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Viktor tentatively scoots his swivel chair closer to Jayce. He stares at one of their empty mugs and tugs on Jayce's shoulder absent-mindedly.
Jayce huffs, “Kinda busy here, V.”
Viktor's tugs are gentle, but only a little less than incessant. Jayce's shoulders tense and his brow arches with a subtle flair of anger.
“What?” Jayce's tone is sharp, but lacks harshness. Viktor releases his grip, and shrinks back to his corner, raising the soldering iron. It fizzles out heat continuously, a stream of fire hot responsibility, tempting him to grasp it for comfort.
He forgets the urge when Jayce accidentally tips one of the empty mugs over. It clatters to the floor with a soft clank, reminding Viktor of his desire.
“Milk,” Viktor murmurs quietly to himself, eliciting a confused, yet distracted hum from his partner.
Jayce runs a hand over his weary face, and lets his shoulders fall slack,
“... I'm sorry. What'd you need, Viktor?”
Viktor looks up at him with wide eyes, tight-lipped and flustered. He shakes his head no and stumbles upright, determined to fetch his drink of choice.
____
Viktor is in the lab the next day too, his hand is bandaged lazily, the sticky tabs peeling from excessive washing.
Jayce notices this quickly.
“What happened to your hand?” He's shrugging off his coat and slugging down the box of blueprint materials on the desk. They've gone through enough graph paper to build a city.
Viktor startles at his voice, tucking his hand behind him. He shakes his head as he slips his goggles upwards, “Hm… nothing.”
It was more like an attempt summed up to nothing. That's all his mind felt lately. Nothing. Empty, fuzzy, fatigued and yet, impossibly full.
Viktor had gone to the university kitchen the other night, with a need to make himself some warm milk, and satisfy the urge of his teetering headspace.
Maybe if he indulges an ounce of comfort, he can feign off his simple-mindedness, the urge to go limp in the head. Juvenile behavior he deemed unfit for the world to see.
He'd unfortunately, in the fight for control, burnt his hand on the hotplate, and even shattered one of the mugs. He'd cut his thumb to his knuckle when gripping the glass, unable to see through his bleary tears of shame as he swept up his mess.
Jayce places a gentle hand on his shoulder, squeezing affectionately, “I'm really sorry for being snappy with you. You know, last night,”
Viktor sits on his hands, determined to keep them out of his mouth, “It's fine. I understand the frustration, don't worry Jayce.”
Jayce smiles warmly, “Thanks,” and Viktor preens under the guise of comforting his partner.
Jayce forgoes the ritual of apologizing and allowing things to fall back in line. Of leaving when he's said his piece, leaving Viktor alone, thankful to gather his thoughts.
Instead, he squats and looks at Viktor with devotion, gently tugging Viktor's hands out from underneath him.
Jayce cups Viktor's wounded hand into his own, clasping his hands around Viktor's fragile one, like it's the most precious tool of trade.
“What happened to your hand, baby?” Jayce murmurs, kissing along his partner's knuckles. He looks up at Viktor expectantly, his tone soft, completely absent of hurry. His care for Viktor is not a boring chore he complies to.
Viktor shifts his weight uncomfortably in his seat, wrenching his body away from Jayce, averting his gaze. His cheeks are flushed with embarrassment,
“Don't indulge me.”
Jayce sighs, a sound of refusal to surrender to Viktor's stubborn nature. “Why?”
Viktor lets his bangs untuck themselves from behind his ears, fluttering as they fall to his face, hiding his vulnerability, “Please.”
Jayce stands, grunting and exasperated. Viktor relaxes; the little game of tug and pull is finished. Viktor doesn't have to elaborate, speak his delusions, and Jayce doesn't have to entertain it. Jayce will leave him, as always.
Jayce instead pulls Viktor against his chest, burying Viktor's head into the shaft underneath his chin.
“Stop this,” Viktor pleads, close to tears.
“I just want to help, okay?” Jayce assures.
He knows Viktor. The weeks he goes without letting himself dissociate into the lull of security, of love, housed in Jayce's being.
Viktor needs this, needs to slip. Needs to relax into himself, and dissolve himself of his shame he's so deeply shrouded in.
Jayce kisses Viktor's hair, his shoulders, and then his neck, “Let me help, baby. Please?”
Viktor shakes his head. The scariest part is the drop of awareness in himself. The loss of control terrifies Viktor, and Jayce knows this.
He squeezes Viktor tighter, “Just let me know when you're ready, okay?”
Jayce relaxes his hold, about to depart from his partner, pleased with his push of encouragement.
Although he's quickly disrupted as Viktor sniffles, hiccuping profusely, resembling the sounds of a wounded animal.
Viktor buries his head into his shaky hands, wincing as his cheekbones brush the confines of the bandages, evoking an unpleasant sting of pain.
Jayce tugs Viktor upright by the armpits and sits in his place, settling Viktor into his lap, enfolded in his arms.
“Oh Viktor… I'm right here. I'm sorry, I won't go.” He soothes, kissing Viktor's hands as they stay enveloping his face as a shield. He shakes as he cries and Jayce's heart seizes with regret.
(So much for subtle, positive encouragement…)
Viktor makes soft little sounds, as if he were attempting to speak. Jayce patiently rubs his back, chirping reassurances gently.
“M…Milk…” Viktor stammers, before his voice is demolished in waves of sobs.
Jayce's heart aches with deep devotion.
“You want some milk?” Jayce inquires, feeling similarly to a fool. The burnt hand, the gnawing for his attention just last night, Viktor has wanted, no, needed, something from Jayce, and guilt grows on his conscience.
Viktor nods into his palms, still crying profusely. His tears trickle through the spaces between his fingers. Jayce catches them all with a comforting kiss, kissing each and every tear away.
“Yeah? You want milk?” Jayce sits, gently prying his sweet boy's dampened hands away from his face.
Viktor abandons his hands for the crook of Jayce's neck, and seeks comfort by hiding his face there, instead. Jayce chuckles appreciatively, petting Viktor's hair. He stiffens as he feels the pull of his shirt collar into Viktor's mouth, his greatest self-soothing mechanism is his oral fixation.
When Viktor falls into little space, everything ends up in his mouth; his hands, toys, teddy bears, clothes, and even things that aren't safe, like silverware or gears. He'll do anything to distract himself.
“I know you need something for your mouth, but I have something better than my shirt - something that isn't yucky for you, okay?”
Viktor tries to cling tighter in disagreement, but Jayce is much stronger and pries him off.
He sets Viktor down on the workbench before going to his satchel and digging out a tiny plastic case, containing a slightly scuffed red pacifier.
He clicks it open and brings the device up to Viktor's mouth, who gratefully accepts it, suckling with an urgency to comfort himself.
It bobs up and down simultaneously with his breathing, which has begun to even out as his tears cease.
Jayce pets Viktor's head, “Better?” Only Viktor tilts his head, drowsy from crying. He raises his hands and makes grabby hands for his partner, “Jayce…” his nose wrinkles as he attempts to make a sturdy ‘J’ sound behind his pacifier.
Jayce chuckles and takes his hand instead, “Why don't I fetch you some milk first?”
Viktor's eyebrows scrunch in disagreement, eyes flashing with fear at the thought of being discarded, even for a moment. He's obedient enough, so he keeps up the facade of satisfaction and nods.
He raises his shaky hands and waves a tiny “goodbye” to Jayce.
…..
Jayce hums to himself as he pours the steaming milk from the pot directly into a chipped, red mug. He sprinkles in an extra pinch of sugar atop and puffs his chest out with great satisfaction.
He carries the warmed mug back to the lab, his mind preoccupied with a jumble of concerns and ideas. He pushes the door open and calls out, “Milk time, baby.”
Viktor is curled in on himself, scrubbing at his eyes. Jayce quickly discards the milk onto the counter, and seizes between Viktor's knees, peering into his face.
He coos at Viktor, gently prying his fists away from his golden eyes, “Viktor, sweetheart, are you okay?”
Viktor whines tentatively, nibbling on his chapped lips. “Thought… um…” he shakes his head and clings to Jayce like a vice, squishing his head into Jayce's chest like they'll fuse into one organism.
“Don't go anymore, Jayce,” Viktor's voice is raspy, presumably from crying.
“What?” Jayce chokes with surprise, “baby boy, I said that I was getting you some milk, just as you wanted?”
“Please.” Viktor begs, his voice slurring around his drool-drenched pacifier.
Jayce curls himself around him, until Viktor is just a scrunched up ball of pain and fear hidden away into his chest, “I'm here V. I'm right here baby.”
“Won't go, yes? Stay with me?” Viktor's voice is hardly above a whisper, and barely audible against the ever recurrent suckle of his pacifier.
Jayce is close to tears; the horrible fear Viktor must've felt swirls like sticky glue, guilt on the back of his skull. “Of course.”
The starry night stares down at the two incredulously. Jayce shrugs his dress shirt off, reaching for a clean t-shirt as a replacement. He pulls out a fresh pair of pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks, decorated in rockets, for Viktor. He pads into the humble space they claim as the living room.
Viktor is sitting with his back turned to the entryway, his legs sticking out like a crab while his notes lay strewn around him. A faint chewing noise scratches at Jayce's eardrums.
He approaches slowly, wary of frightening his partner, as Viktor is always too caught up in his head to notice his surroundings when he's like this.
Jayce gingerly taps his shoulder, “It's 2 AM, Vik. We'd better go to bed.”
Unfortunately, Jayce is greatly surprised at Viktor's current object of choice, occupying his mouth, of all things. Really, he should've expected this by now.
It's a thick wooden block, the blue paint is old and weary, and certainly doesn't stand a chance against Viktor's nibbles and saliva.
Viktor grins sheepishly, suckling on the corner of the cube. He holds out a piece of paper, ushering it forwards and towards Jayce.
He graciously accepts it, and is met with a poor rendition of hammer and a boat, with childish limbs and smiles, with dotted eyes. “Oh, this is lovely,” Jayce smiles, his heart nothing but fond.
“Me an’ you,” Viktor yawns, biting particularly hard into the toy.
“Yeah? Wait a minute - hey!” he abandons his gaze on the drawing and yanks the toy free from Viktor's grasp, eliciting a hurt sound.
“Bubba,” Jayce states firmly, “toys are not for our mouths. We can get sick if we eat our toys, okay?”
Viktor stares up at him, his fat lower lip trembling, his alabaster-like skin becoming pink with embarrassment.
“...sorry.” Viktor mutters, unable to make eye contact with Jayce.
Jayce meekly grasps Viktor's chin with his thumb, “If you want something to chew on say ‘Jayce, bite’, and I'll give you a teether okay?”
Viktor sticks out his tongue, which is subsequently bleeding profusely, as if to make a point in how apologetic he really is.
Jayce nearly keels over backwards and dies at the sight.
“Viktor, oh. Okay. Um… stay calm. Yeah,” Jayce stumbles, particularly weak at the sight of blood, and at the sight of Viktor's blood, no less.
“Okay, okay baby. Hold still,” he rambles, scrambling towards the hamper of clean laundry to fetch a hand towel.
Jayce practically slips over his clumsy footing and slides his knees hurriedly across the carpet, wincing against the burning friction. He squeezes Viktor's jaw in one hand, urging him to open his mouth, before stuffing it with a clump of cloth, blotting the bloody cut.
“See? This is why you don't bite toys,” Jayce whines, exasperated with the sight of the injury.
Viktor shuffles on his knees, whimpering quietly.
“I'm sorry honey. I should've… God, I should've been watching you - you're just a baby after all…” Jayce worries his nails between his teeth, chattering with anxiety.
“I'm sorry papa is no good sometimes.” Jayce whispers, tears welling up in his waterline. Viktor wriggles free from his hold and pushes the picture back into Jayce's face.
“Read,” Viktor demands, voice out of its usual quiet pitch; Jayce obliges, eyes darting over the clumsy letters, haphazardly spelling out ‘“BEsT PaPa”’.
Jayce lets out a sob, his blotchy tears dribbling into Viktor's hair, as Viktor propels himself forwards to cling to him - an act of reassurance.
Jayce's heart squeezes, half with grief and half with as much love to power a lazerbeam.
“You're the best little baby boy I could have ever asked for,” he cries and Viktor even offers up his toys, and then his pacifier, and even his boat.
“Papa better?” Viktor's gaze is focused, daring yet ever gentle. He's bouncing on his knees, waiting for an honest answer.
Jayce chuckles, gently placing his handmade boat back into Viktor's thin, shaky hand.
“Yeah, papa is all better, honey.”
Jayce smiles, tired and so happy to be loved, in the purest form.
“Thank you.”
____
Darkness is engulfing the room, soft shadows of tree branches pressed up against the window's shutters, the dampened dull sunlight warming Viktor's bare shoulders.
Viktor begins to fuss. He realizes he's all alone, as the warmth of Jayce must've left him hours ago, as the only warmth in the room is the sun's lame attempt at a golden hug.
He attempts to shuffle deeper under the blankets, but the stiffness in his lower back forbids him from doing so.
Viktor stretches his arm forwards, and fists at the material of the baggy pillow next to him. Jayce's.
He misses Jayce desperately, and the pain in his aching back only furthers the pit of misery settling in his tummy.
Jayce had given him Viktor his pain suppressors last night, which knocked him out cold.
Viktor had directed Jayce to hide the suppressants, as they're highly addictive. It felt like the withdrawals were strangling what little control he had over his body.
Jayce, like the attentive partner he is, carefully monitors Viktor's pill intake and offers the medicine to him when he notices Viktor's state deteriorating
Viktor stifles a cry, realizing the medicine had barely proven effective. His muscles, after only what seems to be a miniscule six hours of sleep, have resisted the medicine and remained horribly sore.
He whines, before hearing the distinctive clatter of the bathroom door, and the slide of the bathroom slippers.
And suddenly everything is so much worse because Jayce isn't here; he's out there, able to move and unhindered by his own body. He can live his life without Viktor, who's body is nothing but a hindrance. (Perhaps to them both.)
Viktor can't help but outwardly beg for Jayce, maybe just to hold him. “Jayce,” he gurgles, frustration bleeding from his throat.
Jayce is yanking open the door within seconds, hair still dampened from his shower, dribbling the remnants down his neck and onto the floor. He's wearing nothing but shorts and a large, fluffy blue towel around his neck.
“Viktor? Are you okay?” and Jayce is frantic, because Viktor is usually suffering, but it's always in silence. It's unusual for him to beg for attention, help, anything of the sort.
Viktor yowls and pulls his arms out and under the covers, beckoning Jayce to come to him. He's fully sobbing now, twisting his neck back and stretching as much as his back will allow him.
Jayce immediately comes to his side, swallowing him in a huge, bone crushing hug. He pets the sides of Viktor's cheeks, thumbing away his tears.
“Hey, hey, shhh, it's okay, I'm right here. What's wrong?” Jayce soothes, pressing a gentle kiss to Viktor's temple. Viktor's cries weaken,
“Ouch…” he hiccups, and he clings to Jayce tighter, and Jayce squeezes him harder.
“Oh, baby… I'm sorry you're hurting,” Jayce whispers, kissing his face tenderly.
Jayce holds eye contact, gently cupping his chin, “what do you need, to make it all better?”
Viktor's lower lip trembles, and he sucks in a ragged, snot-filled breath. His eyes are glazed over with that docile look, like he's looking to Jayce for all the answers.
Oh. That's what this is.
“Okay,” Jayce murmurs, before standing upright, and adjusting the bed.
“You're so brave, Viktor.” he praises, before peeling off the covers and shuffling himself underneath them, allowing Viktor to settle fully against his chest.
Viktor sniffles, his hands clumsily shaking to grasp Jayce closer. “ Jayce…” he begs, his whole body shivering with pain and grief.
Jayce's brows knit together with something similar to a sorrowful understanding, “I know my sweet baby, I know. I'm going to run you a bath, okay?”
Viktor's voice fails him, and instead he peers up at Jayce with an expression similar to worry.
And somehow, Jayce feels incredibly capable in himself for knowing what to do in a scenario where Viktor is little, and hurting.
“It's going to help relax your big strong muscles, that way you'll feel a little better, okay?” Jayce's hands move to tickle Viktor's shallow tummy, earning a soft, yet frustrated giggle.
____
Jayce dips his fingers in the tub, checking the temperature of the water. It's nice and hot to relax Viktor's muscles.
Once he's satisfied, he pulls out the bin of bath toys and chucks in a handful of Viktor's favorites.
He places a huge, fluffy blue towel on the towel rack and sets down a bath tray of jam-slathered toast and some ibuprofen pills, along with a big cup of milk.
He slips out of the room and back into their bedroom, where Viktor is still curled up in the lump of bedding. His cheeks are tearstained and he looks nothing short of tiny and so, so fragile.
“Hey. Your bath is ready,” Jayce murmurs, grappling his arms under his baby's legs and armpits, readying to lift him.
Viktor's eyes are nervous, and he's trembling. He huffs a shaky breath, never breaking eye contact with Jayce.
“I'm going to lift you now, okay?” Viktor whines, breath hitching while Jayce drags his body closer, gathering his limbs up into a gentle cradle.
Jayce braces his legs, stiffening with anticipation as he lifts Viktor upwards. Unfortunately, he's always lighter than anticipated. Jayce frowns at this, before realizing Viktor is still looking to him for reassurance.
“Oh, gosh. Sorry, Vik,” Jayce soothes, craning his neck forward to kiss his head, “You're alright baby, I promise.”
He jostles Viktor's body as he walks, startling his bundled nerves all over. He eventually places him on the closed toilet seat and Viktor is silently tearing up again.
Jayce helps him strip, never looking anywhere else but Viktor's face, focusing on talking to Viktor about the weather, their work, anything to dismantle any discomfort. Once Viktor is stripped down to his undergarments, Jayce turns around to allow him the privacy of lowering himself into the bath.
__
Jayce scrubs over Viktor's mole dotted back with a plush washcloth, the gentle rumble of his voice and kind touch helps Viktor adjust and remain comfortable.
He kisses Viktor's temple, shoulders and hair with every praise, “You're so brave, baby.”
Viktor's tears end up ceasing to nothing but crystallized dried remnants on his skin, as his toy boats and duckies make up for the initial resistance.
He splashes with his toys, smiling and showing them to Jayce when he asks.
“Can you eat something? It'll help your belly get ready for the medicine to help you feel better, you know.”
Viktor frowns, coughs, and brings his attention back to his toys. He giggles, splattering the backsplash tiles with water as he brings down a rubber-ducky with a satisfying plop.
Jayce smiles, although the tension is starting to show in his creased eyebrows.
“Baby, I know this is fun, but can you eat some of your toast?”
Viktor looks away, picking at his nail beds before shrugging.
“Do you want to put your toys on the tray? They can have some too, if they're hungry.”
That seems to do the trick, and Jayce sets the tray in front of Viktor, allowing him to dump a plethora of soapy toys onto the sides and bring them up to his toast to pretend-nibble alongside him.
He eats one slice of toast and downs a considerable amount of milk before refusing anymore.
Jayce smiles at him, brushing his silky, damp bangs from his forehead.
“No more baby? All done?”
Viktor starts to frown and cradle his ducks to his chest, “cold,” he whispers, teeth practically chattering.
Jayce's heart nearly collapses at that, and carefully plucks him from the tub and bundles him in his fluffy towel.
___
Jayce dresses Viktor up in soft, cotton orange pajamas alongside compression socks, while slathering him in Lidocaine, a strong numbing cream for muscle soreness.
Viktor rocks back and forth, suckling on his fingers and seemingly attempting to babble, but falling mute instead.
A ripple of pain staggers through Viktor's lower back and he practically tosses his toy across the room while involuntarily jerking through the pain.
“You alright baby?” Jayce murmurs, kissing along Viktor's shoulders while he continues massaging in lotion to his skin.
Another spark of horrid pain strikes Viktor like thunder, and he starts to scream from the pain, his back completely spasming.
“Stop,” Viktor wails, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Viktor?” Jayce flinches while Viktor jerks upright, clawing to cling to Jayce for comfort.
“Baby?” Jayce murmurs, “What's wrong?”
He runs his hand down to Viktor's lower back, feeling his muscles tense and stiffen momentarily, and continously.
“Your back is spasming,” Jayce comments, voice as soft as cotton.
He helps Viktor lie back on his stomach, adjusting his hips and stuffing a pillow underneath his torso to stop any further, future pain.
“Do you want anything to help? More milk? A story?” Jayce murmurs, his nose is almost pressed into the shell of Viktor's ear.
Viktor sniffles weakly, craning his neck to turn and face Jayce.
“You?” Is all Viktor asks, and Jayce understands.
So Jayce stays, holds Viktor's hand, rubs and massages the tense skin around his hip and rubs his back. He kisses his head and talks to him like he would any other day.
Jayce bites his cheek to keep him from yawning directly in Viktor's ear, “How's it now, from like, one to ten?”
Jayce lets go of Viktor's hand to let him count with his fingers.
Viktor ponders quietly, and eventually holds up six skinny digits in response.
“That's not so bad… although I still wish I could take away all of your pain.”
He stretches over the night stand and pulls out one of their story books, but is quickly disrupted by Viktor kicking his good leg out in disagreement.
“Not in the mood for a story?” Jayce shuffles back into the crook of Viktor's side.
“Do you only want cuddles?”
Viktor whines, reaching for Jayce's hand again. Jayce chuckles warmly and obliges quickly, and places his hand snugly back into Viktor's clutches.
Viktor curls around his hand, resting his chin on Jayce's wrist while his hand lays tucked underneath his chin and interlocked with his fingers.
“Hey,” Jayce laughs, “you've got me trapped, huh? You're not letting me go?”
Viktor's mouth twists into a saccharine smile, “No,” he coos, clinging tighter.
“That's okay. I don't have anywhere else I'd rather be.”
The two of them drift to sleep, Viktor happy to have his papa understand him, and Jayce so happy to have understood his partner, in heart and soul and finally, in mind.