Chapter Text
A song with a mix of twangy guitar, flat taps of a drum, and the occasional shake of a tambourine played from the jukebox in the corner of The Last Drop where Felicia stood. It was a far cry from the music that anyone in the trio would usually select for a late afternoon drink together. Felicia had been acting differently; she worked fewer hours in the mines, stared thoughtfully into open air, and even claimed she was too occupied to accompany Silco and Vander on heists to Piltover that she would typically leap out of her seat to join. Silco noticed, of course - Felicia was one of his dearest friends - but he did not think it was his place to question her. He decided he would wait until she was ready to share whatever was on her mind.
Yet he could not pretend he wasn’t deeply curious.
“What’s the occasion?” Vander’s husky voice called out from behind the bar, his large hands deftly drying delicate, newly-washed glasses with a worn rag. Silco raised a brow at the larger man’s uncharacteristic apprehension. Despite Vander’s notorious insistence that he worked better without the weight of a relationship looming over him, his behavior in Felicia’s presence betrayed his words. Silco schooled his facial expression into a mask of calm, eyes downcast, and pretended to be focused on the handwritten list of the bar’s finances and profits he had complied within his notebook instead of wondering if Vander would have married Felicia himself if she were not already loyal to Connol.
“Hmm.” A smile was evident in Felicia’s hummed reply. “Can’t a lady just be in the mood for a familiar song?”
“Not this lady,” Vander countered with a low, affectionate chuckle that forced Silco to swallow the rising ache in his throat. He tilted his head up with a sidelong glance to watch the large man gently place a dried cup down on the shelf beneath the bar. Vander’s eyes remained trained on Felicia as he added, “And not this song.”
There was a beat of silence and Silco just knew the pair shared one of their infamous unspoken glances that somehow held a thousand words. Vander laughed under his breath at some silent joke before he reached under the countertop and produced three lowball glasses adorned with gold around the rims. The fancy shit, as Silco knew he called it. Nowadays, the trio found any little reason to celebrate with a drink. Hell, even surviving another long day of painstaking work in the mines was cause to raise a glass, so they used these cups quite often. In the corner of his eye, Silco glimpsed Vander pouring deep burgundy-colored wine into each of the three glasses. Actual wine glasses were far too fragile to last longer than a day without shattering, especially when the bar hosted the occasional but exceptionally rowdy party. Felicia stepped up to the bar, her eyes closed and pale arms swaying gracefully above her head in time to the music before she settled into the nearest stool. Silco averted his gaze after watching her tuck a stray piece of dark hair behind her ear when it escaped the confines of her neat braid, knowing Vander would look upon her with enough fondness to make the gods themselves weep.
“Tonight, a harebrained scheme these two bozos cooked up to turn a dank crack in the earth into a thriving, healthy community became a reality,” Felicia muses as Vander nudges one glass toward her and the other vaguely in Silco’s direction.
“Tonight, eh?” Vander lifts his glass and clinks it against Felicia’s, grinning. Silco remained focused on his work even when wine splashed out of their cups and onto the open page of his notebook, causing the still-wet ink to smudge and swirl into the deep red droplets. He absentmindedly scooped a spoonful of porridge into his mouth just as Vander asked, “You hear that, Bozo Two?”
Silco didn’t answer immediately, favoring to savor the taste of bland porridge on his tongue rather than insert himself into a conversation in which he felt he was only included out of niceity.
“We made it,” Vander added. “We’re done.”
“Oh, you’re sadly mistaken.” Silco’s attention finally drifted from the lines of numbers in front of him as he picked up his mug with a flourish, finally allowing a small smile to grace his lips. “I’m Bozo One.”
Felicia laughed softly against the rim of her glass, followed by Vander gesturing to Silco’s mug with his own half-full cup of wine. “A night of revelations.”
Vander drank deeply from his glass and Silco’s gaze could not help but be drawn to how small the cup looked when it was cradled between the man’s thick fingers. He could not resist the way his eyes wandered to trace along the lines of Vander’s neck, watching his throat bob with each quick swallow. It was moments like this - when Vander didn’t seem completely enraptured by Felicia’s presence - that Silco granted himself a mere few seconds to appreciate the foolish brute. Vander was heart-wrenchingly handsome for Zaunite standards, all broad shoulders and toothy grins and shaggy brown hair that always fell perfectly into place. It infatuated and infuriated Silco all at once with an overwhelming buzz that resided beneath his skin, like an itch he could never seem to scratch no matter how hard he tried. He took a sip of lukewarm tea in a feeble attempt to quell the feeling.
However, the moment was short-lived when Felicia’s bright smile and tinkling laughter died into silence. Despite how her pink lips remained tilted in a soft smile, it didn’t take Piltover-worthy education to determine something nagged at her keen mind. She seemed to savor her last sip of wine before she admitted calmly, “I’m knocked up."
The tea in Silco’s mouth suddenly felt ice cold and tasted as bitter as ash. He willed himself to swallow past the frigid feeling that spread through his chest, frozen in the face of Felicia’s casual confession. She sounded neither excited nor saddened about the news and Silco understood why. In Zaun, fending for oneself was difficult enough, and adding a child into the equation would more than double the chances of danger. Silco had seen it himself, had witnessed how many children were orphaned due to illness, death, and sheer irresponsibility, all of which were influenced by Piltover one way or another. Bringing an innocent child into a corrupt world that was designed to be pitted against them would result in nothing except heartbreak. He knew this, yet there was still a warm spark of hope that flickered deep in the depths of his pessimistic heart. If anyone could raise a child under such harsh circumstances, it would be Felicia. He was torn between asking if he should locate a doctor for an impromptu abortion or begin factoring the price of a crib into their finances.
Vander, equally surprised, shared a long look with Silco, his wide gray eyes reflecting green. Both men internally scrambled for the appropriate thing one should say in a scenario such as this, the likes of which neither of them could have predicted. Vander managed to snatch the glass of wine out of Felicia’s reach, replaced it with a tall cup of fruit juice, then plopped in a dented metal straw for convenience. Felicia propped her elbow up on the counter and rested her cheek atop her knuckles with a thoughtful expression. She stared down at her new drink for a second before she shifted to lift the straw to her lips. “It’s a girl.”
“How d’you know?” Vander seemed to ask all the important and responsible questions while Silco could do no more than watch the discussion occur.
“Mm.” Felicia took a short sip of juice and then shrugged her lithe shoulders as if to say, I just do! She sighed and used her straw to stir the liquid around, “Wasn’t really part of my plan, but guess that’s everything when you’re living week to week.”
Once the initial shock ebbed away, Silco closed his notebook, grabbed his untouched glass of wine, and slid closer toward the conversation, no longer concerned with financial loss and gain. He had a feeling that depending on how Felicia decided to handle her pregnancy, the rest of their lives could be changed forever. For once, he and Vander stared at the woman with equally rapt attention.
“What did Connol say?” Vander rested his strong forearms on the countertop, his tone almost comically gentle in comparison to his burly physique.
“I haven’t told him. Working up the nerve.” Felicia cracked a wary smile then lowered her head as if to hide how her eyebrows furrowed with trepidation. “I don’t know anything about kids. I get sweaty being alone with one.”
“Hey, you’re gonna be a great mother,” Vander interrupted firmly and Silco hummed his agreement.
“Shut up. I’m not ready for that.” Felicia scoffed under her breath then returned to using her straw to stir the juice around in her cup, her expression pinched with what must have been a million thoughts rushing through her mind at once. “I started trying to come up with a name, and it hits me that this one word is a decision she’s gonna have to live with for the rest of her life.”
Obviously, Silco had no idea what it was like to be a parent, let alone a mother. At this moment, judging by the visible slouch in Felicia’s posture, he would guess she most likely felt as if triple the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders. Dreaming of a child and actually being granted one - being expected to nurture and care for it until it would be able to fend for itself - were completely different endeavors. Silco had experienced firsthand how proud revolutionaries lost their voice and receded to faux lives of domesticity for the sake of protecting their newborn children from the cruel conflict waging between Zaun and Piltover. He knew the rebellion could not afford to lose another person dedicated to the cause, yet Felicia could not sacrifice the prospect of a family.
“I can’t protect her from all the shit down here and work out how to be a parent at the same time,” Felicia added with a slow sigh. “Then I realized… I don’t have to.”
“Hmm?” Vander hummed and his thick dark eyebrows furrowed quizzically, his expression sickeningly similar to that of a lost dog tilting its head with the hope of being thrown a bone. “Why’s that?”
“Because the second I told you, I put you on the hook.” A slow smile spread across her lips and she looked between the two men but her eyes ultimately landed on Vander. Even though he expected it, a pang still shot through Silco’s stomach, sharp and almost akin to jealousy. Felicia knew she had both of them wrapped around her finger, Vander most of all, but for utterly different reasons. Silco thought of Felicia as if she were his sister while Vander - the poor, thickheaded fool - was too oblivious to catch on to his own feelings that bordered along romance.
“You two are gonna figure this Zaun thing out,” Felicia continued and gestured between Silco and Vander with a flick of her finger. Her words were neither a request nor a question, but rather a demand for a better life in the Undercity that would be in the best interest of her child. Her expression grew fierce as those stubborn strands of hair slipped free from behind her ear, a telltale sign of her determination. “I don’t care if you have to carve it out of the bedrock, covered in blisters.”
Silco glanced at Vander to gauge his reaction but found the man’s gray eyes were still set on Felicia.
“You’re not allowed to fail anymore,” Felicia murmured and dipped her gaze down to her belly. “For her.”
“What’s the point if we can’t raise an ankle-biter or two?” That was Vander’s version of agreement, complete with a pointed look at Silco that urged his support. The thought of four people required to raise a single child could have made even a Piltie laugh. Silco felt his mouth curl into a smile when he lifted his glass.
“To Zaun, then.” He paused then added slyly, “Blisters and bedrock.”
“Blisters and bedrock,” Vander echoed with a rumbling laugh and the trio clinked glasses. There was a long pause as each of them took a long sip of their respective drinks before Vander spoke up again, “I’ve always liked the name Violet.”
“Violet,” Felicia repeated the name with a slow smile then leaned over to bump her shoulder against Silco’s. “What do you think, Sil?”
Silco hummed considerately against the rim of his glass. Violet. The name brought forth a feeling of warmth, and if Felicia’s daughter turned out to be even half as keen, she was sure to exude just as much confidence and strength as her mother. He caught Vander’s eye and saw a glimmer of hope there, one that signified he was prepared to move the heavens and earth itself for this child. Silco supposed he might be, too.
“It’d be a beautiful name for a girl,” he finally said but there was a heavy implication that he believed there was a possibility for the child to be a boy.
“Beautiful,” Vander agreed. “Just like her mother.”
Felicia’s nose scrunched with an affectionate sideways grin. “It will be a girl. I know it."
Silco raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as he downed the remnants of his drink, nearly choking on his last mouthful of wine when Felicia shoved his shoulder with all her might.
“C’mon, I can’t be outnumbered by boys forever! We deserve another girl around here."
“We?” Silco mused which resulted in another resolute shove against his upper arm.
“Yes, we.” Felicia gave a slight roll of her eyes but she was smiling nonetheless. “Me and Connol will always be her parents, but you two should think of yourselves sorta like another pair of dads. You already argue like a married couple, anyway, so might as well play the part.”
Silco let out a nervous huff and simultaneously choked on his own tongue, reaching for his mug of cold tea as if he planned to clear something out of his throat. Vander simply laughed and Silco’s stomach churned with such force that he wouldn’t have been surprised if a whirlpool opened up in the middle of his torso and he got sucked into himself. A part of him wished to disappear into thin air, but in reality, he found the will to nudge his emptied glass toward Vander so it could be cleaned.
“I ought to go window shopping for a crib,” he said smoothly and tucked his notebook under his arm. He used his capped fountain pen to gesture to Vander. “And you ought to learn how to mix a mocktail.”
Felicia hummed in agreement and diligently sipped the rest of her juice until the straw made a gurgling sound at the bottom of the cup, her eyebrows raised at Vander.
“Not ‘til you tell Connol.”
“Don’t rush me,” she quipped.
Silco’s throat went dry as he watched Vander’s lips split into a grin wide enough to display the small gap between his two front teeth.
“Well,” Silco started toward the door and hoped his voice didn’t sound too hoarse. “I’m off.”
Vander merely grunted and Felicia waved him goodbye with a little wiggle of her fingers. Silco opened the ricketty front door and stepped over the threshold into the bustling streets of town before reality caught up to him once more. While Felicia had to factor motherhood into her life in the Undercity, he had to learn how to protect her, Connol, Vander, and - most importantly - their unborn daughter.
Silco knew the only way to achieve that was to do exactly what Felicia said: Figure this Zaun thing out. He intended to do just that.