Work Text:
Sunday morning, rain is falling
Steal some covers, share some skin
Clouds are shrouding us in moments unforgettable
You twist to fit the mold that I am in
That may be all I need
In darkness, she is all I see
Come and rest your bones with me
Driving slow on Sunday morning
And I never want to leave
– Maroon 5, “Sunday Morning”
Jinx stirred under the covers as the comforting pit-pat of rain hit the window pane, the soft rumble of thunder in the distance gently drawing her out of sleep. She groaned softly as she opened her eyes, the room slowly blurring into focus.
A small smile tugged at her lips as she listened to the shower outside and felt the warmth of Silco’s arm draped protectively around her. She had been terrified of thunderstorms as a child, though she never knew why. Back then, she had always had Vi to comfort her, even when Mylo and Claggor laughed at her for being a wimp. But after that night Vi had walked away from her in the rain – after Silco had shown up and assured her things would be okay – she had inexplicably lost her fear, shedding it away like a tired old snake skin along with the rest of what had made her Powder.
Nowadays, the only real fear she still had was of the voices in her head.
She caught a glimpse of the clock on the nightstand and saw it was just past seven. She rarely was up before Silco, especially on one of their uncommon off days when business was slow. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that her boss-turned-lover was still in a deep sleep. He looked so tired – he had been staying up late in recent weeks, dealing with one crisis after another as shimmer shipments were delayed or destroyed thanks to the Firelights and their meddling. She scowled at the thought, then smirked as she thought about her next opportunity to introduce the floating fuckers to some of her newest combustible creations.
Maybe I’ll fuck around in the lab later today, she thought. Give the old man some breathing room. ‘Specially since I probably wore him out last night.
That was when an idea hit her. She grinned as she carefully slipped out of Silco’s hold and off of their bed. She quickly pulled on the black tank top and her sleeping shorts covered with the pattern of glow-in-the-dark stars that had been hastily discarded on the floor the previous evening and headed towards the kitchen, matted braids that she hadn’t bothered to undo the night before thudding softly on the floor and trailing behind her.
She knew the first part of Silco’s daily routine was brewing up a giant pot of coffee that would last until noon – and that he was partial to precisely one teaspoon of cream and two generous spoonfuls of bourbon mixed into his cup. She remembered the first time she’d watched him prepare his morning libation not long after she had joined his cohort as a child and decided to swipe a sip at a moment when he was out of the room, a habit she had developed when she had lived with the family and would watch Vander make coffee in the early afternoons as he prepped for another long night at The Last Drop.
The difference was that Vander had drunk his coffee black and strong. Unused to the sweetness of the cream and the burn of bourbon, she had promptly spat out the unfamiliar concoction all over Silco’s desk.
That had been the first time after that night that the voices and the visions had come, as she stared at the documents and very official and expensive-looking objects across the desk that were now soaked through with backwash.
Dumbass. Can’t do anything right. Can’t even swallow. Wimp. Murderer. Jinx.
Silco had found her cowering in her room an hour later, curled in the corner and shaking. Both from the fear of the voices and the faces and from the thought that she would surely be kicked out and left alone again.
He didn’t tell her to leave. He didn’t yell at her. Instead, he handed her a blue raspberry soda. He opened the tab and the crisp tart spray instantly brought a wave of comfort over her.
“I think you’ll like this better,” he said gently, giving her a small smile.
Later that day, she had taken her glowy markers and used them to decorate the ashtray on his desk by way of apology. He had kept it there ever since.
Presently, Jinx entered the kitchen and fetched a clean mug from the cabinet before grinding up a generous scoop of fresh coffee grounds. She poured them into the coffee maker and filled the chamber with the filtered water from the pitcher in the fridge and set the timer. She hummed and tapped her feet to a rhythm that popped up from somewhere deep inside her ever-restless mind. But her private jam session was interrupted when she felt her stomach give a soft rumble.
"Hm – eh, why stop now?" She said aloud to herself. "Silco’s probably gonna have the munchies too when he wakes up.”
She bounced over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs and a package of whole-grain bread (she preferred white bread, but she knew it wasn’t Silco’s first choice). She rummaged through the cabinets until she found a large frying pan, which she filled with oil before cracking six eggs and setting it on the burner.
A large crack of thunder boomed outside. Jinx walked to the small stained glass window opposite the stove and stared out at their corner of the Undercity. The Lanes were always dim, but with dark storm clouds blocking what little sunlight could penetrate the thick air, it looked as if it was still the middle of the night. Jinx absentmindedly traced patterns with her fingertip on the glass and thought about how in spite of everything – all of the memories, good and bad; all of the wicked things she’d done and felt no remorse for, all of the sacrifices Silco had made that had turned him into a monster in the eyes of the idiots who didn’t understand what he was trying to do for the Undercity – there was no place in the world that she would rather be than Zaun.
Especially with Silco in it.
We belong to the Undercity, she thought. I’d blow the whole world to bits for this place. I’d blow it all to bits for him.
She was pulled out of her thoughts by the reflection of flames in the colored glass.
“Shit!”
Oil had splashed from the pan onto the burner. Jinx hardly knew what she was doing as she grabbed a bag of what she thought was salt from the counter and dumped the contents onto the flames.
BOOM.
Jinx barely had time to dodge as flames shot out from the stove, ignited by what she now saw was a fine white powder coating her hands.
“Who the fuck left flour on the stove?!” she screamed.
Jinx flew to the sink on the other side of the kitchen in a panic, her motions barely registering as she grabbed a pair of damp dish towels and began beating back the flames, eyes wide and wild, her movements frantically mechanical as a single word repeating itself over in over in her head until it drowned out the rumble of the fire.
Jinx jinx jinx jinx jinx jinx jinx.
“Jinx. Jinx. ”
Gray eyes opened slowly, painfully, as she felt Silco’s weathered hand gently dressing her forearm with a cooling ointment and gauze.
“The burn should heal within the week,” he said.
“W…where’s the fire?” she croaked. She was curled head to knees in a corner near the sink. She noticed the tip of one of her braids was singed.
“Gone,” he said softly. “I used the extinguisher in the corner.”
“The extinguish…,” Jinx trailed off, before smashing her fist to her forehead over and over. “FUUUUCK!”
You fucking suck. How the hell did you forget about the fucking fire extinguisher. You’re so bad. You can’t even make eggs and toast like a normal person. Just get out of everyone’s way and go join Vander and the others wherever the hell they are. No, actually, they wouldn’t want your company since you fucking murdered them. But you should still end everyone’s misery. Use one of your bombs. Do it before you kill Silco, too. You’re a jinx. Jinx jinx jinx jinx jinx.
The tears were hot and big and snotty. The voices were loud and mean. The stove was burned and the kitchen smelled like yet another tragedy she made out of whatever she touched. And faintly, very faintly, of coffee.
“Jinx,” Silco whispered, “stop that.”
“I – I just wanted to make you breakfast.”
He kissed her forehead. “I know, sweetness. It’s alright. I’ll have Sevika take care of the damages later.”
Jinx sniffled and shrugged her shoulders, but the tiniest tug of a smile ghosted the corner of her lips as she imagined the fit Sevika was sure to throw over being put on clean-up duty yet again.
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt more severely,” Silco assured her.
“Why?” she squeaked. “Why do you care about me so much? I don’t deserve it, Silco. I should just…just fucking die.”
She buried her face in her hands, but only for a moment as Silco’s much larger hands slowly pried them away.
“I would die if I lost you, Jinx. That’s the beginning and the end of it.”
“But why?”
“Because,” Silco said lowly, “you and I are one and the same. Misunderstood. Abandoned by the people who were supposed to love us the most.” He gently brushed the bangs away from her face. “Brave enough to create a new nation of Zaun together. There’s no one else I could achieve this with. There’s no one else with whom I want to.”
She stared into his eyes – she had never been afraid of the river-poisoned orb that sent other people running – before pressing her forehead to his. She closed her eyes and breathed in his smoky-sweet scent.
“Come on," he murmured. "Let’s go back to bed.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “But first, coffee.”
She stood and walked to the cabinet – which had only suffered some minor scarring from the fire – and pulled out two mugs, a plain black porcelain one for Silco and her favorite electric blue one she had painted with pink and black stars. She brought them to the coffee maker and filled them, the rich aroma encircling and comforting as she prepped their respective additions – precisely one teaspoon of cream, two generous spoonfuls of bourbon for Silco, half coffee, half cream, three cubes of sugar for herself – before presenting it to him with the smallest smile.
Silco took a long sip.
“It’s perfect.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek. “Just like you.”
Jinx didn’t mind the faint burn of bourbon on his lips as they kissed.