8 Works in the topsider and the zaunite

Listing Works

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    Summary

    Jayce blinks. "You want to share the bed?"

    "Yes," Viktor says. "It is a simple fix, no?"

    Jayce's attention leaps back to the mattress. It's not big enough for two people. Not comfortably. Viktor must know that. He's a genius, after all, and surely even he can do basic spatial calculations. They'd practically have to be on top of each other to fit.

    "Yeah, but . . . it's—"

    "I am tired, Jayce. The floor is cold. You are being ridiculous."

    A storm, one bed, and a certain man lead to some questionable decisions on Jayce's part. He'd planned to stay on his side of the mattress—but the world is too complicated for that.

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    Viktor huffs. His mouth presses into a flat line. "I do not like being handled, Jayce."

    "Noted," Jayce smiles. He steps closer. "But I won't be handling you. I'll be guiding you. There's a difference, V."

    Jayce extends a hand: palm open, waiting. Viktor stares at it for a beat too long. Foolish. Frivolous. Pointless. But then Jayce's fingers twitch—just barely, almost imperceptibly—and Viktor feels something in his chest loosen.

    He takes it.

    Jayce, noticing Viktor's anxiousness at the gala, asks him to dance. And who is Viktor to deny him?

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    A lazy smile spreads across Viktor's face. "Jayce," he drawls, his accent thicker than usual. "You came to . . . to rescue me from . . . boredom, yes?"

    "Uh." Jayce blinks. "I mean, I guess? You're acting a little weird, V."

    Viktor leans closer—too close—bumping their shoulders together. "A little weird?" he parrots, raising his chin to meet Jayce's eyes. "How so? Enlighten me, Talis. Your diagnostics are always . . . thorough."

    "Drunk," Jayce deadpans. "You're drunk, Viktor."

    At an after-party, Viktor drinks a little too much. Jayce helps him home, not expecting a confession.

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    When they finally settle on a tailored midnight-blue ensemble with a pale gold tie, Viktor nods in satisfaction. “This . . ." He trails off, taking an extra moment to admire. "You look good, Jayce.”

    Jayce grins. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

    "It helps that you clean up remarkably well." Viktor’s focus doesn't stray from Jayce's face. “In fact, your brilliance is almost eclipsed by your aesthetic appeal.”

    The compliment catches him off guard. "My what?"

    Suddenly, Viktor's fingers brush against Jayce’s lapel. Then—with deliberate slowness—he slides both hands down Jayce’s chest until they find his waist.

    Viktor helps Jayce find an outfit for the Distinguished Innovators competition. He gets a little frisky.

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    "Viktor, you . . . you told her we were a couple!"

    "You are welcome," Viktor says dryly, leaning into his cane with a faint shift of his weight. He looks amused. "Unless, of course, you would prefer I announce our separation now and leave you for the remainder of the evening?"

    The thought sends a jolt of panic through Jayce. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, "No! I mean—this is fine. Let's just . . . keep this up. For now."

    "For now," Viktor echoes. He studies Jayce for a moment, his golden eyes sharp and unreadable. "Very well. Consider it an arrangement of convenience."

    "Exactly," Jayce mutters, still flustered. "Convenience."

    Jayce is trying to avoid the women that flirt with him at an after-party. Viktor pretends to be his boyfriend.

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    “Okay, you’re definitely jealous. Viktor, come on. Mel and I were just talking about council stuff—boring, political nonsense. You know that’s not my thing.”

    “And yet,” Viktor says, raising a brow, “you seem to enjoy her company. Perhaps I should start wearing gold jewelry and speaking politics to get your attention.” He's not being serious of course, but presses on anyway. “It would suit me, no?”

    “Well, you’d look pretty good in gold, but . . .”

    “Do not test me, Jayce."

    Viktor grows jealous of Mel and Jayce's friendship. Jayce is confused, but willing to show his loyalty.

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    “You look ridiculous, by the way,” Viktor says. He gestures toward Jayce with a deliberate wave of his hand. "The beard. And the hair."

    Jayce blinks. “What?”

    “It is overgrown. You look like a poorly maintained garden.”

    “Are you calling me a shrub?”

    “It is not the worst thing," Viktor teases, wry. Then his smirk fades into something more thoughtful. “You have … changed, yes. You are rougher around the edges now. You look—” He hesitates, words faltering before settling on, “—like you have lived.”

    And Jayce wonders how much longer he’ll be able to hold himself back.

    Six months after they destroy the Hexcore, Jayce and Viktor try to settle into a new life as friends. Partners. Turns out they love each other a little too much.

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    Summary

    "I'm not . . . brooding," Jayce sighs. The whiskey burns harsh and bitter; he grimaces as he takes another sip. "Just thinking."

    Viktor hums, nudging the door shut. "Dangerous territory for you."

    Sassy as ever. Jayce rolls his eyes, but a faint smile is on lips. "You're hilarious."

    "So I have been told."

    The Hexcore is gone, and Jayce and Viktor don't die. Feelings come to light.

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