Archive of Our Own

Present day

There is someone in Viktor's apartment when he gets home.

Whoever it is isn't even being subtle about it, loudly rummaging around in what Viktor suspects is his kitchen—Viktor thinks they ought to be either the world's cockiest or most foolish thief, because his entrance had not exactly been quiet, yet not for one second had they paused their ransacking between the jingling of Viktor's keys, the heavy turn of the lock, and the door falling shut on squeaky hinges. It's laughable, really, except for the fact that there is someone in Viktor's apartment, and although Viktor knows better than to keep his really valuable belongings somewhere easily discovered, he'd really prefer it if none of his things were stolen this evening.

Silently, Viktor toes off his shoes and sheds his coat. He swaps his cane to his left hand, gripping the middle of the shaft—wielding it, being something that could at least stun—and uses walls and furniture to support himself as he cautiously shuffles toward the source of the noise.

The light above the stove is on, the yellow glow leaking into the hallway. Viktor is about to settle on the title of most foolish for this particular thief until he finally peers around the corner and is met with familiar broad shoulders standing before a cabinet that's been halfway emptied onto Viktor's kitchen counter.

All the tension in Viktor's body melts away. He returns his cane to its rightful place, smiling affectionately at his intruder.

"Jayce," Viktor says softly, "what are you doing here?"

The man in question whirls around, his face brightening as his eyes land on Viktor.

"Viktor!" Jayce exclaims. He crosses the kitchen in few strides and sweeps Viktor up in a kiss, slow and deep and infused with a thousand apologies for his lack of visits in the past month. Viktor hums contentedly in forgiveness. They're both breathless when they draw apart, Jayce grinning wide. "You're home."

"Astute observation, councilor," teases Viktor. He peeks past Jayce's shoulder, at the open cabinet. "Were you reorganizing, or…?"

Jayce blinks, glances behind him, then turns back to Viktor with a sheepish look on his face. "I was going to start on dinner, but, ah—I couldn't find your cheese grater."

"My cheese grater?" Viktor cocks his head, snickering. "Who needs a cheese grater when you have a perfectly good knife and cutting board? Tch. I thought I taught you to be more resourceful, Jayce."

"Gods, Viktor," Jayce huffs. He tips forward, resting his forehead against Viktor's. "It's a grater. How do you not have a grater? It's a piece of metal with holes. You probably have a box of them lying around in your shop."

Viktor opens his mouth to defend himself, but all that escapes him is an undignified yelp as Jayce lifts him, forge-strengthened arms hauling him up by his thighs, forcing Viktor to abandon his cane in favour of throwing his own arms around Jayce's neck for the sake of remaining upright. Jayce peppers kisses across Viktor's face as he moves to deposit Viktor on a clear space of the counter, then switches his focus to Viktor's jaw, down the length of his throat.

"Who…" Jayce murmurs, lips brushing against the skin of Viktor's throat, "…doesn't own…" another kiss, then two, "…a grater?"

Viktor laughs, trying to push Jayce away. "Who does?"

Jayce reels back with his own bark of laughter. "Most people, Viktor! Most people do!"

"Most people in Piltover, maybe," Viktor scoffs.

"Yeah?" Jayce smirks. "So if I went and asked any of your neighbours to borrow a grater, chances are they won't have one?"

"Chances are they'll think Councilor Talis has lost his mind, hanging around the Undercity and wearing Zaunite clothes," Viktor says wryly. He inhales and exhales deeply, looping his arms around Jayce's neck once more, luring Jayce in close enough to give him a peck on the tip of his nose.

Viktor missed this. Missed them. It's always been difficult for them to find time and place for their rendezvous, being that Jayce always had to come to Viktor—it's much easier to disguise him with a cloak and a five o'clock shadow in the Undercity than it'd be for Viktor to avoid enforcers' notice with his cane and general Zaunite disposition in Piltover—but ever since Jayce became a councilor they've been seeing less and less and less of one another, much to their shared, but resigned, displeasure. Viktor is a realist about most things in life, but these precious few moments make him wish he'd taken Jayce up on his drunken offer to run away together however many years ago.

"But enough of that," Viktor continues. "What's this occasion about?"

Jayce hums, his thumbs drawing gentle arcs along Viktor's waist. "Do I need a reason to come visit my partner?"

Viktor rolls his eyes. "No, but it is unlike you to show up empty-handed."

"I guess you have a point." Jayce heaves a sigh, melodramatic. He smiles as reaches behind him, slipping a roll of paper from his back pocket, something Viktor had only caught a glimpse of earlier and thought nothing of. Jayce offers the scroll to Viktor, who reluctantly detaches from Jayce to inspect its contents.

"What is this?" asks Viktor, gingerly unfurling the paper.

"It took a lot of arguing and negotiating and a little bit of blackmailing to achieve," Jayce says, explaining as Viktor's eyes skim over the words printed on the page, "but I finally managed to get that water filtration system you designed approved. A few days ago, actually, but I couldn't find the time to sneak away until today. Production starts tomorrow, and everything should be ready for installation in about two to three weeks. All according to your master plan."

"You make me sound like a villain," Viktor mutters, though his chest floods with warmth, and he feels a blush prickle at his cheeks and behind his ears. It somehow never fails to amaze him that Jayce could've easily done what most other Piltovans would have done when Viktor—sumprat, trencher, nobody—had helped him crack Hextech and discarded him the moment he was no longer needed, yet he had chosen not to. Though Jayce couldn't give him formal credit—not now, not yet, at Viktor's insistence—Jayce had stubbornly kept returning to Viktor's little shop, insisting Viktor tell him how Hextech could help the Undercity the most, now, despite them both knowing that it'd be some time yet before they'd be able to make anything that served anyone other than the Piltovan elite. Such is the way of things—but beyond all of Viktor's expectations, the moment Jayce could, he'd been pushing to help Zaunites as often as possible. Much to the chagrin of the Council, of course.

And this paper, this single document in Viktor's hands—it's a turning point. It means everything.

"Mm, but aren't you? Playing the long-con to trick Councilor Talis into doing your bidding?" Jayce teases. He gently coaxes Viktor's attention away from the signed approval, lifting his chin with a hooked finger. Viktor sees nothing but pure adoration swirling in Jayce's hazel irises when their eyes meet. He supposes Jayce finds the same thing reflected back at him. "I know it's not much, but… it's a start, right?"

"Not much, he says." Viktor shakes his head, exasperated, incredulous. So terribly fond. "Jayce Talis, you are a fool, and I am so deeply, hopelessly, recklessly in love with you."

Jayce's grin is lopsided and boyish and dreadfully endearing. "Is that so?"

Viktor sets the paper aside and brings his hands up to cup Jayce's face. He begrudges the fact that after this Jayce will go home and shave what little stubble Viktor feels along his jaw and cheeks, since Viktor has yet to convince him to grow out a beard—for appearance's sake, supposedly. But, yes, Viktor does love him. Profoundly. Dearly.

"Irrevocably so," Viktor says, and crashes his lips against Jayce's.

Five years ago

The first time Jayce Talis steps foot through the doors of Viktor's shop, Viktor's initial thought is poor Piltie didn't even bother to disguise himself. It's a miracle he hasn't been mugged yet.

His next thought, as said Piltie begins inspecting Viktor's wares a little more hands-on than Viktor is a fan of: Well, if no one else will, then I may as well take one for the team and be the one to take his money.

Viktor observes as the man browses through the odds and ends he has for sale, all things Viktor had scavenged, built, been given, traded for over several years. The collection is eclectic, he knows, but it pays the bills when science doesn't—and when repairing prostheses and various other body modifications don't either, because Viktor is not cruel nor greedy, and would just as happily take extra scrap metal or a broken but salvageable contraption over a proper payment—and it always brings him satisfaction when he either has exactly what someone has been looking for, or when he has exactly what someone didn't know they needed until they stumble upon it.

The Topsider, however, makes him wary. They seldom ever enter Viktor's place of business—because when Topsiders venture down to the Entresol level, it's to visit brothels and bars, not to poke around a Zaunite engineer's rendition of a secondhand-slash-pawn shop. Not to mention the man is, in Viktor's humble opinion, far too handsome to be lurking around here, of all places. Alone, and dressed in what Viktor guesses is an updated Academy uniform.

On the plus side, though, he looks like he wouldn't know the first thing about haggling. Viktor hopes that he, like other sheltered Piltovans, tends to walk around with unreasonably heavy pockets. It would be nice to have his rent covered for the foreseeable future.

"Is there something I can help you with?"

Viktor approaches the Piltie, each tap of his cane sharp, deliberate against the creaky floorboards. The man's head snaps up, startled by Viktor's presence. Viktor resists the urge to curl his lip into a sneer when his gaze, predictably, flickers to the brace supporting Viktor's bum leg. What stops him is finding intrigue as opposed to the typical Topsider scorn written on the stranger's face.

"I—yeah, yes, actually. Um—" The man casts a timid glance around the shop, far more cautious now that he knows he was being watched. At least he has some sense to him, Viktor supposes. "Do you—you wouldn't happen to have any tomes on, um, Ancient Shurima? Doesn't matter what language it's in, I can—I know it's a long shot, but the kid at Benzo's said—"

Calmly, Viktor raises a hand to cut off his rambling. Nervous as he appears, the man shuts up immediately. Which is good, because Viktor hasn't the patience.

Viktor also makes a mental note to speak to Ekko about sending frantic Academy students his way when Benzo can't provide. Even if they are tall, attractive, and possibly Viktor's type, were they a tad more rugged and a tad less jumpy.

"I might," Viktor says, which is about as honest an answer he can give. He might, or he might not—and although he could've simply lied and said no and rid himself of the Piltie sooner, he is, admittedly, curious. "What do you need them for?" He lets his gaze rove less-than-subtly over the man's well-tailored uniform. "Surely your Academy would have such materials made available to you, no?"

The stranger winces. "Well, sort of," he says. "It's just that my, ah, independent studies concern something that… um…"

"…that the Academy doesn't approve of?" Viktor supplies, arching an eyebrow. "So you thought you might find your illicit textbooks here in the Undercity instead?" Perhaps Viktor is erring on the side of rude, hooking his cane in the crook of his elbow and folding his arms over his chest, but he has to size up this potential customer somehow, and maybe get some answers out of him while he's at it. If Viktor even has the tomes, that is. "I will have you know that I run an honest business here."

Oh, it is so difficult not to laugh at the Piltie's floundering, the golden, sun-kissed skin of his face flushing pink as he stutters out an apology, excuses, anything he thinks might appease Viktor. Pleased enough that the man hadn't gotten indignant with him instead, however—meaning it'll be easier to bully a larger sum out of him without protest—Viktor does not let him suffer long, amused by how quickly the stranger's words taper off once he realizes Viktor's lips are slowly curving upwards.

"Do not worry," Viktor soothes. "What's that saying? I am only pulling your leg. I will go see what I have." He slips his cane back into his hand and turns to locate where he keeps his crate of various books, only to pause and shoot a stern look over his shoulder. "Stay there. Do not touch anything else. If I find out you broke something, you are either paying for it or repairing it yourself."

The man nods eagerly, his face much too open and earnest for this side of the bridge. Viktor wonders if it was simply the man's impressive height that had deterred any potential thieves. Or if it was luck. Or maybe he's already been pickpocketed unbeknownst to him, because otherwise it is well and truly unbelievable he's made it this far without incident. Although, Viktor suspects Ekko had not directed him to Viktor's shop for free.

Viktor finds the crate easily enough, nestled among boxes of his less unique items—screws, bolts, tools, so forth. Sifting through the tomes is quick work as he hasn't many books to sell to begin with, partly because books aren't as common a trade in Zaun, and partly because Viktor has a habit of bringing home anything he finds interesting, but to his surprise, he uncovers three texts he thinks might be of interest to the stranger.

He looks them over as he navigates to the counter where he conducts his business: one concerns the history of the Shuriman empire, one its culture, and the third is a tome Viktor doesn't recall ever coming across, written in symbols he can't identify. He doesn't actually know if the last one is related to Shurima in any regard, but the Topsider had said any language, so he figures it worthwhile to include in the pile he drops on the counter with an unceremonious thunk. Only then does the Topsider hesitantly wander over.

"I doubt that any of these are the illicit material you're searching for, but—"

"Holy shit."

Faster than Viktor can blink, the man is already thumbing through the worn pages of symbols despite Viktor's no touching request. Viktor is so stunned that he hasn't even half the mind to tell the stranger to be more careful.

"This is… I…" The man laughs quietly, disbelievingly. He flips between pages, eyes scanning the contents. "This is exactly the kind of thing I was looking for."

Viktor frowns, brow furrowed. "You can… read that?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, yeah, yeah, it's—when the information you need is so niche, you kinda have to pick up a few things here and there, y'know?" he answers distractedly.

He's lying—or, at the very least, omitting the full truth. Perhaps there is more to this Piltie than meets the eye.

"No," Viktor says, this time with more conviction, "you can read that. What is it? I would like to know what I'm selling to you."

The man's face flits through a series of emotions, obviously at conflict with himself over how much information he's willing to disclose to Viktor, a complete stranger, and a Zaunite no less. Slowly, he closes the tome, its aged spine cracking as he does so. Viktor waits, suddenly chock full of patience—would he lie again? Forgo buying the book he needs so as to not have to tell Viktor anything? Tell Viktor the truth?

"It's, well… mostly Ancient Shuriman, but it's also, uh. Runic," the man tells Viktor, wary.

"Runic?" echoes Viktor.

"Runic," confirms the stranger. He chews the inside of his cheek. "As in… the Arcane. As in magic."

Viktor blinks. Maybe he has misheard. "You said magic?"

"Yes, magic." A skittish look is thrown over the Piltie's shoulder. He's getting nervous again, paranoid. "Look, I—how much do you want for it? I'll pay you whatever, just… just don't tell anyone. Please."

This time Viktor cannot contain his sharp burst of laughter. "And who would I tell? Enforcers? You're funny, Topsider."

"Jayce." A beat, then—Jayce, apparently—groans. "Shit, why did I tell you that? I shouldn't have told you that."

Now Viktor is at an utter loss for words. Who exactly is this Jayce? And what does he need magic for? These mysteries are admittedly… fascinating. Not at all what Viktor had expected of a Piltovan. Suddenly his plan to overcharge Jayce has become little more than an afterthought.

He likes that name. Jayce.

"Eh, no," Viktor agrees, mouth twisted in a wry smile, "you probably should not have."

Jayce swallows audibly. "So, uh. How much do I owe you?"

Viktor contemplates the question, considers spitting out a number and hoping Jayce really meant whatever, but something compels him to hold off a little longer. To pry a little more. A bad habit of his, but one that came naturally as a scientist.

When he isn't running a business so he can actually fund his science, that is. The former of which he currently is not doing, ironically, because of the latter.

"Ah." Gently, Viktor coaxes the book away from Jayce, sliding it back to his side of the counter. He clicks his tongue when Jayce fights to cling onto it, just for a moment. "Not so fast, Jayce,” he tuts. It could have been the low lighting, but Viktor swears he sees a faint blush rise on Jayce's face at Viktor's use of his name. How cute. "It'd be quite silly to expect I wouldn't be curious after you've just told me it's the language of magic you can read, would it not?"

Jayce says nothing to that, evidently having learned much too late that the less he says, the better.

"How about," says Viktor, again unsure of what external force compels him to act so, "I give you this book for a steeply discounted price—perhaps even for free—on one condition. You are a scientist, correct?"

Jayce looks apprehensive. "Only one condition?"

"I will take that as a yes. Yes, Jayce, only one condition." Viktor inches the tome back toward Jayce. "You tell me about what you are researching."

"…you'll laugh," Jayce eventually says. "Everyone does."

"Everyone Topside, maybe," Viktor reasons. "But I am not everyone Topside. And I doubt it was other scientists you've told."

Viktor watches as other scientists seems to register in Jayce's mind, which must be what ultimately convinces him to humour Viktor.

And indeed, Viktor doesn't laugh when Jayce tells him about his research, no. Viktor can only stare with an awe he hadn't ever thought himself capable of mustering. Jayce is insane. His theories—insane. But not impossible, by the sounds of it. And if proven, those theories could change lives on both sides of the bridge.

Viktor is so amazed, so taken by the mere thought of all the possibilities Jayce's theories could bring to life, that he could lean over the counter, take Jayce's handsome face in his hands, and plant a big, wet kiss on his lips.

But he doesn't, obviously. More for Jayce's sake than his own.

"I know I'm close to figuring it out, but I just haven't been able to successfully stabilize the crystals, and—oh, right, the crystals, I forgot to tell you—whatever, never mind." Jayce sucks in a deep breath to get himself back on track, only the air—despite the purifiers Viktor installed in the shop valiantly chugging away—isn't so clean down here, so he splutters, making that same sour face all Pilties do when they fight that tickle in the back of their throats. Viktor spares him the humiliation and only waits, silent, for Jayce to go on, and so he does. "I don't know if this tome will necessarily have the answers, but—even if it only has potential to be of use, I think it's worth a shot to look through. I can't—I won't give up."

Viktor shakes his head. "Please, don't, by all means. You could change the world, Jayce."

For the first time since Jayce had walked into Viktor's shop, Jayce smiles, genuine and bright, and for the first time since Jayce had walked into Viktor's shop, Viktor can't help but feel a strange sort of fondness for the well-intentioned but unfortunately naive man standing before him, talking about wanting to meld magic and science together.

"I hope so," Jayce says quietly, like a confession. "Thank you. For listening. And not… well…" he trails off with a shrug.

"Ah, well, what can I say." Viktor waves a hand. "You've impressed me. Sincerely. It's truly a shame that no one else sees what you can achieve with this." He finally slides the book back to Jayce, then folds his hands over the counter a polite distance away. "Take it, Jayce. Consider it yours, whether it helps or not."

"But—"

"I said one condition, did I not? Do not make me rescind my offer."

Jayce huffs, though he appears grateful for the gesture. "You did," he concedes. "And I'll take it. On one condition."

Viktor snorts, levelling Jayce a look. "It is not exactly your place to be making demands here."

"I know, but—just one?" Jayce pleads.

"Fine." Viktor rolls his eyes. Sighs for effect. "What is it?"

Jayce, annoyingly smug, grins wider and says, "You have to tell me your name." Then, not quite shyly, but considerably less proud, he adds, "So I can know who I'm thanking."

It takes Viktor several seconds of consideration before he deigns to give Jayce any kind of answer. On one hand, he can give Jayce what he wants and send him on his way, likely to never see the man again until, inevitably, he solves his problem and gets rich and famous for it, face plastered on posters and on the sides of airships, the City of Progress celebrating Jayce's intellect and good looks in equal turns. On the other hand, however, if Viktor withholds, proposes a counteroffer, an idea himself of not twenty minutes ago would have scoffed at—maybe he can convince Jayce to return, to share more of his theories. Viktor is… not enamoured, but…

"What if," Viktor begins haltingly, not outright avoiding Jayce's request, merely skirting around it, "instead of telling you now, you, eh… come back some time, and maybe show me some of your work. I can show you some of mine in return, perhaps."

"You—really?" Jayce gnaws on his bottom lip. "You promise?"

A voice in the back of Viktor's head tells him how unwise it'd be to promise anything to a Topsider, but he shoves that voice away with a reminder that he still hasn't shown Jayce any card of importance. He still has the upper-hand, should Jayce suddenly decide to try and screw him over.

With that reassurance in mind, Viktor gives Jayce a firm nod. "You have my word."

Jayce finally leaves the shop, though not without thanking Viktor again at least five more times between the counter and the door. That word, cute, sticks out in Viktor's mind again.

If anyone ever finds out about Viktor's opinion changing so rapidly about a Piltie that he'd willingly invited the man back, he doesn't think he'd ever be able to show his face outside again. Whether or not Jayce actually chooses to accept that invitation is another matter entirely.

Only time will tell.

Present day

"I didn't only come to tell you about the water filter, you know."

Jayce and Viktor lie in a tangled heap on Viktor's bed, skin tacky with cooled sweat, basking in the afterglow and the light of the bright, colourful neon signs that seeps past Viktor's thin curtains. Jayce will have to leave in another hour or two at most, while he still has the cover of darkness, so they've just been existing quietly, physically in a way they can't when their only communication happens through letters. For the better part of twenty minutes now neither of them has said a word, Viktor with his head resting on Jayce's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, Jayce with his fingers—callused and rough but still impossibly gentle—carding through Viktor's hair.

Viktor hums, stirring from the half-sleep he'd been lulled into. "Did you miraculously get something else of mine approved?"

"Ah—no, not quite," says Jayce. "I mean, I'm trying, but you know how the Council is, they're—but no, no, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

Jayce stalls, still scratching soothingly along Viktor's scalp. Viktor frowns, though he doesn't crane his neck in search of the expression he knows he'll find on Jayce's face: brows pinched together, a cheek hollowed on whichever side he's decided to sink his teeth. Viktor lets him take his time, because it's been years since he's last heard Jayce sound this nervous about telling him something.

Then, finally, Jayce says, "You remember how last year Mel, Heimerdinger and I made it easier for Zaunites to enter the Distinguished Innovators Competition?"

"How could I not?" Viktor chuckles softly. "When I heard Ekko and Powder had won, I thought I would've killed to see everyone's faces when that happened. What about it?"

"Well, ideally, the next step was to make the Academy as a whole more accessible, then phase out the border restrictions entirely, but, again, the Council hates progress as much as it boasts it, so they keep shutting me down, and it's—" Jayce cuts himself off, growing frustrated, too much the optimist. Viktor begins tracing featherlight patterns along Jayce's ribcage, drawing rune symbols, nonsensical lines. Jayce sighs, deflates. "Anyway, that's still a work in progress, but on that note—I was able to at least convince them to close the checkpoints for the week of Progress Day, since, y'know, there's all the other festivities, and, well… I thought maybe you could, um. Visit. Stay with me for a few days. And, uh, maybe, possibly meet my mother?"

Viktor stills, breath catching. "You would… you would want that?"

"You have no idea how much I would want that," Jayce murmurs. The hand in Viktor's hair pauses. "Would you be upset if I told you she already knows about you?"

"Jayce." Viktor sits up, ignoring Jayce's exhaled oof at the sudden shift in weight. "When we agreed to tell no one—"

"I'm sorry, Viktor, okay? It's just—I couldn't just—she's my mom, alright?"

"Unbelievable," Viktor mutters, dropping his head back onto Jayce's chest when he fails to smother the affectionate smile threatening his face. "You could not keep one secret. One. How you became a politician is beyond me."

He could hear Jayce's pout. "I said I'm sorry."

Viktor pats Jayce's bicep. "I forgive you. I suppose if you had to tell anyone, I'd rather it be your mother," he says. "And as for your proposition, I… I wouldn't be… opposed to… visiting."

Under Viktor's ear, Jayce's heart jumps in pace. "Yeah?"

Viktor swallows, now feeling oddly nervous himself. It's been… a very long time since he's last gone to Piltover, well before he and Jayce had ever met. A foolish attempt to sneak into the Academy, since any formal application of his would've been tossed out before so much as being considered—the fake uniform got him far on its own, and his intellect managed the issue of his visible otherness, his disability, but the moment he opened his mouth he'd been doomed. People got suspicious. Checked records. He fled before he could be caught, and hasn't dared return to the city since.

Jayce doesn't know this. It probably doesn't matter anymore.

It's enough for Viktor to be grateful that all of this means in the future young Zaunites won't have to suffer his same fate.

"Yes," Viktor says, definitive. He hopes Jayce doesn't think anything of the time it takes him to respond. "Yes, I think I would quite like that."

Five years ago

"Viktor!"

Much to Viktor's surprise, Jayce had actually come back after his first visit, and had in fact done so with great enthusiasm and an armful of journals. And then, to Viktor's continued surprise—and albeit sporadically and always unannounced—he'd done it again, and again, and again. Then suddenly they were collaborating, and suddenly Viktor was also puzzling over what Jayce had dubbed Hextech, and suddenly, by the end of their previous visit, they'd been almost completely certain, at least in theory, that they had finally figured out Jayce's stabilization issue.

That being said, while Viktor has come to look forward to seeing Jayce, he can't say he's all that enthused about getting unexpectedly tackled in a hug whilst in the midst of trying to set his shop to rights.

"It worked, Viktor! You were right!" Jayce exclaims. "Dampening the oscillations was never going to work, you had to—"

"Crank it, yes," Viktor echoes Jayce's words from a few weeks prior, wrenching himself free from Jayce's hold. He hisses, "What are you doing here, Jayce?"

Jayce's face falls—and though Viktor will later be apologetic for his lack of acknowledgement of Jayce's excitement, his success, currently he has more pressing concerns. "What? Viktor, what…?"

"How did you even manage to get down here?" Viktor barrels on. "There are enforcer patrols everywhere! Apparently some Topsider's apartment was blown up, so now they're searching down here for someone to take the blame, and—"

Viktor bites his tongue as Jayce seizes his shoulders. He stares wide-eyed at the gravity of Jayce's expression.

"Yeah, Viktor, I already knew that, because it was my apartment," Jayce tells him. Before Viktor can say anything to that, Jayce's brows draw together. "What do you mean they're looking for…? Sure, yeah, someone broke in, but it was the crystals that—I thought my trial—" Jayce stops himself short, finally glancing around at the disarray of Viktor's shop—more disarray than usual, anyway. "What happened here?"

"Enforcer raid," grumbles Viktor. Then, "Hold on—your trial? I feel as if I am missing something vital. I thought you said the stabilization worked?"

Jayce flushes. "It, well. It did. But only after the Council questioned if I had any proof to show for my theories," he admits sheepishly. "I had built the housing matrix, but I hadn't gotten a chance to test it by the time… y'know. My apartment went—" He mimics the sound of an explosion, then lets out a nervous laugh. "I knew it was risky, but—"

"Risky?" exclaims Viktor. He shoves Jayce's chest. "Risky? Try suicidal, Jayce! Whether something works in theory is completely different to it working in practice. You could have gotten the Council killed. You could have gotten yourself killed! Why would you ever take a risk like that?"

"Wh—Viktor, I don't understand." Viktor knows he will come to regret it some time afterward, how he makes Jayce sound so small at that moment, but he can beg forgiveness later. He's worried, regardless of what the outcome has been. "It worked, so what does that matter? I couldn't… that research is everything I have, Viktor. They were going to destroy everything, I had to try." Jayce hangs his head, fists clenched at his sides. "But you have to know that I wouldn't have done what I had if I didn't have full confidence in your work. Viktor, you're the reason I didn't get exiled, or—or imprisoned. You're the reason we might actually be able to put magic in the hands of the people."

His wonder is infectious, Viktor will allow Jayce that much—and it is possible, perhaps, that Viktor's chest warms at Jayce's praise. But that doesn't make Viktor any less upset about Jayce's objectively stupid decision, or about the fact that he'd apparently kept the highly volatile crystals somewhere they could be easily discovered by a bunch of Undercity kids looking to rob him (Viktor would again have to have a stern word or two with Ekko about who he trails, and a stern word or two with Vander and Silco's kids about taking tips from Ekko in the first place—and probably a stern word or two with Jayce about not being vigilant enough), or about Jayce's first instinct after getting arrested and tried and miraculously coming out unscathed being to come see Viktor.

What a beautiful, brilliant idiot.

Viktor sighs and rakes a trembling hand through his hair. Then, finally, after he's allowed himself a moment to regain his composure—Jayce is alive, no one was grievously harmed, Jayce managed to stabilize the crystal—he musters a weak, dazed sort of smile.

"Well," Viktor says softly, "I suppose… why don't you tell me about it while I clean? I imagine it was quite amazing if it got you out of trouble."

Jayce bites his lip, chancing a glance up at Viktor. He toys mindlessly with the leather band around his wrist. "Ah, not… not completely out of trouble," he confesses. "But that's—it's not important. Viktor, it was incredible, like nothing you've ever seen! It was—here, let me help you with that. So basically…"

They lose who knows how much time to Jayce regaling Viktor with his point of view of everything that has transpired over the last forty-eight hours, give or take, all the while Jayce helps Viktor get his shop back in order—doing the heavy-lifting, mostly. He tells of an overpowering, magical blue glow, of temporary weightlessness, of flying. Before Viktor can so much as think of how much he wishes he'd been there, Jayce is already promising that one day they'll recreate what happened together, because, after all—in Jayce's words, insistent as ever—Viktor is the one that made it at all possible.

"Eh, I don't know about that." Viktor shrugs a shoulder. "I was only building off of what you had already devised on your own. But I should probably ask—you did not mention me to the Council, did you?"

His back being to Jayce when he asks the question, Viktor has to turn after being met with a long stretch of silence, unsure of whether Jayce had heard him. However, instead of finding Jayce head down, buried in some task Viktor had given him, Viktor finds Jayce staring back at him, a dismayed, conflicted look on his face.

"I was going to tell Professor Heimerdinger about you when I showed him the written theory," Jayce finally answers. "Otherwise I haven't really been given a chance to say anything about it. Do you… do you not want me to? You deserve to be credited, Viktor."

Viktor shakes his head. "I am not arguing that, Jayce. I am only saying that it is best you do not associate what will already be controversial with someone from the Undercity—not yet, at least. This soon, and you would be, eh…" Viktor snaps his fingers, searching for the expression. "…shooting yourself in the foot, as it were. There is too much turmoil right now, and I do not wish to see this dream of yours snuffed out before it has a chance to take root."

An array of emotion flickers across Jayce's face. “Our dream, Viktor. And I don't give a shit what anyone thinks. They wanted proof, so I gave them proof. If the Council wants to benefit from it, then they'd better damn well accept that you're my partner."

That word, partner, wedges itself beneath Viktor's ribcage, tucks into that soft spot he has helplessly developed for the Piltovan over the last few months. He won't relent about this—Viktor is too stubborn for that—but he draws closer to Jayce, pitying, though perhaps that isn't entirely fair to him. Jayce is lucky, really, to be able to believe he could force such a thing to be tolerated, which is why it is up to Viktor to know better.

"Jayce," says Viktor, low, tender, solemn, "as much as I would like for that to be the case, I need you to listen to me. It wouldn't do either of us any good to attach my name to Hextech right now. You see what they did to my shop when they thought I did not have any involvement in anything. Imagine what they might do if you were up there saying that I, a Zaunite, had a hand in the same research that destroyed your apartment. The same research that now has enforcer patrols scouring the Undercity for a group of children that made a stupid mistake. I am not asking, Jayce."

"Still, it's—" Jayce suddenly pauses, brow furrowing. "Who said anything about a group of kids? Do you know who broke in?"

"I—" Viktor purses his lips, belatedly realizing he's misspoken. His grip tightens on the handle of his cane as he lies, "I have an inkling. But that is not my point."

Jayce says nothing, gaze downcast again, jaw tense. Impulsively, a decision probably as ill-advised as becoming friends with Jayce in the first place, Viktor sets his cane aside against a stack of boxes and takes Jayce's face in his hands. Jayce's head jerks up, his eyes going wide.

"Admittedly, Jayce, I care for you more than I probably should," confesses Viktor. "And I promise you that when—not if, when—Hextech takes the world by storm, you can do or say whatever you please. But until then, do not take any more unnecessary risks. I don't want to see you get hurt by the simple virtue of your honesty."

Finally, finally, to Viktor's relief, Jayce sighs in concession, if a little defeated. His eyelids briefly flutter shut as his shoulders droop, and in another fit of impulsiveness—and perhaps indulgence—Viktor gently sweeps his thumbs over Jayce's cheekbones in a gesture meant to be both apologetic and comforting. It's likely only Viktor's imagination that Jayce leans into the touch.

"Okay, fine, I won't… I won't say anything," promises Jayce. "Just… if—"

"When."

"—when," Jayce amends, "when Hextech is… secure. Stable. You swear I can put your name on it?"

"One day, yes," Viktor agrees easily—vaguely enough to appease whilst also giving his future self an out. He has a feeling an argument like this would happen again at some point, as he imagines their respective ideas of stable differed if not greatly, then greatly enough. But Jayce will learn, eventually. He's already better off than he'd been when he and Viktor first met.

Jayce smiles faintly at Viktor. Viktor's hands are still on his face, but for some reason he can't bring himself to let go. His gaze helplessly flits to Jayce's lips. Jayce's head dips closer, closer—

The bell above the shop door chimes. Viktor and Jayce jump apart, startled—Viktor thought he had locked the door after Jayce had come in, after Jayce had ignored the CLOSED sign Viktor posted in the wake of the enforcers' destruction, but evidently not. He is infinitely grateful they are obscured by dim lighting and a shelf of some larger contraptions Viktor has on display.

"Apologies, but I am not open," Viktor calls in the general direction of the door, hoping whoever has entered would respect that and leave.

"Not even for an old friend?" comes the reply.

Silco.

No dice, then.

Viktor pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply. He sends a pointed look Jayce's way before nodding his head toward the door of his workshop. Back exit, he mouths. "We'll talk later," he whispers.

Jayce looks unsure, but Viktor shoos him away before he can protest. All Jayce can do is throw one last worried glance over his shoulder before he disappears into the back room and, hopefully, out and back on his way to Piltover.

He may not think it, but Viktor, too, looks forward to the day that choosing not to be secretive about their friendship wouldn't come with pitfalls.

With a huff and no less than a strong urge to roll his eyes, Viktor retrieves his cane and steps out to greet Silco.

Present day

Viktor stands apprehensively on Zaun's side of the bridge, never having been more unsure of anything in his life.

Others are streaming past him, wary in their own rights, though now instilled with a confidence that the first day, yesterday, had lacked, before anyone was completely certain they wouldn't be met with resistance. Viktor wishes he shared the same simple concerns, rather than finding himself rooted in place for two reasons of entirely different magnitudes. It's laughable, really, that his fear of his past catching up with him comes second to meeting Jayce on his side of the bridge for the first time, where someone would undoubtedly see them together at some point.

Another con to add to the list about Jayce being a councilor.

He'd donned what he'd thought were his best clothes, but now tugs self-consciously on his waistcoat as if what he's wearing will make any difference to Jayce. He doesn't know why he feels so anxious, like he's heading on a first date and not going to visit his partner of five years, four of those including the romantic sense of the word. It's silly, he thinks, and yet he can't seem to bring himself to cross this literal—and in ways proverbial—bridge.

Viktor is suddenly jerked forward, stumbling as he tries to keep his balance. Two small hands bear down on his shoulders, their owner obviously paying no mind to the squeak of his leg brace even as his knee comes dangerously close to buckling.

"What'cha up to, Viky? What're you just standing here like a weirdo for?"

"Powder," grunts Viktor, "please do not jump on me like that."

"Aw, you suck." Powder rounds into Viktor's view, a vaguely apologetic-looking Ekko in tow. She rests her hands on her hips. "Is it 'cause you're covering for the fun police while they're enjoying their Council-mandated week off?"

Viktor rolls his eyes. "Security has merely moved elsewhere for the week. They are not off," he says, though he knows arguing is futile with Powder, Ekko, any of the teenagers Vander and Silco—and Benzo, for that matter—miraculously deal with on a daily basis. At this point he's only buying himself time. "Is there something I can help you two with, or was your only plan to bully a helpless disabled man?"

"Helpless?"

"It was Powder's idea!"

"Hey, what are you throwing me under the carriage for?"

"I'm just saying—"

It's always easy enough to trigger a bickering match between the two, and—stifling a laugh—Viktor intends to use the distraction to shuffle away and continue his procrastinating elsewhere, but just as he's nearly in the clear, Powder grabs his arm and reels him back.

"Uh uh, where d'you think you're going, mister?" she chides. "What's with the luggage? And that dumb look on your face?"

Ekko chimes in, not quite accusatory, "It has to do with you closing the shop, doesn't it?"

The luggage in question is hardly more than a briefcase, because four days hardly calls for more than some clothing and basic toiletries, and because Viktor had vehemently refused Jayce's offers of sending a carriage to pick him up in the Promenade. As for the dumb look on his face, well. Powder may have a point there.

Viktor snorts. "You make it sound as if I am closing forever," he says, addressing Ekko. Addressing Powder, "And I am not sure what dumb look you are referring to." Then addressing both, exasperated, "But if you must know, I am taking a small vacation. I'm only hesitant because I am somewhat paranoid that someone will remember my, eh… past indiscretions."

"You mean sneaking into the Academy? Psh, I doubt it. You said they didn't even get your name." Powder shakes her head. "Plus, you're, like, old now. Pilties don't know how to hold a grudge for that long."

"I pity your fathers if you think I'm old," mutters Viktor. He casts a forlorn glance to the other side of the bridge, across that impossible distance where Jayce is somewhere waiting for him, and thinks that if only he'd gotten over himself sooner, then he could've avoided this interrogation entirely.

Viktor clears his throat, returning his attention to the two teens. "I am aware the likelihood is essentially zero, but I think I'm allowed to still be worried. Despite what you may think, Piltovans can be quite adamant about getting what they see as justice." He would know—though thankfully Jayce is generally more well-intentioned than most other Topsiders when it comes to such a trait.

They still have arguments about Viktor getting credit for half of Hextech.

"I'm sure it'll all be fine, Vik," Ekko assures. "Besides, even if anything does happen, you have Vander and Silco and basically all of Zaun to defend you. Not to mention that councilor that used to visit your shop all the time before he was actually a councilor. He was so in love with you, man. You could probably bat your eyelashes and say something smart and he'd get the trial called off altogether."

Viktor coughs, knowing Jayce would most definitely see to getting Viktor off scot-free, but certainly not before he asked about Viktor having snuck into the Academy, and why Viktor never told him. "Yes, well," he says stiffly, "let's not dwell on it coming to that point."

Ekko shrugs, seemingly content to end the conversation there and continue onward to discover what Piltover has to offer today. Powder, contrarily, is clearly not satisfied by the lack of information Viktor has given, though her suspicious gaze only lingers a few moments before she also relents.

"Alright, well, enjoy your vacation." Powder jabs a finger at Viktor. "But don't enjoy it too much. We still need you to come back and be Zaun's favourite engineer."

"Don't fret, dear Powder," Viktor says sagely, "you couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

Powder sticks her tongue out at Viktor, blowing a raspberry as Ekko takes her hand, pulling her away. As if he isn't bordering on thirty, Viktor pulls a face at her in response. Like the younger siblings I never wanted nor asked for, he often jokingly tells any one of the kids. It always earns him a groan or, as seems to be increasingly common these days, a middle finger.

But it's the fear of getting caught up with anyone else he knows that finally gets Viktor to move, once Ekko and Powder are out of sight. He steels himself, tightens his grip on both his case and cane, and finally starts making his way across the bridge.

Though Zaun's air has vastly improved since Viktor's childhood—in the last few years alone—he still feels as if something lifts from his chest the further he walks, as if something in the atmosphere makes it less burdensome to breathe. It's mainly a psychological effect, he knows, but Viktor can't help but fall victim to the belief that the air somehow has somehow become crisper, cleaner, just from one side of the bridge to the other. He's glad that, even if it's only for a week right now, anyone from the Undercity might get to experience this.

The crowds around Viktor gradually thin out as he navigates to the rendezvous point he and Jayce had decided on, somewhere out of the way, quieter, out of sight from prying eyes. Only Viktor is still about a block away when he's unexpectedly swept up into familiar arms from behind, Jayce holding him tight whilst he buries his face in Viktor's hair.

"Sorry, I saw you and couldn't wait," Jayce murmurs, hugging Viktor close. The scent of his cologne washes over Viktor, calming the rapid pace of Viktor's heartbeat from the minor scare. Jayce kisses the crown of Viktor's head. Viktor thinks Jayce is lucky heart conditions are not included in his list of ailments. "Missed you."

Two months isn't even the longest they've gone without seeing each other, but Viktor is inclined to agree. Despite all his anxieties, he melts into Jayce, sighing contentedly, thankful Jayce had caught him in an empty passageway where no one else is privy to their moment.

"I missed you, too," Viktor says, pushing back into Jayce in a manner Jayce has previously described as being like a cat seeking affection. He grins, though Jayce can't see it. "The filtration system is working wonderfully, by the way."

"Of course it is," Jayce laughs. "You designed it."

Viktor hums, smiling wider. "Yes, well, I thought you might want to hear it from me and not just your hired help." Jayce loosens his hold and Viktor twists around to face him. His case, having been dropped in his surprise, leaves him with a hand empty to pat Jayce's chest. "I think I even overheard a Zaunite other than myself complimenting the Councilor Talis once or twice in the past couple of weeks. That's certainly a step up from all those vandalized 'Man of Progress' posters, don't you think?"

"Ha," says Jayce. "I think I'll ignore that last part."

"Are you sure?" Viktor teases. "I could probably find one of them for you. Get it framed for your birthday."

"Well, aren't you the sweetest partner," Jayce drawls.

"I am, aren't I?" Viktor muses cheekily. He tips forward to press a chaste kiss to Jayce's lips, but Jayce chases him as he retreats, grip firm on Viktor's waist as he deepens the kiss, passionate and on the verge of desperate like a man starved. Viktor is left lightheaded when Jayce withdraws, cheeks dusted pink as he's entirely too aware that, even if they're presently alone, they're technically still in public.

"You had better not make a habit of doing that while we're outside," Viktor rasps. "Not one day I'm in Piltover and you already want to create a scandal."

Jayce rolls his eyes, though his fondness is unmistakable. "Hardly a scandal when you're actually the love of my life."

To that, Viktor simply has nothing to say. His mouth bobs helplessly open and shut as his face warms impossibly so. Telling Jayce he loves him has always been one thing, but for some inexplicable reason, having Jayce tell Viktor the same never fails to cause Viktor to short-circuit. Like it simply does not compute that Jayce should reciprocate.

Taking mercy on Viktor, Jayce shoots him a soft smile before detaching from Viktor, stepping away to retrieve Viktor's case.

"What say you, we head to my apartment to let you get settled and give your leg a rest, hm?"

Viktor nods, and so Jayce begins to lead him through the backstreets of Piltover.

Four years ago

"…then I was thinking, with the crystals refined, it'll be easier to implement them into—"

The shop door abruptly flings open, and in barges an excited Ekko and Powder, tripping over each other to be the first to reach the counter. "Viktor! Viktor! You'll never guess what we found!"

Jayce and Viktor both straighten, Jayce hastily closing his journal and shoving it deep into his vest. Ekko and Powder are thankfully too preoccupied with their roughhousing to immediately notice Jayce, so Viktor hisses at him to grab something nearby and look busy, like he's making a purchase for when the two terrors—Viktor means that with affection, of course—finally register Jayce's presence.

"You remember those abandoned sewer pipes we told you ab—who are you?"

Viktor has to bite back a laugh at Jayce's expression, taken aback as he is by the bluntness of Powder's question. Before Jayce can respond, however, Ekko beats him to it.

"Wait, I know you," says Ekko. He narrows his eyes at Jayce. "I sold you those blue stones ages ago, didn't I? The ones that almost—"

"Ahem." Viktor loudly clears his throat and shoots Ekko a warning look—and Powder too, for good measure. Although it's been months since the series of events leading to Jayce's success with Hextech—and since Jayce had somehow, miraculously gotten the enforcers to call off their search, which Viktor guesses had something to do with his supposed connection to the Kiramman family—it would probably be best if the children don't accidentally incriminate themselves in front of the one person who can technically do something about it, not that Jayce would. Not that Viktor would let him. "I am certain that what you have to tell me is very interesting, but I will have to ask that it waits, hm?"

Powder and Ekko exchange a glance before less-than-subtly eyeing Jayce and plastering on twin smiles Viktor could only categorize as up-to-no-good. They both nod, grinning ear-to-ear as they scamper off into Viktor's workshop.

Jayce frowns after they've both disappeared into the back room, the two of them almost definitely eavesdropping. At least Jayce knows to lower his voice, leaning closer to Viktor over the counter.

"How come they don't have to ask to go in there?" he grumbles.

"Implicit permission," hums Viktor. "I have to foster their interest in engineering somehow, no? Also, they are family. But if it makes you feel any better, I have equal trust in the three of you not to blow something up; which is to say, none at all."

"I guess I can't argue with that," Jayce concedes with a huff. His voice returns to a normal volume as he pats the outline of his journal. "Next time, then?"

Viktor nods, smiling. "Next time." He peeks over his shoulder to make sure Ekko and Powder aren't also spying on them, and once he's determined the coast is clear, Viktor turns back to Jayce and, also leaning over the counter, plants a quick kiss on his lips.

It's still a somewhat recent development, the whole romance thing, and Viktor admittedly still has yet to learn how to control himself since the first time they'd kissed. It had been somewhere between the explosion and now, a little over a year since they'd met, when Jayce had managed to replicate the Hexcrystal's anti-gravity effect on a smaller scale in Viktor's workshop—which was truly just as amazing as Jayce had described. A feeling like no other. When they finally floated back down to the ground, Jayce had caught Viktor as his legs buckled, and after several seconds of breathlessness and staring into each other's eyes, their collision had only been natural. Inevitable.

And when Viktor only sees Jayce on an irregular schedule, it's hard not to take everything he can get. Jayce doesn't seem to mind, however. He presses his forehead to Viktor's for a brief moment before retreating.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," says Viktor.

"And with you," replies Jayce.

He lingers only a second longer before leaving, much to Viktor's chagrin. As happy as Viktor is to entertain the likes of Powder and Ekko, never knowing the next time he'll see Jayce makes such unexpected visits slightly unwelcome. It'd be unwise to let any of them find out about his relationship with a Topsider, let alone the one whose apartment they'd broken into and subsequently destroyed, if entirely by accident.

Or so goes the story, anyway.

By all means, Viktor should want nothing to do with Jayce. By all means, Viktor should tell Jayce to never come back. Should've told Jayce to never come back. But unfortunately he doesn't, he won't, and he didn't, so sneaking around it has to be.

Viktor sighs and massages his temples. Eventually, he reasons, it won't have to be an issue. He just has to be patient. And perhaps build up the courage, too.

"Alright," Viktor says loudly, now that Jayce is gone, "what is it that you two wanted to tell me?"

Ekko and Powder emerge from the workshop giggling, clearly entertained by something. Viktor is afraid to learn what that something is, and it doesn't take long for him to find out.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you," Powder parrots in a haughty imitation of his accent.

"And with you," Ekko adds in a voice that is decidedly not Jayce's, and instead merely a vague impression of what Viktor thinks is supposed to be some snobby Piltovan. He and Powder break into more peals of laughter. "What was that about?"

Powder elbows Ekko. "I think Viky was flirting with the Piltie."

As the two begin ooh-ing and making kissing noises, Viktor folds his arms across his chest and leans back against the counter. He stares them both down with a flat expression, grateful that unlike a certain someone—cough, Jayce—he does not blush so easily when teased.

"Maybe I was," Viktor says, once their snickering has finally died down. He reaches underneath the counter, to the hidden compartment that is, more often than not these days, used to stash what Jayce insists is Viktor's cut of Hextech's funding. Viktor had initially protested, denying a need for charity, but had admittedly been persuaded after Jayce had framed it not as charity, but as taking from the coffers of the unfathomably wealthy unbeknownst to them. Petty vengeance. Besides, Jayce had said, it's not like you have to keep it all to yourself if you really don't want to. More money, more supplies, help more people down here, right? "Because then how else would I get this?"

Viktor drops a weighty pouch of coins on the counter beside him, much to the amazement of Ekko and Powder.

What they don't know can't hurt them.

"Whoa!" exclaims Ekko. "Even I've never scammed a Topsider that bad before. No way you got all that just by flirting with him."

Technically, in a way, Viktor actually had, if hours spent theorizing and experimenting and talking about anything and everything science-related could be considered flirting, but Viktor is not about to tell either of them about that. So instead he shrugs, casual, and only briefly contemplates what in the hell his life has come to to be twenty-five and defending himself to an unruly pair of preteens.

"You will understand when you're older, maybe," Viktor says. "But enough about that. You two had a reason for coming here, did you not?"

Their faces both light up, Jayce entirely forgotten as they begin telling him about exploring the abandoned sewers—something Viktor intuits they've been warned against more than once by their guardians—coming across a cluster of firelights, and following the insects to a big, open area, "where the sun still shines in Zaun, and a huge tree grows." Viktor listens very attentively, though he quietly has his doubts about certain parts of their story—Powder and Ekko both have wild imaginations, which is what will one day make them great engineers, probably better than him, but it makes these tales a little less… compelling. Viktor wishes he still had that sense of wonderment, of hope, but he's afraid that died the day he'd walked into the Doctor's cave and discovered Rio hooked up to all sorts of tubes and wires, forced to endure immense pain for the sake of survival, for the sake of science.

"You have to see it some time," Powder insists. Her face screws up. "It's a bit far, though, and tricky to get to, so I dunno about your leg…"

Viktor shakes his head. "It's fine, just simply not meant to be. It can be your, eh, secret hideout, hm?"

Ekko scoffs, as if the idea of not showing this supposed haven to Viktor is unthinkable. "Don't even worry about it, Viktor," he says, "I had this idea for a hoverboard, which can help you get there. I mean, I still have to draw the blueprints, find the parts, build it, test it—"

"I'm sure it will be very cool when it's finished," laughs Viktor, "and as always, you can come to me should you need anything. But I really do believe it should remain your space for now. From what you have described, it is an area that has flourished without any human intervention, yes?" Powder and Ekko both nod. Viktor continues, "So then the fewer people who know about it right now, the better. Until the sun shines everywhere in Zaun again, and no one will have a reason to take advantage of it."

Sometimes, Viktor dreams of helping Rio escape the Doctor. Sometimes, he curses himself for not having done anything before it was too late, nor after it already was—but he'd been a child, Viktor must always reason with himself. There hadn't been anything he could have done.

If this oasis is truly real, then Viktor wants nothing more than for it to be kept safe. Powder and Ekko do not need to learn the same avoidable lesson. It's already bad enough that they still have to grow up in a Zaun unchanged—if not worsened, since the battle on the bridge—from Viktor's own childhood.

Hopefully Hextech will finally change that, for current and future generations alike.

They reluctantly and resignedly accept his advice, though Viktor knows that eventually they will understand his reasoning. That eventually they may even come to appreciate it, but maybe that is asking too much.

"Here," says Viktor, grabbing the pouch of coins to dole out some cogs to them both, enough to be worth something, but not so much it might cause them trouble. He is honestly still amazed that the only time Jayce has ever lost money to the Undercity has not been because of muggers, but because of his horrid inability to haggle. Jayce is like a walking target with a horseshoe up his ass. "I suppose I can't tell you what to do with this, but why don't we call it an… investment, of sorts. I am not saying that if you put it toward your respective projects there will be more where it came from, but I am not not saying that, either. You understand this?"

Powder gives him a mock salute before pocketing her share. Ekko offers Viktor a solemn nod before doing the same with his.

"Now shoo, I have appointments this afternoon. I can't depend solely on a gullible Piltie for my income, and I'm sure there is somewhere else you two are meant to be at this moment."

Perhaps they don't refute this assumption, but Viktor knows a look of guilt when he sees it.

They quickly thank him and run off, just in time for the first of Viktor's aforementioned appointments to appear. He greets them with a smile and lets routine overtake him, thankful the client is a regular and doesn't push when he's quieter than usual while he works.

It will be nice when Jayce can properly be a part of his life, and not kept hidden like a dirty secret, but Viktor is still adamant Jayce keeps their involvement to a minimum until things are a little more stable between the sister cities. Hextech is gradually finding its footing, sure, but Viktor fears it is still too early to reveal a Zaunite has had a hand in any of it without someone getting accused of collusion—probably Viktor, despite collusion, by definition, implicating at least two parties.

He hates politics, he really does. That damned Council with too much power and no one who cares to do any good with it. Not when it comes to the Undercity, anyway. But there is nothing he, alone, can do.

Just like with Rio.

Hours pass. Viktor finally closes up after waving his last client goodbye. The trek home is miserable, though mercifully short. Ideally, he'd just have an apartment above his place of business, but he hadn't exactly the funds for that when he started, and now he is just too attached to the place to move somewhere else.

Not to mention all of the things that would have to be moved. He shudders just thinking of the effort.

Collapsing into bed that evening, an idea crosses Viktor's mind that he's entertained once or twice before, but never genuinely considered. But maybe… maybe it is about time, considering the change in his and Jayce's relationship. Maybe it would be worthwhile to invite Jayce to his apartment, where interruptions can't be so abrupt, and where there is significantly less risk of unwanted observers. Viktor thinks that might alleviate at least some of the pressure of their dilemma.

Viktor just hopes Jayce won't think it too forward. Piltovan sensibilities, and all that.

Present day

"You are not serious."

"What? What's the problem? Does it look stupid?"

Viktor starts to laugh, then slaps a hand over his mouth to smother it. He shakes his head, and though Jayce hardly looks convinced, the problem really isn't that he looks stupid. Truthfully, Jayce looks rather dashing in his Piltovan mimicry of Zaunite fashion—Viktor can imagine the odd look the Topside tailor would have given Jayce at such a request, the dark green fabric and bronze accents—but the fact that Jayce believes simply wearing the darker colours associated with the Undercity would make him any less noticeable to the Topsider masses is just absurd. As if his face isn't one of the most recognizable in Piltover.

"Maybe it will buy you a second, not having that blindingly white jacket marking you, but that's about it," Viktor says, once he's composed himself. "And maybe having me at your side will buy you another, but you are far too recognizable, my friend."

"Oh, so it's just friends now, is it?" teases Jayce. "Is my disguise that bad?"

"It is hardly even a disguise to begin with." Viktor rolls his eyes. "A disguise would have been wearing your perfectly serviceable, authentic Zaunite clothing. And growing out your hair and beard like I said you should. Like I told you to."

Suddenly Jayce is kneeling before Viktor at the edge of his bed, which catches Viktor off guard as much as it sends something wild and untameable fluttering about his stomach. He peers up at Viktor, those pretty hazel eyes of his imploring, apologetic. Viktor cups his face. Jayce turns his cheek into Viktor's touch.

"I know, you're right. I've just been worried about the rest of the Council suddenly backing out of their agreement, so everything had to be—has to be perfect." Jayce sighs. He cranes his neck further, enough to kiss Viktor's palm. The exposed corner of Jayce's lips quirks. "But if all goes well this week, and I can convince them to start lifting other restrictions, I promise I'll stop shaving."

Viktor raises his eyebrows. "Careful, Jayce. Do not make promises you don't intend to keep."

Slowly, Jayce stands, pausing only to give Viktor a proper kiss before rising to his full height. His smile has fully bloomed now, a glimmer of mischief swimming in his eyes. "When have I ever done such a thing?"

"Mm, I suppose you have a point. But I will be holding it to you." Viktor taps his temple. "A Zaunite never forgets what they're owed."

Jayce snorts. "Right, but only when it conveniences him. Maybe I should be making a deal instead of a promise," he says. "How about… I grow the beard you've been wanting me to grow for ages, and in exchange you finally let me put your name on Hextech."

Viktor grins, climbing to his feet. "In your dreams, Jayce Talis. That is a terribly unfair deal."

"Yeah? And what would make it fair?"

"Well, what do you get out of it? How does, eh, putting my name on Hextech benefit you, exactly? All you would get at this point are people skeptical as to why you waited so long to say something, and investors who feel betrayed and pull their funding." Viktor's tone slowly grows embittered, and it's mean, he's being mean, but on this one point he realizes he's never understood Jayce the way Jayce understands him. Maybe coming to Piltover was a mistake, maybe—

"Hey," Jayce says softly, undeterred. "Stop that. I know. I realized a while ago that we could only push it off so long before it was too late—before it would appear… disingenuous." We, not you, Viktor notices, even though it has only ever been Viktor holding Jayce back. He doesn't sound disappointed like Viktor thinks he should. "Did you know that technically my name isn't even on the patents? Not my first name, anyway. I filed everything I could under House Talis, not me. Still do."

It takes a second for the new information, though it only puzzles Viktor further. "Why would you do that?"

Jayce shrugs like this is something trivial. "Originally, I'm not sure. A compulsion, I guess. Uncertainty. Something to fall back on. But I'm glad I did, because it means I've given myself another way to attach you to Hextech that doesn't require any of the publicity you keep warning me against." He smiles something secretive, in on something Viktor isn't. Viktor's heart leaps in his chest anyway.

"What are you implying, Jayce?" Viktor asks, very quietly.

"Exactly what you think I am, Viktor," Jayce answers, unbearably honest. He steps forward, hands settling easily, naturally, heavily on Viktor's waist. An anchor, of sorts. "Obviously, if you don't want to, then I won't force you to. And it's not a decision you would have to make now, or any time soon for that matter. But I just want you to know the Talis name is yours as much as it is mine if you ever want it to be."

Viktor is silent for a minute, maybe two, just watching Jayce's face as if he'd ever find even a hint of deception there. He's feeling an array of unnameable emotions, good and bad—though mostly good—and he can't quite figure out what he identifies with most at the moment.

All he eventually says is, "You were planning to tell me about that this week, weren't you? That's why we're having dinner with your mother tomorrow."

Jayce chuckles something breathy, a little awkward. "I mean, I'd have liked you to meet her regardless, but… yes, yeah, I was… I wanted to tell you this week," he admits sheepishly. "Not as, like, anything official, necessarily, because I know definitive labels don't really carry much meaning in the Undercity, just… it felt right."

Viktor ponders this, tests the weight of it on his tongue, runs it along his teeth. Wordlessly, he reaches out to fix the collar of Jayce's shirt. Jayce stays quiet, waiting patiently.

"You know," says Viktor, "I never thought I would ever be offered a surname. I've always assumed that I was meant to die one day as most Zaunites do: nameless, and with a legacy that would only last as long as the memories of the people who knew me." He shakes his head, as if to snap himself free from a trance. "Perhaps I should have realized sooner that that changed the day I met you. As reckless as you are ambitious."

"…I'm not sure I follow."

Honestly, Viktor isn't sure he does either.

"Let me think about it," he tells Jayce. "Today I would just like to go see what's being invented around the world, and pretend like we're a normal couple for the two seconds it will take before someone recognizes you."

Jayce hesitates, but whatever he'd wanted to say is swallowed, tucked away for another time. "Three seconds, at least."

"Eh, two and a half."

"Two-point-seven-five."

"You are pushing it, but I'll allow it." Viktor's head is still a mess of feelings, but he manages to sweep it away for now, to be revisited at a later date. "Now come on, I did not agree to visit Piltover for nothing."

* * *

The crowds are already dense by the time they reach the Academy Square, dotted with stalls and displays and attractions as a precursor to Progress Day. Although Viktor tries to maintain a respectful distance between himself and Jayce while they wander the grounds, Jayce's hand seems to drift to the small of Viktor's back every time they're separated squeezing past Piltovans and Zaunites alike—but it's a comfort nevertheless. Crowds might be a typical occurrence in the Undercity, along with the narrow streets and buildings slumped against one another, but Viktor has never witnessed something of this calibre, and at times he finds it grows stifling.

Viktor can't truly say how long it takes for Jayce to be recognized, but they're granted a total of about five minutes of peace before someone is calling Jayce's name and beckoning him over. After the third or fourth time it happens, Jayce tells Viktor he's more than welcome to go ahead and explore on his own, rather than getting dragged around at the whims of aristocrats and businessmen. Viktor tells him it's fine, honestly, he'd rather not get lost in the sea of people, but he does begin to float elsewhere whenever Jayce is forced into another chat with someone—far enough to not have to awkwardly hover, but not so far that he can't eavesdrop.

It's sort of interesting, observing a side of Jayce he'd never previously been privy to.

While Viktor would never claim Jayce lacks confidence—because that'd simply be untrue, and Viktor isn't in the habit of ignoring facts—the Councilor Talis persona practically exudes it, nearly to the point of arrogance were it not for the charm that comes with it. His smile is so plastic and polished it hurts Viktor's face just looking at it, and the conversations are as empty as the promises Jayce makes to attend this gala, propose that to the Council, develop this or that product with Hextech.

Weirdly, as he inspects gimmicky trinkets one stall over, it makes Viktor feel… different. Special. To see that forced politeness melt away and be replaced with a deep, genuine warmth every time Jayce returns to his side snags on some hidden depth of Viktor's brain, pleases him in a way he doesn't understand, but doesn't feel the need to. He smiles to himself as he waits on Jayce, even as he senses the stall vendor's eyes on him whilst he looks through the collection of mechanical butterflies they have on proud display.

"You must be the famous Viktor I've heard so much about."

The voice suddenly coming from behind Viktor makes him jump before he can even process the words. He pivots, and feels the cold shock of fear zip up his spine when he notices the enforcer blues.

Even though the enforcer woman is smiling, Viktor can't help but think this is it. Despite Ekko and Powder's reassurances and the many, many years between his short-lived stint at the Academy and now, Viktor worries he's finally been caught, his past has come back to haunt him, Jayce is going to watch while his partner gets arrested in the middle of an incredibly busy and incredibly public event.

His chest tightens, his already weak lungs constricting. Viktor goes rigid, every one of his muscles tensing. There's a distant ringing coming from somewhere, and he can't tell whether he's imagining it or not.

"I'm… what?" Viktor rasps.

A momentary and unexpected look of horror crosses the enforcer's face. "Unless I'm mistaken?" she says. "I've just seen you around with Jayce, so I thought, from what he's told me—"

Realization strikes Viktor—there's only one enforcer he can reasonably think of that would address Jayce by name, and not title.

He slowly relaxes, inch by inch, though never fully—even if they weren't standing in the midst of a hub of activity, Caitlyn Kiramman is still an enforcer, and virtually a stranger to Viktor.

"Sorry, no, you are not mistaken. I just hadn't realized Jayce has told multiple people about me," Viktor says in a measured tone, to mask his bout of panic just as much as the twinge of frustration he feels toward Jayce at this new piece of information. "You must be… Caitlyn Kiramman."

The smile reappears on her face, relieved, friendly. "I am indeed. I'd say I'm surprised he's mentioned me, but clearly he likes talking too much."

"Yes, clearly," agrees Viktor, just in time for Jayce to reappear beside him, that same hand gravitating to Viktor's back like it's been doing all day.

"Hey, Sprout," Jayce greets as he slots against Viktor. "I didn't realize you were on patrol today."

Caitlyn shrugs. "It was either this or helping my mother host a luncheon for some Ionian merchants. Not that I'm having fun doing this either," she mutters, rolling her eyes. Viktor vaguely recalls Jayce saying something about Caitlyn's parents pulling all the strings they could to keep her from becoming an enforcer, and when she had gone ahead and done so anyway, boring, no-action jobs had become commonplace for her. That being said, Viktor does not blame her for doing anything to avoid what he imagines would be a stuffy, fancy lunch. "It's nice to finally be meeting Viktor, however."

Jayce freezes, immediately realizing what Viktor now knows, based on Caitlyn's playfully accusatory words. When Viktor glances up at him, Jayce pointedly looks away.

"I don't suppose," muses Viktor, "there is anyone else you've told about me and neglected to mention?"

"No, no, there isn't…" Jayce flushes. He thumbs the ridge where Viktor's back brace meets skin beneath his clothes. "I wasn't planning on telling Cait, but then she caught me coming back from visiting you, and, well—"

"And he's not a very good liar, as I'm sure you know," Caitlyn says to Viktor. "Though, to Jayce's credit, I haven't caught him since. Nor has anyone else, as far as I'm aware. So he's not completely useless."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Jayce does, at least, have the decency to look a little ashamed.

Though Viktor only feels the pressure of it, he can tell Jayce has redirected his attention to subtly checking that the brace is properly snug in place. Some time ago, in a letter he'd written to Jayce, he'd made the mistake of complaining about the expected wear and tear of the brace causing it to sit too loosely in some places—so of course Jayce had gone and made him a new one, because, apparently, unbeknownst to Viktor, Jayce had started studying the design from the moment he'd first seen it in full because even lacking the necessary medical knowledge he thought he could do better.

Viktor might've been offended about Jayce thinking so little of his design had the outcome not been so frustratingly perfect, only now Jayce has taken to constantly making sure the new brace fit right, though a part of Viktor wonders if Jayce just enjoys tracing the branded T stamped adjacent to one of the bolts in his spine.

If there is one thing he has recently learned about Jayce, it's that he has quite a thing for putting his House name on Viktor.

"Every other time you talked about me was just for the sake of it, then?" asks Viktor.

"I mean, since she already knew…"

Viktor sighs, shakes his head. He shoots Caitlyn a look that he hopes conveys a sense of what can you do? She huffs, which Viktor takes as both understanding and agreement.

"Well, Caitlyn, in spite of the, eh, circumstances, it has been a pleasure to meet you," Viktor says, which he means, truly, even if she had scared him half to death with her uniform. "Jayce has always spoken quite highly of you and your family."

Her gaze flits between him and Jayce, not necessarily assessing, but simply as if she's building a mental picture of their relationship, of the conversations they hold by what information Viktor lends her. "That may only be because we used to be his patrons," Caitlyn jokes. Then her sharp, teasing grin softens into something… warmer. Heartfelt. "If it's any consolation for Jayce's inability to keep a secret, I think the happiest I've ever seen him is when he's talking about you. Not even Hextech has ever inspired such… passion."

Jayce makes a sound, choked before it can escape his throat, torn between embarrassment and indignation. "I'm right here, you know."

"Yeah, and?" Caitlyn retorts. "If I have to listen to you wax poetic about your boyfriend, then he gets to know about it."

"I wasn't—I don't—" Thankfully, Jayce is too flustered himself to notice Viktor has also gone a little pink. "Don't you have a job to do? What are you standing around humiliating me for?"

Caitlyn opens her mouth to offer what Viktor imagines would be a sarcastic remark, but her eyes go wide as they catch on something past Jayce, and suddenly she's running off with nothing more than an oh shit! exclaimed under her breath. Jayce and Viktor both turn, curious, to see what Caitlyn has spotted, and to no surprise find an increasingly heated argument being had out between a Piltovan and a Zaunite.

Viktor's odds are on the former having started it.

"Nothing can go perfectly, I guess," sighs Jayce. His attention shifts back to Viktor, palm still a solid presence on his back. "How're you holding up?"

He's clearly taking the distraction as a means of changing the previous topic, but Viktor doesn't mind. He's just as willing to do the same, as Jayce gently urges him forward, back into the flow of the crowd.

"My hip has begun to ache from all the walking, but it isn't anything unmanageable," says Viktor, honest. It'll catch up to him eventually, he's sure, but his body seems to have taken pity on him for his visit Topside, so he'll bear what minimum pain there is now to make the most of his time with Jayce. "I don't want to go back to your apartment yet, though. There is still so much to see."

Jayce hums. "We can find somewhere to sit, or maybe stop and get something to eat, or—oh! Or I can show you our lab."

"Our lab?" Viktor laughs.

"Yes, our lab. Hextech's lab, which wouldn't exist without you."

Viktor scoffs. "I think you give me far too much credit. You already had ninety percent of the work done by the time you showed it to me. I have no doubt you would have eventually cracked it on your own."

"I'd say closer to seventy-five," Jayce counters, and Viktor resists the urge to roll his eyes.

"How about we settle on eighty-two-point-five, and you quit bargaining numbers with me. This is not what I taught you haggling for," Viktor scolds, though his words lack bite. Not with the mirthful curve of his lips betraying him.

His partner makes a melodramatic show of concession, heaving a sigh that says fine, if it makes you happy. "Okay, sure, but that eighty-two-point-five percent of the work was just laying the foundation. Maybe I could've cracked it myself, but Hextech wouldn't have actually gotten to where it is today without all the ideas you've contributed. Which, by the way, have to make up at least half of our patents. You know better than I do what the people in Zaun need."

"You are a flatterer, Jayce Talis, and unreasonably ignorant to your own achievements," says Viktor.

"I'm not being unreasonably ignorant. In fact, at the risk of sounding every bit as egotistical as you accuse me of being, I have several people to remind me daily of my own achievements, so I have no reason to actively acknowledge them myself," Jayce argues. His hand falls away from Viktor's back only so he can sling his arm across Viktor's shoulders instead. Subtlety has never been Jayce's strong suit. "Not even your closest friends and family know about the role you've played in all of this, Viktor. Let me be proud of you, at least."

With his own relenting sigh, Viktor allows himself to surrender into the warmth and sturdiness that is Jayce, doing his best to ignore any double-takes or withering glances the gesture draws from the small handful of both Piltovans and Zaunites that notice them together, weaving through the masses. "I don't think I could stop you if I tried."

Apparently emboldened by Viktor's defeat, Jayce feels it within his rights to duck his head and plant a kiss on Viktor's temple, swiftly retreating before Viktor gets a chance to swat him away. Jayce grins at the disgruntled glare he receives in return.

"So, the lab?"

Viktor waves them onward.

* * *

"…and here we are!"

Jayce pushes open the frankly ginormous doors to the lab with a flourish like it's some kind of grand entrance, and almost immediately Viktor finds himself in awe.

He feels not unlike a child in a candy shop, drifting away from Jayce in favour of exploring the spacious—though disappointingly barren—lab with wide eyes, as if that would allow him to take in more at once. Viktor cranes his neck to follow just how high the walls stretch as he wanders over to blackboards filled with scribbled equations and diagrams, to half-finished prototypes sequestered to their own corner of the lab, to the absurdly large desk littered with papers and blueprints. He recognizes some as his own, torn free from journals or redrawn by Jayce on a larger scale.

Viktor wonders if any of Jayce's lab assistants have ever noticed the lack of his habitual signature in the corners of those pages. He's not… surprised, necessarily, to discover this himself, just—it never really occurred to Viktor how easy it would've been for Jayce to sign and claim everything as his own and have Viktor be none the wiser, despite his earnest promises and sweet words. Anyone with any less of a heart than Jayce Talis would've taken Viktor's contributions and never looked back. Anyone with better business sense than Jayce would've done the same. Viktor thinks even he would've probably done the same, were he in Jayce's position.

The words our lab still echo in Viktor's mind. How lucky he has gotten with Jayce.

"What are your thoughts, then?" Jayce has been trailing Viktor with his eyes from the doorway, only making his way over once Viktor has settled in one place. Viktor hadn't even realized he's taken up residence on the lone stool at the desk to begin looking things over as he would in his own workshop until Jayce's chin is digging into the crown of his skull. "Is it to your liking? Too Piltovan?"

Viktor shrugs. "Eh, it could use more windows, but it is otherwise passable." He grins as he continues sifting through Jayce's horribly disorganized notes. "Even my workshop is not this gloomy, Jayce, and I don't have even one window."

"My apologies, your highness. I didn't realize you had such strong opinions about architecture."

"I don't. I have strong opinions about being able to see," says Viktor, still grinning. "How are you going to—"

He pauses as he happens upon some old blueprints long forgotten—at least by himself. An early Hextech project from before they'd figured out how to refine the gemstones, one Viktor thought he'd simply scrapped.

Evidently, he had not.

Viktor twists around, trying to find its prototype hidden somewhere in the lab—because why else would Jayce have it sitting among other recent endeavours? Then his eye catches on a white cloth in the shadows, draped over something tall and spindly, and thinks that must be it. He's up and hurrying over before Jayce can ask what he's doing, though he probably gets his answer when Viktor eagerly tugs off the cloth to reveal what's underneath.

"You actually made it? The Hexclaw?" Viktor glances over his shoulder to Jayce, who is still hovering by the desk, then back to the device with renewed excitement. He skims his fingers over the arm, metal cool to the touch. "How did you end up implementing the Hexgem? Is it functional? Can I try it? I want to try it."

Jayce laughs. "Yeah, you can try it. Let me just find the glove. That should answer a few of your million questions."

"Hardly a million," mutters Viktor, though at least a million are definitely swimming around his head. What were the flaws in the original design, because he knows there had to be some? Which alloy did Jayce decide to use? Why? Why did Jayce actually go through with making it? Why did he take the blueprints in the first place? "When did you even have time to build this?"

"I, uh. I didn't," Jayce confesses. "It took several months to get anywhere with it, just working on it whenever I could. Nights, early mornings, usually. Though I'll admit there were also times I just pushed back deadlines whenever an investor or the Council was getting on my nerves. I'm lucky that Mel won't call bullshit. And that Heimerdinger isn't officially involved in Council business anymore, because even though he probably wouldn't argue against me, what with his whole don't rush science thing, he's an even worse liar than I am and I just know Salo would press him for a second opinion just to undermine me."

"I'm sure Salo only does that because he's intimidated by the fact that you are, objectively, more intelligent than he is," Viktor says. He pauses thoughtfully, attention still fixed on the Hexclaw. He adds, "That is an observation, not a compliment, by the way. I will not let you trick me into stroking your ego by taking me to your nice, fancy lab and telling me you have been spending your free time bringing an old indulgent project of mine to life."

"Oh no," Jayce deadpans. He joins Viktor by the Hexclaw, the aforementioned glove that Viktor thinks doesn't look particularly like a glove in hand. "You've uncovered my evil scheme. Whatever will I do now?"

Viktor smiles, amused, fond. "Just hand over the Hexclaw, Councilor Talis, and no one has to get hurt."

"Yes, dear," sighs Jayce, his own lips upturned. He takes Viktor's hand and secures the leather piece in place, careful not to twist the wires connected to the rings he slips over Viktor's thumb, middle and index fingers. Jayce slots a Hexgem in place on the back of the glove.

Viktor lifts his hand to inspect the runes carved into the rings, flinching when the Hexclaw mirrors the movement with a series of mechanical clicks and whirs. But after his initial surprise has passed, he begins stretching out his own arm, flexing his fingers and watching how the device responds.

"It's not exactly lightweight yet, but I know your goal was to have something portable. I'll give you my notes to look over, figure out what I missed," says Jayce. "Oh, but, um—be careful not to—"

Whatever Jayce is about to say is cut off by a beam of blue light, the laser shooting across the lab and slicing through one of the blackboards. It leaves a perfect scorch mark up the wall.

"—do that," Jayce finishes lamely. "The laser's still finicky."

"You don't say." Viktor winces, plucking the Hexgem out of the glove’s socket. The Hexclaw resets to its neutral position with more mechanical clicks. "Perhaps warn me before inserting the gem next time, yes?"

"I am inclined to agree with this young gentleman."

Both Jayce and Viktor's heads whip around to the source of the new voice. Viktor is thankful he'd removed the gemstone, else he suspects there might've been another accidental laser beam marring the lab. He considers pocketing it, knowing Jayce wouldn't say anything if he sees, but ultimately decides against it. The possibility of getting caught with it returning to Zaun would be more trouble than it's worth.

"Professor!" Jayce exclaims. "I didn't realize you were… around."

Heimerdinger hums, flapping his hand in a vague gesture. "Oh, well, I'm afraid I had quite a bit more work to get to before I could enjoy the festivities myself." He considers Viktor for a few seconds, not unkindly, before his gaze shifts sharply to Jayce. "Who is this? You should know better than anyone that this is a restricted area, my boy."

"Uh, this is, um," Jayce stammers, eyes jumping nervously between Viktor and Heimerdinger. "This is Viktor, my…" Viktor can pinpoint the moment Jayce swallows his habitual partner. "…friend from the Undercity. He's also a scientist, so I thought I might show him around."

"Hm." Heimerdinger scuttles closer, resuming his scrutiny of Viktor. He pinches one end of his mustache. "Viktor… you look familiar. Have we perhaps met before?"

They have, very briefly, but Viktor is not going to admit that—especially not here, in front of Jayce. He just prays Heimerdinger is willing to chalk it up to mistaking Viktor for someone else he's met in his hundreds of years of life.

Viktor shakes his head, smiling apologetically. "No, I, eh, don't believe we have."

But of course, Heimerdinger is insistent. Viktor can feel Jayce's eyes on him, his puzzled expression damning in Viktor's peripheral vision. "Are you sure?" The Yordle taps his chin pensively. "You were never a student at the Academy?"

"Ah, no. No, I was not," Viktor says. Not technically a lie, but the question makes Viktor think Heimerdinger has already figured him out. He's not sure how many times today the idea that he should never have come back to Piltover is going to be reinforced, but he would very much so like for the torment to end.

Heimerdinger hums again, still stroking his furry chin in contemplation. "No, that's right," he mutters. "Not officially. But yes—yes, I do remember you, Viktor."

Viktor says nothing—doesn't know what he can say, and is worried he might throw up if he attempts to speak. He cannot read Heimerdinger's intentions, and he refuses to turn away and be fully subjected to Jayce's reaction.

"You were a student here?" Jayce asks quietly. Viktor wonders if he's imagining the twinge of disappointment in Jayce's voice—disappointment over Viktor never having told him, over never having known, over picturing something else that could've been, Viktor doesn't know.

"In a… manner of speaking," Viktor confesses cautiously, never looking away from the professor as if he could be something volatile if Viktor isn't careful with his words. "But not for very long. It hardly matters."

"Oh, I strongly disagree! I believe it mattered a not insignificant amount," Heimerdinger says, matter-of-factly. Viktor's jaw tenses, his grip white-knuckled on his cane. He thinks this ought to be the moment that everything comes crashing down, so he braces himself for what must be Heimerdinger's inevitable admonishment. "I'd argue very few people would ever be clever enough to not only successfully sneak into the Academy, but to also go unnoticed for several months! Oh, yes, I'm remembering now—I read some of your work after someone came to me with their suspicions. Despite the circumstances, I could tell you were quite the bright mind. I had actually planned to offer you a position as my assistant to amend the situation, but you were gone before I could do so. A shame, really."

For many long, agonizing seconds, Viktor processes the barrage of words at a sluggish pace, as if the professor was speaking gibberish. His first instinct is to conclude Heimerdinger is merely pulling his leg, but from all Viktor has heard about him from Jayce, the Yordle is seldom anything but earnest about essentially everything.

"…well," Viktor says slowly, casting a fleeting, almost skittish glance at Jayce, "I appreciate you telling me this, professor, but I wouldn't exactly call it a shame. I am, I think, quite pleased with how things have turned out for me otherwise."

Heimerdinger claps his hands together. "And you should be, my boy! I don't suppose you've played quite a large part in Hextech's projects for the Undercity, hm?"

Viktor freezes, but before he can reply, before he can deny, Jayce clears his throat and steps forward, almost between him and Heimerdinger. "In Hextech in general, actually, professor. Viktor has been… it wouldn't exist without him, really. Not as it is now."

Were the words spoken between only him and Viktor, Viktor would be scolding his excessive generosity per usual, but as it stands, with Heimerdinger present, Viktor is helpless to do anything but cut Jayce a sharp look as his face blossoms pink. It's bad enough that the professor correctly deduced Hextech's collaborative nature from so little information.

Viktor coughs. "This is not… entirely untrue," he allows. Modestly. Humbly. Because while Viktor can't say he particularly likes Heimerdinger—fundamentally, as a Zaunite affected by centuries of the Yordle's action and inaction piling and piling up—he respects Heimerdinger enough for not calling the enforcers on him then or now, and so feels he probably shouldn't gloat about his role in Hextech. Not that he likes to gloat, either. That's why Jayce insists on doing it on his behalf.

"Hmph." The professor looks between the two of them, his brow furrowed as if he's puzzling over a complicated equation. But he appears to find his conclusion in Jayce's half-protective stance and Viktor's incomplete responses. "Well, in any case, I must say that while I am surprised—and admittedly a little disappointed—to only now be learning of your contributions, Viktor, I suppose it's better late than never. And it's always nice to see two brilliant young minds working together. Though I do hope your efforts aren't going completely unsung. As scientists—"

"I can assure you, professor, it has been at my own insistence that I remain… unknown to the general public," Viktor interrupts swiftly. He cannot stand to be having this conversation again. It seems like all he's talked about today. "Believe me when I say Jayce has fought me every step of the way. But it would have been a politically unwise choice then, and likely still is now—although, truthfully, if I'm being quite honest, I have really only ever cared that I am respected and treated as an equal by my partner, which I can say for a fact that I am, so I don't understand why this must always remain a concern when, in my opinion, the matter has been settled from the beginning. I am well aware of the implication of these things. It was not a decision made on a whim."

Viktor exhales a great breath, just barely staving off the cough that tickles his dry throat. Heimerdinger and Jayce are staring at him, the latter with an odd, inexplicable sort of awe. Viktor wishes Jayce would stop looking at him like that.

"Apologies," Viktor says curtly, embarrassed, unsure of what had overcome him. He hastily peels off the glove and shoves both it and the Hexgem at Jayce’s chest. "I think I need to get some air."

He pushes past Jayce and Heimerdinger and out of the lab before anyone can stop him, and lets his feet carry him wherever they will him. He isn't familiar with these corridors and he doesn't endeavour to wander far, lest he be stopped and questioned by someone whilst Jayce isn't at his side and able to defend him. And anyway—it isn't as if Viktor is running away or anything. He's just getting air, like he said.

Only after a few turns does Viktor end up collapsing onto an uncomfortably cold, hard marble bench, though it makes up for the pain in his tailbone with its position across from a large, ornate window with a nice view of the city. Here, sunlight fills the hall and warms his face, and for a moment Viktor just breathes, soaking it in like a reptile sunning itself. He doesn't often get such an unobstructed view of the sky.

Viktor doesn't know why it must be now that everything finally hits him, the rewards he's deliberately chosen not to reap, the paths he might've been able to pave had he not been so… scared. Yes, scared. Perhaps things would not have gone so horribly as he thought they would have. Perhaps he'd needlessly taken the safest route out of a deep-rooted insecurity, and not of caution like he's always told Jayce. For people to perceive him, next to Jayce? The thought is almost ludicrous. At best he would melt away into the background, just an unremarkable, imperfect Zaunite unworthy of Piltover's attention.

At worst…

Would he have been branded a traitor by his neighbours for working with a Topsider right under their noses? Would he have been imprisoned or exiled—along with Jayce? Or could he have been an inspiration to someone, to his people, and create change much sooner than Jayce has been able to manage on his own? He hates that he'll never know any other outcome.

He sighs and scrubs tiredly at his eyes, the weight of the day crashing down on him. Viktor does not regret his initial decision—he knows that it was arguably the best course of action at that point in time, especially with the events leading up to Hextech actually coming to be. But since then… Viktor wonders at what point his reasoning must've become nothing more than an excuse to put off being seen.

Even though there's always been an unsilenceable voice in the back of his mind, a part in him like anyone else that desperately craves recognition for his work.

"Viktor, there you are." Jayce's footsteps echo in the otherwise empty hall as he approaches, his shoes clicking on the immaculately polished tile. He's unhurried and doesn't appear overly concerned, but there's a look on his face like he's biting his tongue about something. Viktor could probably make an educated guess about what that something is. "Are you alright? I'm really sorry, I should've locked the door—I didn't realize Heimerdinger was still—"

"It's fine. I'm fine." Viktor scoots over to make room for Jayce on the bench. "We were both, eh, preoccupied. I suppose I just got overwhelmed; today has been more taxing than I had originally thought."

Jayce sits, pressed against Viktor despite there being more than enough room to have space between them. Viktor doesn't mind. "Well, I still feel bad. But hey—this time it wasn't my fault someone from this side of the bridge knew about you."

Viktor rolls his eyes and pinches Jayce's thigh. "You can ask me what you mean to ask, Jayce. I know you are curious."

Jayce wastes not a second to ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"

That catches Viktor mildly off guard, it not being the question he'd anticipated—but he inhales deeply and exhales slowly anyway, steeling himself for a conversation he'd hoped to never need to have. "As I said to the professor, I did not think it mattered. My intention was never to accomplish anything revolutionary, I just… wanted something more for myself. But I wasn't careful enough," Viktor explains. "I didn't want to tell you because it was a failure. Because it was not relevant to anything we were or are doing. And, perhaps, because I was jealous. And… a little resentful."

"Resentful?"

Viktor shrugs weakly. It… sounds stupid now, saying it aloud. "For me to attend the Academy, it had to be done secretively. Dishonestly. I wore a stolen uniform, slept in a dorm marked vacant on Academy records. I sat in the very back of lectures and submitted work under a fake name, though evidently that didn't stop the professor from piecing that together. There were many things I couldn't do as a normal student would out of fear of being caught. For you, however…" Viktor stares out the grandiose window, unseeing. He smiles ruefully. "You had the patronage of one of the wealthiest Houses in Piltover. You had unlimited resources and your very own uniform that you foolishly wore even when visiting the Undercity. When you entered my shop for the first time. And not only did you willingly risk squandering all of that in pursuit of Hextech, but you suffered very few consequences for it as well. That is not something that would happen for someone like me, so please forgive me for not wishing to tell you sooner, if at all."

Jayce shakes his head. "I don't blame you. I just never… I never thought of it that way. Even not knowing, I…" He trails off, boring holes in the floor, absentmindedly digging a thumb into the meat of his palm over and over again. "I'm sorry I ever made you feel that way, Viktor."

"Yes, well. The past is the past. And you have more than made up for it since then." Viktor breathes out, fatigue curling tighter around him, draping itself over him like a heavy shawl. He's tired—of talking, of thinking. He rests his head on Jayce's shoulder and closes his eyes. "Thank you for showing me the lab, Jayce. But I think I want to go home now."

Jayce shifts, stretching his arm behind Viktor so gentle, steady fingers can tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. "Of course," he murmurs, soft and sweet as spun sugar.

Three years ago

"Mmph, Jayce, at least let me—let us get inside first."

"But I missed you," Jayce whines, pressing their bodies closer together, making it impossibly difficult for Viktor to get the door to his apartment unlocked. Jayce giggles as his hands continue to roam Viktor, planting messy kisses wherever his lips meet skin. For a man of his stature, as Viktor has discovered this evening, Jayce cannot hold his liquor for the life of him. It is, admittedly, sort of endearing—but also somewhat frustrating, because Jayce has been attached to him like a limpet the entire way home from the Promenade-level bar and it is already hard enough for Viktor to get around on his own on a good day. "Plus you smell nice."

Viktor shakes his head in exasperation. He finally manages to wrench the door open and drag his human barnacle inside. "You are so…"

Jayce clings tighter to Viktor. "I'm so what? Hmm?"

"You are so you," Viktor laughs, shoving a hand in Jayce's face to thwart yet another attempt at what would only wind up being an unnecessarily sloppy kiss. "And you are drunk."

"Nuh uh." Jayce gives up aiming for Viktor's face and instead turns to press his lips to the palm pushing him away. His cheeks are rosy. "M'not drunk," he mumbles.

"Right. And Zaun's air is clean," drawls Viktor. "Come. Let us get you some water."

Jayce releases Viktor, but he doesn't immediately follow him down the hall. Instead he hovers by the door, wearing an odd frown crossed somewhere between hurt and deep thought. Viktor looks back at him, not entirely steady on his own feet either, but before he can ask whether something is wrong Jayce appears to snap himself out of it, and resumes his duty of trailing after Viktor to the kitchen.

Viktor pours himself a glass of water as well for good measure, if not for what he'd had to drink, then for his poor, aching body that will most certainly protest the journey to and from the bar come tomorrow. A necessary sacrifice, however, as it was far less likely they'd have stumbled across anyone who knew him—well, at least—up in the Promenade.

Jayce's newfound restraint only lasts about as long as it takes for him to obediently down the water Viktor makes him drink, but this time Viktor allows it, allows himself to be drawn in, to melt, pliant, against Jayce. Jayce groans softly into their kiss, digging his fingers into Viktor's sides as if afraid someone might steal Viktor away from him.

Now that he has what he wants Jayce takes the lead, clumsily guiding them to Viktor's bedroom, refusing to separate for anything more than oxygen. Clothing is strewn about the apartment, destined to become a tripping hazard in the morning. Heat simmers in Viktor's chest, low in his stomach.

But just as they tumble onto Viktor's bed, limbs entangled, after a careful, daresay worshipful removal of Viktor's leg brace, Jayce suddenly seems to run out of steam, finally breaking away from Viktor to let loose a great yawn. His eyes are half-lidded, drooping with fatigue. Jayce pouts.

"Sorry," he says. "Wanna keep going, but… m'so tired. Sorry."

Viktor huffs, amused. He smiles at Jayce, tracing his thumb over Jayce's cheek. "That's alright, Jayce. No need to apologize."

Jayce hums, eyelids fluttering shut, though he fights to stay awake. He huddles close to Viktor. "You’re so nice. And smart. And I like your face. It's a good face."

Viktor can barely contain his laughter. "Thank you, Jayce. That's very kind."

"'Welcome," murmurs Jayce. "Love you."

The smile freezes on Viktor's lips. Viktor's whole body freezes. "What did you say?"

Somehow perceptive yet entirely oblivious to Viktor's turmoil, Jayce's eyes blearily blink open. He sits up on his elbow. Viktor merely stares back at him, eyes wide as saucers.

"Said I love you," Jayce repeats, not necessarily more awake, but certainly more conscious. Sober. "'Cause I do. And I've wanted to say it for a long time."

Viktor swallows thickly. His heart races in his chest. "Why now?"

"Because you deserve to know." Jayce smiles sleepily, only to then sigh, that bizarre frown of his from earlier reappearing on his face. He flops back onto the pillow and mutters, "And because I have to tell you something that kinda sucks, and I don't want you to be mad at me."

"Jayce—"

"Heimerdinger is stepping down from the Council," whispers Jayce. "They want me to take his seat."

For a painfully long moment, Viktor is at a loss for how to respond. In that painfully long lull, Jayce—being inebriated, and Viktor only faring somewhat better—is impossible to read, and Viktor has yet to decide for himself how he wants to feel about this news.

Mercifully, however, Jayce fills in the blank for him.

"I don't think I want that, Viktor."

Viktor chews his bottom lip. "You don't have to accept, you know."

Jayce nods, though that troubled expression doesn't waver. "I know. I know." He rolls over and wraps himself around Viktor, nestling his head beneath Viktor's chin. "It'd mean a lot of responsibilities and less time in the lab and less time with you and I don't want that. I just want to work on Hextech forever with you. I just want you. But…"

"But?"

"But what if it could be a good thing? The Council can't ignore any more project proposals for Zaun if I'm on it." Jayce sighs again. "I dunno, Viktor. I don't know what to do." He pauses, breath warm on Viktor's neck. "What if we just ran away together?"

"Unfortunately I do not believe that would solve anything," Viktor says gently. He exhales shakily. "I don't know what you should do, either. Ultimately it is your decision to make."

Jayce grunts, displeased by this answer—or lack thereof. But Viktor cannot offer any advice for this, no matter his state of mind. A part of him is adamantly against the idea of Jayce becoming a councilor, not just for reasons mentioned by Jayce himself, but for everything the Council stands for, has stood for for decades, centuries. The idea of Jayce having a place in that terrible governing body makes something vicious, venomous churn in Viktor's gut. But at the same time, perhaps Jayce is right—perhaps it could be a good thing.

"Well, in any case, I am sure you have time to think it over," Viktor adds. "But no matter what you decide, I… just know that I love you, too."

But Jayce does not hear him. He's fallen asleep.

Viktor deflates. Another time, then. When he gathers the courage again.

They have other concerns, anyway. More pressing. He doesn't even know how much Jayce will remember with clarity in the morning.

Present day

Viktor thinks he's going to throw up.

"Jayce, I think I am going to throw up."

Jayce rolls his eyes. "Come on, Viktor, don't be so dramatic. It's only my mother."

The carriage jolts as the wheels clip some uneven cobblestones, entirely unsympathetic to Viktor's nerves. His stomach flips. "Only your mother," Viktor scoffs. "That is supposed to reassure me?"

"Well, what's the big deal? I've already told you she's gonna love you."

"You don't know that Jayce," hisses Viktor. He wipes clammy palms on his trousers. "What if she doesn't? What if I'm not… not what she is expecting? Or what if—"

"Viktor." Jayce leans forward and peels Viktor's hands from his thighs. His gaze is soft, earnest. Green flecked with gold. "Sure, yeah, you're right that I don't know for certain. But what I do know is that you make me very happy, and if that much is true, then she'll be happy, too. You have nothing to worry about, I swear."

There is still a non-zero chance that he loses his lunch, Viktor thinks, but… he also trusts Jayce, and logically, he supposes, there is no reason for Jayce to lie about such things. Viktor sighs, prying his eyes and hands from Jayce. He glances out the carriage window and folds his hands neatly in his lap, fingers laced tightly together to keep from fidgeting.

"Fine. I will… choose to believe you. For now."

Jayce smiles, laughs. "I'll take it," he says.

The journey doesn't take them much longer from there, only five minutes later finding them arriving at a modest—by Piltovan standards, that is—house, fronted by a well-loved garden, announced by the House Talis sigil embossed on the portico. Jayce climbs out first to pay the driver, and Viktor reluctantly follows, warily eyeing the place Jayce had grown up.

He flinches when Jayce flattens a palm against the small of his back, not having noticed the carriage has already rolled away.

"You ready?"

"No," Viktor says. "But I don't know the way back to your apartment from here, so I don't suppose I have any other choice."

"Even if you did know the way, I don't think you'd want to make that walk anyway," Jayce teases. "C'mon. It'll be fine. She's been looking forward to meeting you."

"If you insist," mumbles Viktor. He lets himself be led to the front door.

It's only a reasonable conclusion that Jayce must hate him, because he only knocks out of courtesy before letting himself and Viktor inside, then calls out to his mother without even consulting Viktor just one more time to ensure his preparedness, or lack thereof. Viktor focuses on a family portrait that's been hung near the entryway to distract from the heavy pounding in his chest; it seems Jayce mainly takes after his father—at least, that's who Viktor assumes the man in the portrait is—but there are certainly whispers of his mother in his features, a shared gentleness in their eyes and a nearly identical smile. The same errant, untameable lock of hair curling down over their foreheads.

He recalls the time that Jayce had asked him about his parents, in good faith, if a little naively. But Viktor hadn't anything as lovely as a family portrait to share, only a faded photograph of his mother and father he'd had to disinter from an old box of what remained of their things, whatever Viktor hadn't pawned off so he could still eat as a child, stuff either too sentimental or not worth much of anything. Jayce had decided Viktor doesn't look like one or the other, but like a perfect amalgam of his parents' best features. Viktor remembers having rolled his eyes and calling Jayce a flatterer, though secretly he still revels in the idea that he gets to carry those parts with him—that he gets to serve as the memory of them and their important characteristics equally.

What would Jayce think, Viktor wonders, if he remarked on Jayce's resemblance to his own parents? His father?

He isn't given time to mull this question over before Ximena Talis appears, and Viktor freezes like a deer in headlights.

"Oh, Jayce, you're home!" she exclaims. Ximena wipes her hands on her skirt before coming forward to hug Jayce. Viktor only just notices the aroma of something savoury, spiced presumably wafting from wherever the kitchen is. "How are you, mijo?"

"We're good, mamá. What about you?"

"Just happy my son is visiting," Ximena says. Then she turns to Viktor, the warmth in her expression never wavering. "And you must be Viktor?"

Viktor musters what can barely be considered a nod. Before he knows what's happening, Ximena is suddenly embracing him too—and despite the way he stiffens, her hold remains firm, reassuring, though she lets go before Viktor can grow too uncomfortable.

He learns just then where Jayce gets his hugs from.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you. Jayce tells me many good things about you. Although it is to my understanding he was not supposed to tell me anything." Ximena shakes her head, casting an exasperated look at Viktor like they're sharing an inside joke. "That boy does not know how to keep a secret, does he?"

Some of the tension in Viktor's chest slowly begins to uncoil with the teasing of her son, just enough that he's finally able to find his voice again. He pastes on a weak smile. "At least he's honest."

Ximena heaves a sigh, though her eyes shine with a smile. "That he most certainly is." She touches Viktor's arm in some motherly gesture he doesn't understand, then steps free of the entryway to give them space. "Now, both of you—shoes off, then join me in the kitchen. I'd like your help with supper."

Jayce coughs. "I don't know if I'd let Viktor in the kitchen."

Viktor shoots him a glare, trying to telepathically communicate to Jayce that he wants to make a good first impression, and that Jayce is not helping. But Ximena is already drifting away, back down the hall. She waves a hand and says, "Nonsense. There's always something for everyone," and that's the matter settled before she disappears into the next room.

"See? Not so bad," Jayce murmurs.

"I will poison your meal, Jayce Talis," grumbles Viktor. "Mark my words."

Jayce loops an arm around Viktor's shoulder and pulls him close to press his lips to Viktor's hairline. "Love you, too," he snickers, then begins guiding Viktor toward the kitchen. Viktor only allows this because he doesn't know where said kitchen is, as much as he'd prefer to linger in the entryway for a few more seconds—or minutes, or hours—to brace himself for… everything.

The warm, rich smell grows stronger and stronger until they reach its source in the spacious, homey kitchen of the Talis house, where Ximena wastes no time putting them both to work. Viktor is set on a stool on one side of the island that's at least the size of his apartment's entire kitchen with a cutting board and various vegetables to chop up, meanwhile Jayce is ordered around with all sorts of tasks more involved with the cooking itself—not that Viktor minds his simple responsibility, sitting in the sidelines. Jayce, unfortunately, has a point about the danger of Viktor in kitchens, but it's also less… daunting, to just be an observer. To be permitted to do nothing but watch Ximena and Jayce, only occasionally asked for his input on something. It eases more of his tension, lets him acclimate.

It's also amusing to keep count of how many times Jayce thinks he's being sneaky when he steals a bite of food, only to be reprimanded by his mother with a flick of his ear. The scene is… painfully domestic in a way Viktor has never truly experienced himself. Never truly got to experience.

But this grace period can't last forever, of course. Eventually their meal is ready and Viktor no longer has the unreasonably sized island as a buffer—and the dining table is circular, much to his dismay, so it is effectively impossible to avoid directly facing Ximena in some way or another once everything is set.

Viktor doesn't understand why he feels so afraid—of Ximena, of somehow making a bad impression, of messing everything up—when thus far Jayce's mother has been nothing but kind to him. Undemanding. He's conducted business with Chembarons before and that was a less terrifying affair. For Janna's sake, he's the nephew-adjacent to Silco, who is, even including Vander, arguably the most powerful man in Zaun. Yet somehow the possibility of his partner's mother not approving of him fills Viktor with a profound sense of dread like nothing he's ever felt before. No matter how Jayce has reassured him. No matter how Ximena appears perfectly content with his presence.

Survival has always been at the forefront of Viktor's wants and needs. He wonders if it's perhaps that instinct that presently has him feeling anxious. Threatened, like a wild animal backed into a corner. An irrational fear that if Ximena doesn't like him, then Jayce will be forced to choose between Viktor and his mother, and Viktor will lose the one thing in his life he'd never had to fight for.

He couldn't exactly have explained that to Jayce, however. So here Viktor sits, his chest tight once more, eating food that he does, in fact, summon the courage to politely compliment Ximena on. She thanks him, and tells him there's no need to call her Mrs. Talis, please, Ximena is just fine.

No one can say Viktor doesn't try. Even though, more often than not, his eyes flicker to either his plate or Jayce when he answers her conversational questions—about himself, about his work, about Zaun—and offers responses whenever prompted by Jayce.

Then apparently, finally, it seems to be time to broach that ever-recurring topic of his trip to Piltover, and this must be where he screws things up, driven to outburst like he'd been with Heimerdinger.

His stomach sinks when Ximena says, "So, Viktor. Jayce says you were the one to help him bring his Hextech to life?"

Cautiously, Viktor replies, "I helped, yes."

Ximena smiles and Viktor braces himself for the inevitable follow-up question he'd rather do anything but answer, but it never comes. Instead, she tells him, "Well, I think that was very kind of you. I'll admit that even I was… skeptical of his theories—" A glance is exchanged between mother and son, one that Viktor does not miss, but one that does escape him. Then Jayce winces, and it's enough for Viktor to make an educated guess it has something to do with Jayce's trial, all those years ago. There are details Jayce hasn't ever told him, but Jayce lets Viktor keep his assortment of secrets, so Viktor has always let Jayce do the same. "—but I am very grateful you chose to believe in him."

Viktor offers a limp shrug. She makes it sound noble, when really, initially, his decision had been mostly selfish. "I knew what it was like, to not have anyone believe," he says quietly. Candidly. "And I knew what it was like to finally find someone who does. I understood him, more than I think he knew."

His eyes find Jayce, tentative, and something in the soft look Jayce returns is what finally gets Viktor to drop his shoulders and tamp down that illogical instinct—he should know better by now that no matter what, Jayce isn't going anywhere. Viktor turns back to Ximena, feeling marginally lighter, for once not feeling his heart leap when he meets her gaze.

"Although, I will confess that was not exactly the first thought that crossed my mind when we met," Viktor adds sheepishly. "But, well. Jayce ended up scamming me instead, so I suppose it balances out."

Jayce makes a noise, affronted. "Hey, wait, that's not—you gave me the book! You said—hold on, your first thought was that you were gonna scam me?"

Viktor smiles in spite of himself, further—if shyly—encouraged by Ximena's quiet laughter at her son's expense.

"Force of habit, Jayce, you know this. You didn't even try to hide that you were from Piltover. To this day I do not know how it is possible the only money you lost before entering my shop was to Ekko. A child."

"I can't believe he told you about that," Jayce mutters.

"Eh, he didn't have to," says Viktor, smile now fully unrestrained, "so thank you for confirming my suspicions."

While Jayce splutters indignantly, Viktor suddenly feels a light pressure on the back of his hand—the metallic coolness of Ximena's two prosthetic fingers, and the human warmth of the rest of her hand as it eclipses his own. Viktor tenses, then forces himself to breathe out, relax; he's safe here. If nothing else, he's safe.

"Whatever your first thought was, Viktor," Ximena says kindly, a hint playfully, "I think it's what you chose to do that matters most. That being said," she lowers her voice conspiratorially, leaning closer to Viktor, "I do hope you have since taught my son better. I can only imagine he spent more of his patron's allowance than he cares to admit."

"Mamá!" Jayce all but squawks.

"Am I wrong, mijo?"

Jayce's subsequent pout is very telling. He mutters something akin to no, which, to Viktor, sounds like future blackmail material.

"Do not worry, Mrs.—Ximena. That was something Jayce and I went over very early on."

"And by went over, he means pickpocketing me repeatedly so I would get 'more creative' with where I hid my money." Jayce sighs, adding begrudgingly, "Which did work, but I feel like a conversation would've sufficed, Viktor."

"But it would not have been as effective."

Jayce shakes his head and rolls his eyes with an unmistakable affection. He suddenly makes to stand up, pointing at Viktor's now-empty plate. "Are you done? I can start clearing the table."

"That would be wonderful, Jayce, thank you," Ximena answers as Viktor nods and offers his dish to Jayce's outstretched hand. "This will be a perfect time for me to show Viktor your baby photos. I've been waiting years for the opportunity."

Her son does not dignify her with a response this time, only mumbling unintelligibly as he gathers all he can safely carry and disappears into the kitchen. There's a red tint to his face that endears and amuses Viktor in equal measures.

Only once he's out of earshot does Ximena decide to break Viktor, remarking almost too casually, "He really does love you dearly. I could hear it in his voice when he spoke of you, but now I can see it on his face when he looks at you." Before Viktor can begin to process this information, she continues, "And you look back at him with the same expression. It's never been easy for my son to make friends, or have relationships, so seeing that is… I am very, very glad he found you, Viktor."

There's a lump in Viktor's throat that shouldn't be there, he thinks. He swallows it with great difficulty before he feels confident enough to speak. Even then, his voice still cracks when he says, "I'm glad he found me, too."

Viktor grows a little ill, the longer he's subjected to the maternal affection in Ximena's gaze, but this time he thinks it might just be the good kind of ill. At the very least, though it churns in his stomach, it doesn't make him want to throw up.

Ximena pats his hand before she straightens, her smile morphing into something Viktor immediately recognizes as mischief, because he's seen the exact same expression on Jayce's face.

"Now, wait here," she says. "I have to go find that photo album. I bet he has never told you he had a phase where he refused to leave the house without his wizard robes and hat. That boy was a handful, I'll tell you."

Oh, Viktor thinks, almost giddily, as Ximena gets up and leaves the dining room, Jayce is never going to hear the end of this.

* * *

"I told you it wouldn't be that bad."

Viktor sighs and smiles tiredly down at Jayce whilst he removes Viktor's leg brace—at Viktor's own insistence, for once, because the aches and pains of the last few days have crept up on him over the course of the evening. He already knows the walk home tomorrow is going to be slow-going and miserable, so he may as well let himself be lazy now, with Jayce, who is always more than happy to fulfill Viktor's requests.

How Viktor will miss this, like always. And how he'll miss Jayce's stupidly big, stupidly comfortable bed.

"I suppose you did, yes." Viktor cards his fingers through Jayce's hair as he undoes the brace's straps with care and practiced motions. "You know, you were a very cute wizard."

Though he scoffs, Jayce still takes the time to kiss Viktor's knee before sliding the support off his leg. "It's like my own mother hates me, I swear. And I wasn't a wizard, by the way. I was a mage."

"Apologies," says Viktor, entirely unapologetic. "You were a very cute mage."

"Damn right I was," Jayce mutters under his breath, not without a hint of sincere pride.

A soft, amused huff escapes Viktor, so dreadfully, unfortunately endeared by the man kneeling before him. He untangles his hand from Jayce's hair to playfully pinch his cheek. "What happened to you, then? When did you stop?"

"Being a mage?"

Viktor shakes his head, bites his lip. "Being cute."

"Oh, you—" Jayce's scowl lasts all of five seconds as he crowds Viktor back onto the bed—though it can hardly be called a scowl to begin with, when he's so clearly in a losing battle with the grin he's trying to subdue. Viktor's back brace is the only thing that saves him from Jayce digging his fingers into Viktor's sides in retaliation, so instead Jayce nips at Viktor's shoulder, collarbone, jaw until Viktor begs for mercy, unable to stifle his laughter any longer.

"Okay, okay," Viktor manages between bouts of giggles, "fine. You're still cute, I guess. Now get off me, you oaf."

Jayce's grin widens where his mouth is still attached to Viktor's neck, voice muffled as he says, "Get you off, you say?"

Viktor swats at Jayce. "That is not what I said, Jayce, and you know it."

"Mm, I know. Just teasing," Jayce mumbles. He graces Viktor with one last scrape of teeth against his pulse point before retreating, ghosting a hand over Viktor's back brace as he sits up. "D'you need help with taking this off, too?"

The answer, of course, as to whether he needs help is already known—but Viktor nods anyway, because loath as he usually is to admit it, sometimes he does like when Jayce helps him.

Though, perhaps it isn't so much the act as it is Jayce's willingness to do the act that satisfies the needy creature that is Viktor's heart. Even in the Undercity, Viktor had had old partners hesitate, reluctant to treat him as anything other than fragile, or otherwise do their best to ignore the less-than-glamorous parts of him. There's certainly nothing romantic about the sweat or the odour or the occasional rashes that Viktor has grown accustomed to at the cost of trying to keep his body in one piece, yet Jayce has never shied away from any of it. Never wrinkled his nose or made excuses to leave Viktor to his own devices. He merely says I'll get the rubbing alcohol and comes back with the bottle and a cloth.

Like it's his own routine just as well.

Jayce cleans Viktor's back with a second cloth now, just warm water and more practiced movements as he gently wipes around the screws in Viktor's spine. Viktor's eyes have grown heavy-lidded, and he knows that if he was lying down he'd probably be asleep already.

"Your skin's already looking less irritated along your spine," Jayce remarks. "The brace hasn't been chafing too much?"

Yawning, Viktor shakes his head. "It's been quite comfortable, all things considered."

"That's good." Jayce does one last pass with the cloth before kissing Viktor's shoulder and getting up from the bed. "I'm glad it fits."

"Of course it does," says Viktor. "You made it, did you not?"

Jayce hums something noncommittal, the way he does when he recognizes Viktor's compliment for what it is but won't quite accept it. A hypocrite, he is. But so is Viktor, in that regard. "So long as it helps," he says.

While Jayce pads down the hall to the bathroom to put things away, Viktor reluctantly gets up to limp the two steps to Jayce's dresser and retrieve a sweater to slip on, before limping back to the bed and flopping onto the mattress. He's already curled up beneath the comforter by the time Jayce returns, heading toward that hazy purgatory between consciousness and sleep when Jayce turns off the light and crawls into bed with him.

Before Viktor can fully drift off, however, Jayce asks, "Do you think I could meet your family one day?"

Could he? Well, most certainly. There's no reason Jayce couldn't. But should he? Does Viktor want him to? The answer to that is, Viktor thinks, considerably more complicated.

"You've already met Powder and Ekko," Viktor says, toeing around Jayce's question.

"Properly," Jayce insists. "Not just in passing. You weren't even there the second time."

Viktor's brow furrows. "What second time?"

Jayce reaches out and tucks a stray curl behind Viktor's ear before settling his hands between his cheek and his pillow, palms pressed flat together as if in prayer. "I congratulated them when they won the Innovators competition," he explains. "I mean it, though. I'd like to actually meet the other people in your life eventually. It's… kind of inevitable, don't you think? We can't be a secret forever."

Speak for yourself, Viktor's sleep-addled brain wants to say, Zaunites are known for taking secrets to the grave. But that would be… unkind, probably, and anyway—Jayce's claim of inevitability does likely have some merit. They already aren't a secret anymore, to a select few individuals. And, really, sometimes Viktor can’t stand them being a secret, either.

"I… suppose," Viktor concedes. "Though I can't promise they'd be as kind as your mother. They would probably dislike you on principle, to be honest, on account of you being from Piltover. Worse yet, on account of you being on the Council."

"I can work with that."

Viktor's lips twitch. "I'm sure you can. Though, you did get my water filters approved, so. Points in your favour."

"And I'm about two or three Council meetings away from finally getting your air purifiers into production. More points for me."

"You—" Viktor's eyes widen. "You are? But you told me you were still months away from…"

Jayce shrugs, smiling. "I mean, I was, but Caitlyn helped me convince her mother of the cause since, y'know, the Kirammans own that big ventilation system in Zaun," he says, just as annoyingly casual as when he'd presented Viktor with the water filtration system approval. "Mel is already on my side, and Hoskel will agree with just about anything she proposes with enough flattery. Then with Cassandra's help, Shoola will probably be amenable to voting in my favour. So, worst case scenario, I think we're looking at a five-to-two vote. Best case, six-to-one, only because I know Salo would rather die than agree with any of my proposals."

"I can't believe you waited until now to tell me," Viktor mutters. "Infuriating."

"Wasn't sure when to bring it up. Now seemed like a good time."

"Right." Viktor exhales sharply. He pauses, then, and takes in a wobbly breath. Jayce watches him, not necessarily expectant, but curious. "Jayce, I have been, eh… thinking. About what you said the other day. About the Hextech patents and… your House name."

It would be so, so easy to miss the hitch in Jayce's breathing, but Viktor doesn't. Of course he doesn't.

"What about it?" Jayce asks timidly.

Viktor hesitates, tempted to just roll over and say never mind. But he doesn't, because Jayce has given him good news, and Viktor feels somewhat inclined to repay that.

"Well, it's… I still need time to consider the—what you were hinting at," Viktor begins slowly. "But I was thinking that perhaps there may be… another way to, eh, associate me with Hextech. With you."

"Yeah?"

"Of course," Viktor rambles, "it would probably be wiser to wait until after the Council has formally signed off on the project before you—before we say anything, because it would certainly change some of their minds, even though I believe almost undoubtedly that this would reflect positively on their image, but—" Viktor closes his eyes and forces himself to breathe out before the feeling in his chest grows too constrictive. "What I am trying to suggest is… we could present this project—publicly—as a collaboration. As you, Hextech, partnering with me, an independent scientist from Zaun, to bring to fruition my work, since otherwise I would not have had the funds nor the sufficient materials on my own. It isn't so far-fetched from the truth, and it only makes sense, no? After the water filters…"

"After the filters, naturally I'd want to take on another project for Zaun," Jayce finishes, when it becomes clear Viktor has no intention of concluding the thought aloud himself. "Better yet, with a Zaunite engineer heading it."

"Mm, precisely. A win for you, a win for me. A win for the Undercity."

Jayce nods. "I think it's a good idea. We could finally see each other more often, under the guise of work. No one has to know about us us, except for maybe the people who matter most, but… I think it's a good idea."

Viktor stares at Jayce, studying his expression as if it holds the secrets to the universe. "You're certain?"

"I am." Jayce stares right back at Viktor with complete, unfettered sincerity. Viktor doesn't think he'll ever get used to just how openly Jayce wears his heart on his sleeve. "Your ideas are always good. Though—" He sighs. "—I'll probably have to tell Mel something ahead of time. She'll be better at smoothing things over after, well. What might follow."

"If you must," says Viktor, begrudging.

"You won't have to meet her—at least not beforehand—if that's what that tone is about," Jayce teases. "I'll get Heimerdinger to vouch for you. Since he's met you properly now, and since… well. You know."

"Since my days as a miscreant, yes, I'm aware. You are allowed to say it, Jayce."

Jayce rolls his eyes. "I'm not calling you a criminal for sneaking into the Academy, Viktor. And even if I did, you'd be considered, like, the world's worst criminal. An actual criminal probably would've stolen materials to pawn off elsewhere. You stayed to study and attend lectures and hand in assignments. I'm more of a criminal than you are."

"And now it's a competition, hm?"

"You're just upset that I'm implying you're a nerd."

Viktor clicks his tongue. "I would be very careful with your next words, Mr. I-Was-A-Mage."

"Yeah, alright," Jayce scoffs. He makes a show of rolling over, putting his back to Viktor. "Goodnight."

"So dramatic," Viktor whispers. He snakes his limbs around Jayce, curling close and clinging tight like he means to become a physical extension of his partner. "Goodnight, Jayce. My sweet mage."

Jayce mutters something under his breath that Viktor doesn't quite catch, but Viktor isn't too concerned. He never really is, not really. Not with Jayce.

That night, Viktor has one of his better sleeps that he's had in a while. The rest is almost enough to make him forget he's returning to Zaun the following afternoon, back to an empty bed for the foreseeable future.

Two years ago

"Well, what a surprise it is to see you here, councilor. Here I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."

It has been, in Viktor's opinion, a rather agonizing four months since they've last seen one another, Jayce's semi-new appointment to the Council almost entirely to blame. Jayce looks dead on his feet now, shuffling into Viktor's shop in the after-hours, though Viktor can't say he's surprised: he's been able to all but sense the fatigue imbued in the ink of Jayce's letters.

"I'm going to fake my death," Jayce declares. "And you're going to help me. Then we're going to run away somewhere across the world and live in some quaint cottage together and never think about Piltover or Zaun ever again."

"That bad?"

Jayce nods miserably. "So bad." He crosses the shop in dragging footsteps and slumps into the stool Viktor keeps beside the counter for quick prosthetic tune-ups. Viktor leans over and kisses the top of Jayce's head before returning to his notes—only finances, unfortunately, and not science. "I should've turned it down. I think I've had a headache for at least a month straight with all the pointless arguing they do every. Meeting. I don't fucking care about wine imports, Viktor, I really don't."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I doubt any of them really do either," says Viktor, shrugging. "At least, not about the wine itself. They'd probably argue about anything under the sun if it could make them a profit."

"I know. It's so…" Jayce sighs and drops his head into his hands before dragging them down his face. He peeks out between his fingers, voice muffled as he speaks into his palms, "I think Heimerdinger was out to get me."

Viktor hums and shuts his notebook. He can figure out his expenses later, he supposes—now it seems he has the duty of consoling his poor Piltovan partner.

(Though, truth be told, Viktor would gladly listen to all of Jayce's lamenting, if only it means having him here for longer. Having him here at all.

It's funny, the effect Jayce has had on his life in the span of only a short few years. Viktor never thought he'd have someone to miss so dearly, let alone a Topsider to miss so dearly, and yet here they are.)

"You could always resign."

"Yeah, I could, but…" Jayce sighs again, arms falling limp to his sides. He straightens, then—like he can't decide what to do with himself—he immediately goes back to slouching. "I don't know. It's awful, sure, but it's already given me more freedom with deciding the direction of Hextech, and if I can do that, well. Eventually they won't be able to ignore the stuff that isn't the Hexgates, or… or whatever stupid gadgets we come up with when we're drunk that they seem to love. I don't know. I don't know."

Viktor ponders this, ponders Jayce. Reluctantly, he accepts that Jayce does have some point to be made. Being that Jayce is now the sole scientist on the Council, his word would hold more weight in matters concerning Hextech, which, in theory, could definitely be more beneficial than having Jayce step down. But at the same time—although Viktor wouldn't claim to have much political acumen himself—Jayce also isn't a politician. His mind and tongue are sharp, yes, but is he willing to actually use that to get what he needs? What he wants?

And more importantly, a small, selfish voice chimes in from the back of Viktor's mind, what if staying on the Council… changes him? Turns him into the kind of Piltie you despise?

"I can't say I know, either," admits Viktor. "It isn't a… particularly easy situation to navigate. There are and will be many things to consider, and I can only offer so much advice from afar, not to mention without a full, eh, picture, as it were."

"Sure, I guess. But no one listens like you do," Jayce says. "Sometimes… it just feels like you're the only person in the world who at least acts like they care."

Viktor frowns. "That's because I do care, Jayce. If I did not, I would tell you."

Smiling faintly, Jayce pivots on the stool and draws Viktor into the space between his legs. He buries his face against Viktor's torso, his cheek nestled in the hollow beneath Viktor's ribcage. Viktor rakes a hand through Jayce's hair, loose from its usual gel. Always so tactile, Jayce is. Viktor secretly loves it.

"Even better," mumbles Jayce. "I like that you don't sugarcoat things. That you're honest when it matters. That you don't just brush me off."

"You're saying others dismiss you when you come to them about something?"

Jayce shrugs. Viktor continues playing with his hair. "Kinda, yeah," Jayce says. "But it's always been that way. I know I can be a lot. You only have to deal with me in small doses."

Viktor's fingers still. "That is not an excuse."

"Maybe. Doesn't matter when I have you, though." Jayce lifts his head and peers up at Viktor as if there is no one but them in the entirety of Runeterra. "I already fucking hate being a Councilor, and I think I'm always gonna fucking hate it, but I think… I think I have to keep the seat. For now, anyway."

Viktor hooks his cane on the lip of the counter to cup Jayce's face with both hands. "If you believe so, then I won't argue." His mouth twitches, a facsimile of a smile. "For now, anyway."

"Good," Jayce laughs. "Because I don't know that I could withstand any more arguing of any kind right now."

"I don't suppose you could, no," Viktor agrees.

"Hm." Jayce's eyes trail over to the now-closed notebook on the counter. They light up. "Inventing?"

Viktor scoffs and shakes his head. "No." He twists and reaches for the notebook to drag it closer, then opens it where Jayce can see. "Just accounting."

"Is it weird if I said you'd make me the happiest man alive if you'd let me do your bookkeeping for today?"

"Eh, perhaps a little," Viktor says. He passes Jayce his pen anyhow. "Why would you want to?"

"Because I haven't really been able to go to the lab in the past two weeks, and I think doing any sort of math might be able to make me feel human again," Jayce explains. He unravels his arms from around Viktor to accept the pen and slide the notebook closer. "Please?"

Waving his hand, Viktor says, "Be my guest, you strange man. But take it to the workshop, the doors were only unlocked because I have one more appointment to see to soon. It's a miracle no one was in here when you burst in."

Jayce flushes, wincing. "Sorry, wasn't thinking." He stops as he gets up, as if remembering something forgotten. Then Jayce grins, pulls Viktor in once more, and kisses him. "Meant to do that sooner," he says.

"Very sweet of you, Jayce, but I was not kidding about that appointment. So, councilor, if you would please—"

"Alright, alright, I'm going." Jayce holds his hands up in surrender and steps away from Viktor. "Should have you on the Council, might actually get something done that way.”

"Ha," Viktor drawls. "Funny. But you know what, Silco taught me a lot of the negotiation tactics I know. Perhaps ask him instead. He'd be more intimidating."

Jayce chuckles, though Viktor swears he detects an undercurrent of nervousness, as if what he's suggesting is an actual impending prospect. "Viktor, I love you, but that would be terrifying, not intimidating."

"Ah, well. Suit yourself. Get nothing done ever, for all I care."

Jayce finally ducks into the workshop, though not before Viktor catches him mumbling something about seeing where Viktor got it from. Whatever that is supposed to mean.

They'd gotten lucky again, as not a minute later Viktor's appointment shows up with her prosthetic arm in desperate need of fixing. As in, the thing is somehow half-demolished.

"Again, Sevika?"

She drops onto the stool beside the counter not entirely unlike how Jayce had done so not ten minutes ago, and sets her mangled arm—what’s left of it, anyway—on the counter with a heavy clunk. She stares Viktor dead in the face, an eyebrow raised. "I've told you to just make a better one then, haven't I?"

"Touché," Viktor says, then sighs. "I'll get my tools."

Present day

There is someone in Viktor's apartment when he gets home.

His heart jolts out of instinct, fight mode activated—but then he spots Jayce's boots shoved to one side of the entryway, and his coat hogging the coatrack, and his pulse settles to what it had been just moments before. Not an intruder, then. Just his partner who seems to love taking advantage of his spare key.

Silently, Viktor toes off his shoes and sheds his coat. He listens to Jayce making a racket in his kitchen again, though Viktor thinks he better damn well not complain about any missing utensils this time. Or if he does, it better be accompanied by some amazing news that he'd neglected to share over their past two-and-a-half months of separation—hopefully one of the last of those longer bouts—because Viktor truly cannot bring himself to care about such frivolous devices.

A cheese grater, he thinks with a mute scoff, shaking his head to himself. When would I ever need that? I don't even particularly like cheese.

"Topsiders," he mutters.

Thankfully, however, despite the noise, Jayce is actually already in the process of cooking something. It smells lovely, whatever it is simmering away on the stove, and Viktor lets himself drift toward Jayce, whose back is to him as he stirs what appears to be some kind of sauce.

Viktor wraps an arm around Jayce's middle and rests his forehead in the space between Jayce's shoulder blades.

"Fancy seeing you here," Viktor says. "What are you making?"

"It's a surprise," says Jayce. "We're celebrating. I also hope you don't mind that I brought groceries."

"Are you staying for breakfast, then? Or just making sure I feed myself?" Viktor quips, then pauses, brows knitting together as the first half of what Jayce said finally registers. "What are we celebrating?"

"Our 'collaboration'. I thought I told you that was being publicized tomorrow."

"Yes, in a newspaper. In Piltover. And probably not even on the front page," Viktor replies dryly. "Why not wait until after that idiotic ribbon-cutting ceremony the Council insisted on? I will need a celebration to make up for my irreversibly wounded pride and damaged reputation."

Jayce laughs. He turns down the burner's heat before gently nudging Viktor a step back so he could slip on oven mitts Viktor hadn't even realized he owns to pull out a dish Viktor also hadn't realized he owns from the oven.

Or maybe Jayce had brought those with him, Viktor doesn't know—or care, for that matter.

"No rules saying we can't celebrate twice," Jayce says, setting the dish down and pulling off the mitts. "And with everything finalized, all we have left to do is wait. So I thought I'd come visit. For a few days, ideally, but if you want me gone after breakfast, I can do that too."

"Eh, you know I'd let you say indefinitely if you… asked…"

Viktor had noticed Jayce's hair being a little longer than he usually keeps it, yes, but…

"What?" Jayce grins, lopsided, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Is there something on my face?" He immediately falters, however, when Viktor just continues staring. "It doesn't look bad, does it? Caitlyn said she hated it."

"No, no, it isn't that at all, I assure you, I just—it's…" Viktor gestures vaguely, helplessly to the lower half of Jayce's face. "…somehow both different and exactly as I imagined. But it suits you."

Jayce huffs, turning away from Viktor's scrutiny with a self-conscious hand coming up to meet his jaw, though Viktor still manages to catch a glimpse of the red that rises on his cheeks. "Yeah, well, don't get too attached. I'll still have to shave it for that same idiotic ribbon-cutting ceremony."

"But you will keep it until then?"

"We'll see," Jayce mumbles. "Can you get the plates? I didn't want to empty out your kitchen looking for them this time. I don't know why you keep moving them."

Viktor shrugs, still a little dazed. "I find space where I find space."

"Right, sure." Jayce sighs, playfully wistful. "The things I put up with for love."

Because he is in a good mood, Viktor does well not to remind Jayce of the state of his own apartment the last time Viktor went Topside. At least he contains his messes in cabinets and drawers, and doesn't leave half-eaten sandwiches on his desk to be re-discovered the next day—at the earliest. If only Piltover knew their perfect Golden Boy isn't without flaws.

But Viktor loves him for his faults nonetheless. Just as Jayce loves him for his own shortcomings, no matter how he jests.

He can bring up Jayce's hypocrisy another time, when he needs to make a point. For now, Viktor dutifully retrieves his 'hidden' dishware, because he's hungry, and it isn't every day that he gets to have Jayce around to cook for him.

Although, Viktor supposes, smiling to himself, stealing another glimpse of Jayce’s new—albeit temporary—look, perhaps it finally won’t have to be such a rare occasion anymore.

His heart skips, just a little, at the thought.