#viktor deserves tattoos and piercings and jayce gets them as a treat

[willowlevulett]

Punk Divorce Era Jayvik teaser.

This AU slams Jayce and Viktor into my particular taste of West Coast punk. A teeny tiny Jayvik interaction plus some angst.

Vi is one of my favorite characters, so I also added an excerpt that I have written of Jayce and her. I think they would've been lovely friends so that will be reflected in this fic.

-

"What happened to your leg, Jayce." It was unfair of him to keep saying his name. Especially like that, saying it like he always used to.

"I fell."

"You fell." Viktor says the words as if tasting them, 'fell' rolling around on his tongue.

"Yes, fell. My altitude rapidly changed. An unconsented descent" Jayce brings up his hand above his head and gestures sharply downwards to belabor his point. He realizes too late that he's trying to get Viktor to laugh, like he used to. To get Viktor to scoff at any old ridiculous thing Jayce was doing at the time, his eyes alight with a smile all the same. But it's all wrong. It's been 5 years since they've seen each other, his tone is too harsh, and Viktor only looks annoyed.

The corspe of who Jayce once was rolls over in its grave. The man who survived stares hollowly forward.

-

Viktor is visibly trying to reign his emotions in. Jayce bets that the temptation of learning what happened to crack him down the center is enough to stay his tongue. For now.

Jayce takes the opportunity to drink him in. People like them tend to change visually faster than others, so he catalogs all the ways Viktor now differs from his memory of him. He has an eyebrow piercing on top of the new throat tattoo. Jayce can see the same tattoo lines that cover his back now lick up and over his shoulders. He now wears simple smoked out eyeliner. His clothes are still earthy tones with a splash of red but he now wears purple. It weaves through his outfit. A little in the bandana tucked in his back pocket. A lot in the array of earrings and rings that decorate him. Some in the eye shadow he smoked out his water line with.

He wants to say that Viktor looks good. Jayce stays silent.

-

Before he can reach the blessed front door, a hand grips his shoulder and yanks him to a stop.

"Viktor, I can't -"

"What are you doing here, pretty boy?"

The playful blue of Vi's eyes comes into view instead of the heated gold he expected.

"Oh god, Vi" He pulls her in for a brisk, tight hug. He can feel her muscles tense under her leather jacket. He takes a moment to inspect her face. She has a new scar just under her eye, cutting across the roman numerals there. There's three more piercings tucked into her left ear. She's favoring her left side like she always has, but it's not any worse than last he saw her.

"You look good."

"Ah, you're looking pretty good yourself. The haunted look, suits you. Rugged." She emphasizes the last word by planting her hands on his shoulders and giving him a small, rough shake. One of her hands then moves to tug on the long hair that hangs over his forehead now.

"The old you would've fucking hated this."

Jayce huffs a laugh. "That's the point."

Vi gives him a strange look at that. She simply stares at him for a long moment, the pulsing music of the grungy punk band on stage washing over them both. Whatever she finds in his eyes in the low light makes her scrunch her nose. Before Jayce can offer a platitude, she pulls him forward into another hug, this time threading her strong hand into the locks at the nape of his neck.

They figured out early on in their friendship that they both craved touch beyond normal people required. When he was younger, Jayce couldn't help himself. He would reach out and clasp his hands on shoulders, lean down into someone's space while they talked, drag his hand down their arm while pulling away from a hug. Vi on the other hand, tends to suffer in silence. Every part of her begs for touch, but she only touches those who work for it. But once you've earned it, once the dam is broken, you are awash with the joy that is Vi's sturdy touch.

He realizes all at once he has missed her terribly. He collapses into her arms and buries his head into her shoulder. She still smells like motor oil and cigarette smoke. He can feel a rumble of her saying something where their chests touch but he can't hear it over his desperate attempt to not burst into tears and the crashing crescendo of the music. He pulls away before this can get much worse for him.