Chapter Text
The gun in Jayce’s hand is cold. It’s not much different than most scientific tools that he handles on a daily basis. Metal, heavy, a machine made of tiny parts transformed to create the object he now holds. It had been almost too easy to procure. A simple stop at the store, the clerk who recognized his face. Mr. Talis, how is the wife? Not the usual type of supporter Senator Mel Medarda-Talis tends to bring in, but the man had clapped him on the back, given him a discount, and left him with a, Now tell her to back off gun control a little bit, and she’s got a supporter in me for a dozen more elections.
Jayce had done what he is best at: smiled and nodded. Always polite, pleasant, the perfect husband routine expected of him. An exhausting way to live, every day the same. Twenty years of blissful marriage, a perfect daughter, but sometimes he just wishes –
And that is when Viktor walks in.
—
Jayce had been apprehensive about letting Sky have a boy sleep over. She never had many friends, always preferred to keep her nose stuck in a book, shy and far too quiet. And then one day she mentioned Viktor. At first with a blush blooming on her cheeks, small sentences of how funny and smart her new lab partner was. Every night at dinner, a new story about the boy. For months it went on, Mel and Jayce sharing pleased smiles with each other every time.
Their girl finally had a friend. One who seemed smart, capable, kind to her. But still, for all Jayce knew, he was still just a teen boy. And Jayce knew how teen boys were.
(“I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Sky. You clearly have a crush on him –”
“Had one.”
“And he’s a boy in the end, and –”
“Dad, he’s gay, okay? That’s why I don’t like him… like that anymore!”)
And what argument did Jayce really have after that? Despite the worries, Mel and Jayce did really want to meet the boy.
But Jayce wishes he had said no that night. Viktor’s hair curls at the edges, his brown doe-eyes gazing up at him as he introduces himself, the syllables of his name rolling off his tongue in an accent Jayce cannot place. Distractingly beautiful, so much so that Jayce almost forgets to extend a polite handshake, but even that is a mistake when he gets to feel how soft his skin is. How Jayce’s palm practically engulfs all of Viktor’s hand. The slightest hint of freckles on his cheeks as Jayce looks down at him, as a smile paints his lips without Jayce even meaning to.
He is so beautiful, and he is only three months older than Jayce’s daughter.
—
“Mr. Talis?” Viktor’s voice has an edge of concern as he walks further into the room. Jayce blinks at him stupidly for a few moments before putting the gun on his desk. It fits right in with the various other metal scraps on the worktable, barely recognizable amongst the mess. Still, Viktor’s eyes do not leave the gun.
“Viktor,” Jayce says slowly. Thinks about explaining himself. It is so difficult to grow up. Never do it. Instead, he paints on a small smile, continues, “I was just trying to figure out a way to implement some of its mechanisms into my new experiment.”
Viktor hums a little, closer now as he looks over the desk. His hand reaches out to caress a piece of metal. Sky has told him the boy has an interest in robots, artificial intelligence, plans to apply to colleges to go into the field. A smart boy, top of his class even if he gets little recognition for it all. His fingers look delicate from Jayce’s view.
He forces himself to look away.
“I am sure whatever it is you are working on, it will turn out fine.” Though it’s said in his usual tone that borders on playfulness, when the boy looks at him, there is a gentle smile. A small moment of reassurance, but there, undeniably. As if he saw right through Jayce’s lie, Jayce’s false-sweet words. His fingers barely pass over the gun as he sits down on the stool Jayce often uses to prop up his feet. “Tell me about the project.”
Jayce should say no. Viktor saw him thinking about killing himself right here in his family’s garage. Viktor is here for his daughter, is young, has his own issues. The last thing he needs is to listen to some old man when he likely has some test to study for tomorrow. Jayce should ask him to tell him about his projects, his ideas, his plans for the future. Jayce should be mature and tell Viktor to go to bed. Jayce should sell the gun.
Jayce has many things he should do.
“Sure,” Jayce says, and Viktor’s eyes widen just the tiniest bit in excitement. “Yeah, let me show you my notes.”
For the first time that day, when Jayce smiles, it does not feel forced.
— — —
It becomes a habit. Sky and Viktor will have a sleepover, and after Sky finally falls asleep, Viktor will wind himself down their staircase and sit himself right next to Jayce. Jayce finds himself looking forward to the evenings they spend together, giddiness and excitement curling in his stomach at the idea that Viktor might be able to point out a flaw in his equations, will pinpoint an inaccuracy in his designs. Sky had told him the boy was smart, but Jayce is slowly learning that Viktor is a genius. Has corrected Jayce a dozen times now, explained ideas that Jayce was unable to articulate into words. He fits right into the makeshift-lab as if they have always worked together. As if they could work together, as if Viktor was not still in high school.
Jayce likes to think of it as mentoring him. He knows Viktor’s situation at home is less than ideal, having put together the small pieces of it Sky shares with him to form a dismal puzzle of Viktor’s life. A former foster child, homed now with a man with a criminal record and an inability to truly provide medical treatment to him, a home in the less than savory part of town. Sky says it is why Viktor likes to stay at their house so often. The man, Singed, is not always home. And when he is, well –
Jayce has not heard the full story from either of them. But he can form his own assumptions.
So he likes to think of himself as some type of role model for the boy. Guiding him with praise whenever Viktor completes a difficult equation for him. Clapping him on the back when Viktor successfully recreates one of their blueprints with ease. Promises the boy that when the time comes, if he wants to apply to the college Jayce works at, I’ll write you the best letter of recommendation. They’ll never be able to say no once they see what I have to say about you.
And while it is not exactly a secret, they keep their shared nights to themselves. He thinks Mel would find it sweet that Jayce has taken him under his wing, sympathetic to his plights in her own way. Sky might roll her eyes, tell him he’s being overbearing but ultimately harmless. There’s no real reason to keep it between themselves.
Yet neither of them tell anyone about their nights. It becomes a routine for them. Equations, blueprints, building. And throughout it all, small conversations. Jayce learns Viktor’s favorite music, and he puts some of the named bands onto their playlist. Jayce learns Viktor’s favorite meals, and he begins to include the ingredients on his grocery list when he knows Viktor will be spending the night. Viktor shares little anecdotes, never too revealing, and Jayce drinks up any detail about the boy that he provides. And in return, Jayce shares his own. His interests, his dreams, whatever Viktor asks of him, stories about what college had been like, stories of –
“Was Mel your first girlfriend?”
Jayce falters at the question. Viktor pays him no mind, his hands and eyes busy with the wrench he slowly rotates to screw in a nail. Viktor does not often ask personal questions. Perhaps out of politeness, perhaps out of not really wishing to know. It’s not a question that is all too deep, but it still feels odd to reply, “Yes. We met in high school. Around,” a small pause, probably unnoticeable, “Your age, actually.” He fumbles around with his own wrench, fidgeting really. “We got married young too.”
Viktor hums out his reply, and silence falls between them. Jayce wants to ask why he wants to know. Jayce wants to ask if Viktor has ever dated someone. If Viktor wants to date anyone. The words come out before he can stop them, “Why? Are you looking for dating advice?”
“Certainly not,” Viktor says without even a spare glance his way. The screw finally finishes turning, and Viktor breathes a small victorious huff. He picks up another screw.
Relief washing through him, and Jayce tries to force out a short laugh. “If it’s my daughter, you have to tell me, you know.”
That earns him the briefest of side-eyes from the boy. A small rush of pride at the attention before Viktor is turning back to his work. “That’s enough,” he says without any playfulness to his tone – but Jayce can see the small quirk of his lips. Jayce has begun to notice these small quirks of his: the furrow of his eyebrows in anxiety, the smirks when he feels he has gotten what he wanted, the scoffs when Jayce is being particularly difficult to deal with.
The mole on the side of his lips. The softness of his hand beneath Jayce’s fingertips when they briefly brush against each other when exchanging tools. The way Viktor often smells like a mixture of Sky’s shampoo and Jayce’s body wash. The way his hair curls more at the ends on a particularly humid day. The way he taps his better foot to the beat of his favorite songs.
There is no real reason to keep their nights together a secret. But still, Jayce likes having these moments to himself.