Viktor Vektor x Reader

Thirty-Eight

Sweat covered your forehead, your breath was heavy. With a sigh, you threw the drenched towel around your neck to the ground and grabbed another cup of coffee.

"Can't believe this is what coffee is supposed to taste like.", you mumbled and chugged it down in one go.

Smiling, Viktor took a deep breath. A film of sweat shimmered on his face as well but he was nowhere near as out of breath as you.

"Some things get lost in time.", he shrugged. "Or capitalism."

Amused, you smirked into the cup. The way he said it was more than just a joke. Vik had build this clinic from the ground and despite everything, ran and financed it all by himself.

A thing to admire, really, since most ripper clinic's were under the management of a corporation. Now that you thought about that it seemed rather odd. Every corporation, or at least the vast majority, tried to be clean from the outside.

Obviously they had some shit going on, but that wasn't the point.

Ripper docs didn't have a medical licence and their work was considered... questionable at the very least. Most of the implants they put into people were either stolen or straight from the black market. Illegal, so to say.

I didn't seem to make sense that the corpos had interested in their business. Yet again, there was money on the streets and rippers collected it.

Again, you sighed and took a sip. Coffee wasn't your kind of fix. At least not the thin, flavoured water that you once knew as coffee. But this was pretty good, tasted harsher with a hint of earth in the back of your throat.

Viktor watched as you poured yourself another cup from the large can he had made.

"Seem to like it.", he noticed with a smirk and rested on the edge of table, one foot on the ground, the other dangling in the air to put his hand on for support.

You remembered this way of sitting from him. From the first time you've seen him. At your fight.

It made you smile like an idiot to see him up closer now, cool and casual, with sweat running down his veiny hands, his chest more or less revealed by the white tank top that he always wore underneath his blue clinic uniform.

"I want one too.", it suddenly slipped off your tongue.

"Huh?", he looked up from some notes that were scattered all over the desk.

Embarrassed, you but your tongue.

"Nothin'...", you smiled at him, leaned forward and breathed a kiss to his cheek.

It made him smile. His head turned, one hand rose to grab your chin in a gentle but persistent manner and he stole a kiss from your lips.

You gifted him another right after he pulled back.

"You taste like coffee.", he noted with a smirk against your lips.

"I just had like three cups, Vik.", you joked.

Your hands came to rest on his tights as he grabbed you on both sides of your waist and pulled you closer. Now you found yourself standing between his legs. Your arms rose to wrap around his neck, your chest pressed against his.

Two breaths echoed in the emptiness of his clinic. Two heartbeats changed their rhythm to beat as one.

His scent seeped into your nose as you took a deep breath, inhaling whatever made him so likeable to you.

Even when he lay next to you, Viktor had this effect on you. You felt reassured, no need to escape made your sleep light. For the first time since you could remember, you had slept for a long time. And all this only because of the warmth of his closeness in the bed next to you.

"Thank you, Viktor...", you whispered in his ear.

The air that brushed over his ears as you spoke made him shiver slightly.

"I haven't done anything for you.", he replied and wiped a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. "Just keep fighting."

You smiled wearily.

The fight Dexter had signed you up for was the next day. You had toyed with the idea of not going, but that would mean you would be disqualified. And that would put you out until the end of the season. That meant no money.

And yet something inside you shuddered whenever you thought about it. Dexter would be there for sure. And he wouldn't be thrilled that you'd escaped.

What if he found out you'd had help?

V and Jackie could get in trouble. And Vik.

No, you hurriedly shook your head to get rid of the thought. You didn't want to jinx it. Maybe you were just lucky and he wouldn't even care.

The thought made you snort contemptuously. How childishly hopeful you were all of a sudden. So not like yourself.

As if it had only been waiting for a moment of absolute silence, your stomach suddenly growled. Embarrassed, you turned away to fill it with coffee.

"You hungry.", it was not a question, after all Vik already knew the answer. "You could have told me. We should order food."

Lips pressed into a thin line, you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. The tips of your fingers tapped against the bottom of the cup.

"I don't have any money.", you mumbled, ashamed even though he had given you no reason to feel that way.

His eyes were on you. He hadn't worn his glasses since last night. At least not when you were near him. Maybe it was because he wanted to show you his eyes. Or maybe it was just because the dark glasses hid your true shape from him too.

Whatever the answer was, it made him walk around bare faced in his clinic.

"I never said you gotta pay.", with a shrug, he pulled out an old menu made of paper and placed it on the table so that could take a look. "Fancy pizza?"

Irritated, you started at the smudged, printed letter.

"Is that... a delivery menu?", you asked with a confused grin.

"Believe it or not but people used to keep these on their fridges. To call the delivery services."

"Are you shitting me? What about internet orders?"

"Wasn't that popular back in the day."

"Gee, Vik, you've got so much retro stuff. Maybe you could give them up for auction."

"Or not.", he chuckled. "So pizza's fine?"

"I ain't complain'. Free food is free food."