Work Text:
Viktor sat on the stool, exposed, bare legs dangling, wondering how exactly he had ended up in this situation. If someone had asked what his plans for the day were, the answer would not have included sitting in his underwear before a kneeling Jayce.
He wasn’t cold at least—the lab, like most of Piltover’s public spaces, was climate-controlled. If anything, it leaned warmer than standard, a small concession to Viktor’s near-constant chill. He had argued, at least once or twice, that Jayce didn’t need to coddle him with the temperature or the myriad small things he had introduced into their shared space. Jayce had countered that it was far easier for him to take off his jacket than for Viktor to pile on more layers and risk impeding his movement. It was a small thing, but Viktor thought now, as he tried very hard not to acknowledge the fact that he was sitting in his underwear in their lab, that this argument might have been where it all started. Little changes, creeping in like shadows, so subtle he often didn’t notice them until the room was suddenly dark and they had been there for days.
The first had been the magnetic pads Jayce had affixed to the corner of his desk, keeping his cane from clattering to the floor every time he knocked it over. Not that he knocked it over often—he was sure it had only happened once. Bumping it when he had burned himself soldering and flung his arm out, followed by awkward movements trying to pick it up without relying too heavily on his untrustworthy hip and knee. Jayce had been a few meters away, working on something else, very intentionally not making a move to intervene. Viktor could see the tension in Jayce’s shoulders, carefully angled away as he fought the urge to step in. Viktor appreciated the restraint, the respect for his independence. And yet, not long after, the first of the magnetic pads had appeared.
Viktor wasn’t sure exactly when it had shown up—it might have been days before he even noticed it. At first, he dismissed it, assuming it was part of whatever Jayce had been working on. If it was important, Jayce would tell him. And he did, in a way. One day, Jayce simply walked past, moving Viktor’s cane a few inches to the left where it locked onto the magnet. Then he carried on as though nothing had happened. Viktor had stared at it. It took another week before he started using it, feeling both irritated by the subtle concession and quietly pleased by its usefulness. Now, it was as much a habit as any other movement.
Then came the extendable footrests, delicate metalwork that could be smoothly folded out of the desk and used to support his leg when it ached. And the ergonomic stool, the new kettle with a swivel handle that made it easier to carry while balancing on his crutch. Small things, all of them, changes so incremental they could be written off as simple lab improvements—except they weren’t for the lab. They were for him.
Then, one day, after he had spent a week rubbing at his aching shoulder without much thought, a new cane had appeared beside his desk. The workmanship had Jayce Talis written all over it, right down to the Talis family crest carefully imprinted on the end of the handgrip and the curving calligraphy V that sat behind his elbow. Viktor could never get Jayce out of signing his work in some way and he sometimes found himself running his thumb over the embossed ‘T’.
Now he was here, seated stiffly on his stool, feeling painfully aware of the vastness of the room around him. The locked door was a comfort to his modesty, but it did little to soothe his unease. He kept his eyes up and to the side, focusing on anything but the way Jayce was kneeling at his feet, sketching the shape of his leg with quiet concentration. Because if he looked down, he might start focusing on it too much, and who knew what kind of risks that could pose?
It was just Jayce being thorough, of course. Just Jayce, dedicated and focused, utterly oblivious to the fact that Viktor’s pulse had started creeping higher with every glance downward. It had nothing to do with the warmth of Jayce’s hand when he occasionally steadied Viktor’s ankle or the way his brows furrowed in concentration, lips slightly parted as he worked. Nothing to do with the way Jayce was kneeling between his legs. Nothing at all.
Viktor refused to focus on those thoughts. Instead, his mind drifted in an effort to distract himself, and, unfortunately, it chose the entirely useless train of thought concerning whether his underwear was professional enough for the workplace. The simple white cotton garment felt casual. He felt underdressed. He was underdressed. But if he had known he was going to be sitting in his underwear for the better part of twenty minutes, he might have chosen a more workplace-appropriate pair of briefs. Viktor’s eyebrows scrunched slightly as he then wondered if he even had something that could be considered lab-safe underwear.
Viktor had always taken great care to present himself well, particularly in his years as a student and then as Heimerdinger’s assistant at the Academy. It had been a necessity—an effort to fit into Piltover’s elite, to leave no room for anyone to claim he was an outsider from Zaun who didn’t belong. But since working with Jayce, those habits had begun to slip. His self-care had slowly eroded, replaced by longer work hours and the occasional nap at his desk. Or—who was he kidding—often a full night’s sleep face down in ink. He was not the only one, though.
His gaze flickered down against his better judgment to look at Jayce’s stubbled face, unshaven after a night spent in the lab himself. Viktor caught a glimpse of his sketchpad, the lines across it fluid and effortless. The shape of the leg, unmistakably his, drawn with unnecessary detail and precise accuracy. Viktor’s own sketches were always minimal, containing only the most necessary elements for a prototype. Jayce’s were different—structured but creative, practical yet artistic. There was no question in the long, slender slope of the limb or the slightly too-knobbly joints of the toes that it was Viktor’s leg.
He supposed it was like their methods. Viktor moved in a straight line, methodical, following equations down a path. Jayce leapt from idea to idea, guided by sparks of inspiration. If their approaches were a dance, Viktor’s was a waltz, disciplined and controlled, while Jayce’s was jazz—bold, improvisational, weaving together ideas in ways that defied structure but somehow still worked. Not that Viktor would dance either, if he was being honest, normally content to just sit and enjoy the music.
No, Viktor thought suddenly. Jayce wouldn’t just be the dancer. He would be the musician, weaving notes together in unexpected ways. Ideas flowed from him like a guitarist strumming randomly until, somehow, they turned into a song. Viktor realized too late that he had been staring at Jayce while these thoughts ran through his head. He felt the tight warmth in his belly, ever present around Jayce, slowly start to curl and made an effort to look away again, this time at the floor.
Jayce made a satisfied noise and blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Alright,” he said, glancing up at Viktor with a smile. “Almost done. You’re doing great, by the way.”
Viktor exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax and lift his gaze from the floor just a fraction. “I should hope so,” he muttered. “I’m just sitting in a chair.”
Jayce shifted and stood, giving Viktor an easy grin. “Now I need some measurements.”
Viktor tensed slightly, though he hoped it wasn’t obvious. “Measurements?”
Jayce tapped his pencil against the side of his sketchbook. “Well, it needs to fit properly. The whole problem is your current one doesn’t anymore. I’m not sure it was ever really quite right, to be honest.”
Before Viktor could protest, Jayce had already reached for a measuring tape, his large hands working with practiced ease as he wrapped it around Viktor’s calf. Viktor stiffened at the contact, but Jayce didn’t seem to notice. Or, more accurately, he was used to Viktor’s discomfort with attention and wasn’t making a fuss about it. Jayce knew him well enough by this point that asking permission was pointless and this would just save time, avoiding the small debate before Viktor would give in anyway.
“Just relax,” Jayce murmured, his voice lower, more focused. He adjusted the tape, fingers brushing against Viktor’s skin in a way that felt entirely too casual. “I’ll be quick.”
Viktor nodded, his gaze once again locked on the ceiling as Jayce worked.
It wasn’t that Viktor was uncomfortable with physical touch. He wasn’t exactly used to it, but it didn’t bother him. And Jayce had a habit of ignoring personal space entirely. It was hard to stay uncomfortable when there was always a hand on his shoulder, a nudge at his side, or Jayce leaning in so close their heads nearly touched while checking something. And honestly, he preferred it to the way others might have treated him, afraid of any contact at all.
Bare skin was different, though. No pants was another thing entirely. Not that he had never been without pants around another person—he had been more than without pants around a few. But this wasn’t that, and somehow, that made it worse.
The tape slid around his knee, then his thigh—Jayce was methodical, careful, double-checking each number before murmuring them under his breath. It was just work, just measurements, but Viktor found himself hyperaware of every movement, every touch.
The hands were gone too slow and somehow too soon as Jayce scribbled down the final number and rocked back onto his heels with a grin. “See? Painless."
Viktor exhaled, only now realizing how rigidly he had been holding himself. “Yes, painless,” he echoed, though the heat coiling in his stomach and lingering across his leg said otherwise.
“Now that I have the basics,” Jayce said, adjusting his stance slightly. “I need to see how it moves. I want to make sure the joint support is right.”
Before Viktor could argue, Jayce was back on his knees, but then he paused, hands hovering above Viktor’s leg.
“Is it okay if I move your leg?” he asked.
Viktor hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yes. It's... fine.”
And it was fine, truly. Viktor had no issues with physical touch, with or without pants. And it did not matter one bit that Jayce was again kneeling in front of him. Viktor took a slow breath, ignoring the warmth stirring deep in his belly.
Guiding Viktor’s leg with careful hands, Jayce lifted it slightly, testing the natural bend of the knee, then tilted his foot at different angles, observing how the muscles tensed and shifted beneath his fingers. His touch was gentle but firm, and Viktor had no choice but to comply, allowing Jayce to manipulate his leg as he took further sketches, jotting down notes in quick, messy scrawls he couldn’t read. He knew everything would be rewritten in neat, careful hand later, as the plans and designs were finalised anyway.
Viktor who had been managing to distract himself, so far, found that he could no longer draw his eyes away from where Jayce knelt, where his hands lay.
“Try flexing your foot,” Jayce murmured, eyes darting between his movements and the sketchpad. Viktor obeyed, though the sensation of being so closely scrutinized made him uncomfortably aware of every minute motion. Jayce hummed thoughtfully, tilting Viktor’s foot outward before pressing gently against his shin to test the range of motion.
“Does this hurt?”
Viktor swallowed, shaking his head. “No.”
Jayce gave him a look, as if assessing whether he was lying, then nodded and continued, carefully guiding the limb through different angles. Viktor felt the heat within him shift and dragged his gaze from where he had been staring at Jayce’s hands, the smooth brown contrasting against his pale white. His fingers curled against the edge of the stool, holding himself still as Jayce worked, seemingly oblivious to how his touch lingered longer than necessary, tracing muscle and bone with an engineer’s fascination.
Viktor stared intently at the ceiling again, seeking distraction, this time by trying to recall what he knew about the architect that had designed the original Academy building. The answer was nothing, except that part of the ceiling above was made out of steel coated in titanium nitride. They had used similar material in one of their prototypes, needing their design to be strong and durable.
Jayce’s hands continued their probing direction until fingers brushed over the side of Viktor’s knee, pressing lightly against a dimple in the muscle, where it twisted, misaligned. The reaction was immediate—Viktor’s leg twitched, jerking outward before he could stop it.
Viktor had not been expecting it, had not been prepared for the shift in balance and was thrown off. He lurched forward, fingers scrambling for stability. His hand caught onto something that gave slightly under his grip as he pulled, regaining his balance. Viktor let out a quick, panicked breath, looking down. It took a second too long to register the sensation—thick strands threading between his fingers, a sharp tug meeting resistance as he instinctively clenched.
Jayce’s hair.
Viktor froze, flustered, his other hand thrown out wide for balance as he stared down at Jayce, hair still fisted in his hand. Jayce was looking up at him, face open, eyes wide with confusion and concern, apparently unbothered by the current pull on his hair.
For a beat, neither of them moved. Viktor remained frozen, staring down at Jayce. He felt himself blinking but couldn't seem to move any other part of his body. He stared at Jayce, the unexpected intimacy of his hair tangled in Viktor’s hand, the other man looking up at him as he knelt on the floor. It wasn’t intentional, but now that it had happened, he wasn't sure what to do.
Viktor felt the familiar, fluttering heat in his stomach stirring faster, not just from the awkwardness of the moment, but from that deeper part of himself—one he had been working so hard to distract himself from—threatening to wake.
"Are... you okay?" Jayce asked slowly, concern still showing in his eyes. "You can let go now, V.”
Viktor suddenly snapped back to reality, regaining control of his body with a sudden jerk. He hastily released Jayce's hair, pulling his hand back into his own space—too abruptly. And now he was off balance in the other direction, having misjudged his movement and sending himself backwards in his haste.
Jayce shot to his feet, reaching immediately for Viktor. Viktor's hand, moments ago tangled in Jayce's hair, now found itself entwined again—this time as Jayce caught him, steadying Viktor before he could fully tip over. Jayce's other hand clamped firmly on Viktor’s thigh, fingers pressing, digging in just a little.
Jayce laughed, a little breathy with the shock and quick movement. “Steady there, V. No need to fall at my feet.”
Viktor looked up at him, the now standing man suddenly taller than him and way too close. He was suddenly hyper-aware of how unsettlingly intimate their closeness was. The warmth that had started deep in his belly unfurled, creeping up his chest.
"I..." Viktor started, and stopped, feeling the warmth reach his face and knowing that it had turned red. He had wanted to quip something—perhaps, ‘I expect you’re used to people throwing themselves at your feet’—but found he couldn’t.
Jayce didn’t move away. If anything, his grip on Viktor’s thigh lingered a second too long before he finally loosened it. He was still close, close enough that Viktor could see the faint specks of graphite dust smudged along Jayce’s fingers, could count the way his breaths came slow and steady again.
"You okay?" Jayce asked again, but this time, his voice was softer, teasing. "Or do you need me to catch you again?"
Viktor swallowed hard, his pride, anxiety, embarrassment warring. Viktor was not typically clumsy, and not one to normally lose balance, even with the betrayal of his body working against him.
"I am fine," he managed, clearing his throat. "Though I would appreciate if you stopped manhandling me."
Jayce huffed a laugh, finally stepping back, his fingers slowly untangling from Viktor’s as he did. "No promises. But if anyone's been manhandled here, it’s me." He said, raising his hand to run through his hair.
Viktor exhaled, attempting to gather himself, but his heart was still hammering, his leg still tingling where Jayce’s fingers had pressed. He glanced down at the discarded sketchpad, the half-finished notes Jayce had been jotting down before everything had spiralled into... this. He should say something—something normal, work related, something that pulled them both back to the work at hand.
Instead, what left his mouth was, "You’re enjoying this too much."
Jayce grinned, far too pleased. "Maybe a little."
Viktor tilted his head, feigning contemplation. "Well, I suppose I cannot blame you," he mused, eyes flicking up to meet Jayce’s. "Not everyone gets to work with a view like this, after all."
He made a small, deliberate gesture toward himself, his bare legs stretched out, underwear all too visible. How Viktor managed to keep the movement smooth and his tone balanced, he wasn’t quite sure. He had regained his stability on the stool, but not quite his composure. Jayce didn’t need to know that.
Jayce blinked, his grin faltering for just a second before he let out a sharp laugh. "Wow, Viktor," he said, shaking his head. "Didn’t think you had that in you."*
Viktor shrugged, keeping his expression and voice neutral though he knew Jayce would recognise the teasing humour. "I am merely making an observation. If you recall, this was all at your insistence."
"I’ll take credit for the pants, but the hair pulling? That one’s on you." Jayce shot Viktor a cheeky look as he bent to pick up the sketchpad. He dusted it off before settling back on his knees, hands already reaching for Viktor’s leg.
"This time, no kicking me—and give me a heads-up if you’re going to fall. I’d like to catch you without losing any more hair," he added.
Viktor exhaled, offering his leg up to Jayce’s hands. The heat that had spread through his body at their interaction was cooling—thankfully—but a quiet thought lingered: ‘What do you really expect me to do when you’re on your knees like that?’
It wasn't until Jayce stopped moving, looking up at him, both hands holding his leg, that Viktor realized the quiet thought in his head had not, in fact, been so quiet. Might have, in fact, been out loud.
A red tint appeared on Jayce’s cheeks as he looked up at him, lips parted before he let out a shocked, breathy laugh, tilting his head. "I don’t know, V. Sounds like you like me down here."
Viktor’s mouth opened, then shut. His mind scrambled for a response, for some way to recover, regain control, but Jayce’s grip on his leg hadn’t shifted. The only thing Viktor could think of was the feel of palms against his skin, and those hazel eyes under surprisingly thick lashes looking up at him. That familiar heat, always present when Jayce was around, stirred low in his belly—too low, considering how exposed he was. Combined with the heat of Jayce's hands and the way he was looking up at him, waiting, it was difficult to think clearly.
"It's incredibly distracting," Viktor murmured in soft agreement.
Jayce shifted, standing and once again way too close. He remained lower, leaning slightly to keep his height even with Viktor's, seated on the stool. Jayce smirked at him, stood between his knees, one hand still lifting and supporting his bad knee. A part of Viktor could feel Jayce's thumb stroking over the skin of his thigh, but the rest of him was focused on not allowing his body to respond to the pooling heat.
They both hovered there, waiting for something to tip the balance. Jayce was close, within his personal space as was his habit, but not pushing it. Just not moving away either. Whatever was going to happen, he was leaving it up to Viktor.
Viktor felt the tendrils of heat spill out and let himself give in. He held his breath and leaned in until their lips met— the slow touching of Viktor’s to Jayce, soft and hesitant. But then Jayce responded without hesitation, his hands tightening against Viktor’s leg, pulling him just a fraction closer.
And they kissed. Just like Viktor had imagined when other distractions failed, but also not quite. As brilliant as his imaginings were, he could have never quite known how Jayce’s lips felt—slightly rough, chapped from the billowing heat of forges. Or how their noses touched, angled just so, brushing rather than bumping. Viktor had been right about Jayce’s tongue, though. He had always assumed Jayce would be the first to push beyond the barrier of lips, a bold kisser just as he was a bold speaker. And Viktor, never one to yield without some sort of debate, found his own tongue pushing back, sliding and tangling in a way he never thought it would. The small moan of surprise and pleasure Jayce let out was deeply satisfying.
Their kiss lingered a few moments longer before Viktor pulled back slowly. He could feel Jayce’s thumb making circles on his leg. Viktor breathed a little too heavy for his own liking, mouth opening to say something but Jayce pressed forward again, this time catching Viktor’s lips for himself.
This kiss was not quite as slow, not as careful. Jayce had caught him with his mouth already open and was using it to his advantage, his tongue swirling around Viktor’s mouth. Viktor could taste everything about him this time, a mild metallic tang, the slightly sour taste of the old cheap coffee they had both been drinking and an underlying sweetness. Viktor found his hand unconsciously gripping Jayce’s shoulder, clenching around the broad muscles trying to hold his body in place.
As though his own touch had given him permission, Jayce’s hands were suddenly in motion. The one hand balancing his bad leg shifted higher, fingers pressing broad and firm around his thigh. Jayce’s other hand roamed free, touching his face, fingering briefly along the shell of his ear, drawing an unwanted sound from Viktor. He already knew his ears were sensitive; he didn’t need Jayce to know that too. Otherwise Jayce might start thinking twice about how he hovered over his shoulder sometimes, breathing too close. But the hand was already moving on, down Viktor’s arm where his hand still gripped the base of the stool, sliding off to come to rest on his hip. The contact of Jayce’s palm on his bare hip caused the heat that had been unfurled through his body to pull tight and drop low. He felt himself twitch.
Viktor pulled back from Jayce suddenly, pushing on his shoulder to force him back. The contact had reminded him of their positioning, of what Viktor had been trying to hard to ignore and avoid.
He was still seated in his underwear on a stool. He had done so well at refusing to give in to his body’s responses so far, and refused to do so now. Not while in the middle of the lab, on display and exposed in such a way.
Jayce pulled back from him, further than Viktor wanted but not as far as he needed, a brief look of what might be hurt crossing his face before the look of worry stuck.
“Viktor, I – “ he started but Viktor cut him off with a wave of his hand before the apology could come out fully.
He took a breath, a small smile forming. “Do not be sorry,” he said. “I just remembered… my appearance. And location.”
Jayce blinked, then let out a warm, breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Right. Probably shouldn’t get carried away when it’s mid-morning and we have actual work to do."
Viktor hummed, tilting his head slightly. "Yes. I would also hate to explain the current situation if someone were to stop by."
The flush that crept onto Jayce’s cheeks was more satisfying than Viktor had anticipated. He let himself enjoy it, watching as Jayce knelt back down, resuming his work with a little too much focus. This time, Viktor didn’t look away. He allowed himself to take in the image—Jayce on his knees before him, head bowed in concentration. He could file it away for later consideration. Perhaps he should have another conversation with Jayce about lowering the temperature in the lab, because at that moment, it felt far too warm—even for him.
Jayce finished the last few sketches, his touch still measured and precise, but Viktor wasn’t imagining the way his fingers lingered just a fraction too long, smoothing over his skin before lifting away. It would have been easy to brush it off, to pretend nothing had happened, but Viktor had never been one to take the easy route.
"Alright, that should be it," Jayce finally said, stretching as he stood. He shot Viktor a grin, eyes flicking over him filled with amusement, but also more warmth than usual. "You're free to put your pants back on before I start reconsidering my professionalism."
Viktor let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he reached for his clothes. "As if you were professional to begin with."
Jayce smirked, leaning lazily against the workbench as Viktor dressed, making no effort to look away. "What can I say, not everyone gets to work with a view like this, after all,” Jayce said, throwing his own words back at him.
Viktor felt warmth surge through him, heat crawling across his cheeks and settling low in his stomach. It caught him off guard just enough that he wobbled slightly, one leg only half-inserted into his trousers.
Jayce made as if to step towards him, hands outstretched to catch him again, but Viktor steadied himself and shot him with a sharp look before he could interfere. Standing fully, Viktor buttoned his pants with deliberate movements, smoothing his shirt back into place before settling onto his stool once more.
He was composed.
Viktor gestured toward the table beside him, "Yes. Perhaps since you seem to have enjoyed it so much, maybe you would like to come over and help me put my knee brace back on."
Jayce grinned, broad and amused. "Viktor, if you wanted me on my knees again, you could have just said." Jayce grasped the undone knee brace from where it lay on the table, moving in front of Viktor.
“Jayce.” He said, seriously, pausing until Jayce met his eyes. “I want you on your knees again.”
Viktor tried and failed not to smile at Jayce’s face as he said it. His eyes and pupils, suddenly huge. Viktor raised his eyebrows at Jayce’s stunned look, before looking pointedly at the knee brace in his hands and his own leg, now outstretched again.
Jayce breathed out sharply but he moved, stepping in close again, kneeling before Viktor and grasping his leg with a familiarity that sent an entirely new kind of heat curling in Viktor’s stomach. As his fingers brushed over Viktor’s leg again, this time aligning and strapping his brace into position, Viktor was certain of one thing—he would need some stronger distractions within the lab from now on.