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Chapter Text

Jayce notices the shattered cane out of the corner of his eye the very moment he finishes directing Heimerdinger through the shards of his broken Hextech prototype, shouting down instructions as he floats that might turn it off. The cane is snapped not-quite-cleanly in two, floating together as if magnetized, tiny zaps of what looks like blue lightning still connecting them.

Jayce’s first thought is, Interesting reaction. His second is Shit, Viktor needs – !

He’s cut off mid-thought as a swooping feeling overtakes him, lurching his stomach up his throat. He has a mere second to look Viktor in the eyes, see his realization mirrored back at him, before they drop. He yelps in pain as he collides with the floor, Viktor mimicking him somewhere off to his right. In a moment, Jayce forces himself upright, staggering over, the world spinning slightly as gravity reasserts it’s power over them. He registers Viktor’s grimace of pain, so similar and different to the strange expression he pulled just before they began to experiment, and scoops his new partner off the floor by his underarms before he can think to ask if that’s okay.

Viktor goes stiff, looking at Jayce sharply. He avoids his gaze by haphazardly dusting him down and asking, “Are you okay? Got all your bones in the right places?”

Viktor’s tension slips as he snorts, “What kind of hypothesis is – ?” he asked before he’s cut off by an armoured hand seizing his left arm and roughly pulling them apart.

“Hey!” is all Jayce can say in protest before the other Enforcer seizes his now outstretched arm and twists it behind his back.

Councillor Medarda clears her throat sharply, making the Enforcer’s stiffen up and drawing their eyes, as well as Viktor and Jayce’s. She raises an imperious eyebrow, “There’s no need for rough treatment. I doubt either of them will resist arrest.”

She stares both of them down, one after the other, as if trying to discourage such a notion. Jayce feels himself blush, mortified, even though he had no such idea. Viktor, glaring mutinously, might have been another story.

“Boys,” Heimerdinger says and then stops. He sighs so heavily it flutters his fluffy moustache, waving his hands as if he’s not sure what to do with them. He looks so disappointed it curdles Jayce’s gut, “Just – behave, alright? You will discuss your actions with the Council first thing in the morning . . . try to get some sleep.”

At his nod, the Enforcers promptly manhandle both Jayce and Viktor from the room. His blood is racing, his heart pounding, as they’re cuffed and all but thrown into the back of an armoured carriage to rattle their way back to the jail cells. That makes twice in less than twenty-four hours.

“I really don’t want to make a habit of getting arrested,” he says aloud. Viktor snorts in a way that Jayce hopes is amused.

Despite the Councillor’s chiding, the Enforcers are less than gentle when they deposit them both in the same cell, tossing them like sacks of potatoes. Viktor instinctively tries to balance on his bad leg and goes down, swearing harshly. Jayce puts a hand on his back, freezing when Viktor does. Instead of scooping him back up, he turns to glare at the Enforcers, as does Viktor. Neither of the officers pay them any mind, slamming the door shut and leaving them with nothing but the phosphorous lights and the sliver of stars and the moon through the high-up window.

Viktor curses, his right leg twitching hard enough to be seen through his trousers as he gathers himself back up, moving away from Jayce to stagger towards the bench, dropping down with a huff. Jayce hesitates, then copies him, keeping a respectful distance between them.

Silence never came naturally to Jayce, not when his blood was thrumming with possibilities, the way it is now. Not when he had such interesting company.

“Sorry about your cane,” is what he ends up blurting out, “I’ll make you a new one.”

Viktor turns his head, his eyebrows twitching slightly.

“My family owns a forge,” Jayce continues, in case Viktor didn’t know that. It might have been in his file when Viktor lead the Enforcers to investigate the explosion. How the tide had turned, “I know how to make things.”

“I gathered that. I highly doubted you had anyone else construct your illegal experimentation equipment.”

Jayce flushed, smiling despite himself as he ducked his head, “Oh. Heh. Yeah.”

“I have some ideas as to how to improve the schematics, if you do not object to hearing them.”

Jayce’s head snapped around to him, blinking owlishly, “What now?”

“To withstand more of the force of any further build up,” Viktor clarified, as if that made perfect sense to be discussing at a time like this. His shoulders had slumped back towards the brick wall, his arms crossed over his chest, “Of course, we’ll have to work on negating that, but I anticipate a somewhat prolonged period of trial and error to get any tangible results. So. Stronger material, more shock-proofing, etc.”

Jayce gaped at him like an idiot, “You’re – really confident. That we’re not facing life sentences in Stillwater.”

“Councillor Medarda recognises the merit of the work. Did you not see her face while we were floating? She is intrigued.”

She’s not the only one, Jayce thought, searching Viktor’s face in the dark. “. . . You don’t - regret – getting caught up in this?”

“Regret will not keep us out of Stillwater, Jayce. It would be a better use of our time to discuss how we are to make people who are terrified of magic understand it’s merits, no?”

Jayce grinned for the first time since they were floating across the ceiling in a sea of blue light. Not just for the words, but the look that accompanied them, Viktor’s eyes flashed with the thrill of discovery Jayce knew so well, coupled with a wry sort of mischief.

Despite the logic of his words, their battle-plan, as Jayce privately termed it, was quickly derailed in favour of a rapid exchange of ideas for how Hextech could be used, the real-world applications, his theory so close to reality that Jayce felt dizzy and giddy with it.

Viktor had just brought up the very pertinent concern of air-purifications and toxic emissions should several of Jayce’s ideas for machines to improve mining conditions come to fruition when their cell door was yanked open. Jayce’s eyes widened and he leapt to his feet so hard he may have actually jostled that surprisingly sturdy cell bench as his mother all but ran in. He took in her flyaway hair, the sloppy way her coat was buttoned in all the wrong places and the fact that her shoes didn’t match, and felt his blood run cold. Between her frazzled state and the soft light of dawn leaking into the cell, it was obvious she had been woken early and all but sprinted to get here.

“Mom – ”

“What were you thinking?!” she shouted loud enough to be heard over the sound of the cell door slamming shut behind her, making Viktor jolt from the sudden noise, “You know what’s at stake! They were going to throw the book at you for experimenting with – with magic, when the explosion wasn’t even your fault! What do you think they’ll do to you to you now that you’ve broken into Heimerdinger’s lab, stolen back contraband items and blown his windows out?!”

“Mom – !”

“Heimerdinger, of all people! The founding father of Piltover spoke up for leniency for you and you do this?! How dare you be so disrespectful to him!”

“Mom, just – !”

“We’re only a minor House, Jayce!” Ximena all but shrieked, clawing at her own hair, naked panic on her face, her skin white as snow, “We have no influence, nothing we can use to barter for your freedom! Do you think they’ll listen to a mother’s pleas a second time, when I wasn’t able to stop you?! I can’t believe – ”

“MOM!” Jayce bellowed, hitting a volume he had never used on his mother in his entire life, “Will you just listen to me?!”

“What, Jayce?!” She demanded, her voice wet, on the verge of tears, “What could you possibly have to say that’ll make any of this better?!”

“We figured out how to stabilise it,” he said as fast as possible, “It works, Mom. I – we, have something to show the Council now, to prove that this is more than a theory! We already have one Councillor on our side! We can make this work!”

“We?” Ximena repeated, saying the word as if she were chewing it over, “Who’s “we”?”

Viktor apparently took that as his cue to get to his feet and come to stand at Jayce’s side. The taller man looked over at his new partner’s face. It was set, resolute, meeting Ximena’s confused, distressed gaze as she rounded on him.

“Mrs Talis,” he greeted, as if Jayce had introduced them in a better time and place. He barely had time to feel regret that that had not been possible when his mother started again.

“Who on Runeterra are you?” she demanded, looking more bewildered than anything, her dark eyes roving over his Acadamy uniform, “Another student?”

“The assistant to the Dean of the Academy,” Viktor winced, “Perhaps formerly.”

Icy dread stabbed Jayce in the stomach as he remembered, with horrible clarity, exactly how much Viktor had risked to help him.

“He’s my new partner, Mom,” Jayce interjected before Ximena could answer, “He – he helped me, to figure out where I was stuck with my – ”

“Did he help you break into Heimerdinger’s lab too?!” Ximena demanded, looking utterly furious.

“Yes,” Viktor conceded with a mild grimace. He made no attempt to defend himself as Ximena glared at him, before turning that same expression on her son.

Something in Jayce, the tiny part that still felt like an eleven-year-old child, desperately shaking his Mom as she collapsed in a snow storm, recoiled from her anger, from the icy chill of disappointment in her eyes. But the hurt, the betrayal, the anger, from his own mother all but calling him a madman, both in public and when he pleaded for her to understand, pulled on his spine until it straightened, made him cross his arms over his chest and glare right back.

“He helped me, Mom. He believed in me, and what I had to say, what I was working for, when nobody else did. Including you.”

Pain flashed across Ximena’s face. It was almost enough to make him back down, if she hadn’t followed it up with, “It’s my job to protect you, Jayce. Even from yourself.”

“Oh, right, I forgot – I’m not in my right mind,” he said cruelly, unable to stop himself, “That’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

“With the way you’re acting, I’m not wrong,” Ximena barked, anger winning out as the primary emotion amongst the maelstrom in her dark eyes, “How did you allow this stranger to lead you so far astray?”

Viktor scoffed. Jayce glanced at him, caught him rolling his eyes, visibly annoyed. Ximena caught it too as she turned to glower at him, opening her mouth. Jayce moved without thinking, stepping towards his mother to draw her eye back to him.

“Yeah, that’s right, Mom, he lead me. He lead me away from that ledge I was going to throw myself head first off of. Quite a high-up one too. I made sure to calculate the impact beforehand.”

All of the blood drained from Ximena’s face the moment she processed his words. The very air seemed to be sucked from her lungs, and with it, the rest in the room. Jayce was aware of Viktor shifting behind him and dreaded the look he would see when he turned back. But for the moment, he focused entirely on his mother, the latent hurt and anger from before still bubbling in his veins, carrying him through this.

“What?” she eventually asked, totally disbelieving, “Jayce – you can’t – you can’t be serious.”

He folded his arms across his chest and stared her down.

“Why?” she breathed, looking horrified, “I – I only did it to protect you! Because I didn’t want to lose you. How – how could you be so selfish?!” Tears began to pool in her eyes.

Jayce’s shoulders were tight and he felt a chill across his skin that didn’t really exist. All at once, all he wanted was for her to go away. He uncrossed his arms to reach one hand into his inner jacket pocket, his fingers fumbling over the envelope, roughly pulling the letter he had intended to leave on that ledge out, and holding it out to her. The motion was so sudden it made her flinch. She didn’t take it, her eyes flickering from the envelope back up to her son’s eyes, bewildered horror still on her face.

“I’m not going to try to explain it to you if you won’t listen,” Jayce said with finality, “It’s all here. It’s what I intended to leave behind.”

Ximena breathed like she had been punched in the chest. Her mouth twisted as she tried to repress her tears. She stared at him, mute and still. Jayce didn’t waver, holding his arm out, still as a statue, the lightweight paper weighing him down like an anchor. All at once, Ximena’s face crumbled and she snatched the letter out of his hand, bunching her coat up to her throat with the other, as if she needed help breathing, as she hurried back towards the cell door, head down, not looking at him. She hammered on the metal slab. Nobody said anything as they waited an excruciating few seconds for an Enforcer to unlock the door and open it, letting her out. It wasn’t one of the officer’s who had arrested them. He stepped back, looking surprised as Ximena all but shoved him out the way and fled, watching her, then looking back at the cells’ occupants. A beat of silence followed until he closed the door, the sound of keys jangling as he locked it echoing in their ears like cannon fire.

Jayce let out a slow, trembling breath, his whole frame shaking. He stepped backwards until his thighs hit the bench, toppling himself. His elbows rested on his knees, dropping his head into his hands, pulling at the skin around his eyes as he rubbed at his face tiredly.

The scuff of Viktor’s shoes on the stone floor was the only clue he had that Viktor had rejoined him on the bench. That knowledge made him feel worse than before.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” he said sincerely, his voice muffled by his own palms.

“. . . I am sorry,” Viktor said haltingly, “that I did not arrive at the apartment earlier.”

Jayce blinked, looking between his fingers, before he raised his head, staring at Viktor in utter conclusion. The only thing he could say was, “What?”

“I – was distracted. By your research,” Viktor said, his right fidgeting in his lap. Jayce wondered, distantly, if he did that on the handle of his cane, a habit that didn’t break with the mobility aid, “By the possibilities. I, eh, took the liberty of writing out a few of my own theories. Testing my own understanding, if you will. So I knew what to say, when I spoke to you.” He breathed sharply through his nose, “Perhaps, had I been a bit quicker – ”

“Viktor,” Jayce breathed softly. It was enough to make his companion silence himself, looking sideways at Jayce, “You have nothing to apologise for. You - you stopped me from killing myself.”

The air felt thick enough to choke on. Now he had said it, now it was out in the open, it was impossible to ignore. Viktor looked away first, his golden gaze going to the floor of their cell, “I am glad. That I arrived in time.”

“. . . Thank you,” Jayce said gently, “You have no idea what you’ve done for me.”

“. . . I may have – something of an idea,” Viktor hedged. His long white fingers were still fidgeting. It was easier to look at them than Viktor’s face, “I, perhaps, was not entirely honest, when I said that no one ever believed in me. My parents did. Maybe. It might have been an act of sheer desperation. The only thing they could think of to . . . give me a chance at a better life.”

He spoke like someone who wasn’t used to opening up. It made Jayce’s eyes widen, his stomach ache, his whole body inch forward in the pursuit of knowledge. He wanted to know. Everything, anything, if it had to do with this mysterious person who saved his life, who believed in him.

“What do you mean?” He prompted, when it seemed like Viktor had talked himself into silence.

His new partner furrowed his brows, his jaw clenching. It took a moment of silence, as if he were steeling himself, to say, “My parents worked in a factory. Long, grueling hours, choking on the Grey. There was no school. My Tatka taught me all he had been able to teach himself. Mathematics, physics, engineering. Mamca taught me how to read and write. In a better world, she would have been a novelist, I think. I didn’t know but they . . . didn’t want me to have their lives. They scrimped and saved, went hungry many times I suspect, until they had enough saved to buy me a second-hand Academy uniform. Plenty of legacy students who, eh – what is the term?”

“Flunk out?” Jayce guessed.

Viktor started, as if he had forgotten Jayce’s presence. Their eyes met and he cracked out a not very happy smile, “Yes. Flunk out. Some sell their uniform to pawn shops. My parents were able to buy me one. Mamca altered it herself to fit me. When I turned eighteen, they presented it to me. And told me to make something of myself. So I snuck into the lectures.”

“You snuck in?” Jayce repeated, his breath catching on a shocked laugh, a gleeful smile cracking across his face.

“Easier than you think,” Viktor gave a one-shoulder shrug, “Nobody pays attention to a cripple up here. I think I make them uncomfortable. It took nearly a full year for one of the professor’s to realise he had one extra body amongst his students. They called the Enforcer’s then too.”

Jayce’s smile vanished, remembering how rough they had been with Viktor when they hauled them both in here.

“After a few hours, Heimerdinger came to find me. He wanted to question me personally. And something I said seemed to amuse him. I wasn’t allowed to study anymore, but he offered me an administrative position. Grading papers,” he gave Jayce a sideways smile, the bigger man laughing again at his rueful expression, “so I learned a lot anyway. Eventually he promoted me to his personal assistant.”

“How was that?” was all Jayce felt he could ask.

Viktor gave another one-shoulder shrug, “Good pay. Hate that damn Poro, though.”

Jayce laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench. Viktor was watching him with a raised brow, his lips betraying him by twitching at the corners.

“You try getting it off the furniture. It has a habit of shitting in inconvenient places, too.”

That set Jayce off a second time. Viktor gave a quiet chuckle in response, waiting patiently for Jayce to regain his decorum. They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Jayce’s mirth faded quickly as he registered, again, the very great risk Viktor had taken, by helping him. He looked at him, opened his mouth, closed it again. Gnawed nervously at his bottom lip.

Finally settled on, “So – where are your parents now?”

“Dead.” It was announced with a lack of emotion that underlined the muted pain in Viktor’s eyes. The grief not gone. Just – learned to live with.

“My Dad died when I was a kid,” Jayce said, for lack of anything else to say. He imagined “I understand” would not be received well, “I still miss him.”

A statement of fact. An open invitation to share more. Jayce wanted to know everything about what made this strange, risk-taking, brilliant man who he was.

Viktor turned to look at him, actually physically turned, and Jayce found himself, once more, the focus of those piercing golden eyes. His eyebrows twitched as he thought, eventually opening his mouth –

They both jumped as the cell door was slammed open and an Enforcer stepped inside.

“Get up. The Council have summoned you.”

***

Jayce kept an eye on Viktor as they made the walk, ready to offer his arm in case the lack of cane affected him. Viktor made no attempt to lean on him, walking with his shoulders back and his head held high, even with the shackles wrapped around his wrists. The Enforcers flanked them on either side, walking them straight into the Council chamber. It was empty, thankfully, this time, bar the Councillors sitting in their high-backed chairs, staring them down. Heimerdinger’s expression was closed off. Councillor Medarda’s was calculating.

Jayce felt sick.

The Enforcer’s took the shackles off at Heimerding’s word, first Jayce and then Viktor’s. They took a few steps back, giving them space, but not leaving them entirely. At least they kept the glass ceiling clear and let the sunlight in, instead of closing it off and using those damn spotlights.

“Mr Talis, once again,” Councillor Salo said, a cold smile dancing on his thin lips, “Dragging us from our beds so early after we were gracious enough to pardon you once. The height of impertinence, not to mention ingratitude. And who is this?”

“Viktor,” the man himself replied, staring Councillor Salo down, unintimidated.

“Viktor who?” Councillor Bolbosk demanded.

“Just Viktor,” the man said shortly, “I am from the Undercity.”

“Well that explains the criminal charges then,” Coucillor Salo said mockingly, before focusing on Jayce, “Is that going to be your excuse, without your mother to plead for you this time, Talis? That you were lead astray by an Undercity – ”

“Viktor is my assistant,” Heimerdinger interjected before Jayce could snarl at that pompous fool. The Yordle’s voice was quiet and his eyes downcast, “He has been hardworking – and loyal – these last few years.”

Councillor Salo dismissed that with a disinterested wave of his hand, “Bad breeding wins out eventually. I can’t see how his previous good behaviour can possibly compare with such an act of betrayal.”

“Before we get ahead of ourselves,” Councillor Medarda interrupted, “Let’s focus on the matter at hand. Mr Talis and his new partner had presented proof to Councillor Heimerdinger and myself that their theory is correct. They have successfully harnessed the power of magic through technology.”

“And blown up Heimerdinger’s office at the same time,” Councillor Shoola observed coolly, tapping her gold-plated nails against the table.

“We have discussed the issue of your – magic,” Councillor Kiramman now interjected.

Jayce’s anger took a bit of a hit as he struggled to meet her eyes. They had been cold and stern when she had ordered him away from Caitlyn. Now they seemed softer, more curious. Perhaps more calculating. Closer to all those times he discussed his ambitions in her office with her.

“You must understand. Piltover was founded as a bastion of progress, science, logic and reason,” his former patron continued, “and one of those caveats was that magic not cross our border. In light of your . . . discoveries, we are willing to consider that, perhaps, magic can have a place within our society. So long as it is controlled. Therefore – if you two wish to remains citizens of Piltover, it falls on you to prove that it can be controlled.”

Jayce felt untethered, like his consciousness was about to separate from his body. He gripped his left wrist in his right hand, rubbing along the jewel with the rune carved on it, as he so often did when he was anxious, and hoped his voice didn’t croak as he said, “Councillors – I understand that it seems impossible. But Viktor and I were able to achieve the impossible in just a few hours of working together. Councillors Medarda and Heimerdinger saw with their own eyes – yes, we blew out the windows, but we were able to float in the air, move objects while barely touching them. I cannot tell you outright how to control such a force because the possibilities are endless. To be frank, you’ll need to be a bit more specific.”

“Specific?” Councillor Shoola repeated, her eyebrows going up.

“I mean,” Jayce hurried to clarify, “that there are so many different potential applications of Hextech – each will need it’s own specific set of safety designations. You wouldn’t control an airship the same way you would control – surgical equipment, for example.”

“You’ve blown up two buildings in less than a day and that’s all you have to say for yourself, to prove that this is safe?” Councillor Bolbosk demanded.

“As I said – !”

“All science is a repetition of trial and error,” Viktor interjected suddenly, glaring the Council down, “Knowledge gleaned from failure as well as triumph – but we need a reasonable data size, first. We cannot have one successful application and tell you everything there is to know about it. It is not possible.”

“So, in other words, you have nothing?” Councillor Salo drawled. He turned back to his fellow Councillors without giving them a chance to refute his statement, “Councillors, I will be blunt. This is a waste of our time. The fantasy of two unhinged would-be scientists. He says he wants more time and more experiments. I say, how much will that cost us? How much of our finances, resources and reputations are we willing to stake on the impossible dreams of two people who have proven they have no respect for our Laws?”

“I agree,” Councillor Bolbosk said, “Our Ethos clearly reflects the known facts – magic is a curse. A dangerous poison we cannot allow to infect our city.”

“But what if it’s not fact?” Councillor Medarda argued immediately, “What if we are operating on an outdated understanding? We are the City of Progress, are we not? How can we be so close minded as to dismiss such brilliant innovation out of hand?”

“By remembering that it is not merely ourselves that we serve, Councillor Medarda,” Shoola said. Her voice was measure and reserved, “These two young men may be brilliant but they showed a reckless disregard for the safety of others, twice in Mr Talis’ case. The people are already in an uproar over the mere mention of magic. Allowing this to continue will not soothe their fears.”

“Who’s people?” Viktor said. His voice was quiet but cut through the room like a knife. He was glaring at them all, “Who’s fears are you assuaging? Where I come from, we don’t run from the future. We don’t run from anything unpleasant. You and yours never gave us the choice.”

Jayce stared at him, hardly able to breathe.

Councillor Salo let out a short, cruel laugh, “Spoken like a true Undercity criminal. I wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t his first foray into flouting the law. Mr Talis, don’t you find it odd that a random assistant would be so interested in your illegal experimentation out of the blue? Did it ever occur to you that this man was involved in the robbery of your apartment that started all of this?”

“That’s a ridiculous accusation!” Jayce snapped so angrily he actually surprised the supercilious Councillor into withdrawing slightly into his chair, despite the physical distance between them, “I trust my partner absolutely.”

“Well, forgive me for not taking your word on it,” Councillor Salo said haughtily, “or anything else. Councillor’s, I am done with this. I move for the immediate exile of one Jayce Talis and – his compatriot. All in favour?”

Salo raised his hand and a spotlight fell on him immediately. Jayce couldn’t breathe. He watched, feeling sick to his stomach, as Councillor Bolbosk and Councillor Shoola raised their hands as well. Three out of seven. Councillor Kiramman gave him a tiny nod of encouragement when he looked at her, pleadingly. Her hands stayed firmly on the table. Councillor Medarda also maintained her pose and a sharp look from her stopped Councillor Hoskel as he went to raise his hand. He unsuccessfully played it off as scratching his nose.

Jayce and Viktor both stared at Heimerdinger. He wouldn’t look at either of them, a deep furrow in his brow. When he finally raised his head, they both saw his blue eyes were wide with a deep sorrow. His right hand twitched on the table.

And then raised into the air.

“I’m sorry, my boys,” he said sincerely, “But I cannot allow magic into this city.”

A majority vote.

All the blood drained out of Jayce’s face. He felt himself sway as the full weight of his decisions crashed down onto him all at once. He could barely hear the Council talking over the blood rushing in his ears. He felt sick. He was going to pass out.

Not again. Oh Gods not again. And Viktor – Caitlyn. Mom . . .

“We have it then,” he heard, as if from a great distance, “Jayce, of House Talis and Viktor of the Undercity, you have forty-eight hours, from the adjournment of this meeting, to leave Piltover forever. Failure to comply with this order will result in your immediate imprisonment, and yes,” Councillor Salo added with a cruel smile, “that includes the Undercity, as it remains within our jurisdiction. Anything you leave behind will be forfeit. Your illegal research will be destroyed – ”

“No,” Viktor said, loud enough to cut through, his face resolute, “It will not.”

Jayce focused on him, on his face. Despite the consequences of his actions wreaking havoc on his life, his stood tall under the weight of it, meeting anyone who looked at him in the eye. Jayce stared at him, needing to focus on him.

Just breathe, he thought, Look at Viktor. Breathe.

“I beg your pardon?” Councillor Shoola asked, as Salo was too affronted by Viktor standing up to him to say anything.

“You will not destroy Jayce’s research. It is not yours to destroy,” Viktor said, calm and clear, “If he is no longer a Citizen of Piltover than his legal possessions are not yours to confiscate as you see fit.”

“Viktor,” Heimerdinger sighed, “The Ethos – ”

“Applies to Piltover, the Undercity and it’s inhabitants,” Viktor argued in a voice that brooked no argument, “Nowhere else in Runeterra outlaws magic. Except Demacia. And we are no more beholden to their laws than to yours, any more. Councillor Salo said that anything we leave behind is forfeit but not anything we still have.”

Salo coloured furiously, “You insolent – !”

“He is correct,” Councillor Medarda interrupted, to the surprise of everyone in the room, “Banishment entitles the exiled to collect any of their legal belongings they wish to take with them. As this research had yet to be destroyed, it is in fact Jayce Talis’ prerogative to demand it’s return. Should he wish?”

All eyes looked to Jayce.

He couldn’t breathe. What was the point of this? Of arguing? With no Academy resources, no position, no patron, no home, what could he possibly hope to accomplish? What would clinging to his so-called impossible dream truly accomplish?

He looked at Viktor. His new partner stared him down, just as he had on that ledge, his golden eyes so knowing and yet kind and encouraging. Looking at Jayce, seeing him, believing in him. When no one else would.

“No one’s ever believed in me. A poor cripple from the Undercity. I was an outsider the moment I stepped foot in Piltover,” he had said as he rescued Jayce from himself, guiding him back from the brink with kind words alone – because he was being sincere. "The resonance with stabilise. Trust me."

“I trust my partner absolutely,” he had said. And he had meant it.

“I respectfully request all of my research back,” Jayce said aloud, his voice clear and steady, “Intact. If it is the Council’s will that we take our work elsewhere, we accept your decision.”

He briefly met Heimerdinger’s eyes. Jayce wasn’t accustomed to seeing such dread there.

Well that makes two of us, he thought darkly.

***

The Enforcers escorted them to the steps of the Council building, then stopped and let them walked away of their own volition, settling for glaring menacingly at their backs.

Viktor took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Jayce glanced over and saw that his right leg had started to list without a mobility aid to help him, on top of the rough night in the cell and the time spent walking and standing around.

He nudged Viktor’s elbow to get his attention, offering his arm to lean on the moment he got it. Viktor paused, raised an eyebrow but ultimately accepted the gesture with only the slightest furrowing of his eyebrows.

“Thank you,” he said somewhat stiffly.

“Where to?” Jayce said. He still felt strange, just running on autopilot.

“The Academy,” Viktor said at length, looking towards it. Jayce’s feet turned of their own volition, slowing his natural gait to keep pace with Viktor, “I have lodgings there.”

Jayce nodded but didn’t say anything. It felt to him as if the eyes of all Piltover were on them, judging them, whispering about the dangerous unhinged scientists and their disregard for the Ethos, for the very safety of the city. It got even worse as they entered Academy grounds – Jayce accidentally made eye-contact with one of his former classmates and abruptly looked away, feeling himself flush up to his ears as they turned to talk behind their hands to their associate, staring at the two of them. Viktor walked upright, gaze forward, as if he had every right to be there still, as if he were completely impervious to the attention they were attracting.

He pulled a key out of his pocket, singular, unlike the large jangling set he had in his possession as Heimerdinger’s assistant. It was only just occurring to Jayce that Viktor really did have a bedroom on Academy grounds, but it was several floors below the Dean’s lab, when Viktor suddenly stopped them in their tracks and unlocked the closest door.

It looked just like Jayce’s dorm back when he still lodged here, before the Kiramman’s patronised him and he took an apartment (the better to conceal his research, the better to sneak around to get what he needed without raising suspicion) – a two-room establishment, kitchenette bleeding into sleeping quarters and a single door where one would find a bathroom attached. Viktor tossed his key on the table that apparently doubled as a desk, sidling around the piles of books stacked up in towers on the floor. That seemed to be all he had; a bed, a desk, a chair, a single shelf, a clothing rod with a set of neat uniforms and two sets of casual clothes, a pair of shoes tucked neatly underneath them, and books upon books.

“If you want something to eat, I may have provisions,” Viktor said, gesturing vaguely at the kitchenette.

“I’m good,” Jayce said simply, his voice flat. He hadn’t moved from the front door, after he closed it. He swore he could still hear people whispering on the other side.

Viktor hummed without looking at him as he himself headed into the kitchen. There was a crack from one of Viktor’s bones as he stretched up on his toes to reach a jar that was sat on top of the icebox. Jayce jolted, turning to offer help and silencing himself as Viktor returned, holding out what was clearly a cookie tin. He popped off the lid without looking at Jayce and began to shove confectionaries into his hand.

“Viktor, I don’t – ”

“I heard you,” Viktor muttered. The moment Jayce’s hands were full of biscuits, Viktor reached inside the presumably empty tin with his whole hand. There was a slightly metallic pop and then Viktor tossed the false bottom of the tin to the floor, emptying a handful of written notes into his hand.

Jayce's eyes popped open wide, “Is that – ?!”

“My wages,” Viktor said simply, “I had them converted from cogs at the bank. Easier to hide.”

And he leant down, biting a cookie out the mountain on Jayce’s hand, turning back to the table. He sat on the chair and emptied the contents onto the desk, taking the cookie dangling from his lips in one hand to bite off a segment properly.

Jayce, mind in a haze, followed him, trying to be careful not to drop a dozen or so biscuits on the floor. He sat heavily on Viktor’s bed. It hadn’t been made that morning – yesterday – and it creaked ominously under Jayce’s weight. Viktor didn’t even glance up, twirling a stray strand of his hair as he began to count up all the money he had apparently hidden, finishing off the cookie in hand without looking at it.

“Should be enough to buy two tickets on a ship,” Viktor mused at length, glancing around the room, “and a bag to carry things with. I’m loathe to leave my books behind but we ought to travel light for the time being. Shelter and food are our priorities until we settle somewhere.”

There was a sickening crack as Jayce abruptly clenched both of his large hands together, crushing the entire stack of cookies he had been carrying. It sounded like broken bones, or pellets from one of Caitlyn’s practise guns, hitting the hardwood floor. Viktor finally paused in what he was doing. He looked from the desecration of his floor to Jayce, who was staring at him blankly without breathing, hazel eyes very wide.

“. . . I know it’s not the cleanest in here,” he began coolly, “but kindly refrain from adding to the mess. We have many other things to get sorted in the next forty,” he glanced at that clock on his desk, “six and a half hours.”

“How are you so calm about this?!” Jayce suddenly yelled.

It was far too loud, far too aggressive, but Viktor didn’t flinch. He simply raised an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing a second later as they raked over Jayce’s frame as if searching for something.

“I – I’m sorry,” Jayce stuttered. Shame poisoned his blood and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Viktor’s face. He lowered his head, staring at the pile of crumbs, the food he had destroyed and was hit in the face with the realisation that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know where his next meal was coming from. Didn’t know anything at all. “I. Viktor. I’ve ruined your life.”

“. . . What an egotistical notion.”

Jayce’s head snapped up in shock. Viktor had half-turned to face him, lacing his fingers together, balancing his elbow on the back of his chair so he could squint at Jayce, studying him intently.

“I – huh?”

“As if you alone have the power to ruin my life,” Viktor said coolly, his expression carefully controlled, “I made my own decisions, Jayce. And now I will face the consequences of my actions. Alone, if I must. I’d rather not, though. It was – refreshing, to speak to someone who had the kind of intriguing ideas you possess. I would quite welcome your company, if you could deign to provide that again. If not, I will not prevent you from wallowing in your self-pity but I ask that you do it in the bathroom so I do not have to see it.”

He gestured at the closed bathroom door.

Jayce gaped at him, wide-eyed. Then he burst into laughter, dropping whatever crumbs remained on his hand and scratching his face up as he slapped his hands over his face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he wheezed, “You – by the fucking Gods, Viktor! You’re – unique, you know that?”

“I have often observed that comment to be a backhanded insult.”

“Not this time,” Jayce said, breathless. His face hurt from smiling. “You just . . . I’ve never met anyone like you before,” his inhales slowed until his breathing levels out and he could control his slightly hysterical mirth, “But. Seriously. Is this really what you want? You told me about what your parents did.”

“Tatka and Mamca would understand,” Viktor said softly, his golden eyes turned downcast, “They wanted me to have a better life. I want to make the world a better place. If Piltover was not the place for that, if it becomes merely a stepping stone on my journey, then so be it.”

“You’ve sacrificed so much to help me. Why? Because you believe in me – in my work?” Jayce asked, still unable to fully process this.

“Yes,” Viktor said, as if it were just that simple, “and I’m afraid that needs to be enough for you too, Jayce. We’ve made our choices and now we must do our best with what is left to us.”

Jayce nodded slowly. A smile, lacking the hysteria of earlier, returned to his face. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

“That I have no idea,” Viktor shrugged, “I shall have to procure a map.”

“Don’t worry about a bag,” Jayce said, “I have to go pack up my own things, I’m sure I can get a spare one for you.”

Viktor tilted his head, looking confused for a moment, before his eyebrows went up. “You are going to see your mother?”

“Yeah,” Jayce said reluctantly, “Don’t know if you noticed, but all my clothes and other stuff got blown to bits. I’ll need the ones I have at her house. And,” he swallowed, “I should. Say goodbye. If she even wants to see me.”

“Hmm. You will forgive me if I do not accompany you.”

Jayce clasped his shoulder, making Viktor stiffen up in surprise, “Yeah, good call. Last thing I need is my new partner getting a concussion courtesy of my very upset mother.”

Viktor’s eyes widened slightly. He didn’t ask if Jayce was joking.

***

Jayce wasn’t sure if it would be better if he had his own key. Just waltzing in probably would’ve gone down as well as knocking and waiting, but at least he would not be fidgeting under the invisible eyes of neighbours.

Ximena opened the door, took one look at Jayce and promptly turned away, walking back into the house. She didn’t slam the door in his face, though, so he counted that as a good sign.

He followed, finding his mother sat at the kitchen table, bracing herself with one hand, staring down at nothing. Her hair had come undone from it’s hasty bun, the grey more prominent than ever against her dark hair. Her skin was pale and her eyes red. As if she had been crying.

His letter was open on the table.

Jayce gulped, not sure what to say. He looked away, his hazel eyes roving over the kitchen that had been the star focus of so much of his childhood. He fisted his hands into the fabric of his trousers.

“Are you upset because of the letter,” he finally asked, throat coarse, “or did you hear the news?”

“Exile,” Ximena said flatly.

Jayce couldn’t think of a single thing to say. As he was about to give up and go up the stairs to fetch whatever he could carry, Ximena broke the silence with a sigh. She turned to face him, “Sit down, Jayce.”

He obeyed silently, taking the chair opposite hers.

It took his mother several minutes to compose herself enough to speak further. He didn’t pry.

“Tell me why you did this,” was what eventually came out. Her eyes looked sore but were dry as she stared him down, “Your father and I worked our hardest to give you a good life. Why wasn’t it good enough?”

“It was more than enough, Mom,” Jayce said earnestly, “Really, it was. Magic – it’s not about me.”

“Then what is it about?” Ximena asked. She sounded so tired, as if she had aged decades in a single day, “I don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t,” Jayce mumbled, straightening up to try to talk to her properly, “Mom. If that mage hadn’t come when he did, we’d have died out there in the cold. Alone and forgotten. Magic saved us and it – it changed me. I’ve never been able to forget that day. Not just because of how beautiful it was, but because of how he used it. Kindly, selflessly, for no ulterior motive. He saw we needed help and he stretched out a kind hand just because he could, and never asked for anything in return. We were lucky, Mom, but so many people out there in the world aren’t,” he choked, feeling tears burning his eyes, fighting to keep it together, “What did I survive for, if not to pay back the world for the chance to live my life?”

“Jayce,” Ximena said, her voice breaking. She looked devastated, “You don’t need to pay anyone pack. You’re enough. You, by yourself. You’re enough.”

“No I’m not,” Jayce said quietly. A simple statement of fact. “Not like this. I need to do something, be something, to earn that mage’s kindness. I can’t repay him, so I’ll pass it on to others.”

“Jayce,” Ximena wept, “You’ve thrown your whole future away.”

No, throwing myself off that ledge would’ve been throwing my future away, Jayce thought. He didn’t say it though. He had hurt his mother enough.

He stood up and rounded the table, knelt at his mother’s feet. Reached out and took her hands. His thumb ran over the riveted metal of her prosthetic fingers, warmed by their connection to her flesh and blood hand.

“My future is not gone,” he said earnestly, staring her in the eyes when she finally looked down at him. Even on his knees, he was barely shorter than her. He remembered being this small and looking up at his mother, slumped at this very table with tears in her eyes, when his father died. He felt helpless then too. “It just looks different than how you imagined it. If this is a mistake, then it’s mine to make. It’s one I have to make, and learn from. I swear to you, Mom, I will find a way to make this up to you. I’ll find a way to make you proud, despite . . . everything.” His voice broke, “I’m so sorry I’ve hurt you.”

Ximena broke. She threw her arms around Jayce’s shoulder and cried, her whole body shaking. Jayce stayed on his knees, long after they went numb on the kitchen floor, and held his mother, letting her sob on him. He deserved this, after all.

He waited until she pried herself off to say what he knew would break her heart all over again. “I need to go pack, Mom.”

Her face screwed up for a moment but she managed not to cry. She clutched at his hands, breathed hard, and then let him go. He stumbled up to his childhood bedroom in a haze. Paused in the doorway, looking around at everything that had made this space his own. Everything he would never see again. Strange, that this time yesterday, it had looked like a prison, a forcible transference back to childhood, the madman confined to live under his mother’s care indefinitely. Perhaps that was what truly drove him to that ledge.

Jayce shook his head roughly and went to the closet, digging around until he found a suitcase. Opening it revealed his mother had stacked a smaller one inside at some point, to save space in another closet, most likely. He inspected it. It was threadbare and patchy in places but it would hold for at least one journey. He hoped Viktor wouldn’t mind it.

He rifled through the closet, taking clothes that still fit him off the hangers and folding them as small and tight as possible, then did the same with his underclothes and socks. He went to the bathroom and helped himself to the toiletries his mother always stocked for him. He hesitated, then stuffed some toilet paper in there too. You never knew.

He looked around his old bedroom reluctantly, hating the strange feeling in his chest at the sight of it. It was bursting at the seams with posters and knicknacks that once felt like invaluable treasures to him – still did, on some level. But he knew he had to be pragmatic.

He settled for rooting out his old journals, the handwriting almost indecipherable after nearly a decade, or more, as well as a handful of his favourite crystals he had kept in a box under his bed. A folded bundle of cloth was nudged out as he had rummaged and he nearly cried at the contents he unrolled – his father’s old toolkit. Worn, old, notched with use. More than enough to keep him going for a little while. A part of his father to take with him.

He re-wrapped it, put it in his suitcase, tossed in the photograph of him smiling with his father without being able to look at it, and zipped the whole lot up, standing and leaving in one smooth motion, determined not to let this get to him, at least until he was somewhere no one could see him weep. Then he had to double back halfway down the stairs as he remembered Viktor needed the other suitcase.

Ximena was waiting for him at the door, standing sentry as if she thought he would leave without saying goodbye. She wordlessly handed him a cloth bag. He could smell cooked meat and knew without looking that she had packed him lunch.

His throat swaddled up with a lump, he stuttered out, “M-Mom – I can’t – ”

“You’ll need what’s inside,” she said softly, reaching up to pull him down into a hug so tight he doubted she would ever let go, “Read through it carefully.”

He frowned, hooking his chin over her shoulder, dropping the suitcases to clutch her to his chest, “Read?”

***

“We’re going to Ixtal?” Viktor asked as he read halfway through the first page of the sheaf of documents Jayce had plopped on the desk.

Jayce hummed in agreement, halfway through the lunch his mother had made, shared with Viktor, of course, “It’s where my parents are from. I didn’t realise that I’d actually been born in the house they inherited from my paternal grandparents – or that Mom still owned it. I didn’t know anything about it, actually. But apparently I’ve had dual citizenship in both Ixtal and Piltover since I was a baby. Never came up,” he added as Viktor shot him a strange look, “My grandfather always wanted to move here and he pushed my Dad really hard to make it a reality. I guess they never thought they would go back, once Dad earned our family's elevation to a House, and they just held onto it. Like insurance? Good fortune, though. For us.”

“It does help to have a destination,” Viktor agreed at length, looking through the harbour sheet he had apparently been able to scrounge off another department in the Academy, “We can definitely afford two one-way tickets to Ixtal, especially without any additional luggage fees.”

“Last chance to back out,” Jayce said softly, “I don’t think faith in my work prepared you to, you know, live with me. Or any of this, really.”

Viktor gave him a vaguely annoyed look, “Must I repeat myself?”

“I’m just making sure this is what you really want. That’s all. Seriously, Viktor. If there’s anything I can do for you, name it.”

Viktor stared at him for a long moment, then looked away, “I want to go to the Undercity before we leave,” he said all at once, long after Jayce stopped anticipating a reply, “To say goodbye to my parents.”

“Sure thing, Viktor. I’ll come with you, if you like. Or not. Up to you.”

Viktor gave him a sad smile and stood up. His leg buckled slightly under his weight but he didn’t fall, heading towards the bed where Jayce had dumped the second suitcase, laying open, ready to accept whatever of Viktor’s life could fit into it.

Impulse turned to action before Jayce could think it through. He was on his feet, his arms around Viktor, tucking the smaller man into his chest, hooking his chin over that narrow shoulder, in a single moment. Viktor tensed but lightly patted Jayce’s back before the bigger man could start to panic. Jayce still took the hint to ease out of the hug relatively quickly, looking at Viktor as his new partner stared at him quizzically.

“You do that a lot.”

“Huh? What?”

“Touch.”

“Do I?” Jayce mused, head tilted, “I never noticed.”

Chapter Text

Jayce couldn’t sleep.

Whether it was the fact that he had been relegated to the floor of his new partner’s Academy lodgings or the anxiety of the last twenty-four hours, not to mention the ticking clock hanging over his head, something in the back of his mind caused him to jolt awake every twenty minutes or so after finally managing to drift off. After the eleventh or twelfth time, he admitted defeat, tossed off the plush winter throw Viktor had loaned him and forced himself up. He took the outfit he had left out of his suitcase for the following day into the bathroom and readied himself as quickly and quietly as possible, creeping out like a criminal terrified of being caught, eyeing up his new partner. He was mostly concealed under his blankets but Jayce could hear his faint, steady breathing, so assumed he had managed not to disturb him. He went to the desk and scribbled a quick note, just in case he got lost in the new task consuming his thoughts, and then tiptoed his way out the front door.

At this time in the morning, nobody was at his family’s forge. He used his key to get in, fumbling around in the dark to light the oil lamps and then had to stoke the firepits with coal to get them running. He took inventory while waiting for them to heat up to a usable degree, finding himself oddly frustrated with the supplies available, more picky than usual about the type of metal he wanted. He hadn’t plucked up the courage to ask if he could measure Viktor’s leg the day before, so he was mostly going on mental calculations; therefore, adjustable height would be for the best, which required a certain lightweight flexibility but he also needed something that could bare his weight . . .

The forge had been ready for some time when Jayce finally made his final decision. He took the metal, began measuring and heating and cutting, getting everything exactly right, focused so that he didn’t allow the dark thoughts in the back of his head to come to the forefront. Unfortunately, there were so many that he was rather outnumbered, to speak nothing of being overwhelmed. This forge, the Talis family name, their factories – it had been selfish enough to leave it all to his mother’s caretaking when he went to the Academy, but he had justified it on the grounds that he would one day take the burden from her – even as he fought all day everyday to avoid that eventual fate, to do something greater, something special. Now that he had no choice, all he could think of was how his father had built this place from the ground up – and how this would be the very last time he ever set foot in the place again.

He plunged the white-hot metal into water, bathing himself in a sudden wash of steam. Under the concealing mist, he took a breath, trying to commit the smell of this place at work to memory, closed his eyes and prayed for the first time in years, hoping his Dad could hear him, wherever he was.

***

His sentimentality made him linger a little too long. He came back to an apartment Viktor had already vacated with his own suitcase, Jayce’s still on the floor by the bed, and a note on the desk telling him to be at the harbour by sunset at the latest. Jayce cursed, quickly cleaned himself up in the bathroom and vacated the place, his suitcase under one arm, his new contraption under the other.

This time he had no interesting companion to distract him from the stares and whispers of the students and professors of the Academy. He breathed in sharply and held his head high, as he had seen Viktor do yesterday.

One day, I’ll prove you all wrong. One day, you’ll see the beauty of Hextech and what it can do.

Still, his shoulder’s felt lighter as he crossed the boundary into the harbour and spotted the already familiar figure of his new partner sat on a wooden bench near the ticket office. His suitcase was by his feet and his bad leg was held out in front of him at an awkward angle, one of those long-fingered hands rubbing at his thigh with intent.

He walked all the way down to the Undercity and back without his cane, Jayce thought guiltily, the image of the shattered one still fresh in his mind. Perhaps that was why he chose to announce his presence with “I made this for you,” blurted out too loud and in a near unintelligible rush.

Viktor jumped, a subtle flinch crossing his face as he jolted his already strained leg. He glowered as he looked up, the expression slackening the moment he registered what Jayce was holding out like an offering, balanced delicately across two hands – a new cane, silver in colour, with a red leather handle.

“I had to guess the right length but it’s adjustable,” Jayce said, his voice oddly breathless, despite how easy he found the walk, leaning forward slightly, as if entreating Viktor to accept the gesture.

He was oddly hesitant as he reached out, taking the mobility aid with two hands, running his long, elegant fingers up and down the shaft, tracing over the middle, inspecting the mechanism that allowed the two rods to slide up and down each other, the lock that would keep it in place. He didn’t alter it, simply put it down and pulled himself to his feet. It was a strangely graceful motion, one that spoke of years of practise. He leaned most of his weight on his left leg, the stronger one, slowly shifting his posture, gradually testing his gift out.

Jayce didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he let it go as Viktor looked sideways at him, a small smile pulling at his lips. It reminded him of the look he gave him as they placed the crystal inside the harnesser. Was that really less than two nights ago?

“Impressive,” Viktor acknowledged in his lilting accent, “Better quality than my previous one, I daresay. You’re quite a skilled forger.”

Something bubbled in Jayce’s chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t give him too much praise,” a new voice cut in, “It’ll go to his head.”

Jayce was barely aware of Viktor tilting his head to look past his companion as he turned on his own heel, his eyes widening.

“Caitlyn?” He asked, concerned, “Did you come all this way alone?”

The teenager shrugged, a lopsided smile that did not meet her blue eyes on her face. She made a heroic attempt to keep it in place as she met his gaze, “I just asked the carriage driver to bring me. Figured you’d come here sooner rather than later,” her lip trembled slightly, “You’ve always been impatient . . .”

Jayce sighed, his shoulder’s sagging. He closed the distance between them, putting his hands on her shoulders, “You shouldn’t be out here, Sprout. Your Mom – ”

“I had to say goodbye,” the heiress blurted out, swallowing as if she had a lump in her throat, “Whether she likes it or not. You’re going – and - you might never come back.”

Her eyes grew wet as her lower lip trembled violently. Something in Jayce’s chest squeezed painfully tight. Before he could think it through, he wrapped both arms around the young teenager, pulling her into his chest, resting his chin atop her head. She was so much smaller than him that he had to curl his back and shoulders to do that. Caitlyn stiffened in surprise and then hugged him back, twice as hard.

“I’m sorry, Sprout,” he said sincerely, “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

He felt Caitlyn’s fists clench the back of his shirt. “Yeah, yeah. Save the apologies for your new partner. He’s the one who’s gotta put up with you now . . . Write to me?” she added in a much smaller voice.

“Whenever I can. I promise. If – if your Mom and Dad – ”

“If they throw them away I’ll riot,” she said stubbornly, pulling back to glare up at him, “I can be an annoying little shit when I want to be.”

Jayce chuckled somewhat sadly, releasing her from the hug to ruffle her hair, “Don’t I know it.”

She kicked his shin. It barely registered but he let out a theatrical hiss of pain and backed off with hands up, as if in surrender, hoping to make her laugh. He coaxed out a smile, at least. He saw the moment she looked past him.

“You’re Viktor?”

“Yes Miss,” he said politely. He was standing as upright as possible while leaning on the new cane, his face neutral.

“I hear you’re just as crazy as Jayce is,” she said with a half-smile, “Make sure he doesn’t blow himself up, yeah?”

Viktor cracked a tiny smile, “If he does the same for me.”

Caitlyn’s smile was wobbly but her eyes were dry as she nodded to him and then looked up at Jayce again. She reached out to squeeze his hand, once, near painfully tight and then turned on her heel and hurried away towards the harbour gates, presumably where her carriage was waiting. She only looked back to find Jayce was already watching her, his hand raised in one final farewell. She returned the gesture and left.

He stared at the space where she just was, worry gnawing relentlessly at his insides. He only realised Viktor was approaching when he heard the click of his new cane landing right beside him.

“Your sister?” he hazarded.

“In the ways that count,” Jayce replied around the sudden lump in his throat, “She’s Councillor Kiramman’s daughter. They are – were – my patrons. Discarded me after – you know . . . Cait’s a lonely kid.”

“. . . I was once told that loneliness was often the by-product of a brilliant mind.”

“Whoever told you that wasn’t wrong,” Jayce acknowledged, “But in her case, it’s more the gilded cage that keeps anyone who could care about her out . . . I really hope that won’t always be true. She deserves someone who loves her and believes in her.”

Viktor hummed. He stayed with Jayce in companionable silence for a few more minutes, then nudged him with his elbow, “Come. The Council had your research delivered here when I informed Heimerdinger that I booked passage. They won’t let me check so you’ll have to before we board the ship.”

Jayce nodded, turning to see that Viktor was already walking away and likely hadn’t noticed the response.

“I’m coming,” and indeed he did.

***

Few people took sea ships to travel nowadays. Besides being the trendier option, air ships were faster and outfitted for passenger comfort in a way that sea ships began to wean out their primary usage became cargo. That being said, certain vessels still had tiny cabins for the traveller who wanted a more scenic – or in their case – cheaper ticket. Jayce didn’t mind. It wasn’t like they were short on time, with an endless abyss of it leading to the unknown.

His companion, on the other hand, soon found that it wasn’t to his taste.

Jayce winced at the sound of Viktor’s dry heaves, his new partner’s long-fingered hands white-knuckling the railing as he continued to throw up whatever he had been able to eat before their journey down the side. The larger man’s hand was hovering uncomfortably, wondering if it would be considered presumptuous to rub his back or offer to hold his short hair back to make absolutely sure no vomit got tangled up in it.

He settled for offering him the bottle of water he had procured when the former assistant finally seemed to be done, muttering angrily in a language Jayce didn’t recognise – although that tone seemed pretty universal.

“Sorry, this is all I could get – to wash the taste out,” Jayce said awkwardly, keeping his hands to himself by shoving one in his pocket and anxiously rubbing at the back of his neck with the other. He winced again as Viktor swished out his mouth with water he poured at a small distance, unceremoniously spitting the mix over the side of the railing into the sea, “I, er – know it sucks . . .”

“It is not the throwing up that does it per say,” Viktor said when Jayce mercifully stopped talking, shrugging one languid shoulder, “It is, eh, the waste,” he glared over the edge as the slightly-higher-than average waves that had robbed him of his last meal.

Oh yeah, Jayce thought guiltily, We’re gonna have to be careful about that.

He wasn’t used to having to be conservative about his food, any meal he missed the result of hyper-focusing on his obsessions. He imagined, being from the Undercity, that Viktor had a different story.

And I’m the one who turned his life upside down, Jayce thought. No matter what Viktor had said, Jayce still felt it was his fault, guilt mixing with the indescribable amount of gratitude swelling his chest.

The least he could do was make himself useful, and that meant finding solutions to their problems. He read somewhere that being on the deck of the ship with a clear view of the waves was worse for motion sickness, so logically . . .

“If you’re feeling up to it, I was thinking we could head back to the cabin,” Jayce began, jerking his thumb over his shoulder for emphasis.

Viktor, who had given him a sharp look under his hair at the start of the sentence, waved him off dismissively, “Do not trouble yourself. I have no wish to prevent you from enjoying the view. If this family home of yours is as deep into Ixtal as you suspect, you won’t be seeing the ocean for sometime.”

“Actually I was hoping to go over some runic translations with you,” Jayce countered, his hazel eyes lighting up with sincere interest, “I only had some old tomes to go off of and I’d really appreciate a fresh set of eyes on them; I don’t doubt I made a million and one mistakes in my initial translations.”

Viktor’s eyebrows has gone up, the slant of his narrow golden eyes slowly relaxing as Jayce talked. There was a pleasant lilt to his voice as he replied, “It is statistically improbable for one man to make “millions” of mistakes unaided, Mr Talis. I suspect you are overestimating yourself there.”

“If you’re gonna call me egotistical, at least address me as “Jayce”,” the young man in question laughed as they began to amble back across the deck. He had to keep reminding himself to slow his natural long gait to accommodate both Viktor’s shorter stature and his bad leg but the hint of mirth he spotted in those golden eyes was worth it.

“I already called you egotistical. I have a more expansive vocabulary than that.”

It wasn’t all that funny a remark but Jayce’s laugh was boisterous and utterly genuine.

Either the change of scenery or the distraction of hitherto unknown science worked like a charm. Viktor’s pallor warmed into a more natural colour, although he retained the pale shade Jayce suspected was typical for him, and he was more engaged. They talked to and over each other, finishing sentences much as they had back in the blown out ruins of Jayce’s apartment, until the porter knocked on the door to remind them that passengers were allowed to join the crews galley for dinner. Viktor frowned but acquiesced to Jayce’s insistence that they attend the meal when he was reassured that it was part of the price of passage, so they had already paid.

“Better not to waste,” Jayce said with a pointed smile.

Viktor looked at him like he was considering hitting him with his cane but didn’t refute the statement.

Dinner was not a luxurious affair; they were served the same meal as the crew, a meat-and -potato heavy stew. Jayce, who prefered lighter dishes, did not particularly enjoy it, but ate his full both to quench the gnawing hunger he was now aware of and to be polite to their hosts. Viktor, despite his light frame, managed to demolish the whole bowl in less than ten minutes and eyed up Jayce’s portion of bread on the side. He pushed it across the table towards his new partner without a word. A minor argument ensued through eye-contact alone but Viktor did actually eat it, so Jayce counted himself victorious. As the crew on rota cleaned the tables, a group of sailors off duty called over, inviting them both to join in a card game. Jayce's fine sense of courtesy prevented him from refusing. It caused an uncomfortable pang in his gut when Viktor politely declined and left, ambling back towards their cabin.

Jayce tried not to be rude by looking at the clock, wondering when he could leave and graciously losing enough card games to have his back go numb from raucous slaps on it. He was startled to realise it was nearly two in the morning. He packed up his share of the deck and all but sprinted back to the cabin, nearly tripping when he forced himself to slow down and take a few deep breaths, inching the door open to avoid disturbing Viktor.

Who was sitting up by the lit lantern, one eyebrow raised as he stared at Jayce like he questioned his intelligence. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to still be awake and pouring over someone else’s life’s ambition.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” Jayce asked dumbly as he closed the door properly and locked it, groaning as he rolled his shoulders while easing out of his jacket.

“I could ask you the same question,” Viktor retorted, “I did not take you for someone who socialised to such an extent; Heimerdinger was very concerned about your “withdrawn” nature at the Academy.”

Jayce felt his back go up and was about to demand an explanation when he recalled that, as the Dean’s Assistant, Viktor would’ve have access to Heimerdinger’s schedule – specifically, when he called on students to discuss academic issues. Like falling behind because you finally had a lead on an impossible dream and no longer had time for anything that wasn’t illegal experimentation, sleep and occasionally food.

“I’m usually not all that keen on parties and such,” Jayce agreed, forcing his tension to dissipate and trying to play it off by rubbing at his neck as if it was bothering him. It cracked and his muscles eased, so that helped anyway. “But they can be useful at times. The guys at the card table let me know how to hire transport to make the journey inland and how to get through customs. And look,” he pulled a square of parchment out of his pocket and rapidly unfolded it, “a map. They helped me triangulate the most efficient routes to the best markets for food – and the equipment we’re gonna need.”

When he looked up, Viktor’s face had softened, removing the hint of suspicion that sometimes flared up in his eyes. Jayce’s stomach lurched. He promptly told himself it was a badly timed wave hitting the hull and ignored it, getting engrossed in the conversation.

They only stopped talking when the porter came along to let them know about breakfast.

***

Six days later they disembarked with their luggage, Jayce's equipment and a now fit-to-bursting journal, energy thrumming between the pair of them in a never ending circuit as they were both chomping at the bit to get on with testing their new theories.

Unfortunately, the practicalities of their new situation could not be ignored.

Locating transportation was easy; haggling for the price was not. Such a thing had never come naturally to Jayce; Viktor, on the other hand, watched him fumble for precisely one minute and twenty seconds before all but shoving him out of the way via one of his bony elbows, taking over the interaction. The driver got irate to the point of shouting and gesticulating aggressively enough that Jayce began to struggle with the impulse to pull Viktor back to a safe distance and shield him. Luckily they reached a somewhat reluctant accord before he lost that particular battle. They packaged their sparse belongings in the cart and clambered in the back. It was odd how someone with such a pronounced limp could be so graceful.

“Tell me, is that how you were swindled out of the no doubt ludicrous amount of money you paid for your clandestine equipment?”

“What? I got a good deal on that!” Jayce protested, adding “Fifty cogs,” when Viktor raised a derisive eyebrow.

The ex-assistant snorted inelegantly, a wry smile pulling on his lips, “They charged you double.”

He actually laughed at the look on Jayce’s face.

“Well it was the Kiramman’s money anyway,” Jayce muttered a minute later, grumpily crossing his arms over his chest, “They can stand to lose some.”

“I concur,” Viktor said with that same half-smile playing on his lips, “But I will still have to teach you how to make the most of what you have. I expect many failures in our experiments and that means repeatedly replacing equipment. Can’t have to you getting charged double every time.”

“How are you so good at this?”

Viktor shrugged, “It is a matter of course in the Undercity. Everyone haggles. You learn young.”

“Oh yeah? How young?” Jayce challenged.

“I once bargained a vender down from ten cogs to three,” Viktor said, a tiny hint of smugness in his eyes, “I was eleven.”

Jayce’s eyebrows nearly shot off his face, “No kidding? What did you get?”

“A screwdriver that actually worked.”

“Huh. What were you building? Or was it for your Dad?”

Viktor slowly shook his head, “My Tatka was more of a mathematical genius than an engineer. I was making myself a boat.”

Jayce blinked.

“A toy boat,” Viktor clarified.

“Aw, V, that’s so cute,” Jayce said with a boyish grin. Viktor pulled an indescribable face at him, whether over the comment or the nickname, but refuted neither. “Do you still have it?”

A tiny shadow crossed his eyes, “I sold it for scrap.”

“Ah,” Jayce remarked lamely, his disappointment plain as day on his face, “. . . Did it float?”

“It propelled itself,” Viktor informed him, that tiny hint of smugness returning. Jayce found he quite liked the look.

He got to talking about the designs he had drawn up for what he fancifully termed the Mercury Hammer, to help his father in the forge, blushing a little at the childishness of his ideas. Somehow, Viktor seemed genuinely interested, and they passed the three-hour trek inland in much the same manner, to the point they were both surprised when the driver stopped and asked for the other half of the payment he had been promised.

Jayce unloaded the cart while Viktor handed over the cogs. The bigger man ignored Viktor’s attempt to take his luggage back – Viktor had barely brought anything, Jayce could carry it for him. They followed a small slope down through a copse of trees, listening out for the sound of water.

And then there it was. A low-roofed hodgepodge cottage of stone and timber, near entirely concealed by the three towering trees that had grown around it – into a least one wall, from what they could see of the outside – sat back in a shaded area just North-East of a shallow stream. The sunlight reflected off the water as it trickled over some rocks, creating a rather picturesque image of the place that was now to be their home indefinitely.

And that meant it was their responsibility to clean it up.

The vegetation surrounding it was completely overgrown, moss converging on the walls itself, although thankfully only a few roots and vines had been able to force their way through the stone walls. The scent of decay wafted into their noses as Jayce forced the extremely stiff door open, scraping on the now uneven floorboards, upsetting a storm of dust motes that sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun. The windows were caked with several years worth of filth, as were the walls, floors and ceiling. Jayce’s parents had left the place in good condition, but over twenty years of disuse would reduce even the most pristine of environments to disrepair.

Viktor coughed raggedly.

The noise startled Jayce into putting down their luggage and hurrying to open all the windows, letting in as much fresh air as he could. Viktor, exhausted from such extensive travel, reluctantly heeded Jayce’s entreaty to plonk himself on an armchair older than either of them by about a decade; the wooden frame squeaked ominously but held. He pretended he didn’t spot his new partner rubbing at his right thigh and knee with a grimace of pain, as he was clearly attempting to be subtle about it. Instead, he busied himself to cataloguing their supplies.

The stone cottage had clearly been built for a family; the back of the house held two bedrooms, as well as one nursery that may have been converted from a large closet, an antique crib standing in pride of place. Jayce’s first thought was that they might be able to sell the hand-carved piece for a decent price, his second guilt that he had considered it. It didn’t feel like his place to do so. Separated by a corridor that was a little too narrow for Jayce, was the front room where Viktor waited for him, dominated by a huge fireplace on one wall. The opposite wall held the door for the kitchen – one of the drawers collapsed when Jayce pulled it out, but that could be fixed. More importantly, he found the bathroom, complete with running water, and a small stash of cleaning supplies – a broom, homemade soap that had stood the test of time and a sad-looking mop and bucket.

The back door, at the end of the corridor, lead outside to what might once have been a barn before Jayce’s father had converted it into a workshop – or perhaps it was his grandfather. In any case, his heart all but soared clean out of his chest as he saw a forge – small, not at all what he was used to, but serviceable. More than enough for Jayce to hand-craft any metal they needed.

More than enough to remind him of his father.

Blinking away tears and feeling embarrassed, Jayce hurried back to Viktor.

“Okay, so the pantry’s empty, no surprise there, but we have running water and I’m sure I can get that fire going, so . . .” he trailed off nervously, such a strong surge of sheepishness and anxiety rolling up his back that he nearly wretched. Some part of him was embarrassed that he had nothing better to present to his new partner.

“All we have left to do is clean,” Viktor said with feeling, using the cane Jayce had made him to propel himself to his feet.

“You should be resting – !” Jayce protested, cutting himself off at the look Viktor gave him.

“Do you have a washing machine here?”

Jayce blinked, “Um, yeah. I mean – a wooden one with a hand crank,” he clarified with a wince.

“And do you know how to use it?” Viktor asked with nearly insulting patience.

“I’m a engineer! I’ll figure it out!”

Viktor gave him a wry smile. “We have those in the Undercity. I assume the bedding has not been cleaned since your parents emigrated, no? Then I shall strip it off and demonstrate how to use the device. In the meantime, have you located rope for a washing line?”

Jayce ran off to fulfill that errand so quickly he was a little embarrassed about it when he thought it over that night. That wouldn’t be for quite some time, however. At least Viktor allowed Jayce to help him carry the bedsheets and towels they had located, both threadbare and in need of replacing, to the washing machine, where the larger man attentively listened to his instructions. He left Viktor to it as he strung up the washing line, the two of them working together to get the sopping cloth hung up once Viktor deemed it clean enough. The Ixtali sun beat down in the exact spot Jayce had chosen, hot enough to reduce the overt dripping to nothingness as the pair sat down on the grass and ate some of Ximena’s packaged provisions.

They found out about the bat living in the chimney when Jayce tried to light a fire to do a trial run and got attacked by a very irritated mammal. Viktor came to his rescue with the broom he had been using to sweep the accumulated dirt out the front door, being far more gentle than Jayce would have with the fiend. The remainder of their first day in their new home was spent washing down the walls and floor until it was clean enough to walk without clouds of dust following their feet. Jayce half-scaled a bookcase built into the wall to beat away some cobwebs at the highest point of the ceiling and promptly tore it out of the wall, sending himself crashing to the floor in a flurry of woodchips. Viktor laughed in surprise, quickly stifling it by asking if Jayce had injured himself.

He huffed out a negative, smiling as he hauled himself back to his feet. It was okay. They could do this.

They had found that one of the beds was virtually unusable due rotted boards on the underside, setting the mattress, which was beginning to mould, diagonally to the floor. They didn’t talk about it, but as neither of them were going to be able to sleep in that cradle anytime soon, they found themselves in the slightly bigger bedroom together by necessity.

They left their luggage on opposite sides, opening them to look for nightclothes and toiletries when Jayce found himself speaking into the silence, “I’ll break up that bed to fuel the forge, same as the mattress. If – when – we get some money in, I’ll buy a new bed for you.”

“That is hardly a priority,” Viktor said, his voice a little terse with fatigue, “I do not require much sleep.”

Jayce bit his tongue against his instinctive protest, simply saying, “Okay,” and blowing out the candle they had lit when the sun set. “Goodnight, Viktor.”

There was a shift on the mattress beside him as Viktor tried to get comfortable on the old mattress, “Goodnight, Jayce.”

The bedroom was silent for the five minutes it took the bed to give up on holding their combined weight. The seemingly sturdy structure gave a crack loud enough to be mistaken for an explosion, the pair of them almost bouncing off the mattress as it slammed into the floor and the wooden slats on all sides collapsed around them, except the headboard, which was luckily pinned into place against the wall.

“That is tomorrow’s problem,” Viktor said in a voice that brooked no refusal.

“Yeah. Agreed.”

***

Salvation arrived in the form of Ximena Talis. Unfortunately, not in the flesh; in the form of the courier she had hired to deliver a very large bulk order to the cottage for her son. A new bed-frame, new mattress, two full sets of sheets, two full sets of brand new towels, some gardening equipment, new cleaning supplies, a small set of matching cookwear with fresh knives, forks, spoons, bowls and plates, enough food to feed them them both for a week, toilet paper and candles.

Viktor took charge of the delivery as Jayce suddenly found himself unable to speak. He excused himself to the bathroom to try and regain his composure, once more overcome with shame for what he had done to his mother. It took him nearly ten minutes to be able to come out again.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to write my Mom a letter and send it off. Today. Now, honestly,” he said uncomfortably, “Y’know. Let her know we’ve arrived safely. And. To say thank you for all this.”

“A very generous and caring woman,” Viktor acknowledged.

Something in Jayce’s chest unclenched at hearing him say it so sincerely. Their first and only meeting had not been a pleasant one but the thought of his mother and partner disliking each other was . . . uncomfortable.

Horrendous, if he was being honest with himself.

He wrote the longest letter of his life, a full six pages, giving her unnecessary details about their voyage and their efforts to clean up the place, trying to get his gratitude and reassurance across as clearly as he could, while Viktor organized everything they had been given, as well as taking the liberty of unpacking both of their suitcases. Remembering his promise and with his partner preoccupied, Jayce took the liberty of penning a shorter but no less enthusiastic letter to Caitlyn as well. When Jayce finally got up, his eyes were red and he felt too guilty to leave Viktor alone to sort out the new bed, which had come in pieces and needing putting together.

Jayce tucked his letter away and pulled out his father’s old tools, certain they would get the job done with enough time for Jayce to use the map to get to the nearest town to post his letter.

He was woefully mistaken. The instructions included were utterly nonsensical, none of the components were labelled and all it looked virtually identical. Despite their combined extensive knowledge of engineering, it took the two scientists four hours, buckets of sweat and the kind of language that would have sent his mother into a tirade had she been present to witness it, to finally put the damn thing together, on top of hauling the other two out to sit beside the workshop.

Panting and aching in places they never knew they could ache, Viktor and Jayce lay prone on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. There was spider spinning a web above Jayce’s head. He was debating the possibility of it mocking him when Viktor broke the silence.

“I grew up in a house with two rooms. My parents and I had only two bedrolls for the three of us and substituted most bedding with raggedy blankets.”

Jayce slowly turned his head to blink tiredly at Viktor, frowning a little as he saw the flush still high on those sharp cheekbones. “I’m sorry. That sounds uncomfortable.”

Viktor clicked his tongue, his eyes annoyed as he rolled his head to look at Jayce, “My point is that I grew up basically sharing a bed between three people and it never did us any harm. Or the rest of the Undercity for that matter.”

Jayce blinked, “. . . You’re saying that you think we should just share this bed for the foreseeable future?”

“I’m saying that I absolutely refuse to build another bed for the remainder of my life,” Viktor pronounced venomously, “Whether you wish to subject yourself to this torment for your own sake in future, that is up to you. But don’t expect me to help.”

Jayce blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then burst into laughter, curling up into a ball when his stomach began to ache and he couldn’t stop laughing

“Sure, V,” he eventually wheezed out between breathless giggles, “If you’re okay with sharing a bed that’s fine by me. It’ll be like a sleepover between friends.”

Viktor snorted lightly, raising a questioning eyebrow, “And what does that entail?”

“I have no idea,” Jayce said, his slight hysteria making his tongue loose, “I’ve always sucked at making friends. Y’know – real friends, that you actually trust, instead of people you hang out with. I was the weird kid obsessed with magic.”

There was a pregnant pause. Jayce couldn’t decipher the look Viktor gave him so he forced himself to fill the silence with the first thing that came to mind, “Fair warning though – I snore.”

“I know,” Viktor said, tone dry and lips ticked up in a small, sincere smile.

***

The next day was dedicated to re-arranging the furniture to suit their needs. They had decided that the second bedroom would do as a lab space, Viktor citing the near comically large fireplace in the living room as something of a hindrance. Jayce concurred, taking out anything that would get in their way and rolling the chalkboard his father had used for sketches and measurements in the workshop back into the house so they could make their own equations. It had begun to hover over them, the knowledge that they were working on borrowed time. The food Ximena had sent them wouldn’t last longer than a week and their small stash of money would not keep them going indefinitely. Jayce was debating whether he could get to the nearest town to post his letter and scout the local markets for price ranges and back before dark, let alone how on earth he was going to ferry the things they could feasibly sell when Viktor's gaze was drawn sharply to the window.

“There is a carriage outside.”

Jayce blinked back into the present, “Huh?”

A sharp rap at their door. They looked at each other. Jayce smoothed down his hair, trying to look presentable, as he went to open it.

There stood a young woman in a red dress that was clearly Piltovan in origin, her brown hair coiffed into a deceptively complicated updo, staring him dead in the eyes, “Jayce Talis?”

“Uh, yeah – I mean, yes. How – can I help?” he asked, confused.

“My name is Elora. I am an attendant to Councillor Mel Medarda,” she announced primly, “She sent me to speak with you. May I come in?”

Jayce blinked rapidly, then all but fell over himself to welcome her inside, nearly trapping his fingers in the door as he shut it behind her, “Of – of course! Um, you know my partner Viktor? May I offer you a drink? I know it’s a long journey,” he babbled, feeling utterly wrong-footed and flustered.

“A glass of water would be appreciated, if you don’t mind.”

Jayce hurried to get it, coming back from the kitchen to find that Viktor had given the couch to their visitor and was once again perched in Jayce’s grandfather’s ominously creaking armchair. They were looking at each other with oddly blank expressions.

“What, um, what brings you so far from Piltover?” Jayce asked as he handed the beverage over.

“I have come at my employers behest to speak to you about Hextech,” Elora said simply, after relieving her dry throat with the water, glancing around and then holding onto it as she saw they had no table for her to put it aside.

“Odd,” Viktor said in a controlled voice, “Considering the Council exiled us for trying to prove it’s viability.”

“If you will recall, Councillor Medarda voted against that outcome – as she was the one who spoke for you in the first place,” Elora rebutted somewhat sharply, “Their decision does not prevent Councillor Medarda from investing in your venture as a private citizen, especially now that you have left Piltover’s borders.”

“The – the Councillor wants to invest in Hextech?” Jayce repeated, his eyes all but popping out of his head, “That’s – my Gods – it would be our honour – !”

“What are the conditions of this deal?” Viktor said in such a terse voice it cut right through Jayce’s elation.

He blinked at his partner, then looked questioningly at Elora. She hadn’t faltered in the face of his bluntness, simply reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a letter.

“Councillor Medarda is offering to bankroll your venture, including any and all equipment, travel and living expenses you may require to operate efficiently, provided that you accurately document all expenditures in this ledger,” she pulled a book out of the bag Jayce hadn’t noticed her carrying, handing it to him, “that you keep regular correspondence to update her on your progress – and that you present tangible findings at the end of the six-month period she is offering.”

Jayce’s heart sank, “Six months?”

“What does she mean by tangible results?” Viktor demanded.

“That I couldn’t tell you,” Elora said simply, “It is neither my place to inquire, nor my area of expertise. I was simply tasked with bringing you the letter and the offer. She wanted it done quickly – and I’m afraid she needs an answer now.”

“. . . Will you excuse us for a minute, please?” Jayce asked politely.

He waited for their guest to nod before he took Viktor’s elbow and guided him out the living room, down the corridor to their new bedroom, closing the door before he opened the letter. Viktor sidled closer and Jayce angled it so they could read it together.

Gentleman,

I see no merit in denying the march of progress for obsolete sensibilities. Please do consider the offer I have sent with Elora; you may speak to her as you would to me. I cannot fathom what you two would be able to create if you truly are able to harness magic and so I leave it up to you. Six months from today, present me with proof that you are a worthy investment. How exactly you will do that is entirely up to your own discretion. Until then, I shall ensure you have nothing to worry about.

Yours sincerely,

Mel Medarda.

“This is too good to be true,” Viktor said bluntly, “I do not like the idea of being bankrolled by a member of the very Council who exiled us.”

“. . . Do we have a choice, though?” Jayce asked softly, waiting for Viktor to look at him to say, “Science takes money, Viktor. It’s horrible but it’s true. And so does living. We need food and supplies. At least this gives us a little breathing room to properly find our feet.”

“And then what?” Viktor asked, “What do you think she will ask us to make, when we are in her debt?”

“I don’t know,” Jayce said, feeling an indescribable weight on his shoulders in the face of Viktor’s clear unhappiness, “But I also don’t know what else to do.”

Viktor stared him down for a very long moment. Then he looked away, sighing and shaking his head. “You are correct. We do not have the luxury of being picky with only one person willing to sponsor us.” He gripped the handle of his cane tightly, mouth set in a grim line as he jerked his head at the door, a clear “come on” in the gesture.

Elora was still sat serenely on the couch when they returned to the living room.

Jayce plastered the kind of smile on his face he had always reserved for his parent’s important friends, “We are pleased to accept the Councillor’s generous offer, Miss Elora.”

“I imagined that would be the case,” the attendant said simply, rising to her feet, “Thank you for your time, gentlemen. If you’ve no further questions, I will take my leave.”

“Um, actually,” Jayce began, cutting himself off with a blush. Elora paused, staring at him expectantly, “I have a letter for my mother back in Piltover. And, um, for Caitlyn Kiramman. The Councillor's daughter. As it’s on your way . . . ?”

Her professional mask cracked, just a little, showing a sliver of amusement, “It would be my honour, Mr Talis.”

Jayce thanked her, hastened to fetch the letters, handed them over and thanked her even more effusively as he saw her off at the door.

He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he couldn’t see her carriage anymore, closing the door and turning back to find Viktor staring intently at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Viktor grimaced. There was something horribly close to fear in his eyes as he stared into Jayce’s, “Will you make me a promise, Jayce?”

“Yes,” Jayce said without a second’s hesitation, “Anything in the world you want. Anything I can give to you.”

Viktor’s mouth slackened a bit, but there was still apprehension in his eyes. Jayce hated it.

“Promise me that we truly are partners in this. That my opinion matters. And that we will always make decisions as to the applications of Hextech together.”

Jayce stared, forcing himself not to blink, desperate for Viktor to look into his eyes and believe him. He reached out, taking both of Viktor’s thin shoulders in his hands, eclipsing so much of his slender frame without even trying. “I promise, Viktor. We’re partners.”

They both felt the weight of the moment. Viktor stared at his earnest expression with a painful weariness for a long moment. But then he smiled and Jayce felt lighter.

He felt like everything was going to be okay after all.

Chapter Text

Jayce had always considered the concept of routine to denote monotony, stagnation, the death of creativity. Living in his grandfather’s cottage with Viktor was anything but.

With the cottage cleaned and a deadline breaking up the endless stretch of time ahead of them, they quickly got to work. They woke with the sun, or in Jayce’s case, by having the blanket abruptly flung over his head as his partner got up, his back audibly cracking as he stretched. Jayce would groan and roll over, lingering on the plush mattress while Viktor occupied the bathroom. Less than five minutes later, he would return to dress, which Jayce took as he own cue to get up, shimmying around the slightly too narrow space to squeeze past his smaller partner and pray he didn’t knock him over – or at least that he would knock him onto the bed rather than the floor.

His morning ritual used to be considerably longer in Piltover, where the expectation of a man his age was to be clean shaven with perfectly styled hair, compounded by his own vanity and the Academy’s strict dress code. The heady thrill of his obsession blossoming before his eyes in the company of a person who honestly didn’t give that much of a shit about appearances beyond basic hygiene quickly put paid to that. Now, Jayce would brush his teeth, wash his face and run first a brush, then his hand through the longer hair at the top of his head to flop it into some semblance of a style before returning to an empty bedroom. He would dress to the sound of Viktor brewing coffee (thanks Mom) in the kitchen, arriving to the smell wafting from the steaming mug left behind for him and the sound of movement in their makeshift lab. Jayce, the one far more in tune with bodily needs, would whip up breakfast and then all but haul Viktor into the living room, chatting about yesterday’s results and today’s goals with their plates on their laps on the couch. He had learned within days that Viktor operated much better if he was interrupted only for breakfast and dinner, so Jayce made sandwiches alongside breakfast and set them at Viktor’s elbow. Occasionally, when he half-paused his work to eat his own, he would glance over and see Viktor chewing while he stared intently down a microscope, and his insides would feel like he had swallowed an ember.

His grandparents had left an old fashioned standing clock that ticked incessantly and gonged every hour on the hour in the living area. After the first proper workday where he nearly passed out after forgetting to eat or drink over eighteen hours, Jayce had hauled it in there. Viktor had cut him a look but didn’t comment. They both learned to block out the ticking but the gong was impossible to ignore.

From eight in the morning to seven at night, they worked on Hextech, pouring through journals, cross-referencing information and writing equations on the board. Jayce’s equipment had taken a bit of beating from their first successful experiment, as well as the not-so-gentle treatment the Enforcers had subjected it to, so he had to hammer it out, sometime literally, in the old workshop. Despite the pain in his leg and back, Viktor would frequently follow him out, a tome in one hand, talking at length.

Jayce hypothesised that he had never exchanged so many words with another person in the entirety of his life. Certainly not in such a short space of time. Perhaps his mother, over the course of his twenty-four years, but he was convinced that his conversations with Viktor would soon eclipse that.

They talked near constantly during that time frame, discussing theories and variables and interpretations. Jayce found every single thought he had spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it without filter or forethought. Viktor never seemed to mind; his eyes stayed intent instead of glazing over. Every idea that would have gotten him scolded at the Academy was debated enthusiastically, every random whimsical notion indulged, rather than dismissed or redirected. The habitual anxiety that had Jayce clamming up around teachers and classmates was all but eroded by week’s end. And Jayce – felt lighter, for it. As if a weight pressing on his chest had been lifted by Viktor’s skilled hands, removed as if it had never been, and now Jayce could finally breathe.

He bared his soul and in turn, wanted to peer into Viktor’s. His mind, he was pretty sure, he was getting a good reading on; flexible, inquisitive and open in a way he had never really experienced before. The giddiness of finally matching wits with someone at his level began to outmatch even the euphoria of floating, listening to Viktor’s soft laughter as they swam on air.

He so wanted to hear that laugh again. It was an itch in the back of his mind, occasionally making him fidget in his seat and change the subject.

He asked all sorts of questions, often abrupt and out of the blue, about Viktor, his past, his preferences, his experiences. Some got him odd looks and shorter, terser answers, but Viktor had gotten into a habit of indulging him at least partially. Jayce prayed to Gods he wasn’t sure he believed in that he never broke that habit.

The household chores were mostly forgotten until they were absolutely impossible to ignore or, on rarer occasions, the two men hit a wall and needed a distraction to clear their minds. Jayce vividly remembered the day, almost at the very end of their first week, when they had to stumble out of the home lab, faces covered in soot, to the living room. He had spotted the tools he had left while going between the cottage and the workshop, and impulsively plonked himself on the floor. He picked up the broken pieces of wood from the built-in bookcase he had nearly destroyed on their first day and set about fixing it.

Viktor, noticing that he was engrossed in the task, busied himself with collecting a small box he had brought with his luggage, plopping it on the floor and removing a sewing kit. He started fixing some rips in the couch cushions.

“I never took to sewing,” Jayce observed idly, watching Viktor’s elegant fingers deftly complete the tax, “Mom tried to teach me, once, but I couldn’t get the hang of it. My hands were too clumsy.”

Viktor snorted, “Nonsense. You have excellent precision.”

“With tools, yeah, not dainty little needles.”

Jayce put down the first slat he had to repair, pausing as he reached over for the other one. It was sitting next to Viktor’s box – a beaten up tin containing what looked like a doll cobbled together from variously coloured rags, a journal on the verge of falling apart and a tin-type photograph. A little boy leaning on a stick, flanked on either side by a woman with close-cropped hair and familiar eyes, and a very tall, lanky man, smiling despite the bruises swelling the left side of his face, his beard already greying despite his relatively young age.

“Are these your parents?” he asked before he thought better of it.

Viktor’s fingers faltered on the thread. “Yes,” he said after a loaded pause.

“Your Mom was quite the charmer, huh?”

Viktor blinked at him, “Pardon?”

“I’m saying she was pretty. Beautiful, actually,” Jayce glanced from the woman’s golden eyes, immortalised in the photograph, to her adult son’s, and back again, “It’s nice that you have a picture of both of them. I’ve only got the one of my Dad, a couple of my Mom, not one with both of them. Always buzzing about and forgetting to take photographs, Mom said. They had a wedding portrait but it got burned up. My Dad was a lousy cook,” he added with a conspirital grin, “Caused a small fire on the shelf in the kitchen where it sat, according to Mom, before I can remember.”

An odd smile was on Viktor’s face, speaking while looking at his repairs. He had moved on to another tear, “Photographs are rare luxuries on the fourth level of the Undercity. Mamca argued it was a waste of money, when Tatka came into it. But she smiled every time she saw it.”

Some very conflicting feelings formed a lump in Jayce’s throat. He had to get up and start refitting the shelves back into the openings, his back turned to Viktor, before he could scrounge up the courage to restart the conversation, “Couldn’t your Dad have waited for the bruising to go down then? If it was a special occasion?”

Viktor snorted, “Tatka always had a new bruise to replace an old one. He was – a very clever man. But an opinionated one, and not well versed in the art of silence. Mamca thanked Janna more than once that I was better at it.”

Jayce chuckled quietly, “I’ll bet.”

He wanted to ask more, but Viktor’s tone was tinged with just enough sadness to convince him to hold his tongue. So he did, the pair of them continuing their chores in silence. Jayce tested the shelves by collecting one of their heavier pots and balancing it. They held. He returned the crockery to it’s rightful place, pausing, considering, before taking the plunge and heading to the bedroom.

He returned to the living room with the framed photograph of him and his father, taken from his childhood bedroom, the smaller picture he had of his mother tucked carefully in the frame, so it looked like all three of them were together. He carefully placed it on the middle shelf, at eye-level. Then he turned and swiped Viktor’s family photograph. It was harder to balance without a frame but he was able to tuck it in at an angle that held it mostly up. It was visible, at least.

He hesitated. Turned slowly, making eye-contact with Viktor, who was staring at him silently. Jayce didn’t look away as he reached down into the tin and withdrew the journal and the rag doll. The latter was almost swallowed up by his girthy palm. He put them both on the shelf between the two photographs, fully on display, a small focal point in a mostly empty room.

Viktor met his eyes when he turned back for exactly thirty seconds, then looked down. His golden eyes had gone a little misty and he seemed to be swallowing heavily but his hands were steady and the hint of a smile played on his lips. Jayce had to hide his beaming smile by taking the tools back out to the workshop.

When he returned, he found Viktor in the lab once more, fully energised and ready to keep working. They didn’t talk about it. But when they sat on the couch side by side with plates of dinner in their laps, Jayce spied Viktor looking over at the display frequently, his smile more tender and less melancholy every time he did it.

He counted it as a win.

***

They discovered that Elora had left behind the bag she had entered their cottage with (tucked around the corner behind the couch) and that said bag was full of cogs. A down payment, Jayce supposed. They didn’t really talk about it, if only because Viktor pulled a tight grimace and marched off, leaning heavily on his cane. Jayce chalked it up to a bad pain day and silently stowed the bag away in the cupboard under the sink, out of sight and mind until it was needed.

That time came on the same day they had their first real breakthrough – proving that they could truly control the magic they harnessed.

It was small-scale, but proof enough. They had replicated their moment of weightless flight without blowing out the windows or destroying anything within the perimeter they calculated successfully three times, were able to turn it off at will and had now successfully adjusted the circumference repeatedly, based on the specific runes they used on Jayce’s self-designed machine. That represented a solid nine days relentless work, the last two days spent with only four hours sleep between the two of them.

They stumbled out, vision blurring, to rummage through the cupboards and found nothing but moulding bread, some spiced sausage and a third of a block of cheese left. Jayce staggered outside in a light drizzle to add the inedible bread to the compost heap he was building several feet away from their cottage, coming back to find Viktor slowly and precisely cutting up the last of the food onto a single plate for them to share, two glasses of water waiting beside them. They didn’t bother going to the couch, just slouched against the counters in the kitchen, mechanically shovelling sustenance in their mouths.

“You have a distaste for meat,” Viktor announced out of nowhere.

Jayce, seeing two of him, blinked and answered without thinking, “Always had a sensitive stomach. I don’t even like cooking it – the smell makes me feel sick. You don’t mind it?”

Viktor shrugged, turning the plate around so the spiced sausage was on his side, the cheese on Jayce’s, wordlessly gesturing for him to focus on that, “More for me. Meat was a rarity in the Undercity.”

“Spiced for preservation?”

Viktor cut him a side-long look, “And their antibacterial properties. No point scavenging for a luxury simply to have it rot and make you sick.”

“So the Undercity has the right kind of climate to grow their own spices?”

“Depending on where you look. Peppers were quite common – they do not require vast amounts of sunlight to thrive.”

“Wouldn’t cheese be a rarity?” Jayce wondered aloud, half chewing a slice at that very moment, “Climates good for spices tend to be wrong for cheese.”

“It is. But at the moment I favour the protein of the meat,” Viktor’s chewing slowed, as if taking a moment to actually savour what he was eating, “and I like this spice. It is not one I have tasted before.”

Jayce hummed, “I can add more spice to our meals, if you like? I’m good with peppers and things – it’s the grease and fat from the meat that gets to me.”

Viktor nodded slowly, “I would like that.”

“Good. ‘Cause we’ve got to go to town tomorrow.”

Viktor grimaced but didn’t argue.

***

They talked about project ideas for the whole walk into town. The map Jayce had been given by the sailors predicted a two-hour walk. With Viktor’s cane and limp, it ended up being three. Jayce didn’t mind; he kept pace with his smaller companion, a bag on his back containing a portion of the cogs they had been left and asked to take a break whenever he saw his new partner starting to lag. He saw the sideways glare the ever-independent Viktor would give him, so overcompensated by babbling about how he was so used to being cooped up in a lab and having access to carriages that he had forgotten how to walk long distances. He wasn’t sure if Viktor bought it, but he did stop glaring, so Jayce was happy either way.

The conversation from the night before had given them inspiration – their first attempt to help the unfortunate of the world was to see if Hextech could be used on organisms to increase supplies of food. Viktor confirmed that a combination of air and water pollution, as well as lack of sunlight, prevented anything particularly nutritious from growing in the Undercity, certainly not in plentiful quantities. That kind of struggle was hardly an issue only the Undercity faced, however – and given that this walk was not particularly feasible as a once-a-week trek, they had the perfect conditions for a field-test, to see if they could feed themselves. Viktor had already come up with several different ways to conduct this experiment and an extensive list of resources he would need, along with annotated substitutions, practically vibrating with the urge to get his hands busy with it.

Jayce, by comparison, felt rather stuck. They had agreed that, in order to exceed Councillor Medarda’s expectations in the very short deadline they had been given, they would need to have at least two projects ongoing at the same time, preferably with a third additional one that could be dropped if the workload got too high. But Jayce’s issue was the opposite of Viktor’s – Viktor had so much in-depth knowledge of the issues of poverty that he had too many ideas as to how to fix it and struggled to narrow it down; Jayce could come up with any single idea at all.

It was frustrating. But more than that, it was embarrassing. For all his talk of using magic to help the common man, now that the opportunity had finally presented itself, he had no idea where to even begin. It made him feel inadequate, in the face of Viktor’s brilliance and sincerity.

For better or for worse, the town’s market held many distractions.

The last days of spring had yielded an impressive harvest in the forms of many leafy greens, bulb vegetables and not-quite-ripe fruit, not to mention the seeds to begin their compost project and spices they could use to preserve the modest amount of meat Jayce insisted on purchasing for Viktor. It was while watching his partner persistently haggle with the butcher that he was suddenly struck with a paralysing level of fear that this was it – the burden was all of them now.

It wasn’t like Jayce had never been shopping for himself before, but this was the first time the weight of his decisions felt so dire. This wasn’t Piltover, where he could run to a corner shop at near midnight if he forgot something. He had to attempt to accurately gauge not only how much food they could afford but how to carry it all back to their cottage, how often they could afford to come to the market, how much energy it would take Jayce to carry it all back – how on earth he was going to let Viktor, who’s shoulders had already starting leaning alarmingly towards his bad side, to let him take the majority of the burden.

“Jayce?”

“Hmm?” the man in question jolted back to life to realise that Viktor was peering at him questioningly. He glanced down at the bag Viktor was carrying, realised that he had swapped his cane to the other side of his body, and quickly took it off him. Viktor frowned but didn’t protest the silent swipe, “Sorry, V, did you say something?”

“I asked how many cogs you have left?”

“Er, thirty. You?”

Viktor grimaced, “Two.”

Jayce blinked and then grinned, “Damn, you got all that and still had change? Is there anything you can’t do?” he added teasingly, gently nudging Viktor’s shoulder with his own.

“Read your mind,” Viktor deadpanned, a smile pulling on his lips. Even with the way he had to awkwardly stretch out his shoulders, it seemed the fresh air out of the lab had done him good, he was more cheerful here, “Have you thought what materials you need?”

Jayce’s smile froze for a second. More than one excuse or misdirection bubbled up on his tongue, a habit he had gotten into to skirt attention away from his illegal research, a sure-fire way of keeping himself on his teacher’s good sides so he could panic in peace when he was at school. But one look at Viktor’s inquisitive eyes and raised eyebrow and he caved.

“I haven’t got a clue,” he admitted, shame-faced. The market was too crowded for them to stay in one place too long so they started walking back towards the edge, where they could find their way back to the long road out of town, “Hextech seemed almost impossible for so long. Now it’s here, it’s . . .”

“Overwhelming,” Viktor said. When Jayce looked at him, his face was soft, “I understand. It is similar to how I felt when I first entered the Academy. Even with my, eh, not quite legal attendance, it still felt like a world of possibilities opened up before me,” he swallowed tightly, “It is as exhilarating as it is frightening. Yes?”

Jayce found himself smiling, “Yes.”

They made eye-contact, a silent understanding passing between them. Viktor said quietly, “Do not punish yourself, Jayce. Inspiration is a temperamental creature.”

Jayce felt something lodge in his throat. In an effort to clear it, he set about coming up with some kind of witty remark to make Viktor laugh, or at least smile wryly, to communicate his gratitude at his new partner’s patience without making it too obvious, when a man was violently thrown out of the tavern they were passing, nearly flattening Viktor, who went very still.

The tavern-keeper, appearing out of the alleyway gap that lead to the back of the establishment, was angrily dragging a donkey by the reins, the animal whining to protest it’s rough treatment.

“I’m not paying that for this mangy animal!” the angry man snarled, “You couldn’t sell this thing for meat!”

He yanked too hard on the bridle. The donkey reared back to kick him with it’s front legs. He swore and let go of the reins, the seller rolling rapidly out of the way to avoid getting trampled, jumping upright to grab the bridle, struggling to hold onto the creature, which began to panic and thrash, while still arguing with his irate customer.

Jayce suddenly found groceries and a cane shoved into his arms, barely stuttering out a protest as Viktor strode forward. He barely kept his footing as the donkey batted into his side, placing both his long-fingered hands on it’s flank, making sure to stand in it’s line of vision as he murmured words in a language Jayce didn’t understand, although the tone was very soothing. In almost no time at all, the animal was calm enough for Jayce to approach, still holding their spoils, watching. His gut curdled in sadness as he recognised the poor state the creature was in, with overgrown hooves, bug bites around it’s eyes, a ragged tail, a too-lean frame. Viktor was running his fingers over a brand that had been burned into the creature's hide, trying to decipher it, when the original owner finally noticed them and harshly dragged on the donkey’s bridle.

“Don’t touch the merchandise unless you’re gonna pay for it!” the man snarled, his accent thick. This close to the ports, the hawkers and sellers spoke the common language intermittently with their own dialects. He was glowering at Viktor, who narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to snap back.

“How much?” Jayce interrupted.

Both Viktor and the two strangers turned to him in surprise. The tavern-worker said, “Don’t be daft, boy, the creature’s on it’s last legs. It’s barely worth ten cogs.”

“I’ll give you fifteen,” Jayce said to the seller.

The man ran his gaze up and down Jayce, clearly took him for someone gullible, and plastered a fake smile on his face, “Come now, I know she ain’t a looker but she’s a sturdy, reliable girl. I could only part with her for twenty-five.”

“You’ll take fifteen or you’ll go home empty-handed,” Viktor said flatly.

The seller turned a much nastier look on Viktor but was unable to get a word out before the smaller man added, “How many people have you already pissed off in this town trying to offload her?”

The tavern-worker snorted derisively. The seller gave him a dirty look, gave Viktor a dirtier one, then glanced at Jayce. He apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort to argue, “Fine. Fifteen.”

Jayce handed the groceries over to Viktor just long enough to pull out his bag of cogs out. The seller’s eyes lit up, saying even as he took the fifteen, “Her saddlebags’ll be an extra five.”

Jayce glared at him but was going to agree anyway, just to have help to get their things home, when Viktor gave a flat, “No thank you,” and gently tugged on the donkey’s bridle, his cane dangling over one elbow, a bag of groceries balanced between his arm and his chest.

Jayce hastened to catch up, throwing a quick "Thanks," over his shoulder and getting a nasty look for it. He waited until they were out of earshot to ask, “Um – V? Don’t we need saddlebags?”

“We will manage for today. I’m sure we can figure out how to tan leather between the two of us.”

“Yeah. Just like we learned how to put a bed together.”

Viktor gave him a look that was half affronted, half amused, but didn’t actually argue.

***

It turned out that tanning leather into saddlebags for the donkey, dubbed “Běla” by Viktor, on account of the white in her muzzle, was actually much more in Jayce’s repertoire, even if he did not enjoy the process and had no wish to repeat it. Carpentry, he slowly got the hang of. Viktor had to bandage his badly bruised and bleeding hands on two separate occasions, but by the end of another week they had a passable stable for her to rest in, a feeding trough and a cart which survived the return trip into town to sell some of the more unwieldy pieces of Jayce’s inheritance. Běla had been in a bad way due to neglect – Viktor darkly theorised that she had been a mining donkey. Nevertheless, she was soon nursed back to health under the scientist’s ever patient and unceasing care, and now happily tended to her primary duty of devouring most of the undergrowth they had forgotten about or been too busy to trim.

Jayce built a greenhouse for Viktor’s botanical experiments by journeying downstream and digging up the surrounding areas until he found enough sand to fill several pouches. Glass-making was something he hadn’t done in a long time, but he had been taught and quickly got back into the swing of things.

Viktor had stared at him for a solid five seconds in confusion when Jayce first presented the flawless glass surrounded by delicate silver metal work.

“For your family picture,” he had explained, doing an excellent job of keeping the nerves out of his smile and the crack out of his voice, “I thought it might protect it better.”

His heart had plunged into his stomach as he saw those golden eyes turn wet before the frame was hastily taken from him. Viktor stood, his torso heaving in a stifled heavy breath, “Thank you, Jayce. That is very kind,” he said a bit too quickly and all but fled from the room.

The photograph was in the frame when they had dinner. The sight of it eased his anxiety. When he rolled over in bed that night and blinked his tired eyes open to Viktor’s sleeping face, softened without his usual dreaming frown, his lips parted ever so slightly, Jayce wondered if he had been able to give his partner that untroubled sleep. He watched the curl of hair gracing Viktor’s knife-sharp cheekbones for far longer than he should, unable to sleep.

He paid it some more attention over the next few days, how Viktor’s hair was growing, brushing his collar now. He was in the habit of twirling strands around his fingers when concentrating on a particularly thorny problem; now he had to swipe it out of his face on occasion. When he repaired the hinges on the greenhouse door (Běla had been startled by a bird in the under brush and accidentally kicked it) with his welding equipment, Jayce noticed a strand fall in front of his goggles, tickling his nose. Without thinking about it, he had reached over and tucked the stray out of the way, the pad of his finger stroking over the shell of Viktor’s ear.

He didn’t falter, but some part of Jayce felt that his breath had hitched. His finger tingled and he had to go through the scientific method to figure out why. Ruling out the transference of toxic plants or sudden nonsensical allergies, only one solution remained.

Jayce was falling in love with Viktor.

He expected rather more panic but it never came. The knowledge slipped it’s way into Jayce’s chest and took root in his heart as easily as Jayce accepted cups of coffee from Viktor, as easily as Viktor accepted tools from Jayce in the lab. It was easy. Natural. Perhaps inevitable.

He kept this new knowledge nestled away safely in his chest, tucked away out of sight and mind and let it linger, unspoken and unacknowledged. The alternative was talking to Viktor about it or trying to get some distance. The latter was unfeasible and the former a wishful thought that could so easily lead to something unthinkable.

He had already asked too much of Viktor. Gluttonous creature that he was, even Jayce understood when it was time to stop and be thankful for what you had instead of greedily asking for more.

***

Autumn was still pleasantly warm in Ixtal, even as the trees began to lose their leaves and the nights drew in faster. Viktor, unfamiliar with the climate despite the research he had been able to perform with the books they had bartered for the last time they went to the market, kept a very close eye on his plants, checking them over multiple times a day. It was during one final evening check that inspiration finally struck Jayce.

Běla, perhaps as a result of her past in the mines, was skittish around nightfall, so Jayce made it a habit to accompany Viktor on his final pre-bedtime check-in on the greenhouse, smoothing down the animal’s coat and calming her with nonsense talk, making sure that her trough had fresh water in it. He glanced over at Viktor and saw him frowning, crouching down. He had left his cane inside the cottage.

Jayce loped over, leaning down to see what he was looking at. He was holding a large petal in his long-fingered hands, brushing ragged sections over with his thumb.

“Insect activity?” Jayce asked, frowning.

“I believe so.”

His partner straightened up, inspecting the greenhouse. “Hmm. Not sure how to stop that, to be honest. I can get some insect killer in town, maybe, but I’d have to check that it’ll be non-toxic to the plants – ”

“Don’t do that.”

Jayce blinked down at his partner. He absentmindedly held his hand out as Viktor pushed himself upright, his bad leg wobbling. Viktor took it without looking, instinctively knowing that Jayce would be offering support. That unspoken feeling in his chest bubbled happily.

“Don’t you want to protect the plants? Insect activity can skew the data.”

“Perhaps,” Viktor said softly, staring at the flora he was growing, “But I want this technology to be used in a real-world context, and insects have a place in the natural order of things. It is prudent to monitor their activity, rather than to discourage it. Besides,” the corner of his lip curled in a wisftful smile, “who am I to deny someone a meal?”

Jayce looked at this man, who had seen enough suffering to identify the cause at a glance and yet had a heart kind enough to abstain from inflicting even the most inconsequential bit of harm, and was struck, as if by lightning.

“Butterflies,” he blurted out like an idiot.

Viktor glanced at him, then up at the top of the greenhouse, where there was indeed a single butterfly, a native specimen in an ombre of purple and blue, “Yes. It is lovely.”

“No – I mean, yes, it is – but Vik! Do you remember, at the Academy, there used to be these little metal butterfly things? Someone made them for a project and it became a trend and now there’s a bunch of them everywhere.”

“Yes. It was frivolous and wasteful – though I often admired the metalwork.”

“What if we make some? For down the mines?”

Viktor turned to look at him, said, “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” as if he fully expected Jayce to pull a brilliant explanation out of his ramblings.

Eager not to disappoint him, Jayce bulldozed on, “What are the biggest problems down mines?”

Viktor raised his eyebrows, “Risk of collapse. Lack of communication in the event of an emergency. Harmful gases. Explosions. The various pains of intensive labour. Animal cruelty. The darkness.”

“What if we altered that initial butterfly design to combat those problems? We can see if the Hex crystals respond to gases in some way, like if they can tell them apart? So they can warn the miners when there’s a risk of poison or an explosion? We know they emit a frequency not dissimilar to radio waves – perhaps they could be harnessed for communication, so help could be called for faster. The design is so small that they’d easily be able to flit in through cracks the miners themselves can’t get through. And the floating! We could alter harnesses to take some of the weight off the donkeys so they won’t be worked to the bone any more! Maybe we could even extend that to the equipment, so the miners can work without fatigue – !”

“Remarkable,” Viktor’s enthusiastic voice cut through the tirade, a bright smile pulling on his lips, “Your idea has merit. If one small metal contraption could achieve all that, I would even call it ground-breaking. Let’s get to work.”

***

It was inevitable that they would argue. They were both passionate, highly intelligent men who had been told “no, you can’t do it” too many times in their lives and had accordingly developed highly reactive stubborn streaks.

Jayce wanted to stick to the weightless applications – to see about easing burdens by augmenting miner’s strength and making their equipment more versatile. Viktor was far more intrigued by Jayce’s initial spark of inspiration and wanted to stick to the butterfly design. Jayce thought the former was safer because the groundwork was mostly proven. Viktor argued that so was the butterfly design and that Jayce needed to abandon his caution if he wanted to move forward. Jayce was anxious about their deadline, barely over two months away. Viktor scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Jayce couldn’t remember who raised their voice first or who threw the notebook at the wall, or tossed the box of chalks that exploded in a cloud of dust. All he was aware of was his rapidly thudding heart and the almighty crash as the chalkboard, rattled by the sudden blows, fell off the hook he had installed and landed on the floor, rattling everything in the room. It startled them both into silence, and all of sudden, the room felt too small.

Jayce all but ran from the room, storming off to the forge. The blueprints he pulled up swam before his eyes, so he tossed them aside with a curse and focused instead of fixing up Běla’s protective boots. Her hooves had taken a beating over a lifetime of hard labour and she needed the support. The repetitive hammering helped to exercise his anger. He understood where Viktor was coming from, he really did. But sometimes he wished his partner could exercise a little more caution – whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not, Councillor Medarda was their only lifeline and they had very little time to impress her. Jayce couldn’t take the risk of this not working.

The sun had fully set by the time he was finished – he hammered out some dented tools and a couple cogs Viktor had asked for while he was at it. He took the protective boots out to Běla’s stall, only to find her already asleep, her water trough topped up. Viktor had done his job, probably when he went to check on the plants. They were coming along brilliantly.

Maybe that was the problem. Viktor was simply so exceptional he couldn’t understand Jayce’s utter fear of failure.

Jayce wasn’t stupid. He knew that Viktor had faced dozens of obstacles to get to where he was when Jayce tore his life out from under him. That the path had been paved far smoother on Jayce’s side of the road than Viktor’s. But all of that was man-made, the result of prejudice, lack of foresight, small-mindedness. Here, away from the haughty looks of Piltover’s elite, with no barriers to cage him, Viktor shone brighter than any star in the solar system. He was radiant.

And some part of Jayce was terrified of that, instinctively dug in his heels and tried to pull back. To hold onto Viktor so he didn’t slip from Jayce’s fingers.

He couldn’t imagine what he would ever do if he were to reach out for Viktor and only be met by empty air.

The cottage was dark, the lab empty. Jayce blinked in surprise and then sighed, a shiver surprising him. Viktor had banked down the fire so it wouldn’t burn overnight, the chill quickly slipping in. Jayce hurried through unlacing his boots and making sure the door was locked, a habit burned into him from growing up in a city, and tried to be as quiet as possible making his way to the bathroom to clean up for bed.

He was so preoccupied he failed to notice the light under the door, startled into freezing at the sight of Viktor sitting up in bed, reading.

Those golden eyes turned on him, Viktor’s usually expressive face deliberately impassive. Waiting for something.

“Is that my journal?” is all he could think to say.

Viktor glanced down as if to confirm for himself. “Yes.”

Jayce grunted, lowering his eyes as he closed the door behind him and went to the dresser, pulling his shirt over his head. His back was to the bed as he searched for nightclothes, “You know, most people ask before looking through other people’s belongings.”

Viktor apparently didn’t care about that, announcing, “You’ve perfected the designs.”

Jayce paused in the act of pulling his pyjama trousers up, turning to look. Viktor had turned the journal so the pages faced Jayce and there they were, dozens of prototype drawings of the altered butterflies, complete with annotations. Jayce bit the inside of his cheek and turned around, standing up to pull the pyjama’s over his hips.

“They’re not perfect. A hundred things could go wrong.”

A soft breath behind him, adjacent to a sigh. He lowered his head, roughly pulling a clean shirt on, and rounded the corner to his side of the bed, getting in without looking at Viktor, who was studying the far wall.

“I have a quandry,” Viktor eventually said, “Help me to solve it.”

Jayce laid on his back, staring up at the ceiling, hands crossed over his chest. He stubbornly ignored that remark for less than two seconds before caving, “What is it?”

“You have the passion and persistence to pursue illegal experimentation, to the point of arguing it’s merits at your own trial, and agreed to break the law with me when it was threatened even after securing your own freedom. Now the chance to prove it is right in front of you. Yet you hesitate. Why?”

Jayce set his jaw, turning to glare at him, until he registered his expression. It was – perplexed, but curious. Open, in a way no one else’s ever was. Instantly, all his defensiveness died. Jayce sighed and pushed himself up into a sitting position, putting his hands into his lap, staring at the far wall as he talked – it was easier.

“I never – told you how I knew it wasn’t a theory, did I?”

“You implied that you had met a mage, and that they were instrumental to helping you and your mother.”

“We were gonna die, Viktor,” Jayce said solemnly. He looked down at his bracelet, yet to be removed from his wrist, “We were in a snow storm and there was nothing for miles around and we were going to die. Mom collapsed. It’s how she lost her fingers – frostbite. I was holding my Mom’s limp body and begging for someone – anyone – to help. I was scared. So scared – and powerless. And then he was there. The mage. He appeared like a gift from the Gods and took us away – to a place full of sunlight and flowers and warmth. He gave me this,” Jayce unlatched his bracelet, holding it up so the rune caught the lamplight, “and then he was gone. He didn’t say a word to me, but I’ve never stopped thinking about him. About what he did. About why he did it.”

Jayce swallowed heavily, blinking back tears while chewing the inside of his cheek. Viktor let him think, “What was the point of me surviving if I don’t do something with my life, Vik? If I don’t take this gift and use it to help others? That’s why – I can’t fuck this up, V. I can’t. I owe it to him. It’ll kill me if I ruin this. If I’m – if I’m not good enough. I thought I had one chance to get this right and I ruined it because I wasn’t – wasn’t articulate enough, or patient enough, to convince the Council. Then you saved me and I - you gave me another chance. Two chances. You gambled everything for this and I – ! This is the third – it’s the last damn one. I can feel it. I can’t be this lucky. I’ve got to make this count. I can’t risk it, I – ”

Jayce’s voice caught in his throat as a long-fingered hand, cool to the touch, reached out and gently wrapped around his hand. A light squeeze brushed every one of Viktor’s callouses against Jayce’s, fitting together like two perfectly notched matching cogs. Jayce couldn’t breathe – he focused on the contrast between their hands, porcelain pale against tawny warmth.

“You do not have to earn your existence, Jayce Talis,” Viktor said with such soft conviction that Jayce was helpless to do anything but believe him. When he drew upon the courage to glance over, it was to see a darkness in Viktor’s eyes, a sadness to the twist of his lips, thoughtfulness to the depth of his frown as he stared down at the blanket covering his legs, “You had a stroke of incredible fortune and you wish to help others to be as fortunate. You are a good man. And for the sake of our venture, I will not attempt to dissuade from that path. But I wish to dissuade you from believing that your value is inherent to it’s success. You are . . . more than that.”

His right leg twitched under the blanket and his frown deepened.

Jayce took a breath and twisted his hand around, catching Viktor’s before the other man could pull it away. He waited until Viktor looked him in the eyes to speak.

“I was fortunate to meet you, Viktor,” he said sincerely, “Sometimes I feel like I survived just for that.”

Viktor’s chest hitched in a way that said his inhale was sharper than it was meant to be. He swallowed and looked away. Jayce let go of Viktor’s hand solely to wrap an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him close to Jayce’s side. The lamplight was cast on his sharp cheekbones, bringing out the gold in his eyes. He looked so human and fallible in this bed, by Jayce’s side, that it took every fibre of his being not to tilt his chin up and kiss his lips.

“I’m sorry we had a fight,” Jayce murmured, the exhale puffing on Viktor’s cheek as the taller man leant forwards and put his forehead against Viktor’s temple, his nose brushing that bed-mussed auburn hair.

“I apologise for losing my temper,” Viktor replied. He finally leant his weight on Jayce, accepting the embrace. Jayce prayed he couldn’t feel the frantic rhythm of his heart.

Eventually they untangled, wished each other goodnight and blew out the flame on the lamp, laying down to sleep. Neither of them managed to get any for quite some time.

***

Jayce didn’t know if it was a blessing or a curse when Councillor Medarda sent word that she would be delayed from attending them for a week and a half due to Council business, given that it gave them time to both fine-tune the designs and to second-third-and-fourth guess the results – or at least, that’s what Jayce did. Viktor carried on as usual, bar taking on some more of the household duties so Jayce could focus on his work. If Jayce caught him pulling exasperated faces when he folded the laundry as he listened to Jayce ramble at length, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want another argument.

But time waited for no man and so Councillor Medarda appeared, her glossy white-and-gold ensemble partially covered by a coat as she stepped out of her carriage, Elora ever present at her side. She accepted Jayce’s bumbling attempts at hospitality on behalf of herself and her assistant and Jayce was beyond grateful when Viktor took charge of the presentation, in awe of how little his partner seemed bothered by either the Councillor’s unflappable confidence or commanding presence.

He showed her the blueprints of both of their ideas, answered her shrewd questions with the exact same energy she showed and soon Jayce was eased enough by his partner’s demeanour to regain his own confidence.

They led the two ladies outside to perform the actual demonstration.

“As you can see, the Hex Replicator rapidly performs the lifecycle of the flora, allowing for destruction of any plants that become diseased or unusable without unnecessary waste. The machine detects anything deadly and removes it while the decay naturally stimulates rebirth,” Viktor spoke as he demonstrated, “and then once we have healthy matter to work with . . .”

He adjusted the machine to have the correct runes. Blue sparks danced across the soil laid out in the planters Jayce had painstakingly built at Viktor’s request. Before their eyes, the exact same flora burst into life, filling the entire planter instead of a mere quarter.

“Therefore, crops can continue to flourish regardless of draught, flood or frost, ensuring that food is in plentiful supply all year round.”

He nodded at Jayce, who stepped forward with a bright smile to take over.

“Ladies, if you’ll look up in the trees, you’ll notice several spots of blue light. Those are the Hestia Butterflies we showed you in action. As I already said, they respond to certain frequencies,” he pulled out a flute he had hand-carved on one particularly rainy evening when he was prevented from going to the forge and played three sharp notes. There was a second of delay and then the butterflies played them back, one after another, from the closest to Jayce to the one furthest away, “With these, a signal system can be put in place to help communicate everything from a request for more equipment to emergency aid. And speaking of emergencies . . .”

He held out a hand. Viktor took two steps forward, forgoing his cane, and handed Jayce an axe he had personally forged. Jayce went to the tree he had partially hacked through for this very moment. Four strong blows and the whole things came down.

There was a sharp whistling sound and a flash of blue light. Councillor Medarda and Elora looked up to see a shield of blue light interconnected by white lines had formed between them and the falling tree, like some kind of mystical net. It buzzed and fritzed but held well.

“The butterflies respond to large-scale movement and can hold upwards of six thousand kilograms of weight. This can allow miners to escape, unscathed, from otherwise catastrophic cave-ins and can be used to prevent all kinds of accidents.”

“What do you do with the rocks afterwards?” Councillor Medarda asked with an elegantly raised eyebrow, “They can’t hold them up indefinitely, surely?”

Jayce smiled and raised the flute to his lips. He played the tune he had fretfully spent weeks memorising for this exact moment. As they watched, the butterflies altered their positions, the light-net moving, shifting the tree until it stood upright and then giving it the boost it needed to flop down on the other side.

Without the butterflies to slow it down, it hit the ground with the kind of thump that rattled their bones, then rolled down the small hill with an ominous creak until it hit a cluster of trees, shaking the branches.

It took several awkward moments for the racket to stop.

“Anyway,” Viktor said breezily, “this is our demonstration.”

Councillor Medarda shifted her coat about her refined shoulders, her face oddly blank, “Well, Gentleman. I do not say this often – but I am impressed.”

Jayce let out a rather unrefined puff of air as she finally smiled and looked to Viktor for support. His partner gave him a half-smile in return before focusing back on their investor.

“This is good work given how little time you had to work with. I am pleased to offer you a contract.”

“A contract?” Viktor repeated immediately, his eyes narrowing.

“Shall we go back inside?” the graceful woman was already turning on her heel to lead the way, “Then we can go over the particulars. I can’t say I think “Hex Replicator” is a particular marketable name.”

Viktor scowled behind her back. Jayce put his arm around his partner’s shoulders, beaming at him as they made their way inside.

***

It was a maddening few hours. Viktor quibbled everything from their rate of pay to the exact manner in which their products would be distributed and wouldn’t take “we can discuss that later” for an answer, to the point that the Councillor was starting to show visible signs of annoyance. Jayce guessed that was why she directed most of her attention and questions to him, gliding over Viktor entirely. This backfired as the more she did that, the more his partner dug in his heels and refused to be ignored.

A frustratingly large part of Jayce wanted to roll over and bare his neck to the Councillor, as both a woman of high rank and their one and only investor. But Viktor looked at him with pleading, slightly suspicious eyes and Jayce couldn’t bare to let him down. So he clammed up, let Viktor take the lead and redirected the Councillor back to his partner every time she tried to corner Jayce. He hoped he did well enough.

The worst moment definitely had to be when Councillor Medarda looked Viktor square in the eyes and said, “You’re talking like someone who can find an investor anywhere, anytime, which we all know is palpably untrue.”

Viktor, utterly unafraid, clapped back with, “You’re acting like just anyone can harness magic the way we have, which we all know is untrue.”

Several seconds painful silence was eventually left behind as their impasse was silently acknowledged and shelved for another time.

Eventually the contract was signed. Councillor Medarda took a copy and left them with one, with Elora’s signature on the witness line for both, as well as a small sack of cogs to get them through until their next payment. The ladies excused themselves. Jayce, who had high-society manners frantically drilled into him from a young age, hastened to escort them to their carriage, standing neatly at the side and politely offering his hand to held them get in.

Elora took it with no issue. Councillor Medarda paused and gripped his hand, looking down at him, “I look forward to working with you, Mr Talis. Talent like yours should be able to go far on it’s own merit – but both you and I know that will not be the case.”

Jayce started, “Councillor?”

She shrugged her shoulders languidly, “Ideals only go so far against life’s necessities. Don’t let them hold you back against making your mark in the world. Hextech has the potential to change the world – learn how to play the game, Mr Talis, and it will.”

“. . . I thank you for your advice, Councillor, and for your faith in us,” Jayce said carefully, polite enough not to offend while offering no real answer.

The Councillor stared at him for a long moment. Then she gave him a charming half-smile and climbed inside her carriage. He dutifully shut the door for the ladies and waited until they had disappeared down the increasingly worn-through road.

Jayce quickly decided to give Viktor some space to cool his head. He used a tune from his flute to guide the butterflies back inside the cottage, knowing they would instinctively return to what Viktor had termed their “habitat” inside the lab, then he took the axe down the hill and set about chopping up the tree. After three hours, he had both a sizeable pile of firewood and a sweat-soaked shirt. He stripped it off, dabbing at his damp forehead and around his eyes before they started stinging again, then used the fabric to bundle up enough of the logs to keep them going for tonight, making his way back into the cottage.

He neatly stacked the logs by the fire and then took a peak in the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. Jayce carelessly tossed his shirt in the rough direction of the laundry basket, washed his hands and prepared a mug of sweetmilk, taking pains to ensure it was exactly the way Viktor liked it, holding it up like a peace offering.

He was utterly unsurprised to find his partner hard at work, surrounded by candles as he jotted down something in his notebook, a shard of Hex crystal under a microscope at his side. He only glanced up when he heard the mug hit his table.

“Thank you.”

“Thought it’d relax you. Time for dinner and bed, Vik.”

Viktor was already shaking his head, “I had an inspiration about the nature of communicating through frequencies.”

“Well write it down and put it away for the night.”

“I have already begun the equations.”

Jayce bent over so he could put his elbow on the table, looking sideways at Viktor’s notebook, his chin balanced in his hand, a fond smile on his face, “Of course you have.”

“Go shower, Jayce.”

“Are you saying I stink?” he asked with mock-hurt in his tone.

Viktor raised a derisive eyebrow at him, deliberately stalling by taking a sip of his sweetmilk, maintaining eye contact. Jayce’s grin widened. “What is the phrase? “You said it, not me”?”

“Harsh,” Jayce laughed.

Viktor merely hummed and looked back down at his work. Jayce watched him for a few more moments before saying softly, “You were amazing. You know that, right?”

Viktor blinked, looking up at him in confusion.

“With the Councillor,” Jayce clarified, “I’d be too terrified to argue with her like that.”

“I know,” Viktor said simply, “That’s why I did it.”

Jayce’s smile softened. They stared at each other for a long moment. Viktor broke eye-contact first. “Go shower. You’re getting sweat all over the table.”

Jayce let out a half-chuckle, the come-down of a day of anxiety leaving him pleasantly sleepy. “I’m making dinner after. Be on the couch or I’ll carry you out to it.”

“You just try it, Talis,” Viktor responded, mock-threatening, his narrowed eyes unable to detract from his smile.

“See you in a minute,” Jayce said, leant over, and kissed Viktor’s cheek, right in the hollow he had so often admired.

He felt Viktor stiffen under his lips and immediately pulled back. Not far – Viktor’s nose brushed his as he turned to look, his golden eyes wide.

A distant part of Jayce was scrambling to find an explanation that wouldn’t ruin his life. Maybe it was the emotions of the day, his gratitude for this amazing man, an invisible damn finally breaking as he could no longer resist his carefully guarded urges. Maybe it was the candlelight casting that pretty glow over his even prettier face, or the adorable little furrow on his brow as he concentrated or the soft cadence of his accent caressing his words. Either way, he had done it.

And now he was too close not to do it again.

He kissed the mole just under Viktor’s eye, the edge of his cheekbone, the hollow again, the midpoint, the corner of his lips. Viktor turned his head and caught Jayce’s lips himself. For a long moment, neither of them moved, holding onto that one moment with their lips pressed together, time measured in breaths. Then Viktor pulled back and Jayce chased after him, pressing another chaste kiss to those lips.

His hand moved of it’s own accord, coming up to cup Viktor’s face, his fingers reaching into Viktor’s hair, his palm cradling his jaw, his thumb caressing that mole beside his upper lip. Jayce tilted his head and opened his mouth, getting more of the taste of Viktor’s lips, blood-warm with a lingering aftertaste of sweetmilk.

“Jayce?” Viktor breathed, a soft, confused, vulnerable little noise.

“Yeah, Vik?” he opened his eyes to see that Viktor’s brow was furrowed and couldn’t resist tilting his head up to press a little kiss right between his eyebrows.

His partner bit his lip at the action, his own eyes closing, a tiny exhale of surprise caressing Jayce’s lips. It was so adorable he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his lips against Viktor’s again, a thrill going through him as he opened his mouth and Viktor did the same, drinking each other in. Jayce maneuvered himself around the edge of the table, pushing his hand between Viktor’s back and the chair he was sat in. He curled his arm around that tiny waist and used the leverage to pull Viktor to his feet as Jayce himself stood up. He drank in the little gasp the movement got him, feeling almost drunk as his blood warmed, as he had to tilt his head down ever so slightly to keep kissing his partner. His arm enclosed all of Viktor’s back, pressing his clothed chest up against Jayce’s bare one, wondering if Viktor could feel his heartbeat, his other hand still cupping Viktor’s face. Viktor gripped Jayce’s arm with one hand, the other braced against his broad shoulder. His fingers were trembling, just a bit.

Jayce fisted the back of Viktor’s shirt and licked inside his mouth. Viktor stiffened up for a split second, then used his grip to push back. He didn’t go very far, crowded against the table as he was, but Jayce took the hint and pulled back enough to look down at him, mesmerised by those intense golden eyes. He didn’t have the strength to let go of his back or face, especially when he saw that pretty pink flush across Viktor’s cheeks.

“What’s the matter, Vik?” Jayce whispered softly.

“What – what are we doing?” Viktor asked. Jayce would’ve laughed but for the genuine fright in his eyes.

Jayce took a deep breath and rested his forehead against Viktor’s, shifting the grip on his jaw so he was holding the back of the smaller man’s neck instead. He nuzzled his nose softly, closing his eyes, “Well – I’m kissing you. And then I’m gonna take a shower and make us dinner, and when I’m done I’d like to kiss you some more. And then we’ll go to bed, and I’d like to hold you when we do. If that’s okay.”

He was close enough to almost feel when Viktor swallowed nervously. “Just hold?”

Jayce nodded, breathing his scent in, “If that’s what you want, Vik,” he titled his head so he could press a feather-light kiss to Viktor’s nose, then a chaste one on his lips, “Anything you want is fine. It’s good.”

“. . . Maybe – a little more kissing then?” Viktor mumbled, his blush deepening until Jayce could feel the heat coming off of him.

He laughed, low and happy, kissed both of Viktor’s reddened cheeks, his nose, his forehead, over the moles by his mouth and his eye, and then lingered on his lips until they both lost rack of time.