Chapter Text
October 24, Obscenely late at night/ early in the morning
Okay relax, breathe.
You support yourself on the bathroom counter with both hands, watching the water drip from your nose into the sink. Deep, cleansing breaths aren’t helping settle your racing pulse.
Just don’t think about it.
Don’t think about how the J stands for…
Ooh Jason.
Burning, your whole body’s burning.
You splash your face with more water. It’s a useless gesture. Rather than drown out Sevika’s moaning voice, all you’ve succeeded in accomplishing is branding it’s stain into the fabric of your mind. A vivid picture hanging half-painted, begging to be completed.
You shouldn’t have eavesdropped .
You were never supposed to hear that.
You’re fine.
Yes, you have to be, especially since Silco has his reasons – perfectly fair and good reasons – for maintaining his self control. And you have plenty of good reasons to maintain yours, too. What you claim to believe, for example. You always thought you’d save yourself for marriage.
And look how far that thought got you.
As far as Silco’s arms.
You always said you wanted a good old-fashioned romance built on mutual trust.
But you already trust each other.
You also said you didn’t want to give too much of yourself to a man before there’s been a solid commitment, especially after how close you came to being an idiot with Jeremiah.
But we’re 100% committed.
At least you are. And he’s not Jeremiah. He's Silco Jason Spisak, the man who kisses you tenderly and says he could never hate you.
The man who wants your body, and your soul.
Oh Jason...
You swallow convulsively.
If he asked you, you’d run to the end of the world with him.
You’d run to other places too.
But you’ve known him for less than a month.
Yeah, well time is a social construct.
And mom always said you’d know when you’re with the right man because it will feel like you’ve known him for your entire life.
And nothing else will really matter. Nothing else matters.
Except it will matter, because your family will definitely have an opinion about you sleeping with Silco. Hell, you should have a much stronger opinion about it considering how hard you used to go at Allie when she was claiming to be in love every other day.
At least she didn’t try to sleep with any of them.
That you know about.
You scrub your face and let out a tired sigh.
This is insane. You’ve known Silco for less than a month, have been dating less than two weeks, and now, you’ve practically spent the entire night throwing yourself at the man.
While he’s been the one with all the common sense.
Seriously, what is wrong with you?
Ooh Jason.
You straighten up with an audible groan of frustration and stride into the bedroom, shaking your head and your hands as if you could physically remove the imagery from your body.
It doesn’t do anything except make you dizzy. You flop onto the bed and stare up at the vaguely spinning ceiling.
It’s ironic. You were the one who swore to your mother that you and Silco weren’t close to talking about intimacy, let alone seriously thinking about it, and now here you are, losing your ever-loving mind over something stupid that Sevika said.
This wouldn’t be so hard to logic through if it was 2 in the afternoon instead of 2 in the morning.
You get exponentially less intelligent after 10 pm, so at this point you’ve probably regressed to the emotional level of a toddler. You’re also delirious from a long night of talking and crying. And now that you’re thinking about it, you’re starving. You didn’t have time for dinner at the party, which means you haven’t eaten in almost twelve hours.
That’s probably why you feel so desperate to be with him, Biblically…
You pull a pillow over your face and let out a scream.
Last week you would have thought Sevika was straight up crazy to suggest you and Silco get married, but right now it doesn’t sound crazy at all. In fact, it sounds like the most obvious solution to your current predicament.
That’s the 2am delirium speaking, obviously.
But also you’re pretty sure it isn’t. It seems perfectly logical. Silco loves you (you're at least 98% sure on that point), and you definitely love him. He wants you so bad he looks stupid, you want him so bad you feel like being stupid.
Lord help me, I want to be stupid so bad.
But he doesn’t want to be, and you have to respect that. If you love him (and it’s already been firmly established that you do), then you have to, regardless of what you feel. Which means you seriously need to check yourself before seeing him again.
Or you could stay in your room for the rest of the night, just in case the temptation is too much for your little toddler mind (and you keep throwing yourself at him, which is honestly just embarrassing).
Or it would be, if you were in your right mind.
There’s a knock on the door, and you hear Sevika’s rough voice mutter something.
“Be right there,” You call through the pillow before dragging yourself off the bed.
You steel yourself for a conversation as you slump towards the door.
Alright, time to pretend like you didn’t overhear Sevika talking about you and Silco having really loud se –
“Silco!” You squeak, after wrenching open the door.
He looks awkward. “Hello.”
“I – I thought you were Sevika.”
“No. I mean it was, but she um… she just left.”
The man looks like a confused, cornered animal. He’s wearing his shirt again, but it looks like it’s on inside out.
I love you. I hate you. Why are you so cute? God help me…
“We – I saw your light was on,” He says, stilted. “I hope you weren’t sleeping.”
“No. I wasn’t.”
“Ah. Good.”
He scratches his head, kick-starting a long silence. You both take turns not looking at each other.
Then he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. About my behavior, before. I didn’t mean to… to make you cry.”
You’re already shaking your head, “Please, don’t even worry about it...”
“But I have been worried about it. I shouldn’t have abandoned you.”
“It’s alright, really…”
“It shouldn’t be. You should be able to rely on me.”
“And you should be able to rely on me to… to understand what you need and to respect that,” You reply fervently. “And I want to respect it. And you're right, about it being the wrong time. I’m just tired and feeling a little, I don’t know… silly, I guess.”
“Well in truth I... I wouldn’t mind some silliness in my life. But not tonight.”
“Yeah," You send him a resigned smile. "Not tonight.”
His own slight smile slowly fades away, leaving behind a vague expression. You look between his eyes, trying to understand the change. Your eyes dart down to his lips as they part, revealing the little gap in his teeth, then back up to his eyes.
He looks dumbstruck.
You want her so bad you look stupid.
Your heart starts pounding.
“Was there… something else?”
Please say yes. Please say you've changed your mind. Please don't leave me.
He blinks slowly, as if coming out of a trance. “Something else?"
"Yes. That you wanted to say or..."
Do, maybe.
"Ah. No. I um... I don’t have anything I want to say. Except…”
“Except?” You prompt, hopefully.
He shakes his head. “Perhaps it isn’t a fair request, considering.”
“Considering what?”
"Well..." He shifts uncomfortably, which is when you see his medical case clutched in his left hand.
You point at it and say quickly, “Would you like help with that?”
“What?” He looks down in confusion. “Oh, I – No, I shouldn't ask. I know how much it distresses you.”
“You didn’t ask, I offered,” You say, holding out your hand.
“Yes. Well… only if you’re sure.”
“I’m absolutely sure.”
You consider it a huge win when he passes it over without your having to press the issue.
“Where would you like to do it?”
“My office will suffice.”
“Alrighty then.”
He precedes you across the hall, and you trail after him into the office towards the marble sideboard. You prep the injector, and after having him double check to make sure everything is correct you round the sofa to plop yourself against the armrest. You stick a pillow in your lap before patting the top of it.
“Head here please.”
He lowers himself carefully into position, and after his head appears settled you brush the hair away from his temples. His eyes are trained stoically on the ceiling as you shift the device into place.
“Whenever you’re ready,” You say.
“I’m ready.”
“On the count of three.”
You support his face with your left hand, count, and inject. You’re surprised at how hardened you are to his response, or maybe you’re just more focused on ensuring he’s comfortable after. You massage his jaw and neck, and his face twitches as you rub at the taut muscles with your thumbs.
“You hold a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders, don’t you?”
“I hold tension everywhere.”
“Mmm. I could work on some of the knots if you’d like.”
“That really isn’t necessary…”
“I didn’t ask if it was necessary, I asked if you wanted me to.”
There’s a long pause.
“Very well.”
“Thank you,” You say with relief. “Shirt off please, and I’ll need you to sit on the floor with your back against the sofa.”
You shift sideways so he can sit in front of you, and your toddler brain allows you to enjoy watching the shirt come off, and his muscles contract as he levers himself onto the floor. You swallow a wistful sigh before returning to earth.
You have to work up the courage to touch him. You flex your fingers before tentatively working on a knot in his shoulder.
He sucks in a breath, immediately tense.
“If something feels painful, try to relax and breathe through it.”
“Easier said than done.”
“You’ve never had a massage in your life, have you?”
“I’m afraid it has never been high on my list of priorities.”
“Well you should make time for it. You’re hard as a rock.”
He winces as you press into one shoulder blade. You adjust his head so it’s resting on the cushion, then rub at the frown lines collected on the bridge of his nose.
“Try not to frown either, that only makes it worse. Plus it’s more work for me.”
“Hmm. If this is supposed to be an incentive for me to stop, I’m afraid it isn’t going to work.”
You smile. “Just try to relax.”
“As you wish.”
It’s awkward touching him at first. His skin is hot, his red eye constantly roves your face, and his presence is as overwhelming as always. But it only takes a few minutes to shift into task mode. His muscles are extremely tight, and you’re forced to pause often for spots that need extra attention. When he tenses, you quietly remind him to relax and breathe. Ever so slowly his shoulders muscles begin to soften.
He closes his good eye as you massage his face.
“Your hands are… magic.”
You smile.
“I learned how to massage from my mom.”
“It appears that I owe a lot to Leslie.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty great.”
“And I'm grateful for her daughter.”
You bite your lip and move your fingers into his hair. He releases a deep sigh. You get lost in the sensation of brushing your fingers through the silvered strands, and after a few minutes of this his head starts to droop awkwardly to the side.
“Come back up to the sofa."
He responds sluggishly, but eventually manages to stand. You slide the pillow back into your lap, and he drops heavily into it. You shift your fingers into his hair again, and eventually his good eye closes. The red eye goes still, and after another minute his breathing deepens, and it's clear that he’s fallen asleep.
Your body grows heavy, and you find yourself slumping sideways as dreams reach out to claim you. They pull you through unrecognizable places where you pass half-remembered faces. You’re floating through murky dreamscapes, searching high and low for...
Something. Someone.
You run from one blurred image to another, following the call of your name. Then it comes from behind. You turn your head to look, but your foot misses a step and suddenly you’re falling…
You jolt awake in a panic.
You don’t know where you are. The ceiling isn’t the dark wood of Silco's office, but a swath of blue fabric. You're enveloped in a sea of blankets.
“Silco?” You whisper, struggling to regain your memory.
There’s no answer.
You sit up and blink around in the dim light. You’re on a bed, in a room very similar to Silco's office in terms of decor: heavy wooden furniture, velvet chairs, a desk.
This must be Silco’s room, you think as you slide to the edge of the bed. There’s a plush carpet covering the wooden floor, and it feels like heaven beneath your feet. There’s a closed door to your left, but ahead is what appears to be the wall, cracked open. Dust moats float through filtered sunlight as it pours through the gap, and you toddle towards it like a moth to a flame.
“Silco?” You call out, voice hoarse.
There’s a rustle of paper, and the sound of a heavy chair being pushed across the floor. You reach the wall just as it’s being pulled open, and there he is, wearing clean slacks and a collared herringbone shirt, looking alert and awake.
You gawk as he smiles down at you.
“Good morning.”
You marvel at his relaxed demeanor, and the lightness lining his face.
He's never looked more handsome.
You stare around him, uncertain. You're now in his office, and the door he’s holding is actually a bookcase.
“You have a secret door,” You croak.
“One of many. I’d be happy to show them to you sometime.”
He draws you further into the room, shutting the bookcase behind you with a distinct click as it locks. But you don’t have much time to wonder at it since he’s grabbing you around the waist and capturing your lips. He tastes like spearmint, and you probably taste terrible, but he doesn’t even make a face as he draws back and brushes your hair behind your ear.
“How are you?”
“Good,” You reply, feeling slightly delirious. “Your bed is really um… comfortable.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
He’s still smiling as he looks at you.
You feel like you’ve missed something important.
“Are you hungry?”
You open your mouth to reply, but your stomach does the honors of answering for you. He grins as you turn bright red and mumble your apologies.
“Come on.”
He links his fingers through yours and leads you from the room.
“I was able to look over the security footage from last night. It appears that Viyana is a rather slippery character, and managed to sneak in without my men’s knowledge.”
“That must be a relief.”
“Yes. I like to believe that I can trust my people implicitly. It’s very gratifying to be proven right, even if it means that I may have to invest in some extra training.”
He appears to be in no hurry to reach the kitchen, and you aren’t complaining. He smells clean and delicious, and you’re enjoying how easy it is to walk like this, hand in hand.
“How’d you sleep?” You ask.
“I’ve never slept better.”
He smiles down at you, and butterflies box in your stomach.
“And how are your shoulders feeling? I know I worked on them pretty hard.”
“They’re sore, but I haven’t felt this good in years.”
He flexes his back. You avert your gaze.
“Uh... good. I’d um... be happy to do it again, if you ever want me to.”
“That’s an offer I could never refuse.”
You make it down the stairs and into the kitchen, and as he leads you to the island he asks, “Coffee, darling?”
“Um, yes please. With oat milk.”
He pours you a cup and leans against the counter as you take your first sip.
“Thanks.”
He smiles another one of those disconcertingly enigmatic smiles, and watches you take another.
“What?” You ask, playing with your shirt, then your hair, then your shorts...
He takes your nervous hand and kisses it. “Nothing. You're perfect.”
Is this a dream? You wonder as you stare into his bright, clear eyes. If it is, may I never wake up.