It was snowing. Darkness rolled over the shivering city, closing in very quickly and quietly as Jayce glanced out the old, misty window decorated with dust and forgotten sights. He had heard praise many times over for snow but Jayce could not see the reason why.
Especially not now when he could speak praises in song and writing for the man standing just a short walk away from him, tinkering away at his dislocated metal arm with diligent care that always boiled down to Jayce watching him, rapt. He could watch for hours Viktor working to make sure his limbs were in top condition. The amount of concentration and precision used was what got to Jayce in the first place.
It was there, watching him polish the steel and oil the joints in his indefatigable fashion that Jayce fell indescribably and completely in love. It was unexpected and for a short while he watched Viktor with a jaundiced eye, conflicted with this eddy current of emotions that swirled and swirled within him like the flickering snow churning outside in the wind.
He had quickly began to accept his own feelings but despaired in the fact that there might never be more than a brief moment that he might express his attraction without being cruelly brushed aside or ignored. They weren't friends; they weren't even completely enemies anymore, just… just colleagues that didn't see eye to eye on many subjects but could appreciate each other's dedication to their work.
Viktor shifted, clothes rustling as he delicately adjusted his arm back in place, muscles flexing and mechanical arm imitating the movement of flesh. Jayce wet his lower lip. It was almost a sin the way he could meld machine with flesh and though Jayce had initially been revolted he later had found beauty in it.
He adored the way Viktor's chest would rise slowly as he breathed while his hands unlatched his limb from below the knee. Sometimes it seemed that Viktor was too painfully aware that he was breathing, as if that was an offense against himself. He would at times breathe slowly so that he wouldn't have to breathe too much then at other times he'd breathe in a labored breath, deep and indulgent as if relishing his human flaws.
Perhaps, Jayce thought, Viktor may hate himself too much. Then like the romantic he was thought that perhaps he could love him enough to turn that around. Silly, he knew.
Neither of them had spoken. They never spoke when Viktor did this and they never had a reason to. It was perhaps the most intimate thing to happen between them. A strange trust mixed in with a mutual respect was the string that attached them and Jayce had never realized just how much of a gamble the Machine Herald took when he popped limb after limb and polished the metal and steel with dedication and care in front of the Defender until just now.
He could have taken him down any time, could have render him useless without those reliable limbs, but Jayce didn't. Was it because he trusted Jayce? Running his tongue over his teeth Jayce stood up from his spot just as Viktor was about to pop the leg back into place. Was it because he thought Jayce didn't have the guts to do it? Or perhaps it was all to mess with his head. Jayce approached, eyes running across the glint of gold eyes that met him in cautious observation.
Was this a sign?
Jayce dropped his hand onto the table where the oil and grease sat, a worn and stained rag by his fingers. He leaned his head to the side and gazed quietly at Viktor who paused in his work to stare back silently. They watched each other then and Jayce found it almost unfair how he couldn't tell what Viktor was thinking.
His eyes did not speak to him, his face was hidden behind a metal mask and the only thing that Jayce was given was the faint twitch of Viktor's fingers as they seemed to wake up and hold onto his mechanical leg. A soft insight that he might be uncomfortable despite his stoic appearance.
"What is it?" the static stained voice rumbled out, his accent thick and lingering. Jayce had also came to love it and he just couldn't stand the way it would wrap around his name like a delicate treat only for him to hear.
He went to his knees in front of the man and he knew without looking at Viktor that he was surprised if not more curious than anything to see the proud Jayce at his feet. Jayce was still proud and maybe a little more confident and bold than he has ever been to actually initiate this. He did it because he wanted to; he did it because he could not contain the festering emotions welling up inside of him. Jayce was taking a risk but he didn't care. This was the beginning of his journey to woo the Machine Herald.
With slow and unusually graceful movements, Jayce placed his hands on the opposite half of the leg. He glanced up at Viktor for permission and was given it hesitantly. He watched as the machine hand retreated wearily and allowed Jayce the limb. It was warm in his hands and Jayce ran his fingers over the smooth and reflective surface. He saw himself, watered down blue eyes and notable cheekbones.
Jayce adjusted himself, bowing down to carefully and firmly press the limb back into place. He felt it click and latch back on with ease and he admired the joint it connected to at the knee. Viktor's hands rested half tense on his thighs, eyes watching Jayce's every move. Jayce dragged a couple fingers across the calf then back up to the knee. He knew Viktor could not feel it. That was what it meant to be what he hoped to accomplish. Unfeeling and flawless.
But Jayce was going to make him feel and he knew it was going to hurt them both, yet he could not find it within himself to rethink his approach or to even regret his decisions as he dipped his head forward, hands lifting up his leg by the foot and lips brushing across the metal.
"What are you doing, Jayce?" came the slow, calculated words, tickling Jayce's neck and sliding off into the air. His name lingered in his ears and Jayce kissed firmly Viktor's kneecap, eyes lifting up to meet his.
"Flirting."