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The heavy thunk of Viktor’s cane hitting the back of his chair startles Jayce out of his half-doze. Head swimming in molasses, he straightens up and turns towards his partner. Every single movement costs him. His muscles are burning, his energy levels lower than ever. He shivers, both too hot and too cold, and gives Viktor a hazy, unfocused look.
“What was that for?”
“You are running a horrendous fever. I was waiting to see if you would be reasonable about this, but I am officially putting my foot down. If you do not go home to rest right now, I will drug you to sleep and ask the freshmen to carry you to my room.”
“I’d rest if I could,” Jayce slurs, a shudder of horror running through him at the thought of getting manhandled by Viktor’s students, “but I can't afford to miss this afternoon’s meeting. It's too important.”
Viktor waves a hand. “Eh. I will go in your stead. It will not kill me to attend one of these for once.”
“Ah, no. Not this time. This time, it has to be me.”
“I am perfectly capable of handling negotiations.”
“No, no, I know. That’s not what I meant. Just… This meeting is about the construction of the Ionian Hexgates and the negotiations involve House Talis directly.”
“How so?”
“They want to use their own craftspeople to build the gates. But the smiths they brought in are armorers. Weapon builders, not toolmakers. I won't let Hextech blueprints go to them without a fight. If the Kashuri armories are the only local alternative, then this gate must be a Talis build.”
Viktor surveys Jayce coolly. Jayce does his best to stop swaying in his chair. He doubts he’s painting a convincing picture when he can barely keep his eyes open. The room is spinning dangerously. His cheeks are burning in the cool air of the lab, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.
“Do you trust me?” Viktor asks softly.
Jayce doesn't miss a beat. “With my life, always.”
“Then give me your coat.”
It takes Jayce a few seconds to process the words. “What?”
“Your coat,” Viktor repeats. “I will attend the meeting, and if House Talis needs to be represented, then it will be. By me.”
Jayce blinks slowly once, twice, three times. He opens his mouth to protest — Viktor isn’t a Talis, he shouldn’t have to inconvenience himself on Jayce’s behalf just because Jayce was stupid enough to catch a cold in the middle of summer. He’s quick to close it back when Viktor narrows his eyes at him in warning.
Hands shaking, Jayce looks down and starts working his jacket open. His fingers are so clumsy it takes him a few tries to undo his first button. With a worried sigh, Viktor stands up. He leans against Jayce's desk to take over, hands steady. Jayce takes that opportunity to study him. He’s never thought about putting Viktor in his clothes, but there’s something about the idea that sends his heart racing in his chest.
Viktor is so slight by comparison to him, yet so much stronger in many ways. He would fit perfectly in the Talis colors, the auburn of his hair turned into gleaming copper by the wine and gold of his House.
Biting his lip, Jayce focuses on Viktor’s hands in a futile attempt to distract himself from his fantasies. His partner’s fingers are nimble and sure. They undo each button with a meticulous precision Viktor usually reserves for explosive contraptions. Jayce can't help but wish his clothes weren't in the way. That he could enjoy the coolness of Viktor’s fingers skin to skin.
When the last button finally comes undone, Viktor brushes his hands up Jayce's chest to help him slide the jacket off his shoulders. The tender contact ignites a sudden fire in Jayce's belly, and an unexpected wave of arousal catches him by the throat. He takes Viktor’s hands in his, heart missing a beat at how small Viktor’s fingers look in his clumsy grasp.
“Viktor, I—” Jayce starts, unsure of how to finish his sentence. He gives Viktor a helpless look, both too sick for coherency and too full of adoration for silence. “I don't know how to repay you for everything you do for me.”
“Start by getting better.” Viktor's lips curl up into a mischievous smirk. “And maybe figure out how to add that laser you vetoed to my cane.”
With a snort, Jayce relaxes his grip on Viktor's hands. Leave it to his partner to make him laugh even in this state. His jacket slides off his shoulders and Viktor quickly puts it on. He fusses with the arms’ length, before sitting on Jayce's desk and leaning back on his hands. He crosses his legs and Jayce’s mouth goes dry.
The sturdy tailoring of his spaulders broadens Viktor’s shoulders dramatically. The lines of the jacket elevate his clothes from unremarkable demureness to formal elegance. They make him look in-control and poised — nothing like the drowning waif Jayce feared his clothes might turn him into. With his leg brace and cane on display, he looks like a walking representative of everything good House Talis has to offer.
Jayce has never wanted to put his hands on another person as badly as he wants to touch Viktor right now.
“How do I look?” Viktor asks.
“Perfect,” Jayce breathes out. “Janna, Viktor… My clothes look so much better on you.”
“Is that so? Should I strip you down and take the rest of them too, then?” Viktor teases.
A whine spills out from between Jayce's lips. He can imagine the picture they'd paint, Viktor in Jayce’s much larger shirt under that damnable jacket, legs bare for lack of a belt tight enough to keep Jayce's slacks up on his slim hips. Jayce at his feet, naked and feverish, begging for any scrap of attention Viktor deigns to give him.
Viktor’s eyebrows jump up at the sound and acidic shame surges in Jayce's stomach. Shit. His pathetic yearning was never meant to see the light. Not in their lab, and certainly not anywhere Viktor might get a sense of the depth of his feelings. This is a disaster and he can't deal with this right now.
Grimacing, Jayce takes an unsteady step back and tries to cover up his reaction. “Sorry. I—I'm not feeling great.”
The terrible light of realization in Viktor's eyes doesn't fade. Still, he’s gracious enough to nod.
“Of course. Go home, Jayce. I have everything handled.”
“Right.”
Jayce takes another step back in a daze. He takes in the vision of Viktor sitting on his desk, Talis crests on his shoulder, staring at him in confident, inescapable understanding. He commits it to memory, for all the lonely nights ahead. Then he turns on his heel and staggers out of the door.
If he's lucky this will all have been a fever dream. And if not, well… he can't imagine that he's the first person to fall head over heels in unrequited love with his partner.
(Fuck. He hopes this stupid illness takes him so he won't have to deal with Viktor's rejection.)
Jayce's fever gets a lot worse before it gets better. The world melts into a whirlwind of colors that leaves him bedridden and confused. He has a vague sense of cool hands on his forehead and cupping his cheeks. Of water glasses, clear broth, and furious whispers to “Drink, damn you.” It's not like his mother to curse, but he hasn't been this sick in… Ever. He can't blame her for worrying.
When the world finally stops spinning, he blinks his eyes open to find a fluffy head of auburn resting on his second pillow. For a second he wonders if he's still dreaming, then all the aches in his body register. Stunned, he reaches for Viktor reflexively. His hand lands on a soft, substantial waist.
He's not seeing things. Viktor is in his bed. Viktor is in his bed next to him. Viktor is in his bed next to him, dressed down to his undershirt and underwear, mole-dotted nape and arms on display.
Jayce takes his hand back like he's been burned, cheeks flushing. Viktor stirs at the movement. He lets out a soft breath before turning over to his back. Amber eyes flutter before landing on Jayce. Jayce holds his breath, anxiety rising. Then Viktor smiles and sits up to stretch.
“Good morning,” he rasps, voice heavy with sleep, “how are you feeling?”
“B-better. My fever is… gone. I think,” Jayce stutters. “Did my mom let you in?”
“No. I did not tell her about your illness. I figured you would rather not worry her unless absolutely necessary.”
Jayce sits up too, knuckles going white around his sheets in his lap as the implications register. “Wait, does this mean that you took care of me?”
“Yes? I came over to let you know how the meeting with the Ionian delegation went but you were so feverish you were hallucinating. I couldn't leave you alone in that state.”
“Oh, Spirits.” Jayce hides his face in his hands. “I am so, so sorry.”
“What for?”
“Forcing you to play nurses? Keeping you away from the lab? Possibly infecting you with a horrible illness after making you do my work for me? Take your pick.”
Viktor lets out a throaty laugh. Then he gently tugs Jayce's hands away from his face. His eyes are soft, his expression impossibly tender when he answers.
“There is no need to be quite so dramatic. It was no trouble. I liked taking care of you.”
“Why? It's miserable work. Ask my mom. She took care of me for two decades and she ended up telling the whole city I'm a lunatic,” Jayce jokes weakly.
Viktor squeezes his hands. “Perhaps. But you must consider that I love you very differently than she does.”
Pindrop silence fills the room as Jayce's world comes crashing to a halt. His cheeks heat up, his mouth falls open. He's pretty sure his heart stops, his whole body going haywire. He's used to receiving love confessions, whether they be superficial bids for his attention or genuine adoration for the public persona he's learned to put on, but this is Viktor. Viktor who knows him, who met him at his lowest and raised him high enough to touch the sun. Viktor who apparently nursed him back to health through the worst fever of his life.
“You love me?!” he croaks.
He can't believe what he's heard. It's too wild, too close to wishful thinking. He must have misunderstood.
Viktor raises an eyebrow. “Why do you sound so incredulous?”
“Because you're… You're everything. And I'm just—” Jayce's voice breaks. He lets out a shaky breath. “I’m just the pretty face they put on the side of blimps.”
Viktor lets out a mournful noise. With a careful swing of his hips, he climbs into Jayce’s lap and stretches out his leg, before cupping his face in both hands. He leans forward to press their foreheads together and Jayce’s world narrows down to the amber of his eyes.
“I am not the most eloquent of men,” Viktor murmurs, “but surely you must know that this is nonsense.”
Jayce puts his hands over Viktor's wrists. “It’s the truth to me.”
“Truth must change when new, contradictory evidence is acquired.”
“Counterpoint: findings must be reproducible to be accepted as scientific knowledge.”
Viktor huffs in amusement. “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, Jayce Talis. Is that good enough to pass peer review?”
Jayce feels himself blush harder, all the way to the tips of his ears. “You're a menace.”
“I have heard that before.”
“Ha. How about: I love you so much, I wish I could keep you trapped inside of my ribcage so I'd never have to leave you behind? Heard that one before?”
Viktor flushes a pretty pink. He shakes his head. “I cannot say that I have, no.”
“And what about this one: I was so worried you'd hate me if you figured out how I feel about you, that I almost asked my mom to arrange a political marriage for me. Twice.”
“Please tell me this is a joke.”
“I wish.”
Viktor lets out a long sigh. “Well. It is good that you didn't, or you would be in trouble.”
“Why?”
“The Ionian ambassador was curious about my legitimacy to discuss the gates on behalf of House Talis.”
“And?”
“And I kindly informed her that I am your partner, and let her draw her own conclusions.”
“Are you saying you implied that you married into the Talis name?”
“I suppose one could look at it that way, yes.”
Jayce closes his eyes and breathes. He can picture it all too easily now — Viktor in a wedding suit in his family’s colors, standing tall and proud at his side. Penning a new branch on Jayce's family tree in his familiar handwriting, in the same way he helped Jayce write an entirely new chapter in the book of science. Viktor's warmth by Jayce's side in his bed every morning, kiss marks and beard burn on his pale skin.
“I suppose you did live up to the whole ‘in sickness and in health’ part of the vows, but I don't remember kissing my bride.”
Viktor shakes with silent laughter. “What a shame. Should I file for divorce?”
Jayce carefully swaps their positions until Viktor is lying on the pillows under him. He leans in to brush his lips against Viktor's jaw, something possessive flaring in his chest as a shudder runs through Viktor. “I have a better idea.”
“May I hear it?”
“Hmm,” Jayce pretends to think. “No. But I can show you.”
And with one last smile, he swoops down to burn his claim into Viktor’s lips.