Chapter Text
October 23-24 (till around 1am, I guess??)
It’s a struggle to regain your self-possession when Silco reenters the cab, but you do your best as he shoves the keys into the ignition, still seething, and executes an immediate turn around.
“So… Marcus didn’t recognize my car.”
“Apparently.”
You bury a grin. “I wouldn’t really expect him to.”
“I would, considering he’s dating your sister.”
“Marcus is good at what he does, but I think he only pays attention to details he finds important.”
“Yes,” He mutters. “And he has a damnable sense of timing.”
He takes the curves a little fast, and you’re now heading down the hills in the same silence you’d experienced going up them. It’s different this time, though, and not just because of your own feelings. You’re no longer tied up in moral quandaries, and are incredibly relieved by the knowledge that you don’t have to say good-bye to Silco now (or hopefully ever).
No, the change isn’t in you as much as Silco.
His temper cools long before you reach Zaun’s city limits, but now he seems possessed by an intense restlessness. His eyes are trained on the road, but his face keeps twitching. His left wrist is casually draped over the wheel, where his fingers are tapping out an impatient rhythm. His right hand is constantly moving, messing with the radio, fixing his collar, running fingers through his hair.
When he rests his hand on the gear shift and flexes his fist, you finally grab for it.
He sends you a distracted look as you lace your fingers through his. You smile, though he still appears lost in some deep thought, and give his hand a quick squeeze before turning your stare out the window. It takes time, but eventually the tension in his arm bleeds away. His fingers stop tapping and he releases a sigh before drawing your hand to rest on his leg. By the time you make it back to his house, he’s rubbing circles on it with his thumb.
He pulls around the courtyard and parks in front of the backdoor. Once again he removes the keys from the ignition, and makes no move to leave.
You've been dreading this moment.
The evening is officially over.
You didn’t think it was possible to experience the full spectrum of human emotion in one day and not completely fall apart, but you have. And you couldn’t be more content than you are now.
You finally know the truth, and you don’t want to leave. In fact, your heart aches to be a part of this family more than ever before, if that’s possible.
And you don’t want to leave him.
“Well, this has been quite the night,” You say, with an attempt at lightness. "For you, though, more than me."
“I think it’s worn on us both,” He examines the myriad of keychains on your keyring. “You must be tired. I’m sure it wasn’t easy keeping Jinx calm.”
“I was pretty worried about her, but she seemed to calm down after we got her talking.”
He nods. “That usually does the trick, if she hasn’t gone too far down the road.”
“Oh, good. Something to remember for the future, then.”
“Yes.”
The restless energy returns as he scratches his neck. He clears his throat as he stares at your linked hands, and appears to be on the verge of asking you something. Then he tightens his jaw.
“It’s late.”
“Yeah.”
“I would never let Jinx drive anywhere at such a time, and on a Friday night especially.”
“That makes sense.”
“It’s much too late for her to be on the road. For anyone to be driving, really…”
He shifts awkwardly in his seat and looks out the window. His fingers are tapping the wheel again.
A wave of anxious anticipation floods through your veins.
Maybe… maybe he doesn’t want you to leave either?
You chew on your lip as you engage in a fierce internal debate.
“Silco?”
“Hmm?”
You try to find your courage in the fraying edges of the blanket. “I was just thinking. I mean it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but um… I’m not really good at driving in the dark when… when I’m tired.”
His head turns slowly to pierce you with his heated gaze. “Really?”
“Yeah. I think I might need to get my eyes checked out too because um… things are starting to get more blurry. Street signs are especially hard to read. And my reaction time is really not that good.”
He presses his lips together. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Yes. I mean no! Not really. I mean I'm not usually in any danger, I just have to be a lot more careful, which is usually fine but…”
“You’re already overtired,” He finishes slowly.
“Well… yes.”
“I understand. If I were to let you leave, I would be a putting you danger. And perhaps others.”
“I wouldn’t put it exactly like that but... yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“Then perhaps it would be safer if you simply stayed the night.”
“Yeah,” You say far too fast, then to cover up your eagerness you blurt, “And that would actually make the most sense because me and Jinx kind of left a mess in the kitchen, and I wouldn’t want to make you clean that up alone.”
“That’s very considerate of you.”
“Of course. Besides, I want to make sure Jinx is okay. And tomorrow’s also your real birthday, and um… I’d like to spend some of it with you since, you know, tonight was kind of a bust. Neither of us really got to celebrate since we were too busy putting out fires and being generally… uh, busy and everything…”
You come to a stumbling halt as he releases a low chuckle.
“What?”
“I was just wondering what Sevika would say, if she could see us now.”
You know exactly what she would say.
You're both fucking idiots, and you talk way too damn much.
You bite back a smile. “I’m sure she’d have a lot to say.”
“With plenty of advice on how we could be doing better.”
"Definitely."
He sends you a crooked smile. “Perhaps it's time we went inside.”
You nod. “Yeah.”
He presses a kiss to your knuckles and releases your hand – but for only as long as it takes for you to exit the vehicle and gather your things, then he promptly takes hold of it again. He leads you through the backdoor and into the house, then slips your keys into his pocket. Maybe it’s out of habit rather than on purpose. Or perhaps he’s afraid that if he were to relinquish them to you, you’ll suddenly change your mind and leave.
Yeah, fat chance.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any sleep clothes for guests,” He says as he flicks on the kitchen lights. “But I’m certain Sevika will have things for you to borrow. The guest room is just through here.”
He guides you up the stairs to the hall that leads to his office, but instead of turning left he turns right just before the portrait of Jinx. He pushes open a door to reveal a modestly decadent room. He gestures to the darkened doorway that stands open immediately on your left.
“That will lead you through to the restroom, which is shared by Sevika.”
You peek your head inside to chew on a smile. Having a guest room connected to Sevika’s room is the most Spisak move you can imagine. No guest would dare try anything when there’s the threat of an angry she-hulk only a double sink away.
“The lieutenant is currently out, but she’ll be back sometime between two and three in the morning. I’ll inform her that you’re here so you don’t wake up in a choke hold."
You laugh nervously. "Thanks."
"Make yourself at home, I’ll be back in a moment.”
He releases your hand and leaves you alone. After a moment of looking around you drop your things on the desk, and catch sight of yourself in the reflection of the window. You almost recoil at the sight of your hair, which is so undone that the chopsticks are hardly doing anything more than sticking up from the back of your head. You remove them immediately, and ruffle your hair so it’s at least free to look attractive, if it were so inclined.
You then take out your phone to send all the necessary text messages. Your sister, mainly, and then your mother – just to cover your butt, as well as Silco’s. The last thing you want is for your mom to hear that you stayed over at Silco’s from Allie instead of you. That would just make you both look guilty, and possibly put Silco in danger of assassination.
Or worse: your mother's interrogation.
Silco comes back with a rather ample stack of clothes, and places them on the bed.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer, so I brought you a few items to choose from.”
“Thanks.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “There is also a fresh kit of toiletries underneath the sink, if you wish to use any of the bathroom amenities.”
By amenities you assume he means the fancy shower, which you’d very much like to use. You wander over to the stack of clothes, on the opposite side of the bed from Silco, and distractedly pick through the stack.
“I appreciate that.”
A pause. “It’s been a long night, so I understand if you’d wish to immediately retire.”
You look up at him through your lashes.
His phrasing is perfectly neutral and polite, but the way he’s gazing stoically at the wall gives you the impression that he’s more invested in the answer than he appears.
“Well, I think once I’ve showered I’ll feel a little better, and I’ll uh... probably need some time to wind down a bit. Maybe I’ll get a head start on those dishes. I hate leaving tasks undone. It’s hard for me to relax when I’ve got things on my mental list.”
He looks relieved – and the slightest bit pleased – by your answer. “As do I. There are actually a few items on my own list that have been weighing on my mind. Perhaps I will work for a while, at least until yours is finished.”
“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
After an awkward pause he heads for the door. He hesitates at the threshold to spare you a long look.
"What?" You ask nervously.
He shakes his head, but you swear you spy a crooked smile before he turns and closes the door behind him with a gentle snap.
You don’t spend much time in the shower, just long enough to collect your thoughts and clear your head. You’re anxious to get to the kitchen.
And back to Silco.
Sevika’s clothes are rather large on you, but at least the sleep shorts have drawstrings and you can cinch them as tight as you need. The shirts are all rock and roll bands, and you choose the one that you’re most familiar with: The Velvet Underground. You throw your own sweatshirt over the top of it, and slip on the borrowed pair of thick white socks before taking stock of yourself.
You look presentable enough. You’ve French braided your hair so it’ll dry wavy instead of in its usual tangled snarls, and all being said, it won't be the worst Silco’s seen of you. It’s at least 1000% less humiliating than the Bob Ross pajama set you’d worn the first day you’d met him, so you feel pretty confident about leaving the room.
After grabbing your airpods you shuffle out into the hall, and make your way through the silent house to the kitchen. Silco’s laptop and briefcase are set up at the island, but he isn’t there. Looking at the state of the kitchen now, you’re mortified to realize just how much work it’s going to take to put everything back in order, and decide to get a head start on organizing.
You slip in the earbuds and pick one of your favorite music lists, and soon you’re in a zone. Every dish you’ve used is collected and laid out by the sink, and you’re about to start the washing when you’re surprised by Silco's voice.
“I didn’t know you could sing."
"Oh!"
You can barely hear him above the music, and fumble for your phone. In the process your butt bumps into him, and your whole body flashes hot as you straighten.
Lord have mercy on my fat ass...
"I'm sorry," You stammer, your brain scrambling as you tug the airpod out of your ear, and turn to face him at the same time. Your thoughts are further spazzing out at the sight of him, the clarity you’d gained from the shower immediately muddied.
It’s not that he’s wearing anything extraordinarily sexy in regards to pajamas. As a matter of fact, it’s just a plain shirt and a regular pair of pajama pants. But for the first time since you’ve met him he's wearing something other than a formal suit, and for reasons you can't explain, seeing him in such normal clothing has severely impaired every easy, natural thought process.
Gosh, he’s got nice arms…
The plain white tee hugs his frame beautifully, hinting at a lean, nicely sculpted chest that attests to the dedicated time he spends at the gym.
And is that a… tattoo?
You can see it just peeking out from beneath the crew neck, a single tendril of black that appears to curl up from around his collarbone, and touches the base of his neck. It’s something you will definitely be asking him about later.
Or maybe you could ask to see it instead…
Now you've definitely lost your mind, and you’re pretty sure you're gawking, as evidenced by the subtle amused smirk tilting the corner of his mouth. It’s clear he’s doing his best to hide it, but it’s still embarrassing. You’re cheeks start to flame (for too many reasons to count) as you look away and stammer,
“Thanks. I mean, yeah, I don’t really sing. I mean I do but it’s more of just a… a house cleaning thing. Or a driving thing. Or like when I’m feeling happy or… or comfortable. But I wouldn’t really call myself a singer, really. It’s not that I don’t think I can sing, but I’ve never been trained and I just…. I like to sing, you know. Just for me, mostly.”
“You have a lovely voice.”
“I – thank you.”
“Are you happy?”
The question is asked simply and quietly. It’s so jarring that you look up at him in surprise. His head is tilted slightly, and a few damp locks of hair have fallen onto his scarred cheek. The skin around his eye, and a majority of the left side of his face, is much darker than you remember, as if it's being burned away from underneath by some hidden fire.
You want to reach out and trace the edges of it, but you fear in your current frame of mind such an action would be dangerous. You draw the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands instead, and fold your arms across your chest.
“Well… yes. Very much.”
“Why?”
Why? Because I love you, and you love me.
But those words fall short, somehow. And maybe this is what you’re beginning to understand. Love is too vague a word to express what you’re feeling.
“ I love you ” doesn’t describe how you feel stronger and more confident when he’s around, but also more unsure of yourself than you’ve ever been. “ I love you ” doesn’t explain how you trust that he would never harm you, even when his anger is terrible. It doesn’t tell him how the scent of cinnamon and cloves can put you immediately at ease, or else make your pulse immeasurably quicken.
But he’s waiting for an answer, so you open your mouth and struggle to find a less terrifying answer.
“Because… earlier, when we were in the car, I was scared that this would be the last night we’d ever spend together, and now… now I’m here. Washing dishes with you.”
You scratch your head and look away because it’s hard to look at his frank, unblinking gaze and think at the same time.
“Well, not with you of course, but near you. And I can do it again tomorrow, if I wanted. But I don’t mean literally tomorrow, because I work and I know you’re working too and all that but um... you know. Figuratively tomorrow. Or more often, now, hopefully. I mean, it’s up to you of course, if you don’t mind me being here, making a lot of noise in your kitchen at 1 am…”
He stops your ramble with a hand on your cheek, drawing your burning face back to look at him.
He looks deadly serious as says, “I couldn’t dream of anything better.”
Then he pulls you in for a kiss. He takes his sweet time, and every time he pulls away, it’s only to take a breath so he can press one more. You unfold your arms and slip them around his neck.
Something hovers in the air between you that's still unspoken, but has nothing to do with unrequited love (or the fresh scent of pine from his aftershave). It's more like a hopeful promise.
We could build a life with this.
He presses his forehead against yours.
“Happy birthday Silco,” You whisper.
“It already has been," He replies.