A/N: Firstly, thank you @sherwood-forests for reading over this piece! You are gods sent. secondly, @thehistoriangirl here is your background xD
TW: illness mentioned, pregnancy
Word count: 2767
“The results are in,” the doctor’s voice chimes from the door, alerting you of her presence. Twisting your body slowly, you frown at the look on her face, hands resting in your lap. You feel as if the air around you still as she confirms what you’ve dreaded.
Your footsteps echo around you, skittering along the expanse of the abandoned hall. Where bodies had been hurriedly pressing passed you to get where they were going just minutes ago, there is no one. Left alone with your thoughts your arms wrap around your middle, as if the glue that can hold you together.
Glittering chandeliers sway above, music making the crystals hanging from their ornate arms shake, miniature rays of light bouncing around you, lighting up the room spectacularly. Glancing around, you can't help but stare- ornate bodies twirling around the floor, jewels refracting the light from the crystals above. Wait staff swirl by, one bowing to you slightly, offering a flute of champagne. You take it gently, offering a smile in thanks.
They smile back before disappearing into the crowds.
Turning quickly, you muffle your yelp as you very nearly knock right into another chest, very nearly knocking his own flute from his hands. He seems just as surprised as you, but recovers quickly, offering you a weak, but kind smile.
“My apologies,” you strain to hear him, his accent softening his words. You just nod quickly. “I should have been paying closer attention.” opening your mouth to refute his claim that he was the one in the wrong, he merely lifts his other hand, cane coming with it for a moment, the motion clear.
Instead, you offer him your name. At this, he smiles, crooked and unguarded, nose crinkling at the motion. Setting his flute to the side, he offers you his hand.
Dim lights flicker above your head, casting random shadows over the sporadic placements of potted plants along the lines, the only living things keeping you company on your way. Cursing yourself, you look around, glancing at the numbers on the doors.
Are you even going the right way? Huffing, you shake the thoughts away, fighting the emotions welling up. Biting your lip so that it can't tremble, you push on, counting the doors like you had that night.
298. Second hallway, fifth door to your left.
Circled by empty flutes, you lean against the table, flush against its flat top, cheek squished to it with a giggle, eyes half lidded. Viktor looms over you, amusement as clear on his face as the flush, his cheeks warm. You like the pink, you find. Grinning up at him, you sit up some, allowing him a view down the front of your dress, unobstructed.
He startles to a stop, eyes falling down the expanse of your skin, tongue darting out to wet his lips before forcing his eyes back to yours, trying his best to be a gentleman- you are not making it an easy task. Humming, you tap his hand lightly with your finger, looking up at him through your lashes.
“Want to run?” you grin, lips curling mischievously, matching the glint in his eye.
“And where will we go?” he muses, tilting his head to regard you better. You shrug.
“I don't care, as long as it's you.” you had only just met, but you know you were telling the truth- a byproduct of your drinking- it made you honest. You realized, you would probably follow him wherever he asked, as long as his fingers kept trailing your skin, and his eyes stayed on you.
“My…” he hesitates, swallowing before continuing, pursing his lips before a rough release of air unpuckers them. “My apartment is not far” he manages, watching you keenly, as if waiting for you to retract your offer, teasing him relentlessly about having been caught- this was a joke. When you only smile, your fingers finding his with a nod, he relaxes.
Skittering to a stop, you eye the number on the door before you.
Unsure of what to do, you stare at the door for a moment. You can still feel it, the chill of the door on your back as he presses you into it, his feverish lips on yours as he struggles to unlock the door without breaking the kiss. His groan when you arch your body into his.
Shaking your head, trying to knock the memory away, you lift your hand slowly. You're not even sure when you knocked- you didn't feel the wood against your hand- but the sound reverberated around you loudly, making you wince.
Once the echoes subside, you are surrounded once more with silence. You sit in it for 30 seconds more, bouncing anxiously on the balls of your feet, hugging yourself. Eventually, the silence becomes unnerving- obviously he is either not home or asleep- you were foolish for coming. You chastised yourself as you turned.
He's a big important scientist, obviously he has more important things.
Your own thoughts make you freeze, midway down the hall as you soften. But he still deserves to know. You are about to start back towards your own room again when the lock slides, the sound slamming against the walls, startling you. Stopping, staring at his lithe body hunched over his cane as it leans out of his door, you can't find it in you to move. His eyes sweep around before landing on you, brows furrowed in confusion. He is just as beautiful as he was that night, but he looks paler, the bags under his eyes purplish, as if he has had trouble sleeping, his hair tousled.
When you don't move, he steps out, calling your name gently, the sound breaking you from your thoughts. “What is wrong?” The concern in his voice breaks your resolve, lip trembling- all of your practiced words dying in your throat.
You don't have to be involved.
He is still waiting, taking several paced steps towards you, patient. You can't help it, the way it blurts out, the words leaving your lips before you can stop them.
“I'm pregnant,” he freezes, eyes widening almost comically, his hand left lingering in the air where he had been reaching for you, about to offer comfort. “It’s yours,” you choke on the words, clawing back the sob threatening to spill from your chest. He doesn't move, staring down at you in shock.
“It… can be no one else?” His voice is soft, but distant, giving you no indication of how he is feeling. You shake your head, swallowing.
“No,” he just nods. When he doesn't move, doesn't say anything else, you continue. You're shocked you are still standing from the way your legs tremble, threatening to give way at the slightest provocation.
“I… just wanted you to know,” you begin. “I have zero expectations of you, Viktor.” Your voice is quiet, rushed. “You don't have to be a part of any of this- I just felt you had the right to know.” you backup a step, watching him closely. His eyes are stuck on you, grabbing his cane hard enough you're sure he will break it, but he doesn't move towards you.
Taking that as your answer, you turn on your heel and head back to your own apartment. Your walk turns to a jog, then to a sprint when you hear him choke on your name, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally spring forth clouding your way back.
Once back behind closed doors, the rest of the dam breaks. Back pressed to the door, you sob, shoulders shaking as your chin hits your chest, everything hitting you at once. Sliding slowly down the door, you bury your face in your knees, hands gripping at your hair as you wail into the fabric of your stockings. You don't pay attention to the way your tears mix with your makeup and stains them beyond repair. You cry until you cant anymore, the sounds reducing themselves to a whimper, curled up on your side head tucked to your knees as you cradle your stomach.
Still trembling, you stroke your stomach, a watery smile slides across your face, hiccuping.
“I'll never leave you, little one.” you promise. “Even if it's just you and me, you will never be alone.”
Laying there, collecting yourself, you sniffle, tears coming and going- but you are too exhausted to try and move, the only indication of the time being the way the light filtering in from your windows shifts as the day moves along. Light turns to shadows before the patter of rain echoes out in the silent apartment. Wiping at your eyes a final time, you push up slowly, wincing at how your body aches from lying on the floor for several hours, stomach aching even more, the snarl of it the only noise in the room. Huffing a laugh, you shake your head.
“I suppose I will have to be better about self care,” you mutter, about to step towards the kitchen when a knock sounds at the door, nearly jumping out of your skin at the abruptness after spending so long only listening to your thoughts. You hesitate, unsure if you are wanting to open it- you've very few friends given your job. Being Counselor Mel’s assistant leaves little time for a social life.
Electing to ignore it, you turn back towards the kitchen until you hear your name followed by a gentle thud.
“Please,” Viktor’s voice bleeds through the door once more, tight- thick. “Please… open the door.” hesitating, you turn towards the door slowly, the sound of the latch sliding louder than you expected- but somehow only slightly louder than the thunder of the blood rushing against your ear drums. You only creak the door open slightly at first, eyeing him through the crack.
His forehead is pressed against the door, hand resting in a fist above his head. Feeling the movement of the door, he peeks out at you, golden irises brilliant with the circling of the darkened bags resting under his eyes. The mouth that had given you so much pleasure- from the way it felt on your skin to the way his nose crinkled when he smiled- is a hard line as he worries at his lip. He looks paler than before, the bags worse, as if it's been days instead of hours. His normally neat hair tugged and pulled at, sticky spikes dampened by the rain, baby hairs sticking to his forehead, along with all of his clothes. You realize suddenly that he is drenched, his whole body trembling, the word escaping his lips making you shiver at the depth of emotion behind it, eyes watering. Please.
In spite of yourself, you open the door more, hand reaching out to steady him as his bad leg gives out slightly, leaning his weight on you for a moment before he is able to regain his composure, following you inside, letting the door swing shut behind him. Silence envelopes you both, all traces of hunger gone as you move to get him a towel, handing it out to him awkwardly. His movements are slow, calculated… frigid as he begins to dry himself off the best he can, ruffling his hair with a whisper.
“Thank you,” you just nod, not trusting your voice. Slowly, he stops, settled on the edge of your couch as he looks up at you, eyes wide. He's scared, you realize, before kneeling before him slowly, but maintain your distance, guarding your heart.
“What…” you pause, licking your lips. You flinch when his hand comes to gently trace along your cheek, the puffy, raw skin sensitive to his chill. You're sure you're a sight to see, red and raw from crying, makeup smeared across your face- you're sure your hair is a mess, as well. “What are you doing here, Viktor?” it comes out with more venom than you mean for, startling him, but he doesn't shrink away- just looks down at his other hand slowly, still curled into a ball. Shifting, you stare at it too, gawking when he unfurls his fingers to reveal a ring. It's pretty, silver with a brilliant green stone you don't recognize.
“It…” taking a deep breath, he turns to look at you, meeting your eyes and he rolls the ring across his finger tips before lifting it to you slightly. “It was my mother’s” you freeze, staring at the ring in his hand, breathing shallowly. He takes it as an opportunity to continue. “I… I would have come to you quicker, but I couldn't find it quickly enough.” frustration bleeds into his tone, earning your gaze back. As soon as it hits you, you’re shaking your head.
“No… no!” pushing yourself back, pacing in front of the couch, running your fingers through your tangled hair. “You… Marriage… you don't want to marry me, Vik,” you pause to look at him, desperation evident in your face. “I refuse to marry simply because I am pregnant.” his face twists, hand twitching around the ring. “We don't have to be married for you to be involved” you try to reason, waiting, begging for him to say something. When you stop talking, he takes it as his turn. Looking down at the ring, he frowns, a tired sigh pushing past his lips, your name coming out quietly.
“I am sick,” he confesses, so soft you almost don't hear it, but it makes you freeze in your tracks, staring at him from across the room. “I do not… I do not have much time- according to the doctors.” now he looks at you- anger, anxiety, fear all simmering there, his brilliant golden eyes boring into you, burning you like sunburn. “I know that… marrying a cripple from the undercity is most probably not your idea of an ideal union..” At that, you break out of your stupor, marching up to him, fingers wrapping around his chin as you tug it up, forcing him to look up at you, anger simmering in your eyes- an anger he doesnt recognize nor understand.
“Merely a cripple from the undercity, are you?” he winces at your tone, clipped, rough. “You are many things, Viktor- crippled? Sure. but you are also stunning, brilliant, a complete gentleman. I refuse to allow you to speak lowly of yourself, not in my presence.” eyes tacked to yours, he doesn't try to move, any motion of his head restricted by your hand. Instead, he reaches up, fingers wrapping around your wrist, squeezing gently, tears welling up, his lip quivering just slightly.
“Please,” he pleads again. “Let me care for you, for you both the only way I can. I am not strong, I am not… built for a family- my life revolves around my work.” shaking your head, you pull back, sighing.
“And how will this be caring for us, Vik?” he sighs, laying his head against your stomach, nosing there gently, your hands resting hesitantly on the back of his head, stroking down slowly trying to calm him. Shuddering at the contact, his hand comes up to rest over yours as the other wraps around your middle, holding you there.
“When I am… gone…” he settles, mumbling against your stomach. “You will be provided for, still. Jayce has assured me of that. Allow me to do what I can to make sure you and my child are cared for after I am no longer here to see to it myself.” The silence stretches around you both, just resting there as he holds you. It's dizzying, dealing with the whirlwind of what your day has become- the idea that you will have a baby with this gentle man, kind and smart… and you're not even sure how long you will be able to keep him in your child's life.
“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, unsure. “I don't want you to feel you have to.” he just nods against your stomach, the motion lifting your shirt just slightly, just enough for his fingers to brush the skin there.
“Yes,” his voice is quiet, but absolute. Slowly, he looks up at you, gentle eyes molten over your skin, pressing a gentle kiss to your sternum, fingers running over your stomach where it will inevitably swell in months to come. Swallowing, you squeeze his hand gently where it rests on his neck, eyes pinched closed to keep another round of tears from springing up, warmth blooming in your chest, your voice thick as you nod.
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Cold Hands Warm Heart
GN! Reader x Viktor, sharing a bed, SFW but some suggestive content, huddling for warmth, getting snowed in, fluff
Word Count: 5.1k
a/n: I'm sorry I have no idea how to consistently characterize this man
Working as Viktor’s assistant is sometimes the bane of your fucking existence. The man can be a nightmare even on a good day. You constantly have to pick up after him, he never knows when to take a break, you work absolutely insane hours. This, however? This is a whole new level of testing your sanity. Viktor frantically knocks on your door at eleven p.m. sharp in the middle of a goddamn snowstorm. As he stands there, raving about a problem he had just about solved, you have half a mind to just close the door. However when he says he needs your opinion and you watch him shiver you have no choice but to let him in.
Your first order of business is to help him shuck off his snow-wetted jacket and get a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. After that you find yourself immediately running to make him a cup of hot coffee more for him to hold than drink.
He talks the entire time you try to warm him up, you do your best to file away all the knowledge but none of it sticks as you’re so busy worrying he’s going to lose a finger and half pissed that he showed up at your house like this.
“And I-” Viktor’s rant cuts off as he finally looks at you rather than his bag that he’s been digging through the entire time you’ve been trying to warm him up. “You are… not wearing clothes.”
You look down and remember and are reminded that you’re wearing nothing but a crop top and tiny underwear. Color floods to your face, you can’t believe you forgot. It’s completely plausible that in his intense focus on relaying information to you Viktor didn’t notice, he tends to have tunnel vision for science. However, how in the world did you forget about your attire?
You sigh, there’s no point in feeling shame in it now, you might as well own it. “I’m wearing clothes. You caught me right as I was going to bed. Which by the way? I sleep naked, so at least I’m wearing this.”
Now it’s Viktor’s turn to turn beet red. His mouth opens and closes a few times with no words coming out. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him caught off guard like this. “You- ah- naked?” Is all he manages to squeak out. You plop a towel on his head, covering his face for a moment before you pull it back to reveal his face. He looks up at you and swallows, cheeks a vibrant red.
“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had for years, can’t really sleep wearing clothes anymore, it feels like they’re choking me,” you answer easily, toweling off his wet hair. You tilt his head forward to get a better angle of his hair and it occurs to you that he’s currently eye level with your chest. It’s whatever, it’s not as if he likes you or anything, for all you have it figured Viktor doesn’t like anyone like that, except maybe his hextech inventions.
“But it’s… winter?” He asks faintly, and you nearly laugh at the way he seems like he can’t quite process this information.
“I own a lot of blankets.”
“Ah.” He holds his coffee tightly, seemingly unable to come up with a better response.
Once you’ve sufficiently dried his hair you step back and put a hand on your hip. “There. Now hopefully you won’t get sick.”
“Thank you, I do believe I came at a bad time, perhaps I should go…” He goes to stand and you push him back down by his shoulders.
“Absolutely not, there’s a snow storm out there, I don’t even know how you managed to get here in the first place… I’m not sending you back out.” You put one hand on your hip and hold the towel in the other. “Besides, didn’t you say you had a problem you wanted my opinion on? That is why you showed up at eleven in the goddamn evening on my weekend off isn’t it?” He looks at you sheepishly as if he’s just now realizing what he’s done. Good. He should be embarrassed, gods know the man could do with a healthy dose of shame every once in a while. It’s not that his ego is massive or anything, it’s that he thinks he’s always right about everything. It pisses you off. It’s also unfortunately, one of the things you find unbearably hot about him.
“Aren’t you going to put clothes on?” He asks, voice higher than usual.
The thought did cross your mind, but then it occurred to you that doing so would mean that you felt some sort of shame having been seen like this. Then seeing him on Monday will be awkward and well, it’s better to just own it.
Might as well fuck with him a little, “Are you telling me what to do with my body in my own house?”
“No! I- ah- you see…” he flounders.
“Good. Now that we’re on the same page…” You flop down on the couch next to him and cross your legs. “What did you want my opinion on?”
He clears his throat, twice in fact. “Yes, ah, here-” he says, pulling some papers out of his bag and handing them to you. They’re covered in barely legible handwriting crisscrossing the pages. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to the order of which his notes have been written but you’ve been working for him for long enough to at least sort of follow what he’s getting at. You hum and flip through the pages.
After a while you take a shaky breath, “Viktor… this is brilliant.”
He sits up straighter, his lips quirking up. “You think so?” He interlocks his fingers in his lap and twists them a little bit.
“I don’t know what you need my opinion on, this seems like it’s complete. And utterly fucking genuis at that.”
“Ah, this part right here,” he leans forward and taps the paper, you follow the lines of his hand. Such beautiful hands, it’s like they were meant to create, to sculpt, to bring life to things one could only dream of. You wonder what it would feel like to kiss each knuckle.
Breaking out of your thoughts you focus on what he’s pointed at. “Do you think it could work?” He asks earnestly, looking at you with those deep amber eyes that you love so dearly.
“I don’t see why not,” you mutter, flipping through the pages once again. “I don’t understand why you came here to ask me though, why not ask Jayce? Surely he would’ve been the better person to go to?”
“Perhaps… I hadn’t even considered it.” He looks thoughtful. “You came to mind first and I value your opinion so I don’t see why I shouldn’t have come to you.”
“Maybe because hell has frozen over and there’s like a foot of snow outside?”
“Yes well, I don’t actually live that far…”
“Two streets over.”
“That’s… I have to move,” you mutter the last part to yourself but he catches it anyway. He looks at you, hurt written clear as day on his face.
“You’re my boss, we're not allowed to live within a square mile of each other, it's the rules.”
“There are no such rules! Also I’m not your boss, Heimerdinger is your boss!” His tone is more than a little indignant.
“You’re basically my boss. How do you know where I live anyway? Please don’t say you checked my records.” You hadn’t even thought to ask, but he shouldn’t know your address. You’ve certainly never told him.
He looks away. “Okay I won’t say it.”
You sigh and drop your head into your hands, “Viktor, that's so creepy.”
“It’s for emergencies! I checked after that time you didn’t come into work for three days and we didn’t find out until after the fact that you had collapsed in your home and had to be hospitalized for pneumonia!” His voice becomes shrill towards the end. He must notice that he’s gaining volume because his next statement is quieter. “What if something like that happens again but this time you don’t happen to have someone stopping by that day? What if something happens to you and nobody knows because you live alone?” He sounds heartbroken at the mere thought.
You blink at him, taken aback by how passionate he is about this. “Mm… You know what? Fair enough, I’ll give you that.” You reach over and cover his hand in yours. “Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen to me, that case of pneumonia was a total wildcard. I rarely get sick.”
“That’s a lie. You take time off due to illness frequently.”
“Ouch, call me on my shit why don’t you.” You hold your other hand to your wounded heart.
“It is what I live for.”
“You live for science.”
“Eh, that too.”
Laughing at his antics you go to pull your hand back but he catches it and threads his fingers through yours. It sends your heart absolutely hammering through your ribcage. His hand is warm from the drink he had been recently holding. You’ve always known that his hands are calloused and boney but you’ve never gotten to actually experience that up close like this. They’re larger and stronger than yours but somehow still lithe. You wonder how it would feel if he… Yeah, you’re not going down that road.
“Are you truly upset with me for looking up your address?” He asks, holding your hand firmly, and searching your face. You squeeze his hand and smile softly. How could you possibly be mad when you know he did it out of genuine concern for your safety? The thought makes your chest warm and your heart does a little flip at the feeling of your hand in his.
You squeeze his hand and give a soft smile. “No, I just wish you’d asked me rather than going behind my back. I would’ve just given you a key to my place if you were so worried.”
“A key to your…” His ears go pink. “I couldn’t possibly-”
“Actually, hold on.” You untangle your hand from his with no small amount of disappointment before hopping up and prancing over to your key rack. You grab the extra keyring that you keep on there in case you can’t find your actual keys before heading out in the morning. You toss them at Viktor who fails spectacularly at catching them. He picks them up off the couch where they fell and holds them out like they might bite him at any second.
He looks at the keys, then back at you, then back at the keys. “I’m not saying you can come and go as you please, But if there’s ever another time where you’re worried about me feel free to let yourself in. I will warn you though, one time I fell down in the shower and busted my head open and I was out cold for a while so if you see something you don’t want to see that’s on you.”
“You- When was this!?”
“A few months before I started working as your assistant.”
“That’s why your employment was delayed?” He sounds like he might faint and you rush to sit beside him once again.
“It’s in the past, I’m fine.” He takes your hand back in his and holds it like a lifeline. You can tell he doesn’t believe you and you wish there was something you could do to assuage his fears but you know nothing short of an impossible promise would do the trick. You know you’re accident and illness prone, it’s just something you’ve lived with your entire life. So what if you get a little motion sick on trolleys because you’ve had one too many concussions? Does it really matter if you get a little ill here and there? It’s not like anyone really cares enough about you to worry about you. ‘Except that’s not true’ your brain whispers. Viktor seems to care, for some unknown reason. This is news to you so it’ll take a little while to get used to. The fact that Viktor seems to care about whether you’re okay or not sends your heart into overdrive. You hope desperately that he can’t feel your pulse because frankly it’s embarrassing.
“Are you okay? Your heart it’s-” He doesn’t finish his sentence as he's cut off by the lights going out. “Oh dear...”
“Shit, not again,” you sigh. “I’m sorry I should’ve just let you go home when you tried to.” This isn’t the first time your power has gone out and it won’t be the last. Honestly, you’re surprised that it lasted as long as it did. Usually it would’ve gone out within the first hour of heavy snow. This time it lasted a whole two hours, just long enough to get Viktor stuck here with you.
“This happens often?” He sounds worried. It’s weird being able to hear him but not see him, at least he’s still holding your hand so you have his approximate location.
“Yeah like once a week, maybe more. I’m used to it.”
“That’s terrible, surely it comes back quickly though, yes?”
“Not really? You should get out of here as soon as the storm calms down, it doesn’t always come back the next day and my landlord usually neglects to send someone in a timely manner so I tend to spend more time without power than with it.”
He mutters something in his mother tongue that sounds suspiciously like a curse word from the way he spits it out. “This is unacceptable. You shouldn’t be living like this! It’s no wonder you’re sick so often!” His hand squeezes yours so tightly it almost hurts. You don’t say anything about his grip, afraid if you do he’ll let go and you’ll lose him to the darkness.
“Viktor, really… I appreciate that but this is what I can afford so this is what I get. Try not to worry about it too much, okay? There’s nothing to be done.” You suppress the heavy sigh pressing inside your chest.
“I cannot simply-!”
“Viktor-” you cut him off. “It’s going to get very cold very fast so unless you want both of us to freeze out here can we please put a pin in this?”
“I… suppose,” he relents, then continues, “What do you suggest we do?”
“First we should move to my bedroom.” You stand up, still holding his hand you pull him to his feet.
“Y-your?” He stutters and stumbles into you a bit.
You rush to explain, “It’s the warmest room in the house and it retains heat the best, which is a bitch in the summer but does wonders for me on nights like this.” Gods, you can’t believe you just invited Viktor to come to your bedroom with you. You’re so grateful the lights are out because your face is on fire. This is so much more embarrassing than being in your underwear.
Viktor lets go of your hand and reaches paws around for his crutch. “Ah, yes,” he clears his throat. “That makes perfect sense… However I do not know the layout of your home, perhaps if you could guide me so as to ensure I don’t run into anything…?”
Your eyes have begun to adjust to the dark so you can finally make out the outline of his body. You reach forward and touch his arm, running your hand down it softly you feel him jump slightly. After a moment you finally find his hand again and are able to grasp it. “Come with me.”
You guide him across the living room and down the hall, making sure to tell him of anything that might be an obstacle. You make it to your bedroom without incident and when you open the door you’re hit with a wall of warmth. Pulling him in quickly so as to save as much warm air as possible you shut the door behind him a little too hastily and you end up, for all intents and purposes, pinning him to the door.
“Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” apologies begin to tumble from your lips quickly.
He swallows audibly before interrupting, “It’s, ah, fine. Do not worry about it.” His voice is breathy and tight, you must’ve startled him.
You scramble to right yourself and him. You then realize what has to happen now that you’re here and your whole body flushes. “We should, um… sleep? It’s pretty late and we’re not going to be able to do anything like this so…”
“Yes, you make a very good point,” he agrees after clearing his throat. You proceed to guide him towards your bed, you tell him to sit and he thankfully does without protest.
You head towards your closet and blindly start pulling out blankets, most of the ones you own are on your bed but you of course have extra for the nights it’s particularly cold. You only find two blankets and it strikes you then that you put the rest of your extra blankets in the wash earlier today and never got around to drying them. What shit timing. You kick your closet door shut and drop the blankets that you did find on the floor next to the bed.
“There’s like six or so blankets on the bed so I imagine you’ll be fine but let me know if you need another one,” you say, taking one of your blankets and spreading it across the floor. Something you learned early on is that if you lay on a blanket it traps your heat better than a mattress does, or better than the floor will for that matter.
“Wait, I cannot simply- Are you sleeping on the floor?”
“Uh… yeah?” You sit down on your freshly spread blanket and begin shaking out the other one, preparing to pull it over your body.
Viktor makes a frustrated sound, “I’m not going to take your bed, this is your home!”
You laugh a little, “That’s really sweet but I think if you tried to sleep on the floor you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow so don’t try to talk me out of this one.”
“I-” he tries to argue but apparently he can’t think of a comeback because he just sighs and slips his shoes off.
You cuddle under the thin blanket that you acquired and realize you forgot a pillow. “Can you toss me one of the pillows?” He does so, accidentally smacking you in the face and laughing when you let out a small ‘oof’.
“You know, that’s not very professional of you… professor,” you complain when he continues to chuckle.
His laughter abruptly stops and he takes in a sharp breath. He clears his throat a little then says, “Yes well, nothing about any of this is very professional, now is it?” You lay down and turn to your side, facing him.
You laugh lightly, “No I suppose it’s not… You’re not going to fire me are you?” You’re joking but real fear creeps into your voice on accident.
“Of course not! You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong! If anything I would understand if you were upset with me for coming here so late, then taking your bed of all things.” He sounds so firm when he assures you that it fills you with warmth. He’s always been so kind to you. If his brilliance, passion, and strikingly good looks weren’t enough to make you fall in love with him, his kindness towards you would surely do the trick.
“I’m not upset at all, I just feel bad that you’re stuck here like this…” You really should’ve just let him go home when he wanted, storm be damned. The only reason you didn’t let him leave when the power went out is because the snow has undoubtedly piled up even more and the storm has only gotten worse as the night has gone on.
You can sort of see him shake his head. “I do not mind, truly. Even if I did, I don’t fault you for this in the slightest.” You hum, not willing to agree or argue with him.
A yawn breaks free of your chest, and you suddenly realize just how heavy your eyelids are.
“I believe we should sleep, yes? You seem tired.”
“Just a bit,” you laugh lightly. “Wait, are you going to sleep with all your clothes on? Tie and all?”
“Well I… It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to…” he trails off.
You roll your eyes, not that it means anything in the dark like this. “Viktor? I’ve been in just my underwear all evening. I also can’t even see you, feel free to get comfortable, okay?” Your words are steady and carefree but your heart is just about ready to explode in your chest. You can’t believe you’re telling him to get undressed, what’s wrong with you? It’s one thing to invite him to your bedroom to sleep because it’s warm. It's a whole ‘nother animal to tell him to strip.
“If you’re sure it won’t make you uncomfortable…” he says, still hesitating. You understand his apprehension you really do but also the idea of sleeping in slacks, let alone a vest and tie sounds just awful.
You hum, “I’m sure. Please make yourself comfortable, it would put my mind at ease.”
He clears his throat then you think he nods but you can’t quite tell from the distance you’re at. There’s some quiet rustling and when he takes off what you assume is his vest. Then after a bit more rustling (his shirt perhaps, you’re unsure) you hear a zipper. You know you’re the one that suggested he get undressed but suddenly having to confront the fact that he’s not wearing pants nearly makes you faint. Your face burns like it never has before and you quickly hide your head under your blanket.
“I usually, eh, sleep wearing pajamas but well, you know,” he coughs nervously and honestly you can’t blame him. You make a vague noise of affirmation, unsure how else to respond. Waiting until you hear him get on the bed and under the covers before you peek your head out from under your blanket.
“Are you, um… comfortable?” You can’t help but ask.
“Ah, yes, thank you for being so kind as to let me have your bed, it really wasn’t necessary. If at any point you decide you’d rather me sleep on the floor please do say so.” You can tell he feels bad for taking your bed but he really doesn’t have to. It’s not as if you’re making any huge sacrifice or anything.
You wave him off even though he can’t see you. “Pfff, as if. I’ll die on this hill, thanks.”
“Ever the stubborn one you are.”
“Don’t you know it,” you punctuate your words with a double click of your tongue. “Anyway… Goodnight, Viktor. Have sweet dreams.”
“You as well,” he says softly, his voice filled with undeniable warmth.
You do get a little sleep, just a little, before you’re woken up by the cold. You huddle under your blanket and let out a shaky breath. You were hoping this wouldn’t happen. It had been your hope that your room would stay reasonably warm all night and your single blanket would be sufficient. It seems that’s not the case.
It’s not long before you’re full on shivering and your teeth have begun to chatter a little. This is when Viktor scares the ever loving shit out of you.
“I didn’t realize you were stubborn and stupid.”
You yelp and turn to face him, “Gods, Viktor! Don’t do that! You scared the crap out of me!”
“Yes, well,” he admits no fault. You sigh and it comes out jagged due to your whole body shaking.
“Go back to sleep.” You’re not really in the mood right now.
Viktor makes a frustrated sound and sits up, the opposite of what you want him to do. “Will you just-” he sighs harshly, “I didn’t realize when you said you were going to sleep on the floor that you intended on freezing to death.” His voice has taken on that pissy quality that it does when he can’t figure out a problem and he just wants everyone to leave him the fuck alone.
“I didn’t!” You snap at him. “So unless you want me to sleep up there next to you, can you please just go back to bed?” If he could just leave you to your misery that would be great honestly.
“That’s exactly what I want, you’re going to get sick if you stay down there,” he answers, tone deadly serious.
“Just get up here,” he says impatiently.
“Huh?” You try again.
“Get up here or I’m coming down there,” he gives you an ultimatum, so while you still haven’t quite processed what’s happening, you stand up anyway. He scoots over and holds the blankets open. You crawl under hesitantly, sighing in relief when you’re enveloped in warmth.
“Is that better?” He asks softly, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders and essentially tucking you in.
“M-much… thank you,” you whisper, your teeth still chattering a bit. From this distance you can see him frown, but he says nothing.
For a while you’re fine like that. It’s not until about five minutes later when you still haven’t been able to warm the chill in your bones that you quietly ask if you can move closer.
“Yes of course, please do, I’d rather you warm up.” You scoot minimally closer. Then a minute later you scoot even closer, then again until you finally find yourself in his space. Close enough that you’re not quite touching but you may as well be.
“Is this okay?” You ask so quietly it’s barely audible.
“I won’t get mad if you touch me,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. You say nothing in response.
You hesitate for a full five minutes, before finally you wiggle over until your chest is half on top of his, resting your head in the crook of his neck. His skin against yours sends fireworks down your spine and you try not to whimper. You slip a leg between his and he draws in a sharp breath. For a moment you fear you’ve done something wrong and you go to quickly pull away but he wraps an arm around your back, holding you close.
You moan a little bit at the warmth he provides and he goes stiff. “Do you not consider me a man?” He asks quietly, seemingly out of nowhere.
Your lips almost brush his skin when you speak, “Of course I do. Where is this coming from?”
“All night… you’ve treated me as if I’m not a man. As if I don’t have any urges or desires. You seem to think that if a beautiful person pranced around near me in almost no clothing then pressed up against me in bed I wouldn’t be tempted at all,” his words are quiet but they don’t lack conviction.
Your mouth goes dry, your brain in a wild state of panic. Viktor finds you beautiful? Viktor is tempted by you? What does that even mean? Well, you know what it means but does it mean the same thing to him as it does to you?
He turns his head slightly so he can speak lowly into your ear, “If I wasn’t clear I’ve spent the entire night longing to bend you over the nearest surface and have my way with you.” Cold fingertips trail across the small of your back, goosebumps breaking out across the bare skin.
You make a tiny sound and he lets out a heavy breath. “Tell me to stop and I will. I’ll leave and I’ll find another department for you to work in, any which one that you wish,” he says this softly, his voice strained but underneath it all you can hear a hint of pain.
Instead of answering him you level him with a question, “What am I to you?” His breathing stops and before you have time to analyze what that means he rests his cheek on your head.
“You are… The sun. You’re everything that I want and everything I can’t have. You breathe life into me everyday that you merely exist near me. You-” Having heard enough you angle your head and capture Viktor’s lips. You kiss him like everyone that came before him didn’t matter at all. He accepts your kiss chastely at first then begins working his way up to hungrily devouring your lips. He sinks his hand into your hair and you whimper a little, he doesn't pull but god how you wish he would.
You separate yourself from him and he sighs. “I’m in love with you,” you admit. “If you’re telling me pretty words just because you want in my pants, be upfront with me… I’ll still fuck you because like I said, I love you… But I want to know for the sake of my heart.” You rest your forehead on his collarbone, unwilling to look at his face while he lets you down.
He makes a wounded sound. “Oh, lyubov. Is that the type of man you think I am?”
“How am I supposed to know? This situation is one I have yet to test, I have no way of knowing how you’ll behave in a setting outside the ones I’ve previously observed you in.” He laughs a little as he strokes your hair.
“Fair enough.” He kisses the top of your head. “I love you, I don’t just want you for sex. We don’t even have to have sex, ever, if you don’t want to.”
“No, no, I definitely want you to fuck me, thanks,” you say quickly and he laughs again. The sound mingles with his ‘I love you’ ringing in your ears, making your heart pound.
“It would be my pleasure… As much as I would love to do so right now, the cold is doing terrible things to my joints. Perhaps a raincheck?” You laugh into his collarbone.
“Oh yeah for sure, I’m not moving these blankets for anything. As great as I’m sure your dick is… it can wait.” He ruffles your hair and you laugh again. Then you tilt your head up and press your lips to his, it’s wonderful. Nothing has ever warmed your heart like this. You hope desperately that this feeling never fades. Pulling back to look at Viktor, he smiles softly at you and something tells you that it never will.