Chapter Text
There was an unspoken understanding that they each had their own time with Jayce.
The council rooms was Mel’s time with Jayce except for hextech business that required all of them. Not that Viktor had a desire to be in the council building longer than necessary. The forge was Jayce’s alone time unless he’d been in there too long.
The lab was Viktor’s time with Jayce except for the scheduled visits to see their progress. It was something Mel did for years and thus a part of the pattern. But always when Jayce was in the lab.
Jayce was not in the lab now. Mel was. Viktor harrumphed at the change of pattern but chalked it up to miscommunication on Jayce and Mel’s part. Viktor stayed seated at his desk as he heard her heels.
”You’ve missed him by half an hour, councilor.”
She continued walking in. ”I’m not here for Jayce.”
Viktor paused in writing. “Miss Young has also -“
Mel let out an amused laugh. “I’m here for you, Viktor.” She walked over to his desk, her fingers gliding over the objects. She liked touching things, he had noted long ago. “Is that so strange to imagine?”
He idly watched her fingers trail the length of a screwdriver. “I have no updates to give you.”
She leaned against the desk much closer than she normally would have. It was hard for him to not look at the golden armor on her thigh, or silently admit to himself how well the white dress and gold complemented her dark brown skin. Usually, he thought gold was an exaggeration. But he really couldn’t imagine her without it.
“The fundraiser’s tonight.” She curiously looked at what he was writing and then back to his face. “Both creatives of hextech should be there.”
He scoffed, his eyes diverting back to her face. “You’ll lose sponsors if I’m there.”
She elegantly laughed. “You’d have to burn the party down to do that.”
He was angled so she didn’t see the right side of his mouth twitch upwards. “Don’t tempt me, councilor.”
“You’ll do no such thing to my balcony.”
He quirked a brow at her pout. “I’m sure you can afford ten more.”
She crossed her arms. “Why do you insist on avoiding every social event with hextech?”
He nearly rolled his eyes. He blamed Jayce for that impulse. It was human to feel these emotions but unseemly to be telegraphing every little feeling as freely as his partner did. It was a difference in personalities or childhood. Probably a mix of both. He turned back to his scribbling.
“Why are there so many social events for hextech?” he dryly countered.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shake her head.
”I suppose we could forego patrons,” she drawled, “and build the new machinery with scrap metal.”
He saw her point. But still. “There’s an idea.”
”Viktor.”
He swiveled his chair to face her. “You and Jayce have it handled.”
”You’re like a ghost to Piltover. I doubt many people even know what you look like with how little you show yourself.”
”Perhaps that’s intentional, councilor.”
He made to turn his chair. Her arm snapped forward to the armrest and halted him. He stared at her, his eyes drifting down her body and then back up to her hand on the armrest. If he moved his arm just so he’d be touching her. How would she react to that, he wondered in a split moment of unfiltered curiousity.
He’d seen the way she’d lean into Jayce’s hand as he guided her around the lab, Jayce’s fingers inevitably slipping to stroke her skin through the diamond cut on the sides of her dress. It was in Jayce’s nature to be so hands on and apparently Mel welcomed it coming from Jayce.
But if he were to…
He moved his eyes back to her face. Such an errant thought. Pointless.
She looked pensive. He took too long looking at her but to his defense it was hard to ignore someone of Mel Medarda’s caliber. Even the scent of her perfume was an alluring force, a siren’s call to lean in and get a better whiff - he stood up abruptly, making her straighten up as well.
He wasn’t supposed to know how she smelled like.
…Was he not to? That had been a rule amongst them, wasn’t it? It had to be. His mind fiercely worked, trying to find a memory that would forbid him from knowing her scent but coming up empty.
“Come to the dinner,” she prompted. “You need to eat at the very least.”
He slowly blinked. He just realized he’d been staring at her this whole time. He grabbed his cane with a half hearted scoff. He had a retort on his tongue but he made the mistake of looking back at her. Her brows were lifted upwards in hopeful inquisition. It made something flip around inside his gut. Perhaps he did need to eat after all.
“One hour.”
She gave him a small smile. “I’ll send for a car in half an hour?”
He waved his hand and went back to getting himself some tea.
Viktor sat on his bed, cane propped up before him.
He had gone as far as putting on his nice indigo vest and dark pants when he decided to sit down for a bit. Someone had knocked on his door several times but he stayed quietly sitting. After a while they went away.
The sun was setting when he received his first telephone call. He slowly blinked out of his stupor and grunted as he used the cane to help him up.
”Why did you send my driver away?”
”Councilor Medarda, a pleasure as usual.” He rubbed his nose to get rid of an itch. “But I did not send away anyone.”
”You’re right, avoidance is worse.”
“How did you get my number? Wait, Jayce of course.”
”We still have two more courses. I can send Rengal back to pick you up.”
”I’ll go when I’m ready, councilor, and not a minute sooner.”
”Which is never.”
”Stick with your politicians and socialites, Mel. They’re better company.“
”I’ll not take socializing advice from a hermit.”
“Glad to see you understand.”
There was murmuring too indistinguishable for him to make out. ”Come when you’re ready then. I’ll not waste Rengal’s time.”
The receiver on the other end clicked with force. She was upset. Viktor grumbled to himself as he petulantly hung up with force too.
It was dark out when Viktor arrived.
All the guests were gone. The front doorsman discretely yawned behind his hand as he let Viktor in. Viktor waited in the lobby as the doorsman quietly talked on the phone.
He’d never been in her home before. He hadn’t expected the dark stone walls but he wasn’t surprised by the statues or the Noxian pottery on stands. He had been expecting a lot more gold but maybe it was the low lights.
”Sir?”
Viktor turned back. “Just Viktor will do.”
The doorsman withheld a yawn. Viktor almost felt bad. “Elora will be down shortly to take you to the councilor’s sitting room.”
”Thank you.”
When Elora came down she had her nightgown and robe with her hair in a braid. “This way, please.”
He silently followed. The candlelight in Elora’s hand was his only light. Elora glanced back at him a couple of times.
”What?” He answered a bit sharper than he expected.
”A fine time to be calling, is all,” Elora quipped.
He held his tongue. Elora eventually stopped in front of an ornate, dark brown door with a hue of red to it. Elora knocked and cracked the door. He could hear Mel’s voice. Elora opened the door wider and stood aside for him.
”Go on, then.”
He cleared his throat and walked through. Elora closed the door behind him. He turned back to see that she did indeed left him alone. There was a rustle behind him. He turned around and took a double take.
Mel sat comfortably on her velvety maroon lounging chair, her hair down in tussled waves. She had a robe carelessly tied on around her, one shoulder just about to be shown and her bare leg peeking from the opening.
He did not think she had anything else on underneath.
”So,” Mel lazily drawled, her eyes half lidded from disrupted sleep, “is this your definition of ‘fashionably late?’”