Viktor Vektor x Reader

Seventeen

It wasn't because you were once again sitting in a car that didn't belong to you and destroying the seats with your wet clothes. Even the silence was not the reason for your restlessness.

Swallowing hard, you leaned your head against the fogged window and let your gaze wander through the streets.

Everything was wet. Dirt was spreading on the pavements. Only a few people dared to leave the house, probably on their way to work or home to take care of their families.

Honest people.

You had never been like them. A sigh crept out from between your compressed lips.

"Cold?", Viktor asked with a glance out of the corner of his eye.

"No.", you smiled at him, tired, a little disappointed that he had managed to soften you after all. "You really don't have to do this."

Raindrops ran in tiny rivers down the window pane. The rush reminded you of days spent outdoors, bathing in polluted rivers.

Indifferently, he shrugged and stopped the car at a red light. He was driving an old model, so old that the thing still had a gearstick. But also not old enough to be sold expensively as a classic car. It was something in between, an old, ugly car with no value or history.

But Viktor cherished it, you could tell by the way he gently caressed the old leather along the steering wheel.

He had sat back comfortably, spread his legs and rested one hand on his thigh while he engaged the gears and steered with the other.

"It's pouring.", he said, looking around to see if anyone was coming. "And your implants haven't quite been absorbed by your body yet."

"So I should come back, right?", you asked with a grin. "To check

He couldn't help smiling.

"A good doctor would advise you to do that.", he replied.

"Are you a good doctor, mister...?"

It was just a casual jibe, but you were keen to find out what his full name was. Most ripper docs used nicknames or synonyms to preserve their identity as long as possible.

But Viktor seemed like a name he had been given and carried with pride. A name bestowed at birth. Maybe his surname would finally take away the feeling that he was familiar.

But Vik seemed to hesitate, either because he didn't want to reveal too much to you or because he was simply uncomfortable.

The car changed lanes to join the highway. There was quite a bit of distance between Watson and Pacifica and it wouldn't make sense to fight through the traffic in the city.

Apparently he wanted to spend more concentration on the conversation.

A moment of silence spread. You accepted that he would not answer your question. But that wasn't a bad thing either. After all, he didn't know very much about you either.

"Vektor.", he finally said.

Surprised that he was talking to you after all, you blinked.

"Huh?", your gaze wandered to him.

"Viktor Vektor. My real name. Friends call me Vik."

Of course he sounded familiar. And yes, his appearance also made something reign in the back of your mind. But you just couldn't tell what it was.

Why did you seem to know him?

And why did he act like you recognising him wasn't a seldom occurrence?

Did that happen to him often?

"Ah...", you couldn't answer more. "I see..."

A huff came from him.

"What? Not gonna tell me yours in return?", he asked in a teasing manner. "Or are ya fine with sweetheart?"

You frowned. All of a sudden it made you feel odd. Your chest felt all warm and fuzzy.

That was embarrassment, you knew how that felt like. But it wasn't the usual kind. The last time you had felt this way was in primary school, as your first ever crush had looked you directly in the eyes.

Quickly, you shook your head.

No, he wasn't flirty. Just a charming bastard.

Yea, a damn charming bastard, you thought to yourself.

"I'm not sweetheart.", your voice was a bit more harsh than you had intended it to be. "It's (Y/N)."

"Just (Y/N)?"

"Why? Tryna sell it to the NCPD? Won't get you far, just some minor crimes."

He chuckled. It was a low, throaty sound that came all the way from the pit of his stomach.

"We've all been there once or twice in our lives.", he said with a smirk.

"Or a few dozen more...", his attitude was contractions.

You smiled as well as you let your head fall back and crossed both arms in front of your chest.

"Not a child of the law, I see.", he slowed the car down.

Now it went just a bit over the recommended speed, not distracting to traffic, but slow enough to win some more time to lengthen this conversation.

"Fuuuck no.", you said in a matter-of-fact kinda way. "Why else would someone slice me in half on the streets?"

He shrugged.

"Dunno.", his eyes moved to the corners of his vision, right past the brim of his glasses and for the very first time you managed to catch a glimpse of their colour.

It was cyan, but very blue but also not dark enough to be considered a greenish shade yet. And it was a stunning mix to add to that.

Just like Viktor himself, his eyes were soft and held a certain kind of kindness that had no place in Night City.

You were glad that he hid them behind a pair of opaque glasses. Because you could have caught yourself sinking deeper into them than you wanted to admit.

A shaky breath of surprise escaped your lips.

"I, uh...", you had to avert your eyes to grasp a clear through again. "You were there, right? At the fight, I mean."

He caught hint of how you wanted to change the subject. Obviously, because he wasn't an idiot and you failed to smoothen the attempt.

Thankfully, he was who he was and decided not to ask questions you didn't want to answer.

"Yeah.", he said with a nod of approval. "That's why I wanted to help you out."

"Hm?", surprised, you looked back at him again.

"You're a damn good punch. Would have been a waste to loose you so soon."

"I only won because you gave me a hint."

"You won because you got a nasty spirit."

"I'm not even lower league."

"You lack training, sweetheart. Not skills."

Why did that mean so much to you to hear that out of his mouth?