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Emberflit Alley is as unappealing as always: damp, dark, and far too narrow for Jayce’s wings. He supposes there aren’t as many avians in Zaun, but it doesn’t stop the agitated rustle of his feathers. He would turn tail and retreat to his house if not for his current predicament: Viktor’s been missing for weeks, so Jayce is in this dingy swamp because he’s looking for the Machine Herald. Secretly. And for purely logical Defender of Tomorrow duty-related reasons, of course.
There’s a tangy smell of grease as Jayce ambles through Viktor’s sparsely-decorated living quarters. Apparently, the Machine Herald is too good for a throw pillow or two, and still nowhere to be found.
Just as Jayce is definitely not about to throw a fit, because of course Viktor would never make anything easy for him, he hears a frustrated noise from down the hall. Viktor’s workshop. Why didn’t he check there first?
As Jayce opens the door and contemplates smacking himself on the forehead, he sees something.
Viktor is shirtless. Janna. And his back is facing the door. Rookie mistake.
“Honey, I’m h—” Jayce starts, yelping as a screwdriver flies past his ear.
“Be a dear and close the door on your way out,” Viktor says, unmodulated. He’s maskless.
Jayce bites back a comment about how much better his voice sounds like this. “We both know that if you wanted me out, you would’ve used your big fuck-off laser already.”
“And if you wanted to kill me in my own house, you would’ve used your big fuck-off hammer already,” Viktor fires back. They fall into silence. Situations where neither of them want to fight are rare. Jayce doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s not angry at Viktor, so he walks around the table. Might as well get a good look at Viktor’s face while he can.
“You look exhausted,” Jayce remarks. “What’s bugging your mainframe?”
Viktor glares at him. “Unauthorised personnel.”
Jayce decides to try an emotive approach. “What’s really going on, Viktor? Where have you been? And don’t tell me it’s none of my concern. It’s my duty to—”
“If you’re going to intrude, at least leave the place as clean as when you arrived and stop spewing garbage,” Viktor snaps. Then his lips curl into a sneer. “You’re concerned? How touching. Careful, I might swoon.”
Jayce prides himself on the fact that he’s feeling particularly tolerant today. “Can you swoon into a headspace where you’re willing to tell me what’s going on?”
Viktor narrows his eyes.
“Hardware gone haywire? Botched surgery? You know I can help you with—”
“How presumptuous of you,” Viktor drawls. Jayce clenches his jaw. “I’ve failed, and you’re the only one who can help me. My knight in shining armour.”
“If you want to be my princess so badly, you could just ask,” Jayce winks. Viktor’s answering scowl causes him to backpedal. “I’m serious, V. Weapons down, alright? Just tell me what’s going on. I mean, you’re clearly stuck working on something here.”
Jayce hears the smooth slide of metal on metal as Viktor unfurls his wings. They are, begrudgingly, gorgeous: toasted honey-brown pillowed by creamy white underneath, and little dark spots that remind Jayce of Viktor’s moles. And they work—Jayce had the pleasure of tanking an aerial attack last month when Viktor dove off a building and took to the sky in all of his steel glory. Jayce remembers freezing, hammer in hand. Viktor had always been grounded, the bones of his right wing malformed beyond repair.
But these wings are connected to a mechanical skeleton, and lovely as they appear, they’re fake. Nothing like the feathers Jayce used to preen when allowed. The only thing left of them are the primaries and semiplumes Jayce keeps tucked away in his cupboard.
The down is in his bedside drawer.
“They need maintenance,” Viktor sighs, giving his feathers a shake. “Something’s weighing them down. I can feel build-up.”
Jayce looks over Viktor’s shoulder, eyeing the joints welded directly to his back. “And you’re telling me your remote surgery machine can’t help? Your hexclaw?”
“I’d rather not fry the feathers to a crisp,” Viktor grumbles. “My right hand can’t reach everywhere—”
Jayce snorts.
“—and the mechanism is delicate. I need something precise with tactile feeling to avoid damaging the structure and the feathers.”
“Can’t you just grow new ones in your lab?” Jayce asks. He would gloat about man beating machine in the end, but their peace is a fragile one.
“They’re real,” Viktor replies with a hint of disdain. Jayce chokes on air, suddenly overcome with a desire to run his fingers through them. “And I do grow them, but I’m not looking to replace the entire set at once.”
Jayce’s mouth goes dry. “How do you grow them?”
“From my old wings. Kept alive by chems and nutrients.”
Jayce pulls off his gloves and slips behind Viktor, sitting down with a sigh. At least it’s humane, in a way. “I’m taking a look.”
“It’s always taking with you,” Viktor sniffs, falling quiet as Jayce starts petting down his feathers. Without thinking, he presses his thumbs firmly into the base of Viktor’s right wing. It’s a habit built from simpler times, but he doesn’t expect the pleased groan he receives in return.
“Thought you wouldn’t feel anything back here,” Jayce mumbles, sliding a scapular feather between his thumb and forefinger. The base feels oily, but not in the usual way his own might. Viktor twitches as Jayce presses his nose into the plumes and inhales.
“I gave it a nervous system,” Viktor says. He can feel Jayce lingering, then.
Jayce swipes his finger along the seam of a joint in Viktor’s mechanical wingbone. It comes away glossy. “Your problem is the mechanical lubricant. It’s leaking out in small doses and separating your feathers. You know what comes next, right?”
Viktor swears under his breath. He’s still grumbling when Jayce returns from a brief expedition to Viktor’s kitchen with supplies in hand.
“Don’t be grouchy, V, it’s only dish soap.” The grumbles intensify, and Jayce feels incredibly lucky that sitting behind Viktor allows him to hide his shit-eating grin. “Think of it this way: it’s like I’m doing your dishes, except you’re the dishes.”
“I’m going to ignore that awful joke,” Viktor snarls as Jayce starts wetting his feathers. “Watch the wingbone.”
“Frying pans are made of metal, and they can withstand a little soap and water,” Jayce says. Viktor scoffs but offers no further comment as Jayce begins massaging in the soap. Old habits die hard—soon they’re brainstorming improvements for Viktor’s wing augment. They settle on a combination of sealed bearings where oil is necessary and dry lubricant for exposed joints. It’s only when Jayce has dried Viktor’s wings and needs to start preening his wild feathers back into place that they fall into a comfortable silence.
They used to do this all the time when they were still partners. Jayce would notice Viktor running himself ragged and offer to preen his wings. Viktor resisted until Jayce wheedled him into it by promising that they could continue discussing the day’s work. It always ended in silence as Viktor relaxed under Jayce’s care and Jayce sank into a rhythmic flow. Sometimes they swapped roles. The intimacy of seeing Viktor let his guard down, trusting Jayce to help… It's the finest and rarest delicacy Jayce has ever tasted. He could spend hours lavishing Viktor’s wings with attention.
I missed this, Jayce thinks. “All done,” he whispers instead once every single feather is flawlessly smooth. Jayce doesn’t register the gaping hole in his heart until Viktor stands, lifting his wings away with him. Doesn’t feel the ache until Viktor folds them away behind his back and turns around, obscuring them from view.
“Fly with me,” Viktor says.
The tension in the room is thicker than tar. Jayce stares, rooted to the floor until Viktor offers him a hand up. He takes it without hesitation. “Why?”
Viktor declines to reply and starts dragging Jayce out of the workshop and up a creaky set of stairs.
Jayce sucks in a breath as Viktor’s grip on his hand inexplicably tightens. It’s almost painful, the way Viktor’s nails dig into the back of his palm. Almost possessive. He feels a little woozy as they arrive at Viktor’s rooftop.
Viktor crouches at the edge and leaps—then his wings fwoosh outward and he’s in the air. He twists around to frown at Jayce.
“Coming,” Jayce says weakly, opting for a running start.
Viktor wastes no time beginning his ascent. Jayce almost struggles to keep up as they slice through layers of smog, but it makes sense. Viktor had always been slightly obsessed with flight. Always chasing what he didn’t have. Of course he’d make good wings.
“Where are we going?” Jayce shouts, fighting to be heard over the sound of rushing air. “It’s a lot of up and not a lot of across.”
“Then you have your answer, don’t you?” Viktor barks. “Did you hit yourself on the head with your hammer this morning?”
Jayce shields his eyes from the sun as they burst through the clouds together. The air is crisp and the sky blue—they must be hundreds of metres above Zaun by now. They’ve leveled out, now flying side-by-side. He’s about to ask Viktor what they’re doing when Viktor starts talking.
“You’re taking this for granted,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Jayce.
Jayce makes a show of looking around. “It’s the sky, V. It’s always been there.”
“You don’t get it,” Viktor snaps. “Janna, are you dense? The ability. The freedom. Having someone there to teach you. Someone to share it with.”
Oh. “I would’ve taught you,” Jayce says quietly. Viktor rolls his eyes. “Is that so hard to believe? I would’ve loved flying with you.”
“I’m sure,” Viktor scoffs. “I know you would’ve just loved belittling me as I fell over.”
Jayce wants to correct him. He wants to reach out, wants to mend whatever they had between them that snapped and oozed misery like a broken blood feather. He’s sick of staunching the bleeding—they’ve been doing it for over a decade—but there’s nothing left to teach Viktor. Unless…
Unless he draws from outside the commonalities of their respective species.
“Why don’t I give you the full avian experience?” Jayce asks. Viktor gives him a glare that transforms into a shout as Jayce veers towards him, ducking just underneath his body.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Viktor spits, pulling away. “If you make us crash, I’ll kill you.”
“Been hearing that one for years. Try something new,” Jayce grins as he angles his wings and flips stomach-up.
“You’re demented,” Viktor says hoarsely, but Jayce is already lacing their fingers together. His weight, no longer supported by flapping wings, begins to pull them both down. “Jayce!” Viktor shrieks, trying to shove him away. It appears he hasn’t quite shaken the fear of falling that plagues new fliers.
“Trust me!” Jayce pulls Viktor closer by the shoulder. “Relax. Glide.” Then, pressing their bodies flush together, he presses his lips to Viktor’s trembling ones. Viktor’s entire body goes slack just as Jayce intended, and they begin to spiral downwards.
The wind sweeps through Jayce’s hair as they twist and spin. The terrified pallour of Viktor’s face is gradually replaced by a radiant smile, and he even lets out a cheer which he then hides with an embarrassed cough. Jayce can’t help but stare as he recalls the last time he tried to dive with Viktor.
Diving is the most romantic form of courtship for red-tailed hawk families. It’s usually preceded by months of careful wooing, but Jayce, in a moment of combined youthful impatience and brash stupidity, had skipped straight to the final step and asked Viktor to dive with him one afternoon. Jayce even offered to carry him. Of course, Viktor responded with instant scorn.
“Remember when I asked you to dive?” Jayce asks, breathless. They’ve stopped diving and are flying back up to regain air. “You said no.” I thought you didn’t like me, he thinks.
Viktor sighs. Jayce realises he’s one wrong move away from ruining the mood. “Because I didn’t feel safe,” Viktor says.
“I wouldn’t have dropped you,” Jayce insists.
“It’s not about that,” Viktor mutters. “We weren’t equals, Jayce.”
“We are now,” Jayce tries. Do you like me?
He doesn’t ask. He wants to.
“I was trying to court you,” Jayce says. “Well. Start courting you.”
Viktor’s eyes widen. “You weren’t already? You… offered to preen my wings constantly.”
“So?”
“So?!” Viktor repeats, incredulous. “Jayce, that is barn owl courtship behaviour. I thought you had feelings for me. Do you have any idea how heartbroken I was when you—”
Jayce feels ill. Janna, it all makes so much more sense now. “Let’s try again.”
Viktor stares. “Jayce…”
“Let’s try again,” Jayce pleads. “Dive again. Let me try.”
To understand goes unspoken. Once they’re high enough to dive, he offers Viktor his hand.
Viktor remains silent for a moment. Then he takes it.
They fall together.