Chapter Text
It’s not uncommon, Jayce tries to tell himself, to lose Viktor in the crowd. Not at a gala like this, as big and bustling as it is, and everyone wants to stop the ‘man of progress’ to share their pitches and ideas and hopes and dreams without a care of who his partner is on the side. No one ever seems to remember that there’s two people behind their precious hextech, that it is a partnership no matter how many times Jayce tells them.
Well, Viktor disappearing off into the ether doesn’t help things, either. He knows it’s a minor miracle he manages to talk him into these things now and again anyway, so he doesn’t take his presence for granted no matter where he skulked off to, but… Jayce worries. He tries to keep a weather eye on him every time he drags him into something like, because he feels responsible for him in this instance, but… something about this time had felt off. It had felt off through the two of them getting ready at the lab, and it feels worse now, even though– he reminds himself– not losing Viktor in the crowd would be more of a surprise than the need to hunt for him at all.
So, yeah, it’s a common thing. So why is Jayce so damn worried when he doesn’t spot the man slouched at an empty table somewhere? There are a lot of empty tables. The night has barely begun. People are not at all near winding down, he knows, and he grimaces at the thought of how many more prospects he’ll have to listen to today in the name of progress, but– after he finds Viktor. His palm itch. His back sweats. He can’t imagine how Viktor must be feeling right now.
Maybe he’d gone out for some air…
“Have you seen Viktor?” he asks of one of the attendants. They know him through association, he’s sure. “Yay high, brown hair?”
“I had seen him near the restrooms earlier, sir.”
Ah. That should have been a first guess, both a place of necessity and also a decent place to hide out when it got to all be too much. Not that he expects Viktor has spent much time staving off anxiety attacks locked in the toilets, but… stranger things. He gives his thanks and hurries off, ducking and cutting across the crowd to avoid further conversation until he finds his partner.
In the end– unsurprisingly– his partner finds him.
One minute, Jayce is sulking out of the restroom, grumbling as he dries his hands on his jacket. The next, there’s a hand on his shoulder pulling him out of the path of walking traffic. He stumbles from surprise and nearly unloads his irritation on this mystery person, whom he will have to apologize to immediately afterwards, when he realizes this mystery person is Viktor himself.
“Viktor!”
Viktor pulls back. “There you are.”
“There I am?” Jayce repeats. “What about you? I’ve been looking for you for ages. You always squirrel off as soon as someone starts talking to me…” He trails off, as he really gets a look at his friend. He’s pale, always, but it’s deeper now, more stark beneath his hair, which is definitely more disheveled than it had been when they’d left the lab. He almost looks a little more… drawn? He’s leaning heavily against the crutch, his grip tight around it. The nervous feeling in Jayce’s gut starts up again. He makes an effort to dull his tone down, and continues, “… but I wanted to check in. Are you okay?”
“I’m…” Viktor shifts. His fingers tighten around the crutch. “I was hoping to catch you, actually. Ehm, I think I need to go home.”
Jayce blinks. He’s– well, he’s surprised? Viktor likes these things even less than he does, but he usually sticks it through and Jayce is always, always appreciative. Even if he has to hear about it after the fact. He wouldn’t be without him at any of these things, if he could help it. “Why?” he blurts. “Is this– too much? We could get some air? I know my way around here enough to avoid most of the crowd if we need to. For… as long as that lasts, but… it’s something?”
For a second, he thinks he sees Viktor almost crack a smile. But then it’s replaced with tense shoulders and tight eyes. He shuffles on his feet. “I don’t think air is going to help in the long run.”
“Pain?” Jayce asks quieter. He angles a step closer, even as Viktor falters a step back. “Is it the pain? You didn’t mention earlier…”
“No. It’s not– no,” Viktor repeats firmly. His hand clenches again. His knuckles are white. He swallows, and continues. “I just need to go. Give my regards to–” He stops speaking, lips pressing into a thin line. His eyelashes flutter.
Jayce thoroughly panics, because he’s so, so sure he’s about to have to pick him up from the floor. “Viktor, hey.” He cups his hand beneath his elbow, and grips his other arm. “Hey? Come sit down.”
“That would not be a good idea.”
“Why not?” He squeezes his arm gently, trying to work out what to do for him in this kind of situation. He hardly ever sees Viktor vulnerable, even with the amount of pain he’s clearly in some days. He’s seen him cough blood, for gods’ sake, and swear up and down he was fine. So this is… honestly? Freaking him out a little. “Get off your feet for a little while.”
“Because the further I am from here, the more likely it is I’m going to heave all over your pretty party.”
Jayce blinks again. And then yanks his hands back, stepping out of his orbit again. Viktor shoots him an exasperated look, and Jayce holds up his hands. “Sorry, sorry. Knee jerk reaction.” He doesn’t invade his space again, but makes it clear he isn’t going anywhere further. “I’m sorry. You’re sick…?”
“So… so it seems,” Viktor admits begrudgingly. He swallows again. Looking closer at him now, it really, really does look like he’s going to hurl right here in the hall. No wonder he’s been loitering around the bathrooms.
“Do you need…”
“I need to go,” Viktor interrupts. He rubs his knuckles against his mouth, and sighs thinly. “I’ll– go back to the lab–”
“The lab?” Jayce repeats. “No.” He takes Viktor’s wrist again, although more loosely this time. He obviously isn’t going to be making a run for it if this thing goes worse, but even still. “Viktor. You don’t need to be at the lab–”
“It’s closer,” Viktor says simply.
… he has him there. It was why they’d both gotten ready there. There’s even half a kitchen and a cot they’ve both used more than probably was necessary, but… that sounds terrible, being sick. And he knows he’ll try to be working, because if it were him, he’d try to be working. No, he doesn’t need to be going back there looking like he’s ready to fall over already.
“My place is closer,” Jayce says quickly. It isn’t, not really, but it’s practically the same distance, and it’s a home, not a lab full of distractions. “I can take you–”
“Jayce…”
“– and you can sleep it off tonight, at least. No offense, but you look like shit right now, so–”
“Your party,” Viktor interrupts. The stress is creeping into his eyes, either from the conversation or the strain of whatever had gotten its claws in him.
“It’s not my party,” Jayce says firmly. “It’s just a party. There’ll be plenty more. And, honestly? If the conversations I’ve already had are anything to go by, I’m not going to miss out on much.”
“They will miss you.”
“Then let them.” Jayce shrugs. “This is more important. These things are more important than making an impression, and also I can’t, in good conscience, leave you to hurl in a strange bathroom.”
“You would rather I… ‘hurl’ in yours instead?”
“Between the two options? Yeah.” He’s not taking no for an answer. He rests his hand at Viktor’s shoulder, and gently tries to turn him for the door. “Come on. Get you out of here and I bet you’ll feel better, anyway.”
Viktor… gives in. Gives up. It doesn’t look like he has an ounce of strength left in his body to argue, and Jayce isn’t glad he feels so shit, but he is glad he isn’t going to fight him on this. Getting away from this party is better for everyone right now. “I really hope you’re right,” he says with a sigh, and casts another nervous glance towards the queue for the toilet before following Jayce out.
“Let me know if you need to… you know.”
“Trust me, you will know.”
“Why didn’t you say you weren’t feeling good, anyway? I noticed, earlier, something being off, but I thought you just weren’t into taking time off to come here with me when it’s not really your thing. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“If it’s all the same, Jayce,” Viktor says, “I’d really rather not talk more than necessary right now.”
“Oh. Right. Fair.” He frowns, because he still wants that answer, but he knows it’s probably for the best if Viktor doesn’t open his mouth right now. But silence is hard won on a good day, and Jayce is worried. He wants to ask a million questions. How long Viktor had been feeling sick. If it’s just the nausea, or something else, too. If he needs to worry about this kicking him when they’re down, too, because he’s spent the better part of the past two days in the lab with him. Why he hadn’t told him–
The anxiety gnaws at him in a way that makes him really, really hope that is not the sickness catching so quickly. Realistically, he knows it isn’t, because he’d been fine five minutes ago. But even still. Worry was a bitch.
He feels… bad, because the only viable option of leaving the gala is going through the front door, and although he keeps Viktor close to his side, it doesn’t stop a gaggle of people coming up to talk to them. Or, more accurately, to him, overlooking Viktor’s presence with polite smiles and quiet jealousy Jayce can see in their eyes. It’s frustrating, in the same way he’d been thinking before finding Viktor about to upchuck on the perfect polished floor. Viktor doesn’t seem to mind, or notice at all, and Jayce tries to hurry them through but there’s only so much he can do short of physically shoving through the crowd and dragging Viktor with him, which he isn’t going to do for a handful of reasons.
“I’m so sorry,” he mutters, guiding him through a break in the crowd mingling around them. “It’s impossible to get out without making a scene, I’m sorry.”
“Do you know everyone?”
Jayce laughs, a little. “Honestly? I forget most of their names before my third glass of champagne.” Viktor scoffs softly, and Jayce continues, trying not to make eye contact with anyone looking their way. “It’s exhausting. They think I have more sway than I do, no matter how much I remind them the rest of the Council are the ones they should be petitioning. But they don’t leave me alone.”
“I could try vomiting on their shoes,” Viktor says thoughtfully, even as his eyebrows are pinched and he’s staring at his own feet as they walk, and it’s terrible, but Jayce has to laugh.
“I’m not encouraging or discouraging that,” he murmurs. “But it might inspire them to move a little faster. I’m just saying.”
Viktor quirks the tiniest smile, which is just about the time someone has to stop them again to talk about the latest development in hextech research. Jayce groans internally, and they crawl to a stop again. He swears he’s going to make his excuses as soon as he can get a word in edgewise, but… they are trained to be polite to a fault here. A necessity in the middle of this political posturing. He knows that. He knows Viktor knows that, too. He’s trying to be polite, but firm, but some people really don’t know how to take a goddamn hint.
Maybe he should let Viktor puke on their shoes.
He’s just starting to fantasize about that, like he’s occasionally fantasized about what their faces would look like if he told them their ideas were stupid, or that he only came for the free food and champagne, or sending them off to his fellow Councilors and throwing them to the sharks if it got him a moment of peace– the look of disgust on their faces that would probably fuel him for longer than he should rightfully admit considering he is trying to make a good impression– when he feels Viktor’s hand rest against his forearm and squeeze.
“We have to go.” He cuts off the other person entirely, getting a mildly surprised look that he disregards completely in favor of putting his hand to the small of Viktor’s back– which is drenched in sweat, mind you– and urging him forward past. “I’m sorry. Viktor’s not feeling well,” he says, even as he starts walking again. “Excuse us.” He’d been trying to put that information off to spare Viktor a little of the shame, but it does inspire a path being cleared, so maybe he should have dropped the truth sooner. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, under his breath, to Viktor now. “I didn’t want to make it about you.”
He knows, intrinsically, the reason behind the way people looked at Viktor sometimes. And he tries not to let that get to him, either, because Viktor never seems like he lets it get to him, but he knows the knowledge that his research partner was born in the Undercity is something that some people can’t let go of. Add in the frailty, the rasping cough and the mobility aids that Jayce really never thinks twice about until he sees the way someone else looks at Viktor, well– some people aren’t kind. Having to escort his sickly partner out means the gossip of the gala will be about Viktor.
But maybe that can matter later. When things settle.
“It is about me,” Viktor mutters, but Jayce can feel him shaking minutely, and he doesn’t say anything else as they push towards the exit.
This time, no one stops them. Maybe Jayce is wearing the frustration on his face. Or maybe it’s just the pallor of Viktor’s skin. The evening air is cool against his overheated skin as they step outside, and he’s just starting to wonder if he should have called for a car inside, when Viktor peels away from his side. The crutch goes clattering before Jayce can even make a grab for it, and Viktor braces both palms on the handrail and throws up over the balustrade into the flowerbed a few feet below.
Jayce is struck dumb. Just like the rest of the party-goers either loitering outside or still on their way in. Time comes to a halt, for a second, as all of them take in the scene in front of them. Jayce’s eyes are wide, and everyone else is probably startled, or disgusted, or– or– it doesn’t matter. He shakes himself back to the present, scoops the crutch up with one hand, and rests the free one against Viktor’s back again. “Hey.”
It’s abysmal. He knows it is. Viktor looks like shit, eyes closed and head low even he leans most of his weight against the balustrade to wipe his mouth. His hands are shaking. Jayce wants to… do something, but this is so public and humiliating, and he doesn't know how to help short of getting him out of here. Somewhere quiet, away from the talk and preying of the weak.
He angles around him, at least confident in the knowledge that he can block the view of some of the onlookers. “You good to go?” he asks softly, passing his thumb against the impression of the brace he can feel through his jacket.
Viktor coughs again, hunching over on himself even as he mutters “I need to be.” He wipes his mouth again, shoves himself up straight, and takes the crutch back from Jayce without looking at him. “Sorry.”
Jayce frowns, but ushers him ahead while he can walk without having to puke for the time being. “Hey, you didn’t throw up on their feet. I’m counting it as a draw.” Viktor doesn’t laugh, and the urge to break the silence grows stronger alongside the panic to get him somewhere comfortable. “You– I usually walk, but, um– did you want me to get a car? I can probably…”
But Viktor is already shaking his head. “I’d better not.” He gestures vaguely, and fumbles a handkerchief from his pocket. “I doubt I can afford to have the upholstery cleaned.”
Jayce’s frown deepens. “Viktor…”
“I could do with the air now that we’re here,” Viktor interrupts, and then, after glancing at him, more softly: “I will be fine, Jayce. Your home is not far.”
It isn’t. Jayce has walked further more than once being a little more inebriated than he should be in public, so he know it isn’t unmanageable. He’s never had to puke along the way, though. So far. Still, he isn’t going to argue with him. Whatever keeps them moving. So, he nods and gestures Viktor ahead, resisting the urge to physically help him down the stairs as he practically holds onto the crutch for dear life.
It’s fine. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.
“Did you, uh.” He gestures vaguely at his own mouth. “Inside? Before I found you?” Viktor shakes his head. “Oh. Or any time? Today? Yesterday?”
“No,” Viktor murmurs. “I felt a bit… off, this afternoon. But I chalked it up to bad digestion.”
“Yeah?”
“It didn’t start in earnest until we arrived.”
“Well, nerves probably didn’t help.”
Viktor ducks his head, smiling ruefully. “Yes.”
“I’m sorry.” He feels horrible. He really, really does. “I want you to be there with me, because despite what the general populace wants to remember, there wouldn’t be a hexgate without you, too, but I know it’s not usually your cup of tea… I shouldn’t ask it of you.”
“I don’t mind.” He shrugs slightly. “Usually. Every once in a while.”
“But if you don’t like–”
“You don’t like it, either,” Viktor points out.
Grimacing, he looks back ahead. “I hope it’s not so obvious. It’s– it’s a change. I like being social, but this… it’s on a whole different level.”
“Yes.”
“Going out for drinks is so low stakes. Drop your mask and maybe you get ribbed on from your friends. Do that at one of these and you lose funding for your life’s work. It’s a full time job even outside of council work.”
Viktor makes a noise that Jayce can only describe as unimpressed, which is about on par for most of his reactions to the things Jayce tells him from that part of his work. And it is, unimpressive, that is. Exhausting. Faking smiles and interest to stay in good graces. Sitting hunched over for ten or so hours tinkering with hextech or the forge is still far preferable to him, even nowadays. He prefers the back ache to the throbbing in his temples he has after dealing with a day of bickering and disputes from his fellow Councilors.
But this is what his life is, now. He doesn’t regret it. He just has to learn to compartmentalize it a bit better is all.
He realizes Viktor has gone quiet again a few seconds before the man turns and vomits spectacularly into the street. Jayce’s stomach clenches in sympathy, and he grabs his belt loops to steady him. “Shit.”
“I was worried about this,” Viktor rasps. “Which is why I was trying to avoid it. I assumed as soon as I got started, I–” He retches again, body heaving under Jayce’s grasp, but clasps his hand over his mouth, and doesn’t vomit again.
“Shit,” Jayce repeats, and reaches to palm Viktor’s forehead. He feels clammy, but not fever warm. He doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. “Okay. Were you around someone puking that I didn’t know about? Sky’s not been out, has she?” He’s pretty sure she hadn’t been, but…
Viktor shakes his head.
“Food, maybe? Something you ate?”
Viktor shakes his head again, pauses, and then shrugs.
Jayce knows where this conversation is going to go even before he opens his mouth to broach it. And he shouldn’t, he knows, especially now, but he can’t help it. “Don’t tell me you ate from the food carts again.”
Viktor has the capacity to roll his eyes even as he mops at the sweat on his face with his sleeve, which means yes, which still appalls Jayce that he can just do that. Eat street food! From carts that have been toted around the city! Not that he doubts their health and sanitation, but the idea–
“Viktor,” he groans. “I told you–”
He waves a hand, situating the crutch under his arm again. “Have you gotten sick from them?”
“I don’t eat from them.” But Viktor’s not wrong; on the rare occasion he has indulged in something quick and greasy from a passing cart, he never has gotten sick. In comparison to two truly terrible bouts of food poisoning he’d suffered through from both a sit down restaurant and the convenience store… but he isn’t interested in admitting that, mostly because he knows he’d never let him live it down.
Something about it has always given him the ick, even if they’ve never given him the ick.
But anyway, this isn’t about him right now.
“All I’m saying, it can't be good for you. I mean…”
“I ate plenty worse in Zaun,” Viktor says airily, as they start walking again, and yeah, okay. Fine. Jayce shuts up. “It hasn’t killed me yet.”
He sighs, and mutters something noncommittal. He doesn’t want to think about it, and it’s not really a lecture he needs to be giving right now. The important thing was getting Viktor back home, getting some water into him, and making sure he got some rest. The order of operations for the time being. The only thing that mattered right now.
“C’mon,” he murmurs, and gestures him across the street.
It’s a quiet walk, one where Jayce forces himself to bite his tongue to give Viktor a little bit of peace after the gala. He tries to keep the anxious chatter to a minimum. He does not try to give another halfhearted lecture on decision-making. He does hover when Viktor pauses to vomit again, which is– that’s a lot, isn’t it? It’s a lot of puke in a short amount of time. Granted, it is just puke, and every time he’s been sick, he’d had it coming out of both ends, but– well, there’s nothing he can do about it, but it still seems like a lot of puke.
More bile than before, though, he notes, because that’s what he’s doing now, what he’s noticing now. So– so that means most of the food is out. But also, shouldn’t there be more than that? Food vs bile? He tries to remember if Viktor had eaten much at all when they’d been working earlier, but he really doesn’t know. He doesn’t remember seeing him eating. But it’s so easy to get sidetracked and miss things like that. Either way, he hadn’t had much in his stomach to begin with, which is especially stupid if this is food poisoning.
Fuck, he thinks he’s spiraling more than Viktor is right now.
“Almost there,” he murmurs encouragingly, squeezing Viktor’s arm. “You can rest soon.”
Viktor squints at him. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to do that,” he mutters. But he shoves his hand back through his hair again, which is a tousled mess by now, and starts limping forward with renewed determination. “… but I will be glad for relative privacy,” he says quietly, even as his voice rasps and his body shakes.
“And some water,” Jayce supplies.
“And some water,” Viktor agrees.
They make it back without further incident, although Viktor looks like he’s going to fall over again by the time they do. Jayce is prepared to haul him up over his shoulder and carry him to his couch, damning the consequences. He knows he isn’t going to do that, and he knows Viktor would probably sooner fall flat on his face than let him, but he’s prepared in theory, one hand still hovering near his back or free arm. Ready to catch him if he falls, like always.
The lift is as smooth as ever, but he still feels the jolt in his stomach like always. At his side, Viktor doubles over and heaves; Jayce winces and says a prayer for the cleaning staff, but somehow, miraculously, whatever is left in Viktor’s body is not expelled all over the plush carpeting. He knows they’re probably seconds from that disaster, though. There’s a line of spittle from Viktor’s mouth and his eyes are glassy. He’s doubled over as far as he can be, looking like he’s going to snap his body in two.
Jayce steps forward, stooping to be more level. “Stay with me, Viktor. Just a little longer. We’re almost there,” he repeats, and gently takes the crutch from him to slip his arm around Viktor’s waist instead. He feels frighteningly skinny. He wonders how he hasn’t noticed. How long has he not noticed? “I’ve got you.”
“I know, Jayce,” Viktor mumbles. His arm is around Jayce’s waist now, too. His fingers are fisted in his jacket to keep himself upright. He rubs the back of his hand against his mouth again, even as his eyes droop closed.
“Stay with me,” Jayce repeats, and doesn’t dare to jostle him, but this time does practically drag him forward in order to get him into his home.
There’s a chair close to the entryway, which he carefully deposits Viktor in. Then the first thing he does is make a beeline to the nearest trash can, overturns its contents, and passes it off into Viktor’s lap. “Okay. Okay. We’re good.” They aren’t, not by a long shot, but they’re at least here now, in a familiar place where he has a little more confidence in trying to help. “Rest a minute, okay? I’ll get you some water.”
“Alright.”
Viktor folds his arms atop the rim of the bin, and leans forward to rest his head on them. He looks– wrecked, really, and Jayce hesitates in the doorway from his own… indecision and worry. Like, yes, he can take better care of him here than he could at the gala, but he’s never been great at taking care of himself to begin with. He hasn’t been sick in so long. He has half a mind to call his mom to ask her for advice, if not for the fact that he’d left her at the gala with no warning of his immediate departure.
… what a mess. Jayce scrubs his hands against his face and hurries to the kitchen. Water first. Getting a little bit of something into his friend to combat the dehydration that’ll be imminent from the vomiting. Chase the bad taste out of his mouth. And then… trying to make him a little more comfortable while they wait out whatever this is. Try to get him to take a nap, if he can settle enough to do that.
Viktor hasn’t moved when Jayce trundles back into the entry, glass of water in hand. And it’s– well, they’ve seen each other through a lot in the past years. The bad and good. You shared those things, when you were friends. But there’s still something… it’s different than catching Viktor sleeping over his desk, or steadying himself when he sways after a day of not eating. Hell, it isn’t even the first time puke has been involved, on either of their behalf. But something about it is different now. It’s uncomfortable, seeing Viktor like this. Jayce hates it.
He steps forward, resting his hand on his shoulder. “Hey.” Viktor turns his head a little, just enough to squint an eye up at him. “See if you can drink a little of this, okay?”
“… yes,” Viktor mumbles, and raises his head.
Jayce nudges the water into his hand and doesn’t let go until he’s sure he’s got it. “Rinse your mouth. Then we’ll try to get you settled.”
“I’m sorry, Jayce.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re sick. I’m sorry I dragged you to the party when you were this sick.”
“In your defense,” Viktor says, between a sip of water, “I didn’t exactly mention it.”
“No… but even still,” Jayce mutters. I should have noticed, he doesn’t say. He watches as Viktor swallows the water, and his eyes drift closed again. His shoulders are still slumped. His face is still pale. Honestly, based on the amount of vomit between there and here, he’s probably nowhere near being in the clear. It’s probably going to get worse before it gets better, because that was how terrible things worked, right?
Shit, Jayce hates watching people suffer.
He steels his resolve, and steps forward to kneel in front of him. He reaches for the lapels of Viktor’s jacket. “Let’s get you out of this stuff, okay?” he asks, and waits for the nod before slipping the button and helping him shrug out of it. It’s easy. Familiar, in its way. He thinks Viktor looks a little miffed, now, but he’s probably too miserable to do much more than accept the help. “I’m not sure showering right now is probably a good idea, because I don’t want to have to pick you up soaking wet from the floor.” He jokes, feebly. “But… try to get a little more comfortable.”
“I’m not sure much is going to be comfortable, right now.” Viktor winces, as he tries to help assist in shrugging his way out of the vest. “I’m not sure I can– sleep.” He plucks, hands fumbling, at his tie.
Jayce reaches up to gently pull at the knot. Viktor drops his hands, and tips his head for easier access. Weirdly, he realizes he’s never seen him so… compliant. He is always so independent to a fault, usually. But again with the too miserable to do anything thing.
“Or do anything,” Viktor continues.
“You don’t have to do anything. That’s why I’m here.” He throws his tie over the rest of his things, and undoes the button on his collar. Breathing a little easier, maybe. “Do you still feel, uh, nauseous?”
“Yes,” Viktor admits, and that’s– Jayce knows he’s not in an advantageous position right now, so he’s counting on him to gag or something first if he’s going to puke again. He has the bin, so it’s… fine. Probably best to get things out of the way as quick as possible, though.
“Right. Do you…”
Now he hesitates, because they’re getting into territory that he doesn’t have any experience in here. Some things were so personal. Bringing up anything involving Viktor’s physical limitations just wasn’t anything they talked about regularly. Sure, he’d asked questions before, when they were new acquaintances and he’d been a little bit nosy and even more a little bit too inebriated. He’d long since quietly mapped out the workings of the crutch and the braces, because the creation process of things remained a passion and he’d been interested in what things helped make Viktor’s life easier. And the pain, he knows too, can recognize on him when they’ve been walking too far or standing too long. For gods’ sake, he’d seen Viktor through the surgery where they’d put screws into his spine. Nothing here is new or taboo. It just isn’t something regularly addressed, because Viktor is Viktor with or without those limitations, but Jayce feels like it’s so personal to him that he hesitates, anyway.
“D’you need help with these…?” He rests his fingertips against a curve of the leg brace, confident Viktor will knows he’s asking about about the kit as a whole.
Viktor does not hesitate. “Probably,” he admits. “I think I might pitch over if…” Now he trails off, but it’s to swallow again– not because of water, this time.
Jayce leans away, even as he braces his hand against the bin to stabilize it as Viktor retches over it again. Damn. Out of time already. “I shouldn’t have you talking,” he mumbles in apology. “We’ll get you back to the bedroom and, well, everything of mine is going to be big on you, but at least it’ll be comfortable. Ish. I think it’s comfortable, anyway.” He rambling again, over the harsh sound of Viktor’s breathing. He hears the nerves in his own voice. “Okay?”
“Where– where will you sleep?”
“The couch?” He shrugs. He’s not thinking that far ahead, even though the sun has gone down by now. He’s too keyed up to think about sleeping anyway. “I’m there at least once a week, anyway. And it’s probably better to have you close to actual functioning plumbing,” he adds, apologetically.
“True…”
“Are you… can we try to get you there, now? You wanna wash your face or anything first?”
“Probably… yes…” Viktor sighs, gingerly setting the trash bin to the ground. “Disastrous,” he hears him say, before looking up again, and Jayce offers his hand before he even has to ask.
It’s a slow process. He supports Viktor in place of fumbling around with the crutch, but the man is even more unsteady than usual. It’s almost at a point where he’s half afraid to leave him standing alone in the bathroom, but it’s not like he can hold his hand while he takes a piss, for gods’ sake. Not that– not that he wouldn’t do that, if he had to, but, well, he’d like to give Viktor some tiny bit of pride for the evening, after everything.
Besides, it’s hard to piss when someone is listening and all that.
“You okay for now? You need help without me?”
Viktor shakes his head. “I can manage,” he rasps. Jayce is praying to whatever is listening the man doesn’t fall in the scant space between the toilet and the sink. He’s immediately plagued by images of Viktor cracking his head open on the marble countertop.
“Okay,” he says, because pride and modesty. Giving him a minute to get himself back together. “I’ll find something for you to change into. I’m right next door.” He points to the adjoining door to his bedroom, still open from him rushing out this morning. He suddenly remembers his abandoned dirty laundry undoubtedly still scattered across his bed. “Let me know when you’re finished,” he says, and pulls the door closed behind him even if he doesn’t latch it. Just in case.
Then he panics, a little, at the state of his home. Not that Viktor hasn’t seen him in all states, too, but it’s– you didn’t invite people over without cleaning up, right? Everything has taken so much of a backseat since he’d been appointed to the Council, for better or worse. Not to mention the nights he hasn’t even made it back here at all… he’s got to deal with it better. He’s going to, after this, he swears. But for now, he darts around the room, collecting dirty socks and boxers that he can’t remember if they were meant to be washed or had just come from the wash and had never gotten put away. That’s embarrassing. It really is. He isn’t going to give anything a cursory sniff while someone else is in his house, so he balls everything up for wanting washing and shoves it in the bin. Then, as he hears the toilet flush from the bathroom, yanks opens his dresser, deposits the crap on top of it into the drawer, and fishes for something that won’t have Viktor swimming while he tries to sleep. It’s probably moot. Their builds are too different, but Jayce is sure there has to be a pair of sweats that have a drawstring clean here somewhere…
He’s just extricated a pair with a soft noise of success when glances up and startles when he finds Viktor leaning against the door frame, watching. He jumps, cracks his hand against the drawer, and stifles his swearing as he hurries over. “Viktor. I told you to let me know.” He takes his elbow immediately, clothes still thrown over his arm. “I would have helped.”
“I’m capable of solitary limping, now and again.” Viktor takes his arm nonetheless, and allows himself to be helped over to the bed. “It wasn’t far.”
“Even still.” He gestures with the clothes. “I found you something to change into. It’ll be big, but…” He shrugs, and helps him to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Lemme help you get this stuff off and I’ll let you change.”
“Sure.”
“What should I…”
“I can get the back.” His fingers start to clumsily unbutton his shirt. Two buttons down, Jayce can already see the aforementioned brace strapped across his chest. “If you can, ehm.” He gestures at the leg brace. “I’m not sure about leaning over right now.”
“Sure.” Jayce sets the clothes down, and goes to the floor again. His kneecaps crack. He winces more from embarrassment than pain. “Honestly, I think it’s a good thing you saved me from dancing,” he murmurs, half to dispel the– tension, or whatever it is he’s feeling as he starts to unclasp the brace. He knows the workings. He can decode the mechanisms easily, even though he’s never had reason to remove it. It’s intimate, but his fingers don’t hesitate because it’s necessary, and he works better when he knows he’s being of some help.
“I might have liked to see that.”
Jayce chuckles sheepishly, because Viktor has seen his drunken dancing before. He tries not to think about it very often. “I’m glad no one did.”
“Eh, there were worse things of the night. I made sure.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“They’ll… talk,” Jayce says delicately, because someone vomiting into the flowers isn’t unheard of at their gatherings, but it always runs through the grapevine faster than Jayce can comprehend.
“They always do,” Viktor says dismissively, and that is that.
Jayce finishes off the last mechanism in the brace and gingerly slides it free. He sets it aside and immediately moves on to remove his shoes. Viktor kicks them off, and has already managed to remove the back brace and slip into Jayce’s shirt. He supports him as he changes into the sweats, and pointedly stares towards his own stacks of messy research piled up on the corner desk.
“Thank you,” Viktor says shortly, and Jayce takes it as tacit permission to turn back. He’s just turning in preparation to help him into the blankets when the whole– the whole tableau hits, really. Viktor, hair mussed, looking pale and miserable, slouched in Jayce’s clothes, which are still entirely, entirely too big. The hem of shirt hangs down past his hips. The cuffs of the pants are trailing the floor. And it’s terrible, and ridiculous, and so not the time, but for a second, Jayce can’t help but chuckle.
Deeply inappropriate. He feels– he feels so bad, and briefly wonders if he’s overtired after all, as Viktor catches the look on his face, and frowns softly. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” He squeezes his hand, and nudges him to get into bed. “Just…” He gestures, and bites his lip not to smile.
Viktor looks down at himself. “Ah. Yes, well.” He winces as he sinks into bed, and lets out a breath of what is probably relief as he settles. “I can’t be mad at the comfort of it,” he says, and shoves his hand back through his hair. He leaves his hand on his face, heel of his palm pressed between his eyes. “In all honesty.”
Jayce’s worry reasserts itself. The amusement fades. “No.” He pulls the top sheet up to his midriff, and steps back. “I’ll get you the bin. And some pills. And more water, because you should try to drink more before you fall asleep.”
“Yes,” Viktor agrees vaguely, and does not attempt to move.
Well… well, he’s got him in bed, anyway. He’s got him resting. He tries to remember what he’s done every time he’s been sick with food stuff. He honestly can’t remember, which means it had probably been puking, shitting, and praying for death. So that doesn’t really help him much here. Ah… what a mess.
“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and pats Viktor’s shoulder before stepping away.