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Some days feel like they’re basically the end of the world. A bit dramatic, but to be fair, Jayce was raised somewhat catholic. Maybe the tendency for drama stems off from his upcoming.
Today is one of those days where you would think “It surely can’t get worse than this!”. And boy, does the universe like to prove him wrong. It started in the morning when his alarm didn’t go off like usual and he needed to hurry with his coffee. Of course, the last gulp had been too rushed, too eager to get it all down his throat, he ended up dripping the remains on his white shirt.
Which meant he had to change very quickly into something new, which resulted in him leaving their apartment way too late and missing the bus. The next one ran late, naturally, so Jayce also missed his first class (much to his students' delight).
He thought his unlucky streak would stop there, but of course it hadn’t. He had also forgotten his student’s papers at home, and their screen projector malfunctioned out of the blue. Jayce knows how to improvise, and his students were very forgiving on top. It still felt pretty unprofessional as a history professor to not have anything to show in class. Made him feel so… unprepared?
At lunch, he had accidentally dropped the whole package of salt onto his potatoes instead of just an extra pinch. Since he could not not eat it, he forced it down his throat. Well, it wasn’t a pleasant experience for sure.
“You look like three days’ rain”, a voice comes from behind and its owner sits down next to Jayce. Just for her, he throws her a forced grin before stuffing some oversalted potatoes and vegetables into his mouth. “It’s only Tuesday, this must suck even more”, she adds with a little bit more sympathy.
“Not really helping, Cait”, he mutters under his breath and receives a melodious laughter in return.
His best friend nudges him in the ribs, then she replies: “I’m not getting paid to help.”
They bicker some more and for a short moment he feels better.
Of course that didn’t hold up for long because in the next lecture he teaches, the screen projector had broken once more, and the black marker for their whiteboard ran out of ink. It wouldn’t have been a problem if not for the fact that Jayce had forgotten to buy extra ink capsules last week. His students had cheered at that because it meant Jayce was forced to cut his lecture extremely short, but he didn’t have the heart to be mad at them.
Luck is not on his side today.
He admits defeat by the afternoon, when he actually shows up on time for the bus, but, well– The bus is simply not coming. There’s a small note showing up on the display sign that notifies him about an accident nearby that affects his line and puts it on hold for an unknown period of time.
Caitlyn only had half a day, she’s long gone and can’t take him with her. There would be no point in asking her. Jayce sighs, kicking a pebble in front him away into the empty street. The entire traffic seems to be slowed down so it was probably a bigger incident.
“Walking it is then…”, he mumbles and tightens the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Twenty minutes, how bad can it be?
He shouldn’t have said anything, should’ve kept his mouth shut and not challenged the universe. Because the universe is giving him the middle finger right this moment.
Barely halfway home, a loud grumbling in the clouds reverberates and Jayce gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He quickens his pace, fingers grasping tightly around the strap on his shoulder.
When the next grumble echoes through the air, he feels a sudden wetness. Within seconds, raindrops come down on him in record time, drenching him to the bone. There aren’t enough curses in his mother language nor English to cover what emotions he's going through at the moment.
He nearly slips three separate times on the second half of the way and he wants to scream at the world (more specifically: God) to let go of some of his anger. His mamá raised him to be a polite man, so he doesn’t, he silently fumes while getting rained on, instead.
However, his patience snaps when he finally reaches his apartment, because the key won’t slide all the way into the lock. He tries to shimmy and wiggle it until it would please fit, but it won’t budge. Instead, the metallic piece of shit breaks, right in front of him, in two halves.
Jayce admits defeat and bangs his head against the apartment door.
…Over and over and over again.
He hears noises on the other side, a soft thumping sound accompanying footsteps and then the door opens.
“Jayce?”
Said man has to hold back to not crush into his partner’s arms right then and there. Instead, he wipes the rain drops out of his face and sniffles a shortcutted “Yeah” in response.
Viktor appraises him from head to toe before stepping aside and letting Jayce in. “Oh, love, you look like–“ He struggles finding the right words and Jayce can’t even fault him for that. How does one even react to this properly?
“Imma take a shower”, Jayce mumbles in response, kicking his shoes off and placing his bag into a corner.
He will deal with it later, first he needs that shower. Viktor seems to get that too, because he doesn’t stop Jayce for one more second. The tall, black-haired man is grateful for that. He doesn’t have the energy to say more, to start a conversation or explain himself. Part of him wants to flop onto their couch, right into Viktor’s arms, and sleep.
A really, really, long nap sounds about right. But he won’t risk making his husband wet as well, he’s easily prone to colds and the last one hit them both so hard that they were stuck in their apartment for a good two weeks. Even though Viktor makes a very cute sick look, with his nose all red, eyes glassy and a faint pout on his lips over the smallest inconveniences.
And the way he sneezes? By god, Jayce is getting cuteness-aggression just thinking about it. Which is also why he really needs to go under the hot water and clear his head.
When Jayce exits the shower and is back into the pyjamas he left in a haste in their bathroom this morning, he nearly feels like a person again. He opens the bathroom door that is connected to their hallway and hot, steamy air floods immediately escapes from behind him. His gaze turns towards the corner where he kicked his shoes off earlier and is surprised to see that they’re already neatly placed on their shoe rack.
From the kitchen comes a delicious smell, calling out to Jayce to check it out as soon as possible. He’s so damn hungry and still sour when he thinks about the oversalted potatoes he had for lunch.
He’s greeted by a plate of freshly made arepas and Viktor sitting at their kitchen table. The smaller man is in the middle of reading a book, but sets it down when he notices Jayce’s arrival.
“Feeling better?”, he asks softly, but his eyes betray him. He’s clearly holding back his laughter. Those golden orbs of his are glowing with amusement and there are wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.
“Don’t feel like killing anyone anymore…”, Jayce replies with a frown on his face.
“I’m sure your mother would be relieved to hear that. Murder is such an awfully difficult sin to pray away”, his boyfriend teases mischievously and Jayce rolls his eyes at that.
Within a few long strides, he’s at Viktor’s side and he leans down to attack the other with a series of quick, but short kisses on the other man’s neck. Jayce’s mouth wanders to the spot behind his husband’s ear and he deepens his pressure until Viktor gives in. He tilts his neck to grant Jayce better access, but his hands come up to shove Jayce playfully away.
The latter doesn’t even think about moving. He latches his mouth onto any kind of skin he gets his lips on, while his fingers hold Viktor in place by his hips. His mouth prickles with the sensation and if he lingers long enough, he can faintly feel his husband’s pulse. A heart beating under layers of flesh, blood, nerves — a heart that is healthy and filled with so much love.
“Jayce, stop!”, Viktor shrieks with laughter. The sound is warming Jayce up from the inside, something even the shower didn’t manage to do.
In response to that plea, Jayce starts blowing wet raspberries onto Viktor’s neck, making his way down to one collarbone and the wide cleavage of the shirt his boyfriend is wearing. The laughter gets louder and Viktor’s fingers are also wandering to bury them in Jayce’s wet mop of hair.
“I can’t, you’re killing me. It tickles too much!”, Viktor pressed out between giggles, but this time his hands are pulling Jayce closer instead of further away.
He’s not a cruel man. So he plants one, two, three or maybe four more pecks onto Viktor’s collarbone, his jawline, cheek and then finally one on the corner of his mouth. Each time he lingers longer, savoring the skin to skin contact and the way his own heart picks up its pace. It’s nearly comical to witness that little pout forming on Viktor’s mouth.
“You owe me a real kiss”, his partner comments sharply in his crisp accent and honey-smooth tone. Only the beam in his golden eyes tells the truth, tells how happy he is, instead of the fake frown on his face.
Jayce chuckles, scratches over the shadow of his incoming beard, and pretends to think for a moment. But, before Viktor can open his mouth to protest over his hesitation, Jayce leans back in to connect their lips for one last long-drawn, but tender kiss. And that one feels like coming up for fresh air, as if the rain is finally settling, grey clouds parting and he can, at last, catch the first ray of sunshine.
Both their mouths move in harmony, a dance done a million times before, and Jayce feels the negative energy of the day flying away.
“Thank you, mi amor”, he whispers lovingly against Viktor’s plush lips, before chasing them for another peck. His husband hums gently at that, the radiant smile on his face betrays his poor attempt at a poker face.
When Jayce sits down in his seat to finally dig into his food, his boyfriend asks: “Wanna have sex after you’re done?”
He nearly chokes on an arepa he’s supposed to be chewing, and instead he coughs awkwardly while he reaches out for his glass of water. Viktor grins at him behind the book he’s holding up again.
“Sorry?”, Jayce asks breathlessly, trying to recover from his near-death-experience.
“I mean we could also talk about what happened to you, but I thought maybe option number one would cheer you up faster," his husband drily comments in that thick accent of his. Jayce gulps and then reaches quickly out for another arepa to finish his plate faster. “I’ll take that as a yes to sex”, Viktor nearly sings-songs.
They both throw a grin at each other, but all Jayce can think about is how to leave another wave of kisses all over the other man’s body later in the evening. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve such a great man, but he’s thanking his lucky stars every day.
What follows after dinner is the both of them stumbling together like lovesick-fools to the bedroom, because they can’t keep their hands and mouths off from each other. Jayce doesn’t mind, his lips are too busy planting more butterfly kisses onto Viktor’s skin and worshipping each mole he frees with each clothing piece he gets off. The one underneath his husband’s chin is particularly calling out to Jayce, and he remains there longer than necessary.
When his husband lays down, gaze fixated on Jayce, he nearly undresses him with his golden eyes. It’s in that moment when Jayce realizes he feels truly content and full-filled.
Some days might feel like they’re basically the end of the world. But they do end, because he will always be welcomed in Viktor’s arms. Just like kissing, he’s certain he could do this for the next few decades.
And honestly? Jayce can live with that.