Chapter Text
Sunday, November 1
You wake up slowly, the pale dawn greeting you as it seeps around the blinds and bleeds across the carpet. It’s warm, and you’re unaccountably content. The feeling expands in your mind as you stretch, then tug the blanket up and under your chin. You curl forward, relishing the soft fabric against your skin, and the smell of cloves.
What does that remind you of…
Your eyes flicker open as an arm suddenly snakes over your waist and tightens. A deep breath is expelled against your hair as you get drawn back with inexorable purpose to rest against a chest.
You stare at the lean, slightly corded forearm. It’s strong, and pocked with scars.
Silco.
You’re spooning with Silco.
You’d forgotten.
How did you forget?
It felt so natural, so normal, to wake up here with him.
This sparks a different sort of thrill.
You snuggle backward, and he shifts. He seems to still be asleep, and yet with every unconscious movement he folds you more securely into his embrace. Your legs tangle until his ankle is locked over your legs. You smile into the pillow as his head comes to rest almost on top of yours.
He releases a final sigh, and is still.
You let your eyes drift close, and experience the sensations of the moment.
Two warm bodies, perfectly nested together. His chest expands slowly and evenly against your back, his gentle exhales teasing the hair at your temples, tickling your cheek. His arm is hanging slack now, so you tug his hand up to your heart and hold it there.
Dawn lingers, time stretching immeasurably between the twilight of waking and sleeping. It’s a perfect dream in equilibrium with reality.
You really are here with him. He really is here with you.
Light brightens the deep recesses of the room, bathing the cool monochrome furniture in warmth. The hall clock chimes a half hour, and the thrum of heavy silence and kitchen appliances grows in your consciousness until you’re fully grounded in the room.
You take another deep breath in, enjoying the shelter of Silco’s presence. His hand twitches in yours as you try to adjust your hold.
“Are you awake?” You croak.
The only reply you receive is an indecipherable noise, then his face is nuzzling your neck. Warm lips trace the skin just below your jawline, scattering electric pulses. They dance down to the collar of your sweatshirt.
“How are you this morning?” He murmurs against your collarbone.
His voice is low and gritty.
And you have no idea how to answer his question.
All thoughts have been erased by his buzzy, light kisses. You’re tingling all over, stuck on tracing every slight brush of his skin against yours.
You can’t grasp at any kind of sophisticated answer.
Eventually you manage, “Good.”
It doesn’t even begin to describe how you really feel.
Content. Ecstatic. Grateful. Unhinged. Completely hinged. Riding on a perfect high.
Completely head over heels with this man.
“You?” You somehow manage to ask.
He breaks off kissing you to consider. “Stiff, but not uncomfortable.”
“We – you probably should have slept in your own bed.”
“I would have been stiff either way. I’m happy where I am. Besides, you asked me to stay.”
You did?
You wiggle, forcing him to relinquish his hold upon you as you shift your body little by little to face him instead of the room.
Your question sticks in your throat as you take in his messy hair, which is flat on one side from resting on the pillow, and sticks up in a wildly expressive manner on the other. He looks incredibly young, even with all the lines on his face. Like a bemused teenager. His blue eye is half lidded, still hazed by sleep.
But then he smiles softly, and reaches forward to brush back a huge swatch of hair that you can feel tangling around your face.
“I don’t remember...” You stammer.
“You said my name, and wouldn’t let go of my hand.”
His eyes caress you softly.
Your entire body flushes. “Sorry.”
“Whatever for?”
“Holding you captive.”
He chuckles a little, making your stomach thrill. “Believe me, I had no wish to leave. I was happy to be your prisoner.”
It’s too much for you.
Your toes curl, and a joyful sensation dances through your veins like champagne. You try to hide your flustered smile by holding your face with a laugh. “Oh darn! And I was actually trying really hard to make you miserable.”
When you finally have the courage to look at him again, there’s a twinkle in his cat-like eye.
“I’d be happy to share my notes for improvement.”
“You know I’d love to hear them, sir.”
He smirks.
“To begin, don’t wash your hair and clothes with lavender. It’s very… distracting.”
He tugs a tendril of your hair around his finger, and plays with it. You watch him, mesmerized. He stares at the tips with fascination for a moment before his gaze slides back to yours.
Your brain is now abuzz with bubbles. “Well, distracting you from the fact you're in prison is good.”
The gap in his teeth appears.
You want to touch his lips.
Ugh, stop.
“The length of your shorts is, of course, cause for concern.”
“But these are my house shorts,” You answer defensively. “And you can’t spell ‘house’ without ‘ho’.”
He releases a throaty chuckle, then slings his arm around your waist to tug you closer with a crooked smile. You’re suddenly self-conscious about your breath when he captures your mouth, but he doesn’t seem bothered. He tastes stale, with a hint of smoke and a tantalizing amount of spearmint.
It makes you wonder what you taste like.
It must not be too terrible, because he doesn’t pull back or make a face.
“What else?” You whisper hoarsely when he’s finished.
“You should try to keep that dimple hidden.”
“Well I… I wouldn’t smile at you so much if you weren’t so cute.”
He rolls his eye, but you see the reddening on his pale cheeks even in the low light.
“I can’t believe how easy you are to tease.”
“I’m just not used to being looked at.”
You raise your eyebrows.
“I mean, looked at the way you do,” He amends awkwardly. “With… affection.”
You can tell that’s not the word he actually means.
With love.
Of course with affection, too, but it’s more than that. He seems ashamed, so much so that he can’t look you in the eye.
He’s afraid to say the words out loud.
You don’t feel disappointment except for a moment. What lingers is acceptance, brimming with hope. He knows you love him, and he loves you too. He might not be able to say it now, but he’ll tell you when he’s ready, in whatever way he can.
And they’re only words.
You reach out to draw his averted face back.
“You’re not used to being seen and loved.”
His adam's apple bobs in his throat, eyes darting back and forth nervously to search yours.
You smile. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I know you love me too.”
Something tumultuous flickers in his eyes.
“My dad isn’t very verbal about it either, you know. He shows his love to my mom in other ways. For example, he grabs her butt a lot when he’s happy.”
He blinks in surprise.
“You can feel free to try that out whenever you want, by the way,” You whisper.
And how he’s definitely flustered.
You laugh, and kiss him before he can recover. He looks like he’s trying to come up with some kind of an appropriate response as you begin to extricate yourself from the blankets.
Or try to, anyway. You can’t seem to succeed. Silco somehow manages to counteract every one of your evasive moves.
“Stop it,” You say with an exasperated laugh, “I have to use the bathroom.”
He mumbles something vague, but after a brief hesitation releases control of you and the blanket. As you gain your feet you can hear him slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.
“Will you come back?”
“Of course,” You squeeze out as you indulge in a big, exaggerated stretch. “I’ll always come back to you.”
It sounds very flippant, and you hurriedly lower your arms to offer him your most sincere smile.
It immediately wobbles, your breath hitching as you take in his expression.
He’s perched on the edge of the sofa, gazing up at you with a look of such devotion it makes your head reel. You’ve never had a look of such raw intimacy leveled at you before. It pours from his glacier and magma eyes, making you flush, giving you vertigo.
So this is what it feels like to be…
You aren’t sure what’s the right word.
Adored? Worshipped?
Whatever it is, it has gutted you.
With that look, you can’t deny Silco’s love.
And that you’ve lost your heart, body, and soul to this man.
He swallows hard at the sound of a door closing upstairs, and flinches, but never once do his eyes waver from yours. You can hardly remember how to breathe under the weight of his silence and stare. You’re pretty sure you’re trembling as you push your hair behind your ear, and he sucks in a ragged breath as bare feet begin to patter down the stairs.
Only then does he begin to look desperate. His eyes dart to the side, and his mouth opens, but nothing emerges. Then he clenches his jaw as Jinx’s voice echoes down the hall.
“... And I totally missed my alarm…”
The heaviness in the room snaps with a disjointed twang, leaving you unsteady in the aftermath.
Silco closes his eye and he pushes out a long, heavy sigh.
“It’s okay,” You say, trying to regather your scattered thoughts and emotions. “We’re still here. Together.”
“Together,” He echoes.
“When I come back, I can help you with breakfast.”
“I’m afraid we don’t have much in the house at the moment.”
Of course not. He and Sevika have been hard at work, all week, to put Finn and Charles away for good. To keep you safe.
You nod decisively. “Then I guess we’ll have to take a trip to the store.”
“Yes.”
He pushes to his feet. Beneath his flopping hair you catch a brief, miserable expression, but it’s gone by the time he’s raised his head.
The sight of it eats away at you.
You won't let your day with Silco be spoiled so easily, or the loveliness of your morning be dampened. You can't forget the look he gave you, or how it made you feel. It’s far too precious a memory to let go of, especially now.
Silco loves you.
The truth will have to be pried out of your soul when you’re dead. And even then you aren’t going to let it go without a fight.
You decide it's time to take command of the situation.
You grab his face and plant a long, firm kiss at the corner of his mouth. You make it long enough that he eventually releases a heavy breath, and his hands rest tentatively on your hips. He turns his head to capture your lips fully, and the tension in his shoulders drops away.
“Let’s promise not to let anything spoil our day, okay?” You ask in a whisper, when you finally pull away.
He nods, and you run your fingers through his hair. He closes his eye as you take a moment to tame it, then kiss him one more time.
"I'll be back."
As you turn to leave, you’re struck by a sudden, unnatural fit of devilish inspiration. You don't know what possesses you to do it, but you walk away in a slow sashay, allowing your butt to swish just a little bit more than usual. Then, when you reach the door, you pause to throw a searching look at him over your shoulder.
You catch his eyes dragging upward, before he can hide it. You grin at the wild haired, rumple clothed, dazed and confused Eye of Zaun.
“Just remember Spisak, I gave you permission to touch my ass whenever you want.”
His face cycles through very strong and conflicting emotions. He looks unsettled and you can't tell what he wants more: to run from the room, or run forward to give it a try.
You'll let him think about it for a while.
You grin and disappear from the room with an exaggerated wink.
For the next hour, as you gather the rest of the Spisak family and prepare to leave, you catch Silco blatantly staring at you.
And he blushes every time you catch his eye.