if they find out, will it all go wrong? (heaven knows, no one wants it to)

The day after the Hextech breakthrough, Viktor and Jayce stand where Jayce once stood alone: in front of an angry council that did not want to hear rhyme nor reason. The discussion has dragged for so long, Viktor feels it in his joints. He is leaning heavily on his cane, the handle digging painfully in his hand, wondering how long until the council stops making a fuss out of things. They will approve the development of Hextech, he’s sure of it, they just need to get it out of their system. He just wishes, they were done with their posturing already.

In the end, the vote is once again split: Councilors Medarda, Kiramman, Hoskel, and Salo —out of all people— vote in favor of pursuing Hextech. They’re given a one-year deadline to present their discoveries in a way that benefits the city or both will be exiled. Viktor wants to argue that a year is not enough time, but Jayce confidently assures the council their findings will be ready by then. The council then proceeds to set guidelines for the new committee overseeing Hextech for about an extra hour and they’re tasked with gathering a team of scientists to work in the project but Viktor is too busy trying to stay upright to pay attention. They’re dismissed shortly after that.

The minute he’s out of the council room, Viktor leans against the wall and sighs, eyes closing heavily. This is not what he imagined when he approached Jayce about his research. He’s not sure how much of this he can handle. A hand on his shoulder startles him.

“Are you alright?”

Viktor opens his eyes to find Councilor Medarda eyeing him curiously, her brows furrowed in interest.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he forces out, his voice raspy with disuse. While he wasn’t exiled, a more dangerous path laid ahead of him, working side by side with Jayce to deliver on the promises made in front of the Council.

She scans his face and nods decisively. “I’ll see you around then, Viktor.”

She’s gone before Viktor can reply, her firm strides followed by a hurried assistant. Viktor watches her go, his heart beating in sync with the sound of her steps as she walks away.

Jayce finds him still staring in the direction she left.

“What are you thinking about?” He’s a ball of pent-up energy, almost vibrating out of his skin. Viktor feels pulled into his gravity, drawn into his world of magic where the unknown is the only known variable. Jayce seems immune to Viktor’s apprehension, still riding the high of the discovery, the high of vindication.

It’s contagious, this optimistic enthusiasm of his, and Viktor feels the knots in his stomach unfurl. Jayce has a dream, a vision, where Hextech is the answer to the world’s most pressing issues and he’s spent the last few years of his life dedicating every free moment of his life to bring it to fruition.

Our Hextech dream, he said.

And when Viktor looks at him, unable to contain his excitement for the possibilities ahead, he believes him. This isn’t empty ambition to fill his pockets to the brim with the money brought on by new inventions, Jayce truly has faith in the life-changing future of Hextech development. He wants to improve the world, improve lives. He’s already improved Viktor’s, if he’s being honest.

Viktor spares a last thought to Councilor Medarda’s inquisitive eyes —what was that about? — and turns to Jayce.

At last, he replies.

“Nothing.”

They’re given a new research lab and a bunch of assistants to go with it. Most of them are too excited to be in the new secret project to be useful in any capability and Viktor often retreats to a spot in the background while Jayce explains the basics of Hextech, listing a number of articles and books that will put them in the right track. Viktor thinks to himself that no matter how hard he tries, Jayce will never get them ready to the point where they’ll actually contribute to the research. He’s idly doodling in his corner, something that could be confused with Jayce’s likeness, when someone approaches him.

“You look like you’d rather be exiled than working on this project,” her lighthearted tone could have fooled him, but it was difficult to confuse Councilor Mel Medarda with anyone else.

“I’d rather be working, not giving a Hextech crash course.”

“To the untrained eye, it looks like Jayce’s the one doing the teaching though.”

He feels the corner of his mouth curl, amused. When Viktor looks in her direction, he notices a similar smile on her face, her eyes curiously tracing his face. Something pulls inside him, warm and vibrant, at the idea of making her smile.

“I wasn’t aware the Council planned a visit.” He shoots a glance in Jayce’s direction, but his partner is busy explaining how raising the oscillation frequency generates more power and Viktor feels like a fly on the wall of a science class in elementary school. He turns back to Councilor Medarda and tries to channel Jayce’s charm-speak when he adds, “if we’d known you’d be here, we could’ve prepared some material for the Council. Something that would be easier to understand and wouldn’t bore you to death.”

With a raised eyebrow, Councilor Medarda crosses her arms as she leans her hip against the desk. Viktor’s eyes make the mistake of following the curve of her hips all the way up the embroidered bodice of her dark green dress, the golden thread blending seamlessly with the gold in her necklace, the same that glints on her cheeks, her hair, her eyes. “Please. I don’t need you to translate the science for me.”

“It’s not your every day, run-of-the-mill science.”

“I, too, can break into Heimerdinger’s lab and read Jayce’s notes all by myself.”

Viktor doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing, but her soft laugh lets him know it’s a good one. Her shoulders relax and she leans closer to his desk. How Viktor managed to keep an even voice when she was close enough for him to smell her sweet perfume, he will never know. “I didn’t know you were a scientist, Councilor Medarda.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” her smile doesn’t waver, but her voice shifts lower and Viktor finds himself leaning away from his chair, closer to her, close enough to make out how deep her eyes are under the dim light of the lab.

“There’s a lot we don’t know about Hextech, a lot we’ll never know during our lifetime.” He holds her steady gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop looking.”

A softer, almost private, smile blooms on her face and it feels like an invitation. His stomach tightens in anticipation, the thrill of the game humming in his veins. Viktor wants to follow wherever that smile is inviting him, but before he can make up his mind, someone clears their throat loudly and Viktor turns just in time to see something cloud Jayce’s eyes before he looks in the direction of the student who raised her hand to ask a question.

“Maybe we should wait for Jayce to finish so we can discuss this further, Councilor.”

He keeps his eyes on Jayce, but Viktor still notices Councilor Medarda turning in Jayce’s direction, her smile just as soft and unguarded as it was a moment ago.

“Perhaps we should,” she says. “And Mel will do just fine. We’re going to be partners after all.”

Somewhat predictably, Jayce takes a liking to Mel almost immediately.

Viktor pretends he doesn’t notice the smile that lingers on his face whenever she suggests an idea they haven’t tried yet, the way his eyes follow her hands when she points at something they’ve missed. Jayce listens to her attentively, his eyebrows furrowed in deep thought, worrying at his lower lip between his thumb and index finger.

During their time working together, Viktor has become intimately familiar with the shape of Jayce’s back, the exact shade of his hair, the turn of his nose, the 5 o’clock stubble that will grow into a full beard if Jayce so much as thinks about skipping a shave. He’s been carefully cataloguing all of Jayce’s expressions —from the focused pinch of his lips to the soft quirk of his mouth when Mel enters the lab— and the longer he looks, the longer the list gets.

And because he looks, Viktor notices soon enough that Jayce likes Mel.

How could he not? Mel Medarda is a wonder the likes of which poetry is written about. Viktor would be lying if he didn’t admit that for every glance at Jayce he stole, he didn’t steal one from Mel as well. There is something about the intensity of her voice, the glint in her eyes, the curve of her hips that makes Viktor immediately lose half of his brain power. Sometimes, her hand will brush his as they both reach to grab the same screwdriver and a shiver will go down Viktor’s spine. Mel’s smile will be as soft as it was that first afternoon in the lab and Viktor has to push down the urge to grab her hand before she retreats.

He’s pretty sure Mel likes Jayce back, if the number of times he’s caught her staring at him with the fascination of someone who’s dying to know what’s going on inside that brilliant brain of his is of any indication.

It makes something bitter rise in the back of his throat and he’s not sure what to do with it.

In the end, he does nothing. They have a deadline breathing down their neck, there’s kinks to work out in their research and not enough time to dig into the feelings that constrict his ribcage. And if there was, what was he supposed to do with them?

So, Viktor focuses on their research, he buries his nose in Jayce’s notes, he studies the gemstones, he becomes familiar with the intricacies of the Arcane, so much so, he could recite Jayce’s research better than Jayce himself.

“You’ve been staring at those pages so long, you must be getting cross-eyed,” he hears Jayce say behind his back.

“I’m fine.” It’s automatic almost, to avoid further questions with a quick deflection. Usually, no one cares enough to ask again.

A manicured hand drops on top of the papers he’s been attempting to read for the last half hour. Mel’s slender finger slides down the page until it finds his hand, where it draws a lazy line all the way up to his wrist. The hair in the back of his arms stands and Viktor takes a deep breath to center himself. He realizes his mistake when the sweet scent of Mel’s perfume fills his nose —pomegranate and plum and something floral he can’t name.

“People who are fine don’t stare at a paper in silence for 30 minutes,” Mel teases, the touch on his skin light as a feather.

It’s maddening, frustrating, intoxicating. Viktor wonders if there’s a world where he can have the touch he craves so badly, but there’s no use in dwelling on impossible things.

“I’m thinking,” he insists.

“Well, don’t think too hard. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” Viktor turns in Mel’s direction with a frown. He’s about to argue, but his throat closes when he notices how close Mel is standing.

Viktor stays rooted to his spot, his back stiff, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“What do you have against scheduled breaks?”

Usually, nothing. In fact, he is an expert in the act of scheduling his breaks away from them and the static that crackles between them like the air before a storm. It’s a difficult task that requires finesse to perform, as it is vital his gaze doesn’t linger too long on any of them or his heart will skip a beat, filling him with a yearning so strong it takes several hours to shake off. Viktor feels it pulse inside of him now —Mel’s warm leg pressed to his own, the pads of her fingers ghosting over the veins of his bony hand, the scent of pomegranate and plums wrapped around him— and it takes him a moment to rein himself in.

“There’s a lot of work to do before we test if Hextech can transport or propel anything more than a loose screw a couple of inches from its starting point,” Viktor says.

“We’ve got time,” Mel smiles down at him, the same amused, private smile she gifted him the day she declared herself their partner.

Viktor wants to rage against that. Time is the one thing they don’t have, no matter how much they lie to themselves.

He’s about to argue when a heavy hand falls on his shoulder, a thumb pressing down the knot at the top of his spine. Viktor would love to pretend he doesn’t feel comforted by the weight of Jayce’s hand on his back, his body close enough that Viktor could lean back and rest against him. He closes his eyes and for a brief moment, Viktor can pretend he’s part of whatever is going on between Jayce and Mel, that the electricity coursing through him is because Viktor’s a key piece in the circuit and not a removable piece one discards once the set-up is done.

“Viktor?” Jayce’s voice cuts through the tense silence in the lab, concern lacing his words. “Are you alright?”

He wants to laugh, he wants to scream, he wants to never stop feeling their firm touch on his body. Right now, exile feels appealing for the distance there’d be between them, enough so Viktor never has to feel his pulse race like this again.

Mel’s fingers find the inside of his wrist, holding tightly, and his traitorous heart skips a beat.

“Viktor.” Her voice is as firm as her grasp on Viktor, it compels him to look up at her, at her open, worried face. Whatever Mel sees in his eyes, her hold loosens slightly and Viktor misses it immediately. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

He feels Jayce tense behind him, his fingers pausing their distracted tracing on Viktor’s neck.

“Never.”

Viktor’s not lying, not really. Nervous, uncertain, jealous even, but never uncomfortable.

“Is Jayce making you uncomfortable?”

Absentmindedly, his hand covers Jayce’s still on his shoulder. It’s a reflex, reaching out for him blindly, knowing Jayce will be there. Viktor doesn’t know where it came from, but it’s rooted in his chest in the same place Mel’s private smile is. “He is not.”

“Then, can we please take a break? The three of us?”

Viktor turns to refuse, to leave, to get out of the way, but as he does, he finds himself face to face with both of them and the wistful pull inside his chest is strong enough to give him a pause.

Their matching concerned looks feel genuine and there’s an undercurrent of something else there: something he’s seen in Mel’s eyes when she looks at Jayce, in Jayce’s eyes when he looks at Mel. Viktor searches their faces for a piece of evidence that this is a dream, but he doesn’t find any.

“The three of us?” he asks, barely keeping the edge off his voice.

“Well, obviously,” Mel confirms, her hand still on his, steady as always.

He takes an extra moment to take in how close they are, close but not suffocating, each of them a solid presence feeding the feelings in his chest. For once, Viktor feels like he’s stepped inside their bubble, the crisp flow of static courses through him, not just around him, and it clicks.

Hope he hasn’t felt since he was a child running around the border of the undercity blooms inside his chest.

Obviously, Mel said.

As if Viktor’s presence was a vital part of the inner workings of this circuit, as if anything less is unthinkable.

At last, he replies.

“Yeah. Let’s take a break.”