Chapter Text
Tuesday, October 12 (Pt. 3)
You should have been adequately prepared for what it would mean to kiss Silco. After all, you’d spent several embarrassing evenings imagining many such scenarios in excruciating detail, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality.
How the man himself completely overtakes your will and reason.
He takes a brief pause in kissing you to push you into the corner, and the movement surprises you into a gasp, which his mouth almost immediately swallows.
Cinnamon and cloves flood your senses as he invades your personal space with extreme intentionality. Your arms have wrapped themselves around his neck, and your bodies are pressed against each other. While your heart’s fluttering, his is practically beating at a gallop. His arms encompass you completely, and for a moment you let yourself get lost in the sensation of being overwhelmed, of being breathless between impatient, spin inducing kisses.
Then somewhere in the back of your mind you become aware of a distant jingling.
Silco twitches. The sound gets louder, and that’s when you realize that your leg isn’t tingling, it’s Silco’s phone buzzing.
At first you wonder if he’s going to ignore it, but then he releases a growl against your mouth and pulls back just far enough to glare in the direction of his pocket.
“Do you need to get that?” You ask breathlessly.
“Most unfortunately.”
His chest is heaving, and he looks rather annoyed by the interruption. The implication sends a wave of pleasure down to the tips of your toes.
He heaves an enormous sigh and answers the call.
“Silco here.”
Because he hasn’t done more than lean slightly away to take the call, you don’t have a lot of space to move, and his breath stirs a rather large chunk of hair that has slipped out from beneath the bill of your hat.
Your face is flushed and your head is suddenly, uncannily hot. You lean back slightly to remove the cap, and release your hair from its disheveled ponytail.
“Can’t this wait till morning?” He asks with all apparent boredom, though he makes no effort to disguise his interest as he watches you run your fingers through your hair.
Judging by the length of the answer, and the long suffering glossy expression that slides across Silco’s face, it can't.
“Very well. Get on with it as quick as you can. I’m in the middle of an important project.”
He reaches forward to grab a lock of hair from your cheek, and brush it behind your ear. Your face tingles where his knuckles brush your skin, and you bite your lip to stop a mad giggle from escaping. He smirks for a moment before shifting into business mode. By all accounts it appears as if he’s forgotten you exist, but you quickly learn better. Every time you shift he moves almost imperceptibly to take up the extra space, as if he’s afraid you’re going to try to slip away.
Yeah, as if.
Besides the edge of the counter pressing into your lower back, you’re wedged rather comfortably into this cozy corner, and you have no intention of leaving it. Your head’s still swimming in a kind of bleary, contented haze as you contemplate the last few minutes.
Were you just kissing The Eye of Zaun, or was that just some kind of fever dream?
You lick your lips, and taste traces of peppermint and stale smoke.
Yes, definitely real.
Your movement's small, but it’s enough to distract Silco’s attention from his rather blank stare at the wall. His fingers begin to tap on the counter, where he’d settled them only a minute or so before, and his impatience is rubbing off on you. Now that you’ve confirmed that you've most definitely been making out with the man in front of you, there’s nothing that would delight you more than getting back to it.
Another excruciating minute passes. Then Silco's fingers stop tapping.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Have the report sent to my private email. Yes. Very well.”
He sets the phone down on the counter before settling his hand on the other side of you.
“Well?” You ask, unable to bear the weight of his silence (and roving, inscrutable stare) any longer. “Was it important?”
“Quite. In fact, I should look at it as soon as I can.”
“Okay.”
You probably would have made the first move to leave if you weren’t still pinned, but he hasn’t made any attempt to move. He’s staring at you as if trying to divine some singularly life changing answer from every detail of your face.
Your lips, particularly.
“There is much I still have to do before the weekend.” He says, raising his fingers to grasp another tendril of hair.
“Yeah," You release a shaky sigh. "I um... I should probably get home too. I have my test tomorrow, and there's a few more modules I should go over to prepare.”
“Of course. I don’t want to distract you from your work.”
Too late. You shiver as his fingers brush against your neck.
He slides his hand behind your neck and leans forward. You mirror the motion, and just when your lips are a breath away, his phone buzzes insistently on the counter.
He pauses with a dark, bleak look at the device.
You laugh nervously. "You're a very important man tonight."
"So it appears."
His phone buzzes again.
If looks could kill, his glare would have melted it in seconds.
There's no way he'll be able focus with work hanging on the line.
“I uh.. I guess that’s our cue.”
“Yes. Perhaps it is.”
After a few long beats he sighs, heavily, and lets his hand drop from your neck.
You’re swamped with disappointment when he takes several controlled steps backward and begins to smooth out his tie, which is hanging askew. As he pulls himself together, you feel a bit like you're falling apart.
If only he didn’t have such an iron grip on his self-control. You think miserably.
As you head over to gather your things, you breathe in your first full breath of air in almost an hour. With it comes the lingering scent of Silco, and you close your eyes for a moment to relish it.
“I suppose I’ll see you Saturday, at Jinx’s show.”
“Yes," You heft your bag into the crook of your arm. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
“She’s been working tirelessly to perfect her pieces. There’s one that she hasn’t allowed me to see, because she claims she wants it to be a surprise.”
“I can’t wait to see what it is.”
An awkward pause.
“Do you have the address to the showroom?”
“Not yet.”
“I’ll be sure you have it.”
“Thank you.”
It’s strange to be talking with such deliberate formality again. It feels as if the brief, sensational intimacy you've just experienced is already being relegated to the past. It makes you want to throw your arms around his neck, and kiss him again until you can't think.
Instead, you head for the door.
“Did you park close tonight?”
“Yes, I um… my car’s out back. Sevika finally gave me her parking pass.”
“Good. Then I shall walk you out.”
Awkwardness lingers as you juggle your bag, hat, phone, keys, and water bottle in your measly two hands. They continuously clank against one another, an inharmonious racket chasing you down the hall. You struggle with the door and drop everything unceremoniously into the backseat. You have to steel your nerves before turning around.
His hands are in his pockets, and his hair is glinting silver in the fluorescent lamp behind him, shadowing his features.
“Thank you,” You say.
“For what?”
“For trusting me. With your daughter, and your business and…"
You want to say ‘with you’ , but chicken out at the last second.
"...and with stabbing you in the eye.”
You laugh a little, and for a brief moment he's still as stone, then at last he inclines his head.
His silence feels oppressive.
On a wild whim you imagine yourself stepping forward to kiss him good-bye, but you're not that brave. No matter how much you wish you were.
“Okay. Well, see you Saturday.” You cast one last smile his direction before sliding into the driver's seat.
You can’t seem to think until you’ve made it several blocks down the street, and are idling at a red light. You try to imagine giving your mother a proper run down about your night, but fail. How on earth could you possibly explain how one random event led to the other? How you’d gone from arguing to stabbing him in the eye to being held so tightly in his arms that you could barely breathe?
A flush makes its way up your neck.
We kissed. We finally kissed. And it hardly feels real.
When you arrive home your sister is asleep, which is a rare occurrence, but you count your blessings as it allows you to go directly to your room without having to pull a lame excuse out of your butt to avoid conversation. You wouldn’t be able to talk without dissolving into a giggling, grinning idiot, and she wouldn’t be able to help saying ‘ I told you so’, and you aren’t sure you could handle her being superior right now. Not when you’re still feeling buzzy and warm in the aftermath.
You slip out of your shoes to toss them in the closet. Based on the state of Silco’s gift box, you deduce your sister has been snooping around. Usually that would rankle you, but at the moment you simply feel a fond exasperation. You run your hand over the material of the dress briefly before pushing it back into the box and closing the lid.
It was a beautiful dress, and it fit you just right, just like Silco’s arms.
Focus, you’ve got to finish studying for that test, remember?
Except your mental focus is quite fractured, and remains so despite your most herculean efforts. Still you have to push on, because Silco’s counting on you to pass your test on the first try, and you’re not about to let the man himself distract you into failing.
When you finish the modules, you’re so tired that you fall asleep the second your head hits the pillow. You wake up to your alarm a few hours later, and are surprisingly refreshed. But you want nothing more than to simply lie there, remembering every little detail of the night before. But after several foggy moments of being lost in bliss, Jorts stampedes in, yowling.
You try to ignore her – this has always had a fifty-fifty success rate in the past – but then Crocs joins in, and their desperate cries break your will completely.
“Alright, alright, I’m coming! Sheesh, you’d think we never feed you guys.”
As you throw off the covers, they immediately dart from the room, no doubt heading to the kitchen to start circling their half-full bowls of food, looking pathetic. When you arrive you realize you’re only partially right. Their bowls are at least a quarter full, and once you fill them, they spend mere moments sniffing the bowls - then tentatively tasting the contents - before heading to the couch to clean themselves.
“I can’t believe you guys.” You grouch.
But you have to admit, as far as wake up calls go, they were effective.
As you enjoy a belated stretch you peer up at the clock. It’s almost 8:45, which means you have about two hours before your test begins, and you still have to eat, dress, make sure your desk is completely clean, and set the rest of your room in order.
You got this. Just… try to forget about him long enough to get this done, then you can reward yourself by thinking about him again, okay?
A fairly good plan, but your execution is a bit shoddy.
As you try to fluff your blankets and pillows without thinking about him - and hide all the books on your desk without seeing his face - you realize it's a hopeless case. You decide to skip the part where you forget about him, and choose to simply keep thinking about him instead.
After all, there are worse ways to keep your mind off your nerves.
Wednesday, October 13
You pass the test two hours later with flying colors.
“As if there was any doubt?” Allie texts from her bedroom.
“Congratulations sweetheart!” Your mother replies, with several heart emojis.
“Please email me the certificate whenever it becomes available.” Is Silco’s rather lack-luster reply.
When you respond affirmatively, and receive no other text in response, you find your enthusiasm flagging. Yet the second your sister emerges from her room, brandishing her Lego flower set, you find yourself perking back up.
“Let’s start the Star Wars marathon a day early, in celebration! My client chose to reschedule for the 400th time, and my entire day’s free.”
“Heck yes! But we have to get snacks.”
“Of course, that’s a must.”
“Trader Joe’s?”
“As if I really have to answer that.”
She throws on a sweatsuit, and you slip out of your semi-professional looking shirt to put on a sweater. As you drive to the store your sister, who usually has no trouble coming up with conversation, falls into an almost moody silence.
You do your level best to draw her out.
“We decorated the whole shop last night. Issa brought out all this stuff from the theater, and we hung all these really cool, creepy paintings on the wall and draped fake cobwebs on them. I think Silco liked it. At least, he didn’t say he didn’t.”
“Silco came to your decorating party?” She asks, interest clearly piqued.
“Well no, not exactly. He came when we were almost done, to finish some work. He had some papers he needed me to look over. And there were a few other things he uh… wanted to iron out with me. About how the shop was going to be run and the chain of command and all that.”
“Ah.”
“Yep.”
Your awkwardness seems lost on her, and she’s being uncharacteristically uncurious about your love life. It’s frustrating because for once, you actually want to talk about it.
You keep thinking, that after the night you just had, that he would say something. Give some acknowledgement of the time you spent together, kissing...
He’s not that kind of person. You argue with yourself.
Yeah I know, but I’m not looking for anything mushy. Just something like, ‘hey, about last night, let’s do that again sometime. Or maybe, all the time. Yours truly, Silco’.
You heave a sigh.
Okay, maybe you're being a bit unrealistic with your expectations.
But still. You can’t stop thinking about the man, and it would be nice to get some indication from him that he can’t stop thinking about you too.
That would be very nice, in fact.
You have to force yourself not to check you phone for the 4000th time.
When you get to Trader Joe’s you exchange little conversation with your sister except what you may or may not want to eat, and it isn’t until you pass by the dairy aisle that you have an inkling of the reason for her despondency.
Marcus. He's gone this week, training.
Yeah, Marcus. He’s probably the problem.
But you’re not exactly sure how to broach the subject until you’re back in the car, driving home.
“Sooo… how’s Mark’s Ass doing? Kicking butts and taking names?”
“I don’t know,” She answers with a shrug. “I haven’t heard from him since he left.”
“Really?”
“Apparently there’s a phone ban at this bootcamp thing he’s going to, unless it’s an emergency. It’s weird not being able to text him. Not that he was a great texter or anything. He prefers phone calls. The weirdo.”
You smile ruefully. “I think a lot of men prefer phone calls to texts.”
“Yeah,” She heaves a sigh. “I miss him though. Is that lame?”
Yesterday you might have said ‘ yeah, kinda ’, but today you think you might be starting to feel her pain.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Thanks," She says with a sigh. “Well. How are things with you and Silco? You said he talked to you afterward?"
"Yeah."
"What did he say? Did he talk about the birds and the bees? Did he take you into his arms and confess his undying love for you?”
“Er, no… Not exactly.”
You can feel her squinting at you. “Not exactly? What’s that supposed to mean? Did you – no. No! You didn’t kiss Silco, did you? Did you kiss Silco? Did he kiss you?!”
You're blushing too furiously to deny it.
She screams, and the car swerves so violently that you release a scream of your own. “Allie! The road!”
“Who cares about the road?! I can’t believe you kissed Silco, and you didn’t tell me immediately! I need to hear all the details, right now. Come on, spill it or I’ll crash the car and force you to tell the story to me, and the hot paramedics who cart us away from the scene!”
Allie is the perfect audience member for a good story, and she listens raptly to your stilted, giddy, heavily paraphrased recounting of the previous evening with all the enthusiasm you could have asked for.
“So when I tried to move past him, he grabbed me. I tried to get free, but he wouldn’t let me go and then... and then he pulled me back and kissed me.”
For some reason you don't want to recount the scene where Silco fell to the floor, helpless, while you ran to grab his syringe. It felt too much like a betrayal of trust.
But Allie doesn't seem to care that your story ended with such an anticlimax. She's acting as if you’ve just handed her the world.
“Holy shit, I can’t believe you confessed your undying love to Silco!”
“I didn’t confess my undying love! Just my frustrated and confused love.”
“Does it even matter? You told him you loved him! After telling me that you would absolutely NEVER fall in love with a guy after knowing him for a WEEK…”
“Hey, I’ve known him for two weeks!” You huff, but there’s a grudging smile on your face.
Allie’s enthusiasm is ridiculously catching.
“I knew you were going to be insufferable about this.”
“And you were right," She grins. "So was it just one kiss, or did you totally make out?”
“Wha – How is that any of your business?”
“You totally made out!” She crows. “I can’t wait to see how you break the news to mom.”
“There’s no news, okay? Silco and I kissed a few times, and there’s nothing else to it.”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we were interrupted by a phone call."
"So you guys didn't talk about going out? Or like, finding another time to neck or anything?”
"No. We sort of just… realized it was late and mutually decided it was time for me to go."
“Oh.”
Her reaction makes you uneasy.
It's weird, now that you think about it. You'd told him you loved him, and at the end of the night, you didn't get so much as a smile good-bye. But then again this was Silco you were talking about. The Eye of Zaun. A world-weary, international man of mystery.
Navigating a relationship with him was bound to be outside the norm.
You weren't repeating history with him.
Right?
You drive in silence the rest of the way home.
What exactly is your relationship with Silco now? Has it changed at all? Or are you worse off than you were before? Because there's certainly no going back from where you've been. He knows you love him.
It'll be up to him to make the next move.
And if he doesn't?
You shake your head to clear the thought.
Stop overthinking it, will you? Just enjoy the fact that you finally kissed him.
It certainly helps dispel some of the gloom.
When Allie finds a parking space and turns off the ignition, she doesn't immediately leave the car. She grabs your hand and looks at you seriously.
"I'm happy for you sis, really. I've been hoping you'd fall in love ever since Jeremiah. You deserve to be loved, and I hope Silco's the guy for the job because I can't remember the last time you've been this happy."
Your smile grows a bit wobbly. "Thanks sis."
“You're welcome. And I only have one more question before I'll let it rest."
"Okay."
Her gaze is sober.
"Was there any tongue involved?”
It takes you a beat to catch on.
“Allie!” You squeal.
You snatch your hand away as she sends you a wolfish grin.
“What? Inquiring minds want to know!”
“Well I’m not answering that!”
“That just makes me think there was.”
“You can think whatever you want.”
“Thanks, I will.”
She opens the door, expression smug, and shuts it behind her. You bury your face in your hands.
You need a moment to hide from the sudden, stomach swooping memory of your gasp being swallowed by Silco’s mouth, and how his tongue had probed oh so fleetingly against your lips...
Damn you Silco Spisak. Damn you and your tongue!