Chapter Text
i.
Viktor wears emotions on his mouth,
Jayce spends a long time looking at Viktor’s mouth —
and that’s how Jayce knows he isn’t wanted that night.
Jayce spends a long time looking at Viktor’s mouth. Like one time: Jayce caught Viktor yawning in the lab.
There’s nothing special about this moment except for the fact that Viktor evidently took form of a mouse when he was tired. Big dramatic gape, big protruding buck teeth. There’s still nothing special about this moment but Jayce thought a lot about closing the gap in Viktor’s teeth with his own gapped teeth, meaning he’d have to enter at an awkward angle, meaning if they failed a few times he could suggest simplifying the experiment by closing the gap between bigger instruments as in their mouths as in their tongues as in
Another time: Jayce caught Viktor scrunching up his nose which scrunched up his lips, again very mouse-like, as to prevent sneezing on a petri dish. His fingers didn’t listen, his tweezers fumbled, Viktor still sneezed and Jayce felt bad as Viktor made frustrated grumblings. Jayce thought a lot about this moment because Viktor’s frustrated mouth was still louder than those tight-pressed mouths Viktor made during public appearances, dreaded speeches. Those mouths made him quiet, small, blurry in the background, which was really wrong because Viktor could really yell and smother a whole room with his intensity
Which,
When they were much younger, which was only three months ago but pre-graduation Jayce is honestly a pre-pubescent Jayce: Jayce knocked over a textbook and a toothpick fell out of it. Viktor twisted his mouth so hard he didn’t think twice about snapping at Jayce over how much of a walking, bumbling teratoma he was.
It was a toothpick but according to Viktor it was his bookmark. Jayce called it stupid so Viktor called him a sack of shit to defend its honor and Jayce hadn’t slept in thirty-eight hours and so he yelled back, threatening to poke holes in Viktor’s gloves and swore to;
It seems like yesterday they were just stressed academics —
And Viktor is wrinkled in yesterday’s shirt, shiny lips parted, confused and kissable, clearly not expecting Jayce to show up at his apartment door to say something stupid like,
“I see you’re studying for a BAC test.”
Jayce wants to kiss him stupid.
Jayce is looking at his mouth again because sex-stupid drunkenness is a good look on Viktor. Not that Viktor is either of those things, he’s only tipsy, and the last time Jayce checked (right now) there was no sex happening (right now).
Jayce is projecting because he’s the sober one here, the one dizzy with love-sickness. The one untouched and repressed and simply,
“The worst,” Viktor makes unimpressed lips, “If you’re here to kill me, at least make it painless.”
Jayce’s comedic genius encourages him to drag this moment longer, follow up on doing Viktor’s BAC test. He could make a thing out of another thing that isn’t really a joke because
Jayce just wants to kiss Viktor.
Things are getting awkward but Jayce doesn’t know when to stop. If he went about this in a clinical way then it wouldn't be so awkward to lean in close, inhale Viktor’s every exhale and peek up at him and bat seductive, clumsy eyelashes, so why doesn't he
Do it: be smart: tell him: for your safety, i’m looking out for your liver, i can be so good for you,
Bullshit reasons, and,
This is stupid. Why is he here?
Jayce runs warm under his clothing. Viktor looks tired and embarrassed. Jayce hasn’t even said anything. Viktor’s throat is red, raw, unmarked: This sight rids Jayce of any self-respect.
“I would’ve prepared a better alibi,” Jayce says, lamely.
He’s caught Viktor in a charitable mood.
Viktor steps aside and lets Jayce in from the hallway.
Viktor is barefoot. Jayce toes off his shoes. Jayce has a hole in his sock and is a mess and Viktor’s apartment is a shithole full of mess. Cracked book spines, stained paperwork. No people-food. There’s humidifiers and plants that Viktor named Blitzcrank (All of them, from elastica to aglaonema) and they should probably plan a funeral soon because Pink Princess is not looking good.
Jayce is reminded that this night is solely Viktor’s. It’s a private ocean in a bottle of wine on the coffee table, it's a leftover third in Viktor’s coffee mug.
(Jayce abstains from drinking. Viktor appears a bit guilty — makes a round to the kitchen and comes back with a single glass of water. Alcohol was a vice during Jayce’s first year in the academy because thoughts became sharp clamor became couldn’t sleep, be the life at a party, one sip after another will dull and drown out what’s too loud and, Viktor didn’t have that problem. It was something else. He and Viktor don’t talk about their passing-by in the counselor’s hallway, or why either of them were at-risk for probation or concern. Jayce still struggles at a benefit party and they still barely talk to each other about,
“I wasn’t expecting you tonight,” Viktor’s fingers trace a golden inlay, the handle of his cane. He’s worried, waiting, like once in that distant hallway.
Jayce comes back. If Viktor’s brought only one glass of water, does that mean they’ll share it?
“That’s okay.”
All is forgiven and forgotten because a multitude of possibilities, lips against the ghost of lips in the form of a stained glass rim, is all Jayce can think about. It's actually haunting.)
They choose to sit on the floor with their backs against the bottom of the couch. Apparently they have no idea how to sit on a couch.
They sit close enough to feel warmth on the insides of their shoulders, their heads, their thighs. They’re not close enough to do anything honest about it.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh,” Jayce makes conversation.
“Maybe you’re just not funny,” Viktor smirks. He amuses himself more than Jayce amuses him.
Still, Jayce smiles. Half-insulted, “Do I bore you?”
Half-endeared.
“Never,” Viktor replies. “I think about you all the time.”
It really shouldn’t — but the way Viktor confesses such a disgustingly sweet thing makes for an embarrassing stiffness between Jayce’s legs and now Jayce has to cross his legs and twist his body away out of decency.
Ugh, they’re coworkers now: is sharing a glass of water an overstep of professional boundaries? Inconclusive, someone has yet to take a sip. Is accidental tenting in Viktor’s apartment considered workplace harassment? Only because Viktor is a workaholic, but Jayce has yet to lay the pillow of shame over his lap. That means this is safe, right?
Suddenly this was way easier when they were dormmates (False. Those nights were impossible to sleep through),
Of course Viktor has to go and scramble Jayce’s head further by saying,
“I want your last name.”
Viktor is all sorts of fucked up and fucking adorable tonight. Jayce humors this dangerous line. If Viktor isn’t sober for this moment then it might as well not happen at all — Don’t take that out of context, it’s just that it can’t be so bad if Jayce can’t stop the grin from tripping across his face.
A fool, falling.
“Why?” Jayce asks.
Heart speeding.
Viktor shrugs, “It sounds official.” He throws his head back against the cushions. Skin flushed and floating in wine-comfort waves (Jayce will remember this ordinary moment). He’d be jealous of Viktor’s calm if he weren’t fascinated by how his throat works,
How Viktor gulps,
“Imagine if we had the same last name, people would look at your skin and height and look at my skin and bones and say, ‘Someone drew short in the gene pool.’”
“It seems kinda awful to smear my dead dad’s name,” Jayce contemplates. “But… my mom?”
“Eh. I take it back. I couldn’t do that to her, even to play,” Viktor makes a crooked smile. “It’d be more fun to blame either of my parents.”
“How come?”
“Undercity homewrecker. The typical drama.”
“We don’t have to be brothers.”
Viktor’s smile dies.
Jayce’s stomach hurts. It’s like barbed wires have entangled with Jayce’s guts and he can’t help but wrap them tighter to see what bleeds through,
“We can make it a spring ceremony. If it rains, I'll have a higher chance of winning the lottery.”
“I should invest in a gun.”
“Wow, okay,” Jayce wheezes, “You could ask for your share, you know.”
“No. It’s for self-defense. I’d be defiling Piltover’s most desired bachelor.”
Neither of them are funny.
Months later, Piltover/ Undercity borders/ laws are stricter and complicated. Feelings are still complicated. They get schooled about it by Heimerdinger, hounded in their lab, in regards to Viktor. By extension, Jayce. Because you two are involved, Heimerdinger means by proxy of his mentorship, their start-up.
Except,
Jayce wants to be involved so goddamn much he thinks of chaos during Heimerdinger’s mess of a lecture — Work legality/ Immunity/ Giving up loyalty to/
Can he stay?/ Will he stay? / (How can I make him stay)
/ Possibilities / Professor, what about Spouses of
If it were me / (I want it to be me)
/ Like if we were / (I want it to be us)
Jayce can’t stop it, “How about it?” He turns to the man he’s involved with. Entangled with, “Viktor Talis.”
Respectfully, Viktor looks very pale and very faint, and Jayce thinks about pulling up a chair for him as Viktor’s fingers tap-tap away, as nails scritch-scratch the extension of himself, sounding like a mouse trapped in the walls —
Viktor presses his mouth, “I did propose first.”
“Step-brothers,” Jayce will never know when to stop, “My mom was a heartbroken widow and your dad was a good listener.”
“…They separated without lawyers and split their assets equally.”
How can he stop? When Viktor keeps playing along?
“Divorce made two kids grow far apart and grow up fast, and when we reunited as adults—“
“We found ourselves in ethical predicament, but chose to rise above our muddied association.”
“Hey, at least we’re not blood.”
Heimerdinger didn’t find this funny at all.
Marriage is a serious affair, Professor Heimerdinger had stressed, A sacred union.
But maybe Jayce is hung up on making this all a grand joke.