Work Text:
Piltover LLC, 12:13 PM
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Jayce Talis burst into his and Viktor’s shared office like a man on a mission.
Viktor didn't flinch. He didn’t even look up from his triple-monitor setup, his fingers still tapping steadily across his mechanical keyboard, typing something deeply complicated in a command line that would give most people a migraine. It looked like something straight out of a hacker thriller. He sipped from his third espresso of the day, the cigarette in the ashtray beside him still curling smoke toward the ceiling.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Jayce Talis.”
“Viktor Talis .”
A beat. Jayce folded his arms and leaned one hip against the corner of Viktor’s desk, rattling a stack of loose printouts and accidentally hitting the edge of the mousepad with his body. The movement earned him a glare.
Viktor rolled back just enough that his chair squeaked in quiet protest. He had the look of a man held together entirely by caffeine, dread, and spite. Pencil behind one ear. Shirt sleeves pushed up. The unmistakable crunch of anxiety-induced concentration crackling off of him like static.
"You haven't eaten anything today," Jayce said, half-accusation, half-concern.
"I had coffee."
"That's not food."
"It contains beans. Beans are food."
Jayce pointed to the two empty coffee cups and the half-smoked cigarette in Viktor’s ashtray that he saved for later. “That’s a direct threat to your circulatory system.”
“I am busy.” Viktor did not look away from his screen, eyes locked to his work. He looked like an academic shrimp with the way he was sitting. Left leg tucked up to his chest, spine curled into a perfect C, the right stretched stiff with his brace locked in place. A creature of intellect and absolutely no regard for ergonomic safety.
“You’re starving yourself to death.”
“I am coding.”
Jayce reached into the brown paper bag he'd triumphantly brought in from the break room and plopped down a Tupperware with a proud thunk . Whatever was inside it looked vaguely... sentient. Like it might grow legs and leave on its own if given five more minutes. "Lunch."
Viktor finally looked up, blinking like he was waking from a very intense dream – or a nightmare. He stared at the container.
“Now that ,” he said slowly, “is a threat to my entire existence.”
Jayce shoved it toward him more insistently. "You can’t survive on nicotine and bitterness alone, Viktor. You need protein, vitamins. And possibly a divine intervention."
Viktor tilted his head, eyeing the thing like it might hiss at him. "What’s in it?"
"Banana, kale, egg whites, chicken broth – don’t look at me like that – chia seeds, and a little vanilla protein powder. Oh, and anchovy salad."
Viktor did, in fact, look at him like that. He recoiled slightly, as if the Tupperware had personally offended his ancestors. "Why is it sweet and savory?"
Jayce brightened. "Because that’s how you hit all the food groups. It’s scientifically balanced."
Viktor’s eyes flicked, slow and deliberate, from the Tupperware to Jayce. Like Jayce had betrayed him, science itself, and every nutritional standard known to mankind.
“You want me to eat this?”
“I want you to live. That’s step one. Eating is, like, step two.”
Viktor poked the container with the caution of a bomb technician. It jiggled. “It is vibrating.”
“It’s fresh.”
“It’s evil .”
“Eat the evil.”
Viktor sighed and picked up his fork like it was a weapon, and Jayce, satisfied, spun Viktor’s chair slightly with a grin. “Good boy.”
“I will replace your desktop background with looping Minion gifs again.”
“You say that like it’s not my kink.”
“Jayce.”
2:25 PM
Jayce stood in the middle of the office, slowly turning in a circle like a Roomba that had lost its will to live.
“Have you seen the quarterly report?”
Silence.
He turned to Viktor’s desk, where the other man hadn’t budged from his screen. “Top drawer, left side. In the cabinet with the sad plastic plant on it. Under the folder labeled ‘This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.” A pause. “Next to the protein bar you swore you’d eat last week.”
Jayce squinted. “You actually labeled it that? There’s budget requests in there.”
Viktor exhaled through his nose. “ You labeled it that. Right after doodling a picture of Ambessa on a sticky note – with laser eyes, might I add – and writing ‘Q4 if we mess up again’ next to it.”
Jayce stared, vaguely betrayed. “I thought that was a joke.”
“You called it that. You made a label. You printed it. In Comic Sans. I just actually put it there.”
Jayce opened the drawer. Sure enough, there it was. And the protein bar. He unwrapped it like it was a hidden treasure. Technically, it was. “God, you’re magic,” he mumbled around a bite.
Viktor’s face twisted in slight horror. “Is that thing even still good?”
Jayce started to answer with his mouth still full.
Viktor immediately raised a hand, averting his eyes. “Dear God, don’t .”
Jayce chewed happily, swallowing the whole thing in record time. “Anyway. I am organized.”
“You are not ,” Viktor said. “ I am organized. You just benefit from my proximity.”
“Same thing.”
Viktor blinked and looked again – Jayce had eaten the whole protein bar. In one bite. Like a Labrador who’d just been told it was dinner time.
“And because I’m forced to share an office with you, including your only braincell,” Viktor muttered. “I know exactly where you leave your nonsense.”
Jayce collapsed into the chair across from him, sipping whatever unholy sludge he’d brewed that morning. He let out a satisfied hum, like it wasn’t an affront to human tastebuds.
Viktor stared at him for a long beat.
“...That smells like if regret had a cousin.”
3:34 PM
A memo from HR appeared in everyone’s inbox titled: ‘ Office Microwave Usage: A Friendly Reminder’.
Viktor knew immediately why that was sent .
Earlier that day, Jayce stood in the break room like a chef about to present a five-star dish. The microwave hummed ominously as a plate of salmon rotated inside, filling the air with a scent that Viktor imagined a dead body would smell like.
He sat at the dinner table of the break room, leaning slightly on his cane that rested by his side. “This is a workplace, not a weapon testing zone.”
Jayce shrugged, eyes glued to the spinning fish. “It’s salmon. Omega-3s.”
As if summoned by the wrath of the gods, Mel strode past the break room, heels clicking like the ticking of a time bomb. She paused at the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. She didn’t say a word – but that look? That was a verdict. Jayce swallowed.
Viktor simply raised a brow, arms folded. “Your nutritional choices are a chemical spill waiting to happen.”
Jayce, undeterred, grinned. “But you still like me.”
Viktor didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
The fish did the talking for him. And the whole office, if the groans whenever someone passed the break room were anything to go by.
4:08 PM
The elevator pinged a soft chime. Viktor stepped out, the rhythmic tap of his cane the only sound accompanying his quiet presence. Jayce was already standing by the door, holding two steaming cups of coffee and a croissant like some kind of peace offering, the scent of butter and caffeine surrounding him.
“You haven’t eaten since lunch,” Jayce said.
Don’t remind me of that concoction.
Viktor glanced at the croissant, then at Jayce, his expression unamused. “I don’t like croissants.”
Jayce raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile threatening to break free. “You do when they’re from that little place near our apartment. The one with the cat café inside.”
Viktor’s eyes narrowed. “You stalked me.”
Jayce grinned, cocky. “No, I just remembered what you ate last Friday when we accidentally left our cameras on during the Zoom call.”
“Stalker.” Viktor took the croissant anyway.
4:57 PM
Most of the office had cleared out, lights dimmed to a soft glow, and the only sounds were the whirr of the printer springing to life now and then, and the occasional rustle of paper to break the silence. Viktor sat at his desk, fingers dancing over the keyboard in a rhythm that felt almost meditative. A faint hum slipped past his lips, the only sign of life.
Jayce appeared beside him, setting down a cup of tea. Not protein sludge. Definitely not coffee. Just something warm, because he knew Viktor hadn’t gotten up for most of the day.
Viktor took it without looking, brushing his fingers over Jayce’s as they lingered.
Jayce sat on the edge of Viktor’s desk, close enough that their bodies almost touched but not quite. "You clocking out with me tonight?"
Viktor glanced at the screen, the numbers and charts blurring in his mind as his thoughts wandered. "I have to finish compiling–"
Jayce moved behind him and leaned down, pressing a kiss just behind Viktor’s ear – a sensitive spot that Jayce had memorized for moments like this.
Viktor froze. His fingers tightened around the warm cup in his hand. He knew what Jayce was doing, but he couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered at the thought of it.
“I could finish compiling at our place.”
Jayce grinned. “That’s the spirit.”
5:31 PM
By the time the office began to quiet down, lights dimming and doors clicking shut one by one, Jayce found himself perched on the edge of Viktor’s desk again, this time not with a mysterious Tupperware but with a small bag of gummy bears they were supposed to be "cutting sugar on."
Viktor didn’t mention it. He just leaned back in his chair, the creak of the leather barely audible, and tilted his head toward Jayce. One knee brushed against Jayce’s casually, the soft contact sending a jolt through both.
“Mel’s going to kill us if we miss the quarterly sync again,” Viktor muttered, eyes flicking over his screen with half the focus of someone who’s already mentally checked out for the day.
"We’ll set a reminder," Jayce said, mouth full of red gummies. "She likes us."
"She tolerates us,” Viktor corrected.
"Same difference."
The silence between them was warm this time, thick with a settled comfort. Familiar.
Jayce reached over, brushing his fingers across Viktor’s wrist where it rested on the desk. "Hey."
Viktor glanced at him, eyebrow raised in question.
Jayce’s smirk was mischievous, but there was something sincere about the way he spoke next. “You know, for someone who claims not to care, you’re surprisingly good at making sure I don’t completely implode.”
Viktor’s lips twitched as he shifted his hand, his fingers interlacing with Jayce’s – his wedding band cool against Jayce’s warm skin. “I’m just doing my part in this mess of yours, Mr. Talis. ”
Jayce leaned in slightly, voice dropping a little lower. “Well, don’t stop. I’d probably be lost without you.”
Viktor’s eyes softened, the teasing edge gone. "That’s your problem, then."
Jayce chuckled, sliding a little closer. "Still worth it?"
Viktor glanced at him, the corners of his mouth pulling up just enough to suggest amusement. “You’re a pain, but I’ll survive.”
Jayce smiled. “Mutually assured destruction.” With that, he closed the small distance between their lips, his hand moving to caress Viktor’s cheek.
Viktor simply smiled into it.
The gummy bears were terrible. The Tupperware monstrosity had been even worse.
But everything else? Felt pretty close to perfect.