Chapter Text
He stands outside his cottage in thin sweatpants and a shirt way too big. Snow calmly falls on him and the man, who is kneeling naked about five feet before him. He is staring at him pleadingly with his arms above his head. Viktor doesn’t lower the gun, doesn’t stop aiming at the man’s head.
The sun is slowly beginning to rise. The snow under the man’s left leg is quickly turning into a red slush.
“Explain yourself.” Viktor orders with a steady voice despite feeling anything but. His hands are shaking. His whole body is trembling, not only due to the freezing cold.
“I promise I mean no harm,” the man begins. “Did I— Did I try to hurt you? I’m sorry, I can never remember—”
“Can you explain how it’s possible that I’ve seen… what I’ve seen?”
The man lowers his head. If Viktor were to shoot, and by some miracle have accurate aim despite never shooting before in his life, he’d end the man’s life without doubt.
“I don’t think you’d believe me.”
“That is for me to decide,” Viktor bites back. “Who are you?”
“I’m a werewolf,” the man replies, his voice quiet and dejected.
“I didn’t ask that.”
The man looks back at him. His eyebrows are furrowed in a question he doesn’t dare to ask.
“I asked who you are,” Viktor explains, “not what you are.”
Some sparkle, a light, seems to return to his eyes. Maybe his humanity being returned to him. Maybe it’s just the morning sunlight reflecting in them.
“I’m… My name is Jayce Talis, sir.”
Slowly, Viktor lowers the gun. Only so much that it's not aiming at the man’s head (hopefully, he has no idea how to aim guns) but his chest.
“I would like to treat your leg and warm you up,” Viktor begins. “But if you try to pull… whatever that was, I will throw you out and leave you to freeze or succumb to the infection you'd likely get. Do you understand?”
The man’s — Jayce’s — mouth opens in surprise. His eyes glimmer as he tears up.
“I would be grateful. I promise that won’t happen.”
Viktor nods and lowers his weapon completely. A thought comes to him — in his rush, he didn’t bring his cane. And there’s no way he’s letting the man see him limp, lest he get the clever idea to attack Viktor and use his cottage as shelter.
“Go inside, then.”
He sees the panic on Jayce’s face. He looks at his bloodied leg before trying to stand up. He is wobbly on his legs, like a fawn, thanks to the biting snow and bleeding injury.
If he were able, Viktor would help. He’d support the man even with his bad leg. But he’s not.
Jayce comes closer, wincing each time he steps on his bad leg. When he comes close enough, his hands still raised, he looks at Viktor.
Viktor returns the eye contact, voiceless. Jayce keeps on walking and Viktor keeps watch until Jayce stops at his door and turns his head around.
“Go inside,” Viktor repeats. “Sit on the couch there.”
“Are you sure?” Jayce asks. Viktor raises his eyebrows. “I only mean… I’ll probably get blood on it.”
“That is my concern, not yours. Go sit.”
When Jayce disappears inside, Viktor lets out a breath that turns visible, only proof of how cold it is and how long he’s been standing there. When he follows after Jayce, he tries to spare his leg as much as possible until he’s unable to, forced to pretend to be strong and capable of self-defence in the man’s eyes.
As instructed, Jayce is sitting on his couch, hands clasped over his lap. Right. He’s naked, a fact Viktor overlooked.
With warmth returned to him, judging by the sudden flush in his cheeks, Viktor considers his options. He could go into the bathroom and get a robe for the man. But that would strain his leg, and every step costs him a price. He cannot risk his leg giving out in front of him.
So he doesn’t, as much as he’d like to return Jayce his dignity and give him a cover for his modesty. Instead, he goes straight into the kitchen to boil some water.
As he is not risking his leg, he is not risking the stranger’s leg either by not using sterilised water.
He places the gun on the counter and leans against it, lifting his right leg to get the weight off. He can feel how his chest is tight with the anxiety of having his back to the man, but Jayce’s breathing and occasional winces keep coming from the same place, so he focuses on his task.
When the kettle announces it’s ready with a high pitched sound, another two sounds join in — first a whimper, then a low growl that stops as soon as it begins.
The tension that sets into Viktor is immediate. He turns around to see the man on his couch trembling still.
“I’m sorry,” Jayce says. “I didn’t mean to. It was just too loud.”
Questions. So many questions. Do the wolf’s traits pass onto the human infected, or ailed, with lycanthropy? Does Jayce have hearing superior to Viktor? If so, how much can he hear? Can he hear Viktor’s breath all the way from the couch to the kitchen counter? What else does Jayce hide?
“My apologies,” Viktor says. “I didn’t think of that.”
Jayce keeps looking down. His arms are hugging him now, his healthy leg is raised to cover his genital area. Overall, he doesn’t look like the dangerous beast the town’s people warned him about. He looks troubled, scared, and in pain.
Viktor returns to his task. He puts the boiled water in a bowl and grabs a few cloths he uses for drying dishes.
With both hands full, he feels more unstable than ever. He’s so used to having the option to lean on something, mostly his cane, that having the option removed completely is worrying, to say the least.
He's not any more or less stable physically. Mentally, he worries he will fall.
And so he walks over carefully, slow as a snail, to prevent that. The man — Jayce, Viktor keeps reminding himself — doesn’t look at him the whole time.
Only when Viktor sets down the bowl and cloths onto the table Jayce looks at him. He keeps looking at him as Viktor carefully lowers himself to his knees.
“I’ll first clean the wound with water,” Viktor says. “Then I’ll disenfect it and wrap it.”
Jayce nods.
Viktor wets the cloth in the warm water. He almost presses it around the wound to clean off the excess blood before stopping suddenly.
When he looks back at Jayce, the man is staring right back, confused but silent.
Viktor leans to the left and grabs a small pillow from the corner of the couch and offers it. “To cover yourself,” he explains.
Jayce takes it and his shoulders relax. “Thank you.” With the pillow on Jayce’s crotch, he lets his healthy leg rest.
“You have nothing to thank me for yet,” Viktor says. When he starts cleaning around the wound, and dares to glance up at Jayce, the man is biting his lip to stay quiet. “I am not a doctor, after all. Not one of medicine.”
“Not one of medicine?” Jayce hissed out when Viktor grazes a sensitive spot. Unfortunately, the whole wound is rather sensitive.
“I have a PhD in Physics.”
“Huh,” Jayce relaxes into the couch. “I have a PhD in Engineering Physics.”
Viktor hums. The excess blood is cleaned off and no more is pouring from the wound, so Viktor will call it a success for now. It’s not so deep, not requiring stitches, and some of the holes in the wound are small enough that they’ll heal on their own if left compressed together. Probably. As he said, he’s not a doctor.
And as much as he is curious how a man like Jayce ended up like this, he has a task to do.
“I’ll go grab the disinfectant.” He places his hands on the table to lift himself up, but then—
“You, uh—”
Viktor freezes to look at Jayce.
“I noticed, I mean… Your cane? I assume it’s yours? And, uh, your limp.”
“What about it?” Viktor frowns. He leans away and regrets not bringing the gun with him. He tries not to make the glance at the kitchen counter too obvious, but when he looks back at Jayce, the man is clearly hurt, not physically.
“Sorry. I just meant that you can get it. I mean, I can’t really even stand right now, so…”
Viktor lifts himself up. The cane leaning next to the door is calling him and he’s too tired and his leg is too strained to refuse its call.
“If you try anything,” Viktor starts as he begins his way to the cane, but he doest’t finish. He doesn’t want to threaten the clearly vulnerable and probably traumatized man.
“I won’t. I promise.”
The mental relief from finally having his cane under his palm is indescribable to someone who never relied on one. All that needs to be said is that his chest feels lighter, his steps more certain, and the fog in his head is cleared.
As he makes his way to the bathroom, he feels Jayce’s stare on him. A simple biological trait — humans feel when someone is looking at them. Yet it doesn’t make him afraid as it should. He’s only… aware of it.
In the bathroom, he flicks on the light, closes the door behind himself and exhales deeply.
He was meant to go to sleep. He’s in his sleeping clothes, for heaven’s sake. He could’ve ignored the pained yell. Instead, he grabbed the gun gifted to him by the shop-keeper and opened the door like a suicidal idiot. He could’ve told Jayce to leave his premises and never show his face again. He didn’t have to invite the man in.
He doesn’t regret it.
When he looks in the mirror, he sighs. He looks a mess. Of course he does. The dark circles under his eyes clearly tell he is exhausted. His hair is messy after a whole day of absent-mindedly playing with the ends. He runs his fingers through it once more and then mentally scolds himself.
He should be grabbing the supplies. Not trying to make himself… Well. The supplies.
Finally, he makes it out of the bathroom. One hand carries gauze and desinfectant spray, the other holds his cane.
Jayce is still sitting on the couch, but instead of staring at the ground, his head is leaned back. His eyes are closed and he's breathing deeply.
“Are you asleep?” Viktor asks quietly as he steps closer. Once he puts down the gauze and spray, Jayce grumbles.
“Sorry, no. Distracting myself from the pain,” Jayce explains, eyes still shut tight.
“Oh. I’m afraid the disinfectant won’t help with that, at least not immediately. I’ll grab you a pain killer.”
Jayce opens his eyes. Viktor notices they’re hazel before Jayce speaks. “No. It’s alright.”
“There’s no reason not to accept pain relief when I’m offering it.”
He tilts his head, offers a small, amused smile. “No offence, but my mom taught me not to accept pills from a stranger. And, well, I don’t even know your name.”
Oh. Viktor feels a flush of embarrassment in his face. He didn’t realise he wasn't the only one in a dangerous position. Yes, Jayce is a werewolf that could overpower Viktor whenever he’d choose. But also; yes, Jayce is in a stranger’s house, naked, wounded, and the stranger who owns a gun just offered him a pill.
It’s a wonder Jayce even came inside.
“Right,” Viktor exhales. “My apologies. It’s Viktor. My name.”
Jayce leans further back. “Pleasure to meet you, Viktor.”
Viktor kneels back down on the ground at Jayce’s feet to get to work. “You seem more relaxed.”
“Uh, I suppose. The adrenaline is wearing off, I think. Not really in a stress response anymore, you know?”
Viktor hums. “I suppose,” he repeats Jayce’s words with a small smile. He grabs the spray. “This will sting.”
Jayce nods. When the first spray hits, he hisses. Then as Viktor keeps spraying to get the whole area, a low growl spreads through the room. Viktor doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. When he’s done spraying, he sets the spray onto the table and grabs the gauze.
He risks a glance. Jayce’s hands and arms are flexed as he holds onto the pillow to redirect the sting. The veins there stand out and Viktor has to drag his eyes to Jayce’s face, which is slowly coming down from growling to a guilty expression.
“Sorry.”
“No need,” Viktor deflects. He unwraps the gauze and begins wrapping it around the wound. “I’m actually not sure whether the gauze is necessary. Your wound is not bleeding anymore, but I’d rather not risk anything getting in it.”
Jayce stays silent all the way until Viktor finishes and then looks at him. Their eyes meet and Viktor prays that the tension in the air is just the dissolving sense of danger.
“Thank you, Viktor.”
Viktor has to look away. Jayce’s eyes are… too intense for a man who hasn’t slept yet and needs to pop three pain killers as soon as possible.
“I told you — there’s no need to thank me.”
He stands up. He grabs the bowl, which still has the cloth in its bloodied water, and makes his way to the kitchen, where he dumps the water in the sink. He’ll get rid of the cloth tomorrow.
“I’d still like to show my gratitude,” Jayce insists.
“No need,” Viktor repeats. He takes the bottle of painkillers from the cabinet above the sink and walks over to Jayce. “Are you sure?” He holds up the bottle. “I assure you they are safe. I’m taking a few.”
Jayce tilts his head and keeps looking at Viktor. Viktor doesn’t take offence. Instead, he pops the bottle open, shakes two pills onto his palm, and swallows them dry.
“Alright,” Jayce nods. “Thank you.”
Viktor doesn’t say anything. If he had to deflect all of Jayce’s apologies and his words of gratitude, he’d never go to sleep. Instead, he gives Jayce one pill (they’re quite strong, he doesn’t want to risk drugging the man too much — though, with Jayce’s build, he supposes he could handle it).
Jayce swallows it dry as well with a grimace. Viktor smiles, amused.
“I’m afraid I don't have a spare bed, so the couch will have to do. I’ll get you a blanket.”
“I’m—”
Viktor raises his eyebrows. Jayce glances at the main door before returning his careful gaze to Viktor, whose smile falls.
“If you think I’m kicking you out to freeze right now, you’re mistaken.”
Jayce sighs in relief. Viktor tries his best not to get offended. Instead, he gets the blanket and returns to Jayce, who accepts the blanket gratefully.
“But also remember that I am armed.”
Jayce chuckles. “That’s quite hard to forget. But I promise that I won’t try anything. You’ll find me exactly here in the morning.”
Viktor nods once. He glances at the gun on the counter and goes to get it. He won’t use it, but he’s sure as hell not going to leave it with a man he has met barely an hour ago.
“Good night, then, Jayce,” he says, despite it being morning.
“Good night, Viktor. Thank you.”