carefully groomed dark hair and ramrod-straight posture. Next to him sits another man, seemingly around the same age, but he meets the stereotype of ‘researcher’ a little better: skinny, with unkempt brown hair, and an almost gaunt face with a serious expression and deep eyebags. Yira can tell they’re attending together, partly because their seats are pushed a little closer together than would be appropriate with a pair of strangers, and partly because they’re dressed in matching suits and cravats.

The instructor seems more excited about the man’s presence than any of the students. Yira has heard of Hextech, of course – it had been afforded a sizable spread in the brochure for this very conference – but it’s a new term, the kind that’s more popular in niches of academia than amongst the general public, so she wouldn’t fault any of the other attendees for not having heard of it. It’s Dr. Karan’s specialization, so of course he’d be excited to have an up-and-coming innovator in the field attending his talk. 

Jayce opens his mouth, and he almost seems – indignant? – but before he can say anything, Dr. Karan moves on, segueing into his own introduction, and what he hopes to cover in the limited time they have. Yira’s eyes linger on the duo across the table a little longer. The man sitting next to Jayce reaches out and places a gentle hand on the one that Jayce has resting on the table, accompanied by a wry smile. The other man still seems irked, but after a few long moments of silent conversation held through glances, he appears slightly mollified, and they turn their attentions back to the front of the room, although their hands are still touching, ever so slightly, on the tabletop. Something about the whole interaction scratches at Yira’s mind, something she can’t place, but it’s minor enough that she easily forgets about it in favour of focusing on the content of the talk.

Since the lecture is so long, they get a fifteen minute break at the halfway point. Almost the entire room stands up, whether to visit the bathroom or just stretch their legs, but Yira decides to stay seated. She’s brought a waterbottle with her, so maybe she’ll just use the time to doodle, or stare meaninglessly into the distance to decompress. The one other person who remains at the table with her is the man who was sitting with Jayce, the one with the cane leaning on the wall behind him. So perhaps he had his own reasons for not wanting to get up and walk around. He seems unaware of his surroundings, instead favouring to pull out a second notebook to scribble in furiously. Yira raises her chin slightly as she tries to take a surreptitious look at the page, upside down and across the table, but his writing is small and spidery, and it looks like mumbo-jumbo to her.

Slowly, people come filtering back into the room, most carrying small snacks or bottles of soda and juice that must have been picked up at some nearby convenience store or, more likely, an easily-missed vending machine out in the hall. When Dr. Talis reenters the room, it’s with a skip in his step as he enthusiastically approaches his companion. 

“Viktor, look what they had!” he says excitedly, and the other man actually puts his pen down and turns to look at him. Dr. Talis presents a small white carton labelled ‘Sweetmilk,’ the kind with a paper straw attached to it.

In less than two seconds, Yira watches Viktor’s face brighten as his body language goes from taciturn to barely-concealed delight. The taller man takes his seat and watches fondly as the other pokes the straw into the carton and takes an aggressive sip that causes his cheeks to hollow out.

“Thank you,” Viktor says quietly, looking pleased. This is the first time, Yira realizes, that she’s actually heard the man speak. His voice is low, mellow, with an accent that she isn’t able to place based off just two words but is definitely not Piltoveran. 

“Of course,” Dr. Talis says easily, but his eyes are soft. Viktor takes another sip of the drink before setting it aside and turning the second notebook he had been working on towards his companion. He launches into some detailed explanation of the runes featured there, speaking quickly and gesturing with his pen, and Dr. Talis leans in close enough for their shoulders to brush, nodding along as his eyes dance down the page. Yira, as is natural for a scientist, is desperately curious to know what they’re discussing.

There are still, according to the clock, about five minutes remaining in the break, and Dr. Karan still hasn’t reentered the room, nor have most of the other attendees. This gives Yira a window of opportunity, and she stands to round the table. Dr. Talis and Viktor look up as she approaches, and she thinks fast.

“Dr. Talis,” Yira says, trying to inject as much excited reverence into her tone as possible, “I just wanted to say how great it is to meet you. I’ve heard so much about Hextech.” If two sentences skimmed from a brochure counts as ‘so much.’ She extends a hand, and Dr. Talis automatically takes it in his own, giving her a firm pump of the arm.

“Jayce, please,” Jayce says, and a winning smile illuminates his face before he immediately gestures towards Viktor. “And this is my partner, Viktor.”

Viktor nods towards her and raises a hand in an awkward wave, and Yira smiles warmly back. “Partner?” she repeats, polite.

“Hextech is, equally, the brainchild of the both of us,” Jayce says firmly, as though it’s a phrase he’s had to repeat countless times before. “I couldn’t have done any of it without him.”

“I’m sure you could have,” Viktor says with a wry smile, “just, perhaps with less success. And more bodily harm sustained.”

It takes a beat for the other two to recognize that he’s made a joke. Yira chuckles as Jayce throws his head back in laughter, while simultaneously reaching an arm across Viktor’s narrow shoulders and squeezing him lightly.

“So you find our research interesting?” Jayce asks, turning back to Yira. “Miss, ah …” 

Her eyes are focused on Jayce’s right arm, which he’s left lying comfortably across Viktor’s back, almost like it’s been there too many times to count, before she’s startled back into the conversation, and wracking her brain for something intelligent to say.

“Ah, Yira. And yes, the– harnessing of the arcane?” she says the unfamiliar words slowly, but with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm. “I think it’s very exciting, very interesting. Definitely unheard of up to now, but revolutionary. Likely has many applications.”

Both men seem to brighten, although it’s a bit more subdued in Viktor. After exchanging a glance with his partner and seeming to find what he was looking for, he slides his notebook towards Yira, revealing complex rune configurations sketched in meticulous detail and cyclical patterns. “We’re currently working on refining the stabilization matrix,” Viktor says, speaking quickly and his accent thickening slightly in his enthusiasm. “The hex crystals channel arcane energy, but without proper containment–”

“–they become dangerously volatile,” Jayce finishes. “Viktor’s been working on an array that might solve the problem.”

Yira’s eyes widen as she looks at the intricate designs and symbols. She knows the basics of runes – after all, Noxus has rune-smiths, so the language isn’t unheard of – but this is beyond anything that would be necessary to enchant armour or weaponry. She had no idea these kinds of developments were being made in Piltover; or perhaps, it was just these two driving them.

“These outer glyphs,” Viktor explains, tapping a particular pattern with his pen, “are derived from ancient arcane texts, but I’ve modified them to account them for the crystal’s unique resonance frequency.”

Jayce leans forward, a conspiratorial twinkle in his amber eyes. “What Vik here won’t mention is that he stayed up for three days straight to make these modifications. I found him passed out at his desk.”

Viktor whips his head around to shoot his partner a narrow-eyed glare, half exasperation, half fondness. “You were no better when you were trying to calibrate the energy transfer rates.”

“We thought we could use some of Dr. Karan’s thermal theories to solve our stabilization issues,” Jayce explains. “What if we treated arcane energy the way they’re handling thermal exchange in reactors?”

Viktor nods vigorously, a small smile spreading across his face. “The configurations represent heat transfer pathways, but modified for arcane energy. The problem is similar – both deal with containing and channeling enormous power safely.”

That’s when the man seems to remember himself, and he coughs as he flips the notebook shut abruptly. “Well, anyway, it’s just a theory, it needs a lot more development–”

“No, that’s– that’s amazing,” Yira insists, feeling a bit blindsided. And here she had just shown up to the conference out of mild interest. These two – they worked and spoke about their research with a feverish passion that reminded her of her early college years, when everything seemed within her reach, no project or theory unfeasible. The majority of academia was occupied by older, weather-beaten scholars, who still had their spark and love for their subject, but had had that youthful excitement tempered over time. It was refreshing to speak to two young researchers who were so driven.

“She’s right,” Jayce says to Viktor, “it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

Viktor gapes, appearing a bit flustered at the unexpected compliment, and Jayce seems to delight in it, leaning closer, his arm still loosely resting across the other man’s shoulders.

“No, you’re the smartest man alive. Just admit it,” he says with a gleeful smile.

Just then, Dr. Karan reenters the room, and Yira exchanges some quick farewells and well wishes with the pair before returning to her own seat. But she continues to find her eyes drawn across the table for the remaining two hours. Jayce had brought back a small bag of mixed snacks for himself, alongside Viktor’s drink, and with a small nudge, the former convinces the latter to share the snacks with him. Every once in a while, Jayce will pop one of the morsels into Viktor’s mouth for him so he doesn’t have to stop writing, and neither of them remove their gazes from their work, as though the action is as natural as breathing. They continue to work on the runes in Viktor’s second notebook, sometimes leaning their heads together to look at an equation, and instead of whispering or disturbing the ongoing lecture, Viktor will silently pass Jayce his pen and let him make his edits. Jayce does, eventually, remove the arm he has around Viktor, but they’re always touching in some other way; brushing shoulders and squeezing each other’s hands in some silent language.

And at the end of the lecture, when there’s time for questions, Jayce puts his hand up and asks some clarifying questions about the applications of Dr. Karan’s work to Hextech, which also neatly serves to inform the room that Viktor is Jayce’s equal partner in the research, something that the man makes sure to emphasize, several times. Dr. Karan is apologetic about having neglected to mention Viktor’s role at the beginning of his talk, while Viktor turns slightly pink and seems to be trying very hard to sink into the ground. Still, Jayce won’t stop grinning at him, and Yira props her chin up on her hand to hide her own smile. Young love. 

Later that night, back in her hotel room, she’ll flip back to the two pages on Hextech in her conference brochure, and give it a real, detailed read. It truly is interesting stuff, and before tonight, she might have thought it better left to theory, implausible, but now, she thinks it has the potential to be great; with those two at the helm, it would be. And indeed, there are no pictures of its creators featured among the dense, blocky text, but at the bottom is the author’s credit: Viktor and Jayce Talis.

Chapter Text

Getting a postdoctoral researcher as a course instructor, Zane has found throughout his degree, is a hit or miss, in terms of instructional quality.

They’re usually on the younger side, coerced by the university into teaching to supplement the research grants that never quite stretch far enough, and it’s strange to be taught by people who are so close to their own age. Some of them are filled with nervous energy, speaking a little too quickly and getting flustered when asked for clarification, and those are the ones that usually get walked all over by the class. Others drone through two hours of memorized script, regurgitating meaningless equations and diagrams onto the board with no explanation, before practically running from the hall the moment their timeslot is up. It’s markedly obvious which of the instructors actually give a shit, and which are just there out of obligation. Viktor, professor of Zane’s fluid dynamics class, fell clearly into the latter group from the first day of the semester.

It’s the first time he’s ever taught a class, he hears through the grapevine. As the Dean’s longtime assistant, it wasn’t something expected of him, and now, of course, most of his time is dedicated to working on Hextech. Everyone knows about that; it’s the most exciting thing to come out of their university in, probably, ever. Maybe Zane would be unenthusiastic, too, if he was dragged away from his vocation for a few hours a week to teach a bunch of undergraduates. He just wish it wasn’t coming at a cost to his own education.

On the first day of term, Zane sat a few rows from the front of the hall with a feeling of excitement and slight trepidation, which he could feel echoed in his peers seated around him. It was somewhat of an honour to be taught by someone so clearly brilliant, and he was sure the man would have plenty of knowledge to impart.

Viktor came striding into the room one minute before the class was set to start, moving as fluidly with his cane as though it were truly his second leg and barely sparing his audience a glance. He dropped an array of papers and tomes on the desk, shuffling and sorting them with his back to the room, before picking up a chalk and scrawling what was either an equation or a doctor’s prescription note across the board in tiny writing that was definitely not visible from the back of the room. Suddenly, he turned to the silent and slightly confused class, face impassive, and pointed at a random student somewhere towards the middle of the room.

“You,” he drawled, voice sharp in the echoing hall. “Explain to me: for an ideal, inviscid, incompressible flow around a circular cylinder, is the pressure coefficient at the forward stagnation point equal to unity?”

The student’s face went blank with panic, clearly unprepared, and Zane began to wonder wildly whether he had wandered into a graduate level class by mistake. But no, his classmates expressions were all displaying varying degrees of horror. The student stammered, looking desperately to the people surrounding for help, but they all expertly avoided his gaze.

“It is not a difficult question,” Viktor said, with a hint of genuine confusion. “Is equal, or is not. Yes or no?”

“Uh– ah, no!”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose.

All in all, Viktor is a classic example of someone who has achieved mastery in his domain, and as a result, can’t explain the foundations to people who just don’t get it the way he does, and has done for so long. Still, it’s not like he’s a mean, or even awkward man. For the few who are brave enough to stay after class with questions, he’ll always lend them an ear and his time, even if his explanations leave something to be desired. He doesn’t smile very much, and doesn’t dole out encouragement and reassurances like some other profs might, but he isn’t unkind; just straight to the point, like he doesn’t have the patience or will to pepper his speech with the fluff and niceties that are expected in their society.

Zane can respect that, at least. It’s arming himself with the knowledge that Viktor is secretly a good guy, under the layers of cutting genius and snark, that allows him to hang around after the lecture has been dismissed, working up the courage to descend the steps to where the man is wiping the blackboard to ask him a question about a concept that was most definitely going to be on the midterm.

Most of his classmates don’t drag their feet when the lecture is adjourned, eager to get to the more enjoyable parts of the day and mingle with friends, but Zane still stays seated until everyone has filed out of the room. He isn’t embarrassed, exactly, about having a question, but he would still feel better if there was no one around to overhear him, and perhaps Viktor would feel more forthcoming in a one-on-one.

When the coast is clear, he stands with his notebook clutched to his chest, but only makes it a few steps when the front door of the hall swings open and a man strides into the room. Not wanting to incite some sort of, oh no, you first please, no I insist – type of interaction, he quickly ducks behind the shadows of a divider, resolving to wait it out, because the midterm is drawing ever-closer and he really needs this concept cleared up.

“Last lecture of the day?” a distinctive voice asks.

Ah, of course it’s Jayce Talis. They’re research partners, after all; perhaps there was a problem he needed a consult on, or a development they needed to discuss. However, the longer the conversation goes on, the more Zane feels that this isn’t a purely professional call.

“Yes. Long meeting?” he hears Viktor ask, with a slight trace of amusement. Jayce groans.

“The longest.” There’s a huff and a squeak of wheels as he presumably collapses into Viktor’s office chair. “I hate … having to deal with all of their mind-numbing legalities and procedures and shit.”

Then there’s a sigh, and Jayce’s voice drops lower, more vulnerable. “I sometimes wonder if I’m wasting my time with the council. If I’m actually making a difference, or if I’m just … playing politics while real progress happens elsewhere.”

There’s a slight pause, and when Viktor speaks, his voice carries a surprising gentleness that Zane would never have known him capable of. “You are not wasting your time. Your diplomatic skills have secured our funding, our facilities, our very ability to continue this work. That isn’t trivial – it’s essential.”

“You really think so?” Jayce sounds uncharacteristically uncertain, and strangely young. It’s disconcerting to hear from a man who always comes across as so self-possessed, so suave and put-together. But then, Zane realizes with a start, he is young. They both are, only a few years older than Zane himself, and significantly younger than most of the other tenured staff. With how much they’ve accomplished in such little time, it’s easy to forget.

“I know so,” Viktor says firmly. “And I certainly couldn’t do it. Your ability to navigate politics, to navigate people… you accomplish things I could never do.”

“I… Thanks,” Jayce says, sounding slightly stricken. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just … going through the motions, saying what they want to hear.”

“You are much more than that,” Viktor reassures. “You inspire people, Jayce. That’s why you’re the face of this operation. You make them believe in possibility. In progress. It’s one of your greatest strengths. One of the many reasons I …”

The professor trails off, but his meaning hangs in the air. When he continues, his tone is still firm, but warmer. “We are building something extraordinary together, and neither of us could do it alone.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, you know,” Jayce admits quietly. 

“Self-implode,” Viktor immediately supplies, but the smile in his voice is evident. Jayce barks a laugh.

“Not just as a research partner,” he elaborates. “You always see the truth of things.”

“And you always see the potential,” Viktor counters. “It’s why we work.”

“Still,” Jayce says, voice significantly lighter now, “I wish I could spend more time up in the lab. With you.”

There’s more emotion injected into that ‘with you’ than is probably merited by a desire to spend more time with one’s colleague. 

“Yes, well, I don’t exactly love what I spent the last hour doing, either,” Viktor says dryly, and Zane almost has to slap a hand over his mouth to stop a laugh from escaping. He can’t help it; his professor is extremely funny when he wants to be.

“Yeah, but I bet the students all love you,” Jayce says, with complete confidence, as if no one could ever find a fault in his partner.

“Mmm,” Viktor makes a doubtful noise, “I think I am known as a, how you say … ball-breaker?”

Jayce chuckles. “Okay, well, I love you. Isn’t that enough?”

“I suppose it will have to be.”

Zane doesn’t know what kind of expression Jayce must be giving Viktor, but he can hazard a guess, as his stern professor’s voice is impossibly soft as he says, “You’re a fool, Jayce Talis.”

“Only for you,” Jayce replies cheerily. “What do you say we get out of here? We’ve both had long days.”

“I should finish grading these reports,” Viktor replies with absolutely no conviction.

“Come on,” Jayce wheedles, “they’ll still be there tomorrow.” There’s a sharp sound – a flap of paper – then a laugh, and a protest of Jayce– “When’s the last time we went out? Just the two of us?”

“Three weeks ago,” Viktor answers promptly, slightly out of breath. “That new restaurant in the merchant district.”

“Exactly!” Jayce insists, “Three weeks! That’s far too long. There’s a new exhibition at the Piltover Museum we haven’t checked out yet. The one about the evolution of energy sources throughout history?”

“You want to spend your evening looking at outdated technologies?” Viktor sounds skeptical. “What happened to ‘progress’?”

“I want to spend my evening with you,” Jayce says simply. “And besides, isn’t there something inspiring about seeing how far we’ve come? Might give us some new hextech ideas.”

Zane hears the creak of the chair, footsteps, then a sigh of surrender from Viktor.

“Fine. But afterwards, we’re getting dinner at that Ionian place Heimerdinger mentioned,” Viktor stipulates. “The one with the spiced noodles.”

“Deal,” Jayce says with audible delight. “Though fair warning, I heard they make them ‘authentically hot.’”

“Unlike you, I can handle heat,” Viktor retorts, unimpressed.

Jayce laughs. “That’s not what you said when we actually visited Ionia. Wasn’t it you who drank an entire pitcher of water after trying that pepper sauce?”

“That wasn’t heat, that was poison,” Viktor mutters defensively. “No human being should consume that willingly.”

“The locals seemed fine with it.”

“The locals have built up immunity through generations of suffering,” Viktor counters. “And you’re changing the subject.”

“Am I?” Jayce’s tone is playful. “I’ll grab your cloak.”

“Let me just organize these first,” Viktor says, and Zane hears the shuffling of papers as the man mutters to himself, “I refuse to come back tomorrow to a disorganized desk.”

“Always the perfectionist,” Jayce teases, but his voice is almost painfully fond.

“It’s called being efficient,” Viktor corrects him. “Something you could learn from.”

“I’m plenty efficient,” Jayce protests. “I efficiently got you to agree to leave work, didn’t I?”

Zane hears the front door swing open and then shut again as the two men leave together, Viktor’s laugh echoing into the corridor, and he’s left standing alone in the dark, silent lecture hall. But somehow, he isn’t too upset about not getting a chance to ask his question, he thinks as he quickly runs up the steps of the aisle and exits through the back. Who could be, when he just found out two of his professors were dating? His friends were going to go crazy for this kind of gossip; if they would even believe something so outlandish.

Chapter Text

Unlike most workers, the weekday that Iris dreads the most is Thursday. For some ungodly reason – perhaps to heighten the tension towards the end of the week, and thus the relief when it collapsed into Friday and the subsequent weekend – everyone at this Academy seems to enjoy clustering their meetings on Thursdays. She has her regular weekly meetings with her coworkers, and one-on-ones with her supervisor, and once a month, the meeting with the entire department where every lab has a chance to stand and give a mini presentation on their findings.  

To add insult to injury, it begins at 9 am sharp (so as not to impede on the other meetings all the researchers have scattered throughout the day), so she has to arrive even earlier than usual to be on time, and the subject matter comprises mainly of things she doesn’t know or care about, presented by people she only knows in passing. It’s more like a monthly chance for each lab to say, hey, here are some results, I promise your budget isn’t going to waste on business trips and 3% milk for the breakroom.

She isn’t exactly listening to the current speaker as he goes over time droning on and on about crystal lattices, instead occupied by flicking her pen and watching it roll back on its own – is this table slightly uneven? – when movement across the table catches her eye. 

She watches in mild interest as two of the researchers engage in a silent interaction, and yeah, of course she knows those two, even though they’ve never actually spoken in depth. Jayce, well-known for his work in runes, favoured by Professor Heimerdinger and the other higher-ups; and Viktor, previously unknown except as the Dean’s longtime assistant. Their unlikely partnership had contributed enough to keep the Academy gossip mill running for almost a month, and even now, it hasn’t calmed down entirely. Still, it seems that Iris is the only one who they’ve drawn the attention of, for now.

Viktor is slightly doubled over in his seat, hunched over his lap, with his brown hair obscuring his face from view. This, in itself, wouldn’t be cause for alarm – maybe he’s just looking at something beneath the table, or stretching his neck – if it weren’t for his partner, completely ignoring the rest of the room and its occupants in favour of Viktor, with one hand on the other man’s back and head leaned in close, amber eyes shiny and brow furrowed. Whatever Jayce is saying only serves to make Viktor more agitated, his spine tensing and fist clenching at the edge of the table. 

Abruptly, he stands from the table by using his fist to push himself up, dislodging Jayce’s hand from his back, and attempts to silently push his seat back and grab his cane from where it’s leaning against the wall. A few people seated around the meeting room glance over at the movement, but quickly regain focus; except Iris, which is why she’s the only one to see Viktor stumble, almost imperceptibly, as his leg gives out. He would have fallen if Jayce hadn’t reached out, somehow teleporting to a stand at the other man’s side, and grabbed him by the elbow to steady him. Viktor makes no further verbal or physical rebuffs as he allows Jayce to help him get situated with his cane and lead him out of the room with one hand at his elbow and the other at the small of his back, but his shoulders are stiff, and his lips a hard line. Jayce’s face bleeds nothing but concern.

After that, a new speaker takes the front of the room, and Iris does her best to refocus, but her mind drifts even more horribly than before, back to the interaction she had just witnessed. Beyond the obvious closeness of the two men, there was clearly something bothering Viktor, perhaps a physical pain, and Jayce had been the only one to notice it. Looking around the room, no one else seems to be brooding long on their departure, except, she notes, the girl who had been sitting on Viktor’s opposite side. Iris can’t remember her name, that girl with the half-moon glasses and curly ponytail, but she’s staring at the spot the two had just disappeared at with clear concern, biting her lower lip. Iris thinks she’s probably an assistant or something. Despite not knowing either of the two men personally, she has the unexplainable urge to make sure the two of them are alright, but resigns herself to, most likely, never finding out.

Still, this meeting isn’t getting any more interesting, and they’ve reached the halfway point, so she thinks it’s acceptable to silently excuse herself for the appropriate amount of time one would allocate for a bathroom break. She isn’t actually going to go to the bathroom, of course. Her plan is to maybe take a walk around the hall, get a drink, stare out the window – although she already knows what view will greet her as the weather is awful today. Heavy rain, complete with thunder and lightning, forecasted to last well into the evening. She isn’t looking forward to heading out in it at the end of the day. 

But in the echoing silence of the hall, she manages to catch a pair of hushed voices coming from an alcove a little ways down the hall, and for some inexplicable reason, her first instinct is to dive behind a pillar to avoid being seen. The pair don’t notice, caught up in their conversation as they are, but if she were to move now, she would definitely cast a long shadow. She has no choice but to stand there and listen, feeling much like a child trying to avoid being caught out of bed.

“You should have told me,” Jayce is saying, pleading. She recognizes his voice with a start.

“For what purpose?” Viktor asks. Iris is a little surprised; the man is known for being a bit wry, a bit curt, but she’s never heard him sound so – bitter. “So you could worry yourself too? So you would be unable to focus–”

“So–” Jayce’s voice rises for a moment before it drops back to a hiss, “so I could help you!”

“And how, exactly, would you do that?” Viktor asks sarcastically. “There’s nothing you can do, Jayce, there’s nothing for you to fix here! I’m not a broken hammer, I’m not an unsolvable equation, this is who I am. I’ve lived my entire life like this and there’s no changing it. Get that through your head.”

The words weigh heavy on Iris as they settle in, and she can’t imagine the weight of them on Jayce’s psyche. She can feel the cogs in her mind turning as though she, too, is involved in this conversation, needs to find some way to comfort or refute the man she’s never spoken more than a few cursory words to, when she hears a hollow clatter. 

When she peers around the pillar, Viktor’s cane is lying on the stone floor, and Jayce has him wrapped in a bonecrushing embrace. She can’t see much from her angle – the top of Viktor’s head, and the back of Jayce’s own buried in the other man’s shoulder – but their body language says it all. Jayce’s back is arched forwards, and Viktor is leaning the other way, as though in surprise, as his hands hover uncertainly at his sides. The taller man’s hands grip the other’s back with desperation, his arms pulling him in as though trying to fuse them together. She has to strain her ears to hear Jayce’s next words, muffled as they are.

“I know you’ve lived your whole life, just fine. I know you’ve dealt with it alone. But you don’t have to. You have me. You have me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, Viktor’s own arms come up to wrap around Jayce in kind, and he seems to almost sink into the hold. It’s clear even from the distance that Jayce is supporting Viktor’s entire weight, bad leg and all. Suddenly, he isn’t Viktor, the genius innovator; Viktor, Jayce Talis’ Zaunite partner; Viktor, the terrifying, unrelenting professor; but just a skinny, breakable man. 

When he speaks, his voice is soft, almost inaudible, but Iris knows it’s him from the accent. “It’s the weather. When it rains, I can just…” His hold on Jayce visibly tightens, his hands grasping at the other man’s impossibly wide back. “There are days I can barely get out of bed.”

Jayce pulls back just enough to look down at Viktor’s face, and although Iris can’t see his expression, the pain in his voice says it all. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? V, there’s no point in me being focused if my partner is in pain, and hiding it.”

“Because I didn’t want to see that look,” Viktor says weakly, “That pity. That helplessness. I’ve seen it all my life.”

“This isn’t pity,” Jayce objects firmly, “It’s worry. There’s a difference.”

Viktor chuckles. “Is there?”

“Yes,” Jayce insists. “Pity is what those fools in the Academy show when they whisper behind your back. This–” he gestures between them, “–this is caring about someone who matters to me.”

“I wouldn’t want you to …” Viktor says slowly, selecting his words carefully. “I wouldn’t want you to feel … compelled.”

Jayce gently brings a hand up to place on Viktor’s cheek, guiding his face up. “Hey, look at me. That’s not how this works. There’s not compulsion, not with us.”

Viktor’s entire posture shifts as he leans into the touch, closing his eyes. “Old habits. In Zaun, showing weakness…” he trails off.

“That was before,” Jayce shakes his head. “And this isn’t weakness, Viktor. It’s just being human.”

“Being human,” Viktor repeats hollowly. “Sometimes I wonder how much of that I have left.”

“All of it,” Jayce says without hesitation. “Every brilliant, stubborn, infuriating bit. And when we’re together, you don’t have to be anything else. Not the professor, or the Dean’s assistant. Or the Zaunite. You can just be… my partner.”

A slight flush colours Viktor’s cheeks. “Yours?” There’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “How possessive.”

“Absolutely,” Jayce says, his thumb brushing Viktor’s high cheekbone. “And that means I get to worry about you, and know when you’re hurting, and drag you out of meetings when you’re too stubborn to leave on your own.”

Viktors scoffs. “We should get back.” Still, he makes no move to pull away.

“We should,” Jayce agrees, “or we could just … not. Go to the lab instead. Work on something that actually matters. I’m sure Sky will take notes for us.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Skip the meeting? How rebellious of you, Talis.”

“I’m learning from the best,” Jayce says with a grin, bending down to retrieve Viktor’s cane.

Iris thinks this is as good a time as any to turn and creep back the way she came, suddenly feeling embarrassed, as though she’s intruded on a very private moment. If the bathroom break was a little long, no one comments as she slips back into her seat. But for the rest of the meeting, her mind churns with the implications of what she’s just seen.

At least they’re taking care of each other, Iris thinks, somewhat wistfully. It must be nice to have a partner like that; a work partner and a life partner in one. She’s somewhat jealous, and wonders if Noa from the chemistry department might be free for lunch some day.

Chapter Text

On days like today, Piltover is filled with an air of excitement and anticipation as thousands of people, from Piltover and Zaun alike, pour into the streets for the annual Distinguished Innovators’ Competition. Honestly, Len isn’t sure what the event entails, exactly, that’s causing this much fuss, but it means more people need shuttling to and from the city centre, so he’s content to keep his head down and be grateful for the extra business for his taxi service.

Or, he would be grateful, at least, but his current two passengers are really testing his patience. Traffic is jammed, almost to a full stop, and ever since the two men mounted his carriage, it’s been endless noise and bickering and he’s had to dodge several flying metal objects that came close to hitting him in the head. He looks in the rear view mirror, just to glare, but neither of the men pay him any mind, fully absorbed with a golden contraption that seems to be the source of much whirring and hissing and strife.

Rich folks and their toys, he thinks to himself, adjusting his cap as he leans back in his seat, gazing out at an endless sea of unmoving bumpers. 

“The stabilizer’s losing calibration,” says the dark haired man, frustration evident as he rapidly notches gears with a small precision tool. “Viktor, hold it steady while I adjust the frequency."

“Difficult to hold anything steady in this vehicle,” the slimmer man responds. Despite the fact that they’ve barely moved in five minutes, he looks increasingly pale. “And Jayce, please be cautious with those adjustments. Our calculations had a very small margin of error.”

Len watches from the mirror as the one called Viktor presses a handkerchief to his mouth, his complexion turning more and more green. The both wear matching burgundy suits and white waistcoats, and strange green goggles that obstruct their eyes from view, presumably to protect them from flying machinery. Len wishes he had been afforded similar equipment.

“I know the margin of error is small – we spent three days on them,” the taller man retorts, fingers working deftly despite the tight space. “But if the primary core overheats before we reach the exhibition hall, we’ll have nothing to show but a very expensive paperweight.”

The device makes an ominous clicking sound, followed by a high-pitched whine that makes Len wince.

“Excuse me,” he says, turning slightly in his seat, and the two men look up as though they had forgotten he was present and able to hear everything they were saying. “Is that thing safe? Because I’ve got a policy against explosives in my carriage.”

“It’s perfectly safe,” both men say in unison, as though it’s a well-rehearsed lie.

“It’s a revolutionary arcane-harnessing teleportation prototype,” the taller one – Jayce – adds. “Potentially world-changing.”

“Hmm,” Len grunts, unconvinced, and turns back around. “World-changing things have a habit of blowing up, in my experience.”

Viktor sighs, looking even more miserable, his bushy eyebrows knit together above his goggles. “If you could please focus on driving smoothly, sir, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“Smoothly? In this traffic?” Len gestures at the gridlocked street ahead. “The exhibition hall is still twenty minutes away at this rate, and that’s if we’re lucky.”

“Twenty minutes?” Jayce exclaims, his voice cracking slightly. He does a double take at the watch on his right wrist, which for some reason, is positioned upside down, with the face pointing downwards. “We need to be there in fifteen for registration!”

Len shrugs. “Not my problem, sir. Though …” He eyes the opening of a narrow side street, just up ahead. “I could try a shortcut. Might be a bit bumpy, though.” It’s not like all this sitting around is good for his business, either.

“No!” Viktor groans. “No bumps, please.”

“Yes!” Jayce counters. “We need to get there on time, Viktor, or all this stabilizing will be for nothing anyways!”

“That prototype costs more than most in the Undercity earn in a lifetime,” Viktor mutters, then swallows hard. “Not to mention my stomach contents, which I’d prefer to keep where they are.”

Despite his irritation at the whole situation, Len can’t help but regard the duo with a bit of amusement. The way they bicker reminds him of an old married couple; he gazes fondly at the small, grainy photo he has pinned to his visor.

“Look,” Jayce says, his voice softening as he places a hand on Viktor’s arm, and again, it’s like Len doesn’t exist. “I know you’re nervous, but this is everything we’ve worked for. Six months of research, sleepless nights, all those moments where we thought it was impossible…”

Viktor’s expression shifts slightly. “Those moments where you thought it was impossible. I always knew we’d succeed.”

Jayce laughs, a warm sound that fills the small carriage. “Right, sorry. Your unwavering confidence. How could I forget?”

Len spots a small gap in traffic, and starts to inch forward. “Brace yourselves,” he warns, “and that invention.”

He starts cranking the engine, trying to gain some speed that would help them make it over the uneven stones of the alleyway. The carriage lurches forward, and immediately, the gold contraption starts ratting violently on the seat between the two men. There are some pops and the sound of metal pieces hitting the floor, and Len tenses his shoulders, but is unable to look behind him to see what’s actually happening, focused as he is on the road. He does register, however, a quick movement towards the open window of the carriage, and the sound of retching.

When he finally makes it back onto a main road, which is luckily clearer than the last, although only marginally, Viktor is slumped in his seat, goggles pushed up to his forehead and eyes shut. Len is at least grateful that the man had been able to avoid throwing up all over his backseat. Jayce is frozen, torn between searching for fallen parts and comforting his companion.

“Viktor… hey, I’m sorry. I forgot you get motion sick. Here, just… lean on me for a minute,” Jayce says, his voice suddenly softer as he moves the contraption aside and slides closer to his partner. “Deep breaths, okay?”

“This is not how I envisioned us spending our time before the biggest day of our lives,” Viktor murmurs. When Len chances another glance in the mirror, he sees Jayce with an arm around Viktor’s shoulders, who is leaning into him, eyes closed, breathing deliberately.

Jayce snorts quietly. “Well, it’s not ideal, but at least we’re together.”

“Romantic,” Viktor says dryly, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice. “Nothing says ‘quality time’ like holding my head while I throw up.”

“Hey, remember our first prototype? The one that blew up my workshop? If we survived that, we can survive this. Besides …” Jayce’s voice drops lower, and Len has to strain his ears to hear, unknowingly having become invested in the duo’s conversation. “I’d rather have bad moments with you than good moments with anyone else.”

Even in the mirror, Len can see Viktor roll his eyes, but there’s a softness to his expression now, and he’s regaining some colour, now that the ride is smoother. “Save the sentiment for when I’m not already nauseated, please.”

The contraption gives an alarming whir, and both man turn their attention back to it.

“Should it be glowing like that?” Len can’t help but ask, eyeing the increasingly bright blue light emanating from the device with trepidation.

“No!” Jayce exclaims, leaping back into action. “Vik, pass me the calibrator. It’s bronze–”

“I know what it looks like,” Viktor snaps, reaching into the bag at his feet. His voice is steadier now, focused on the task at hand once more. “We need to redirect the energy flow to stabilize the core matrix.”

Len watches, fascinated despite himself, as the two work in perfect synchronization, barely speaking or looking at each other, yet seeming to anticipate each other’s moves. Their hands work expertly, making adjustments, Viktor holding pieces steady while Jayce makes precision alignments.

“It’s always like this with you,” Viktor mutters, long fingers at an awkward angle to hold a small component in place. “Thinking of some great improvement at the last possible moment and rushing to finish it.”

“You love it,” Jayce replies with a grin, notching another gear into place. “Admit it – life’s never boring.”

“There is a vast middle ground between ‘boring’ and ‘frantically assembling dangerous arcane technology in the back of a moving vehicle while fighting motion sickness,’” Viktor points out.

The device’s glow gradually stabilizes to a steady, gentle blue as they work, and the whirring settles into a pleasant hum.

“There,” Jayce breathes, sitting back to admire their handiwork. “Beautiful. Just like the genius who designed it.”

“That’s yourself you’re referring to, I take it?” Viktor asks, one eyebrow raised, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I was taking about you, actually,” Jayce says, removing his goggles and meeting Viktor’s gaze with shiny, earnest eyes. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you, your mind. You know that, right?”

Viktor holds his gaze for a long moment before looking away, but not before the faint blush on his cheeks becomes apparent. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe, but what a way to go,” Jayce laughs, and then suddenly seems to remember where they are, and what’s at stake. He turns to Len with slight embarrassment. “Sorry for all the commotion, sir. We’ll pay extra for the trouble.”

Len shrugs, just as the exhibition hall comes into view, its gleaming spires catching the late morning sunlight. “Been driving folks around for thirty years. You’re not the strangest pair I’ve had, though you might be the most interesting.” He nods towards their invention. “That thing really going to change the world?”

“That’s the plan,” Jayce says simply.

“If it doesn’t explode first,” Viktor adds, but his hand moves to rest protectively on the device.

Len pulls to a stop near the entrance, which is obscured by the sheer number of people that have gathered, an impenetrable wall of bodies that spills across sidewalks and into adjacent streets. Spectators stand shoulder-to-shoulder, many perched on tiptoes or hoisted onto others’ shoulders, the cacophony of excited voices creating a steady roar punctuated by the occasional eruption of cheers. After throwing some cogs into the front seat along with some quick thanks, the two men carefully gather their tools and invention and move to tackle the next hurdle together; safely navigating through this crowd.

Len grins to himself as they disappear into the throng. That rich boy definitely overpaid him. 

Chapter Text

Mel makes her way through the Academy’s winding corridors, her footsteps echoing against the marble floors. Despite the late hour, there are still quite a few scholars visible through the glass walls of the laboratories and study rooms – some hunched over tomes with candles burning low, others tinkering with delicate machinery, their faces illuminated by blue and orange sparks as they worked with single-minded focus. Similarly, she has come with the sole purpose of seeking out Jayce and Viktor, Piltover’s latest Distinguished Innovators.

The two had come away from the competition earlier that week with the first place prize; of course they had. At least on Mel’s end, there had never been any doubt. But even she, arguably the closest person to their research outside of Sky and Professor Heimerdinger and the people who they actually worked in close quarters with, was blown away by the extent of what the duo had accomplished. Actual teleportation; her mind was spinning with the implications. She smiled along with the rest of the crowd who gasped and applauded in awe at Jayce and Viktor’s demonstration, a single gear that zapped out of existence before reappearing several feet away, but was internally already contemplating ways that she – and the council – could harness the technology. Silly competitions aside, at a larger scale, it could revolutionize travel, and Piltover would become the central trading hub of Runeterra. 

When the winners had been announced, Mel’s gaze had immediately been drawn to where she knew the pair would be standing to observe their reactions. Viktor’s eyes had gone as wide as saucers and his jaw slack, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, while Jayce’s face broke out in a wide beam as he lifted his partner bodily from the ground and spun him in circles. Only then did the two ascend the stage to shake hands and accept their award, Jayce giving a quick speech about how this was just the beginning for Hextech, while Viktor stared at the trophy in his hands with possibly the widest smile he was capable of expressing, one that made his nose scrunch up and revealed two rows of bright, slightly uneven teeth. After posing for a few photos, however, they quickly made themselves scarce from the venue, leaving all the reporters and other people wanting to speak with them, Mel included, in the dust.

She’s been so busy with her own diplomatic and business endeavours for the past few days, she’s only now gotten the chance to go and congratulate Jayce and Viktor on their win in person. It’s a bit late, for a regular person, but if she knows the duo like she knows she does, they’ll certainly still be working away in the lab, burning the midnight oil. They usually go blind and deaf to the rest of the world when they’re in the thick of their work like that, and Mel, to her slight annoyance, fades into the background, along with anything that isn’t runes and tomes and each other. But if she’s lucky, she thinks as she fixes her hair while ascending the long staircase, she might be able to grab Jayce’s attention.

She knocks lightly at the door, and when she doesn’t receive any response, knocks again, a bit louder. She presses an ear to the wooden surface, but doesn’t hear any activity, explosions or otherwise, coming from the other side; if the two have really left the building so early for once, it’ll truly be a record. But just to check for herself, she cracks the door open, finding it unlocked, and steps fully into the room.

There’s no one standing at the desks or the blackboards. In fact, Jayce isn’t present in the room at all, but Viktor is, albeit asleep. It catches Mel off-guard, if only because she’s never seen the man look so vulnerable, or at ease. He’s lying on one of the couches the two have pressed against the wall, which is usually occupied by Mel, when she comes to visit, or their assistant, Sky, while she scribbles notes or pipes up with her own contributions. He’s wrapped snugly in a blanket, only his face and messy brown hair poking out of the top, with his hands tucked beneath his head as a makeshift pillow, and his expression is so relaxed it looks almost unnatural on his face. His cane is propped up against the wall.

Something about the picture strikes Mel as slightly odd, and she wracks her brain for what it might be. No, it wasn’t odd that Viktor was sleeping in the lab; the man constantly seemed to be suffering from sleep deprivation that he overcame through sheer will and dedication to his work, and with the amount of time he and Jayce spent secluded in their lab, it wasn’t surprising that when he crashed, it would be here. And no, it wasn’t unusual that Jayce, the only other person who had unfettered access to the room, would have draped a blanket over Viktor’s body while he slept; one of the first things Mel had gotten to know about Jayce was how unfailingly kind and giving he was, and how he made sure, in little and extravagant ways, that the people he loved were taken care of. 

The strange thing is the blanket itself. It’s deep blue, made from comfortable-looking cloth, and quiet large, by the way it easily covers Viktor, who isn’t a short man, from his shoulders all the way to his feet. The item is a little too – colourful? sentimental? – ordinary, and doesn’t seem to fit in with their surroundings. What use could a pair of researchers have for a blanket in their laboratory? She supposes they might keep it around for this very type of situation, but she can’t imagine it actually belonging to Viktor. He isn’t the kind of person to keep around items for the primary intent of increasing his own comfort during impromptu naps. Hell, he isn’t the kind of person who even tends to remember he’s made of flesh and bone, and requires food and rest to live.

Regardless, she shrugs it off and moves her attention off the sleeping man and to the rest of the room. Jayce’s desk seems like he left in the middle of workflow, still scattered with his bag and cloak, so it’s likely that he only stepped out for a moment. Since she already came all this way, she resigns herself to waiting for the other man’s return. It feels a little odd to stay in the room with no one around, save for Viktor, who’s snoring slightly, soft, whistle-like breaths through his nose, but it isn’t like she’s doing anything wrong, and she really does want to speak with Jayce; although, it might be at a reduced volume now, unless she can drag him away to a more private location. She busies herself with leaning against the wall and surveying the contents of the lab, attempting to make sense of the runes and equations covering every blackboard and sheet of paper scattered along the worktops, to no avail, and tries not to stare too intently at the prone frame on the couch.

It’s a few minutes later that she hears approaching footsteps on the stone floor, and Jayce enters from an adjoining room. Mel opens her mouth, but it’s immediately clear that he hasn’t spotted her as he beelines for his desk; of course, it’s dark and she’s standing in the shadows of the doorway, and the candles scattered around the lab don’t offer too much light. If she speaks up now, it’ll just scare him, and probably come across as a bit creepy. But he seems to be packing up to leave, straightening papers and pulling on his cloak, so perhaps she can slip back out and make it seem like she was just coming up to see him, she thinks as she backs towards the door.

Jayce pauses at Viktor’s side, looking down at his sleeping form, possibly wondering if he should wake him before he leaves. Like Mel said; endlessly caring. But to her surprise, instead of calling his name or shaking his shoulder like anyone else might, Jayce crouches by the couch so that he’s now closer to Viktor’s level, and rubs his back from over the blanket. 

“Viktor,” he calls softly, and Mel is almost bowled over by the amount of affection she hears in his voice. She’s never heard him sound like that towards anyone, let alone her. “Viktor, baby, it’s time to go.”

She chokes, a little, at the pet name, but any sound she might have unwittingly emitted is overshadowed by the small grumbles from Viktor as he rouses. He mumbles something too quiet for Mel to make out at the distance, but whatever it is makes Jayce chuckle lowly, and his hand drifts up from Viktor’s back to his face, hand cupping his cheek and thumb brushing the skin slowly.

“I know. But you’ll be more comfortable in our own bed,” he insists, helping the other man sit up, “and I’d rather not spend the night there without you.”

Jayce leaves Viktor sitting on the couch, rubbing sleep from his eyes and running his fingers through his wild hair, as he walks around the far end of the lab, packing up the last of their things. He returns with Viktor’s boot in hand, and the other man just sits there and allows Jayce to slip his left foot, the one that isn’t in a leg brace, into it.

“Okay, let’s get going. Here we go– good boy.” Jayce helps him stand with an arm around his waist, and Viktor goes willingly, seemingly boneless in his half-asleep state. He lets Jayce manhandle him into his cloak and pass him his cane, but even so, Jayce doesn’t remove his arm from Viktor’s middle. It’s more of a comforting, familiar hold than a supportive one, and Viktor leans into it, head resting on Jayce’s shoulder.

Mel has a moment of panic where she thinks the duo is going to turn towards the door and spot her, where she has, for some inexplicable reason, stayed frozen in watch. But there must be some secondary exit she doesn’t know about, because they instead turn to one of the adjoining doorways, Jayce walking slower than Mel knows he’s capable of to accommodate for the man pressed to his side. From there, she has a perfect view of the candlelight illuminating both of their faces; Viktor’s, soft with sleep, and Jayce’s, glowing with an adoration that’s a little startling to witness.

“Thank you,” Viktor says, in his distinctive mellow voice, but it’s sotto voce, almost naked in the emotion that Mel can read from it. Gratitude, trust, affection. In response, Jayce tilts his head down to press a kiss to the top of his head. Anything, anything, if it’s for you. That’s when, Mel supposes, she knows for sure, and she slips out soundlessly the way that she came.

They leave the blanket puddled at the end of the couch, but by the next time Mel comes to visit, it’s been safely stored away again.