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It's no secret that Viktor hates these things. He can call them pointless, insist they blur together into redundancy, and detract from time better spent in pursuit of scientific discovery all he wants; by now, Jayce hears what he's actually saying. Or so it would seem, given that his previously persistent invitations have acquiesced as of late.
But this one is special. Of course, you wouldn't know from an outsiders perspective. Only the disgustingly rich factions of Piltover would recognize the feigned significance of this event by the extra button in gentlemen's waistcoats, the extra tiny forks laid among the silverware at each place setting, and bitter stink of alcohol tens of years older and thousands of kilometres more foreign than the usual libations on offer. Formality is, like most social convention, a ridiculous invention. All this for the anniversary of the death of some old prick who mingled with other old pricks like these ones back in the day. In the Undercity he was one of many villains who made his fortune off the most vulnerable members of their society. Up here he is a hero for donating that fortune so other rich Pilties could send their kids to the most lavish Academy money could buy.
And here Viktor is, with his ridiculous suit with its ridiculous extra, extra-formal button, with his stomach sour and his back stiff. An elbow jostles his and a fluted glass is swung into his orbit.
"I know, I know. I'll do most of the talking, we can eat good food and drink good booze and make fun of everybody's silly hairdos tomorrow." Jayce says like it's a reassurance as he nudges Viktor's hand with the drink until he begrudgingly takes it.
"You're right, it could be worse." Viktor concedes while Jayce takes an enthusiastic swig of his own drink.
"See!" Jayce all but cheers.
Viktor cocks his head, "I could be wearing a white jacket with gold piping."
Jayce chokes on his next sip and nearly spills with how brusquely he turns to Viktor. Viktor makes sincere eye contact and lets his lips quirk through his otherwise stony facade.
"What kind of asshole would I be then?" He adds. Jayce's undeterred grin tumbles into a laugh.
"Alright, fine. Take your cheap shots. Serves me right for dragging you to this."
"Wrapped up like a gift for a spoiled Piltie on an utterly commercialized holiday." Viktor continues with a shake of his head.
"Point made." Jayce agrees. Viktor finally smirks up at his companion. Until Jayce adds, "Kettle" as if it's a checkmate.
"Kettle?" Viktor repeats.
"You look just as polished and pristine as I do."
Viktor looks, stubbornly, away. "I do not gel my hair."
"It's a saying. The pot calling the kettle black. Because they're both black."
Viktor knows this. Jayce knows he knows this. They're playing this asinine game again, and Viktor allows it because it lets them stay in the corner away from everyone else.
"My suit is brown."
"I'm just saying--
"We speak the same language, Jayce."
"Exactly."
"Would I not be the pot, then, because…"
Their ridiculous conversation is interrupted by yet another bane of Viktor's existence.
"Gentlemen," Councilor Medarda smiles at them both. Jayce perks up immediately, because he's a traitorous puppy dog. "I have some associates who have taken an interest in your venture. May I make an introduction?"
He respects her, he really does. Her work ethic and determination are admirable. Her power is indeterminable--the woman has eyes and ears and strings to pull everywhere. It's her motives that he has no assurance of.
"Uh," Jayce starts. "Yes, that sounds good."
The Man of Progress is as approachable as he is unrefined at times. Viktor likes his calloused and stocky musculature. He has worked for what he has. And, for all his undeniable brilliance, he's a little dumb. Viktor likes that, too.
The Councilor leads the scientists over to three men each more portly than the last. Viktor counts their stupid buttons while actively neglecting to learn their names. He opts to make eye contact with one's goatee and another's moustache, until the third's butt chin sparks recognition and Viktor glances up to his beady eyes. Beady eyes which are locked sternly on Viktor, even in the presence of the perpetually ravishing Mel Medarda and the equal specimen of Jayce Talis. Viktor does not shrink in on himself, if only because if his meager stature were to take up any less space it would create a vacuum and kill every organic life form in this room.
Councilor Medarda is recounting something about tariffs and mass production of silverware.
Of course.
This is the fucking fork guy.
They'd met, previously. Viktor would know the man anywhere from his butt chin and his vulgar laugh and the stench and heat of his breath. From the grip of his clammy, puffy fingers on the small of Viktor's waist, thumb digging between his skin and his back brace.
That was the incident after which he demanded Jayce not leave him unattended at these things. Even when that meant mingling and being confined to a chair in the lab for days while his leg protested so many consecutive hours of standing. The latter was manageable since he'd modified a chair to have wheels on each leg--An invention for which Jayce mocked him initially. Now they both have rolly chairs. Viktor wonders if his fond smile at the thought of his chair looks polite or deranged. Regardless, it's probably preferable to the unbridled disgust that takes its place when Mr. Fork starts talking.
"Your presentation some weeks back was quite the spectacle. It was magical indeed." He addresses Jayce, though he scarcely removes his greasy gaze from Viktor. "It was a shame your lovely assistant didn't join you on stage."
Viktor bites his tongue.
"I'm embarrassed to admit I'm not sure who you mean. We go through so many assistants, don't we, Vik?" Jayce replies easily. "There was Lewen, Yves…"
Words spill off his lips before Viktor realizes he's speaking or smiling. "Oh yes, then Dorian, Alaina…"
"Guillermo." Jayce pipes in.
"Jonathan."
"Tory."
Mel redirects everyone's attention with a soft clap of her hands. "Well, it seems Hextech research is quite the demanding field. Only suited for the top minds the Academy has to offer. I'm sure Mr Talis would be eager to arrange a meeting with you gentlemen to discuss things further at a later time."
And with that, Mel herds them away like overfed sheep.
"Fuck that guy." Jayce throws back the rest of his drink.
Viktor winces.
"Eh, too handsy for my taste."
Jayce gulps audibly. He tips his head toward Viktor in a poor imitation of subtlety.
"He didn't." Jayce doesn't say it like a question, but he waits for confirmation.
"Not this time. It seems for now, anyway."
Jayce turns to him properly now, hurriedly finding a table behind him to set his empty glass on before leaning down to Viktor's height.
"Vik?"
Viktor shrugs and leisurely rolls his eyes, though his shoulders don't relax entirely back to their neutral position.
"Surely it's my own fault, he merely lost his balance and mistook me for a railing to steady himself with."
Jayce doesn't respond in the next thirty seconds, and Viktor relents in his attempts to ignore him. The expression on the man leaning over him is undeniably puppylike in its open concern.
"You should never play poker." Viktor says plainly.
"The forge burns hot enough to cremate bone."
"So it does."
"I'm not kidding."
"Acid would be more effective."
"Where would we get a vat of acid big enough?"
"Or several small ones. I'm sure we could contrive a project. A cost effective waste disposal system or some such." Viktor deadpans.
Jayce picks at his collar. "I don't think I have the stomach for that."
"All cities need waste management engineers, Jayce."
"I couldn't chop up a dead body, though."
"Alive, then?"
Jayce blanches.
"You were prepared to throw him in a glorified oven mere moments ago." Viktor points out.
"Yeah." Jayce agrees solemnly. Their lilting banter ends with the grace of a brick toppling to the floor. "I'm sorry, Vik-
"It wasn't your doing."
"Yeah, but I've guilt tripped and bribed and straight up dragged you to these things-
"To fund our projects. These stupid parties are integral to our research."
"But you don't have to come."
"I'm not arguing this." Viktor goes to walk away, but his first stride falters into a shuffle. Not the exit he intended, but he picks up the pace as the pins and needles in his knee evaporate. Of course, Jayce is on his heels.
"Do you want to go? I'll get you a carriage."
"Jayce." Viktor stops as abruptly as he is able, and all the same Jayce nearly topples into him. "It's one stupid party. Keep me amused and keep your overactive guilt complex to yourself and we can make fun of all this in the lab tomorrow."
"Can I tell Mel?"
Viktor physically reels back before closing the space between them to make sure his whisper-yell really hits home.
"Can you tell Mel?" Viktor practically seethes. "No, you can't 'tell Mel'."
"We'll, if she's setting up a meeting with the guy, she should know he sucks and we're not going to work with him."
"Take his money, Jayce."
"But Viktor--
"You think anyone in this room is a decent, moral person? You think any of the money they give us is honest? Altruistic?" He's not whisper-yelling anymore, if the way Jayce backs up and his eyes dart around is any indication.
"Vik--
"Every cent in this room, somewhere along the way, was stolen from or made off the backs of someone in the Undercity who is either starving or starved by now.
"Take. Their. Money. Charm them, do them their favours, and rob them fucking blind. Everything we take from them we give back to my people."
His cheeks are burning. His throat hurts.
He takes note of Jayce's wide eyes and ears as red as Viktor's face feels before the cough takes over.
As far as his fits go, it's one of the worse ones. Bad enough that he's surprised to find himself out in the blue of the night. He barely registers the chill before warmth is draped over his shoulders. Jayce must have lead him to sit on the steps outside. The man himself sits down next to him once his coat is secured around Viktor.
"You okay?" Jayce asks as he proffers a glass of water out of thin air.
Viktor side-eyes him at the question. He knows it's kindness and concern, but it always annoys him. All the same, he nods for Jayce's benefit. He takes the water and sips it.
Once his throat has had some cool relief, Viktor licks his lips before speaking.
"That was inappropriate." Viktor croaks.
Jayce releases a chuckle that's more air than anything as he shakes his head.
"I don't know, I had half a mind to pass you a microphone."
Now Viktor wheezes his own lame laugh.
"Did everyone hear?" He asks warily.
"No. I think it just looked like we were arguing. We weren't too close to anyone for them to hear what was actually said."
Viktor exhales a long, slow breath. "Shame."
Jayce grins again, but there's too many lines around his mouth and not enough around his eyes.
"I owe you an apology. A proper one." Jayce digs one thumbnail under the other. "It was ignorant of me to think you were just antisocial or a workaholic. You really hate these things, and for good reason. I never should've pushed you to come."
Oh, Jayce. Viktor's chest warms, and not from the overextended burn of coughing.
"I am an antisocial workaholic. And I despise absurdly tiny foods and even tinier forks."
Jayce eyes him skeptically with his cheek leaned into his palm.
Viktor carries on, "And the cuisine up here, honestly. As if the only spice is salt. As if soft or crunchy are flavours. It is truly uninspired."
"I'm telling my mom you said that." Jayce smiles half-heartedly.
Viktor winces. "Oh, please don't. I mean typical party fair. The stuff they serve at these things. Your mother's cooking is imbued with as-of-yet undiscovered flavours, a symphony of spice. She is a true culinary genius."
Viktor holds for a laugh or a snort or something that doesn't come. He reluctantly looks to Jayce, still with his head propped on his hand and his expression unimpressed.
Viktor takes a deep breath, so deep it rattles at the apex, and exhales.
"Let's hear it, then." Viktor says. Jayce raises an eyebrow. Viktor rolls his eyes. "The apology you are indebted to me? I'm waiting."
"I said it already." Jayce says, a little exasperated but smiling again.
"No, Jayce." Viktor wags his finger. "'I owe you an apology' is not, in itself, an apology."
"You must be feeling better, if we're back to being pedantic as usual."
Viktor cups his hand around his ear and leans obnoxiously into Jayce's space. When that doesn't immediately garner a response, Viktor counts him in.
"And a five, six, seven, eight..."
Jayce elbows him lightly, and they both laugh at their typical stupid antics. But there's still an air of heaviness between them. It makes Viktor squirm.
"I'm sorry for bugging you to come to these things. And for not being more considerate." Jayce says softly. "And for ever putting you in the vicinity of the creepy silverware guy."
"I will not accept your apology for the latter, but thank you for the first part."
Jayce huffs. "If I'm going to acknowledge that I didn't respect you saying no to something, I'm also gonna make sure it's clear that whatever he did to make you uncomfortable is despicable and I'm furious about it."
"Dragging me to a party I'm expected to attend is hardly comparable to groping me."
"It's the principle of the thing. I'm sorry I was a jackass. I'll have your back from now on, and I'll cover for you when you don't want to go to something."
Jayce holds Viktor's gaze with a stony, determined look. His broad shoulders are stiff, hunched with simmering anger, but his tone is contained and even. Viktor can't pinpoint where the feeling comes from, but he knows there's genuine affection and care in those words and those eyes.
Viktor smiles as easily as breathing, on a good day.
"Thank you, Jayce." He lays his hand on Jayce's thigh. "For being my ally."
"Ally?" Jayce laughs lightly. He bumps their shoulders together and lays his much larger hand gingerly over Viktor's. "We're partners."
"Thank you for being my partner, then."
Jayce smirks, "Likewise."
Viktor withdraws his hand and gathers his cane. "Well, then, we should probably return to the party."
"Oh, absolutely not." Jayce hops to his feet and offers Viktor a hand up. "I have strict instructions from Mel to get you home."
Viktor raises an eyebrow. "What? Really?"
"She said she'll come up with something and fill us in on our alibi in the morning. Probably something to do with an experiment that needs babysitting or an assistant knocking over something volatile."
Viktor barks a laugh. "I could have been having outbursts and going home early this whole time?"
Jayce shrugs good-naturedly and starts to lead the way down the stairs to the street.
"I am sorry for that, by the way." Viktor says, a step or two behind him. Jayce turns to raise an eyebrow. "For yelling at you like I did. That was unkind to you, and could have seriously jeopardized our standing, not to mention our funding."
Jayce hasn't moved as Viktor has continued down the steps, and when they're on the same level Jayce offers his elbow.
"Yeah, that could've been disastrous. But we would've figured it out."
"You think you can swagger your way out of anything?"
"No. Well, sometimes." Jayce concedes with a laugh. He looks down at Viktor with a gaze that's a little too genuine to meet head-on. "You make me feel like anything is possible. As long as I have you, I'll be alright."
"Hmm." Viktor tries to tease back, but it's hard when Jayce just said something so emotionally vulnerable. So instead he relents and says, "Likewise."
And, true to Jayce's word, Viktor never went to another stupid party again.