Having a lab partner was great.

For many reasons. First of all, because two brains was better than one. If Viktor was stuck on something, he could automatically count on you to help him find a solution. Second of all, because he could send you out to get lunch. And last, but certainly not least, because the lab was stressful. And you were a great stress relief.

You didn't do... this sort of thing very often, really. Only when something was grating on both of your nerves to the point that it was better to just go back to one of your places and think about work again in the morning. It wasn't anything noteworthy. Just a way to make sure the frustration came out somewhere that wasn't filled with explosives and expensive prototypes.

So here you were, in Viktor's apartment, getting your back blown out. No use trying to make it sound better than it was. He had your chest pressed into the bed and his hands on your hip, keeping you steady as he worked, trying as hard as he could to get his mind of that damned equa--

That's when it suddenly struck him.

Viktor immediately stopped, making you let out a small sound of surprise as he leaned towards his bedside table, pulling out a pen. No paper, though. Damn, he must have used it all. Maybe he could just...

"Don't move," he muttered, placing a hand on your bare waist to stabilise you and starting to write on your back, the pen sliding on your shoulders. "I got it. The equation. I figured it out. Just... don't move."