The lab was freezing. Winter in Piltover had a way of seeping into everything—walls, floors, even the very tools Viktor used. His fingers, pale and thin, fumbled slightly as he adjusted a delicate gear with his wrench. No matter how tightly he wrapped himself in his long coat or how many scarves he draped around his neck, the cold bit at his bones.

And then there was you.

Viktor didn’t need to look up to know you were there—your warmth was practically a presence all its own. Your massive frame relaxed in that worn shirt with the short sleeves. Short sleeves. In this cold. Like you couldn’t even feel the icy air swirling through the lab.

Instead, you had that calm smile on your face, as if you weren’t sitting in what felt like a frozen hell. Even your skin seemed to defy the cold—broad, solid, and warm-looking, like you were some kind of walking furnace.

How could anyone look so at ease in this kind of weather?

Then it happened. You glanced up from whatever you were working on and caught Viktor looking your way. That smile widened, easy and teasing, and before Viktor could glance away, you patted your lap.

Just like that.

Viktor froze. His gaunt face flushed ever so slightly—not from warmth but from sheer disbelief. Your hand lingered on your thigh, big enough to engulf both of Viktor’s hands.

“Come on,” you said, voice deep, but warm enough to melt the frost on the windows. “You’re freezing.”

“I’m fine,” Viktor managed, though the shiver in his voice betrayed him. His gloved fingers tightened around the wrench as if gripping it harder would somehow ground him.

He hated how tempting the idea was. He wasn’t a child to be coddled, wasn’t some fragile thing that needed... whatever this was.

His amber eyes flickered toward you, narrowing in irritation. He hated this.

He hated you a little, too, for making it seem so easy.

With a heavy sigh, Viktor gave in, his steps hesitant as he crossed the lab floor.

Viktor finally stiffly, perched himself on your lap, the warmth hit him like a punch in the gut.