What's Worse Than Knowing How It Ends?

by midsomr

Summary:

“You’re so…different” Silco noted, seemingly to himself as he took Vander’s hand, the older man lifting him like he was feather-light.

“You can say old” Vander cradled Silco’s lower back when he finally stood, his boots finding the right purchase to keep him upright. Vander was acutely aware that he was much too close, the right Silco would only let him get this close so he could gut him like game to stuff and mount on the wall.

Vander swallowed that thought down thickly.

Or

Back at the cannery, Vander is face-to-face with a young version of Silco. As the week unfolds, Vander comes to question all of the choices he's made since that night on the bridge.

Notes:

Hi guys! It's been a while. I hope you know that I've been putting my cum, sweat, and tears into this.

Big thanks to my dearest oomf stripe for betaing this for me!

Chapter 1: A Stitch Away From Making It

Vander heaved a gasping breath. He could smell something in the air—not smoke—but it had the same alarming quality that made him shoot up from his position on the ground.

 

  Powder , he remembers her yelling from the window, throwing one of her handcrafted devices, and this time, it actually worked. In his hazy, short-term memory, Vander was satisfied for a moment just thinking dreamily of how proud he was of Powder. She could work those devices and get one to explode all by herself. 

 

He groaned, feeling the ache in his back as he stretched and tried to focus his vision. Where was he again? He looked up at the warehouse ceiling, the exposition of the last few minutes catching up to him and sending his nervous system into a panic. 

 

Silco had tried to kill him— shit, he couldn’t blame the guy. He was only returning the favor (about six years late, but still). He always knew Silco would return to drag Vander to the grave.

 

He had thought about it a lot, actually. He assumed Silco would just send him a letter enclosed with anthrax that would kill him in mere minutes; he only prayed that Silco would leave his children out of the ordeal. 

 

He should’ve assumed Silco would want to use his hands. 

 

Vander sat up a bit too quickly, making the soreness of his shoulder hiss in sharp pain. He spotted the hump of Silco’s body, dark clothing draped over his small frame. Vander shuffled desperately closer. 

 

Vander only hoped that he wasn’t dead. 

 

The bomb left a sticky residue in the air. The wisps of smoke with no fire, aside from the small blue flame that engulfed the toy monkey as its cymbals tapped together in a rhythm reserved for dying automatons. 

 

Vander moved, crawling to Silco’s body- his heart hammering as he repeated in his mind: No blood, still breathing. Please, no blood, still breathing . 

 

No blood, a tiny sigh of relief whistled through Vander’s nose as his eyes moved across Silco’s frame: face down against the mezzanine, small even breaths moved the back of his dark coat- something familiar struck Vander about the piece of clothing, but in his knocked-loose train of thought- he couldn’t quite place it. 

 

Vander hesitated, wanting to check on Silco- there was no blood, he was still breathing- so get the fuck out of here before the maniac wakes up! Still, Vander wanted to ensure there were no alarming injuries on his body before he left. Maybe he just wanted to remind himself what he looked like without his face being screwed up in rageful vitriol. 

 

Vander gently palmed Silco’s shoulder, turning the man from his position parallel to the ground. As soon as Silco was flipped on his back, Vander caught an eyeful of his resting face- he pulled his hand back from Silco’s shoulder as if the fabric of Silco’s jacket had singed the skin on his palm. 

 

“Mhn…” Silco stretched like he was waking up from a sunny midday nap, instead of a knock-out from being thrown across timelines. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye, unobstructed robin’s egg blue irises blinked up at Vander for a moment before they shut again, his mouth opening in a yawn. 

 

Vander stared down at Silco- his clear face, no scar in sight- both eyes matching in their color of tropical seawater. His arched nose blushed at the tip and on the peaks of his cheekbones from the briskness of the cannery in the fall evening. 

 

Vander’s wretched heart ached, recalling why he first called Silco canary: his beautiful, angular face, striking in a way that inspired great works of art, in a way that made Vander feel like there was something worth fighting for. 

 

Vander loved Silco’s gravelly, teasing voice. He always carried an air of irony- his meager means contrasted by his regal beauty. His canary’s song was always the sweetest sound he had ever heard. 

 

His birdie piped up, a look of befuddled curiosity drawn in his dark, sharp eyebrows “Vander?” 

 

This brought Vander out of his haze. A hard blink and a quick look around solidified his mild horror. He breathed hard, suddenly feeling like his lungs weren’t working properly. He tried to reply, wheezing as his brain malfunctioned. It wasn’t possible. Silco (the right Silco) was just here- moments away from driving the dagger into his gut. 

 

Now, big blue questioning eyes looked up at him for an answer, “What-“ Silco looked around the cannery, “what’s going on?” 

 

Vander’s brain finally whirred into action. He grabbed Silco’s shoulders, now recognizing the worn leather that swallowed Silco’s frame as his old mining jacket— which Silco had practically lived in when they were together.

 

“I thought I lost you-“ Vander’s mouth moved without his brain’s permission, he pressed the small man into his chest and tried not to squeeze the life out of him as Vander held him close.

 

”I don’t understand—“ Silco’s voice still sounded far off. But his sweet chirps right next to Vander’s ear sent a blissful shiver down his spine, his breath ghosting on the shell of Vander’s ear.

 

“I don’t know either—I,” Vander said, pulling back. He returned to himself and wrenched his hands away, clasping them together, fighting the desire to keep his hands on Silco at all times. 

 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” Vander’s eyes moved across Silco’s body now that he was propped upright, looking for any mangled appendages or scrapes of flesh. All he noticed instead was the slight twist in Silco’s hips, the jutting bone under his skin peeking through in a sliver between the cargo pants low on his hips, and the t-shirt he wore, cropped slightly with the bottom seam being discarded. 

 

“I think I’m okay” he croaked, looking down at his body. Silco shrugged the coat off his shoulders, his arms still through the sleeves as he held it in the crooks of his elbows to reveal his pointy shoulders (the t-shirt sleeves had been chopped off, too).

 

Good Gods and Janna help him. Vander gulped, averting his eyes and mentally smacking himself. “Yeah, you look fine.” He stood abruptly, the ringing in his ears from the explosion finally dissipating into the groans and creaks of the warehouse. 

 

Silco looked around, then up at Vander, scoping up his legs, middle section, and torso, finally fixing his observant eyes on Vander’s face. The gaze made Vander warm under the collar of his jacket. 

 

“Your face-!” His icy clear eyes widened when they settled on Vander’s split lip and his black eye. 

 

“‘M alright-” Vander stared, wide-eyed and a bit crazed at the younger version of his ex-lover, a version of him that was untainted by the knowledge of Vander’s betrayal.

 

“You grew out your beard” Silco noted, cocking his head to the side.

 

Vander instinctively scratched his chin, and a small smile cracked through his uneasy confusion, “I did.” 

 

“Did you get bigger ?” Silco asked incredulously, looking up at Vander from where he remained on the floor. 

 

“Fatter, maybe” Vander chose to ignore the edge in Silco’s voice, looking around the warehouse. Silco’s gang seemed to have fled, but it would probably be in their best interest to find a way out. 

 

Silco made a noise, not quite a laugh, but it left his lips like one- Vander focused his attention back on Silco, who had his eyes trained on Vander’s belly now.

 

The heat under Vander’s collar rose to a heightened temperature, urging him to shuck the old brown jacket off and throw it over his shoulder. He held his hand out for Silco to take. 

 

“You’re so…different” Silco noted, seemingly to himself as he took Vander’s hand, the older man lifting him like he was feather-light. 

 

“You can say old” Vander cradled Silco’s lower back when he finally stood, his boots finding the right purchase to keep him upright. Vander was acutely aware that he was much too close; the right Silco would only let him get this close so he could gut him like game to stuff and mount on the wall. 

 

Vander swallowed that thought down thickly. 

 

Silco puffed out a laugh. Instead of pulling away, he rested his head on Vander’s chest, “You look like I should be calling you daddy. ” Vander’s eyes widened and he gently peeled Silco from his chest. 

 

He had forgotten how Silco had gotten his nickname from the lanes, ‘ That dirty little thing has a mouth on him ’ His jokes and stories were all vulgar and plain filthy, even in his youth. Silco’s jokes and innuendo made him blush as if he were a high-society Piltie maiden- Silco did always have a talent with words. 

 

Silco laughed at his own joke for a moment, trailing off when he noticed Vander’s face of discomfort. Silco’s face struck up with dread, “Oh, Janna- Vander, don’t tell me that you-“ 

 

“Dad! Did you see it? I did it! It worked!” The sound of Powder’s voice carried through the cannery. Vander pursed his lips, hearing her hurried steps clang on the grated stairs. 

 

“Fuckin ‘A” Silco murmured, watching as Powder bounded up to Vander- leaping up into his arms and giving him a tight squeeze around the neck. 

 

“You are in so much trouble, young lady. We’ll talk later, right now I’m just glad you’re safe.” Vander squeezed her and she giggled as his beard tickled her neck, ignoring the threat of reprimand when they got home. “And yes, it was very impressive, Powder. I told you that you’d get it eventually.” 

 

Vander set Powder down, turning back to Silco. Powder still held on to his hand, she hid behind his leg when she noticed Silco standing there. “Who’s that?” she gripped Vander’s pants. 

 

Vander looked down at Powder, then back to Silco, who stared in stunned and wide-eyed silence. “That’s your uncle Silco.” Vander gave Silco a look, asking him silently to play along. 

 

“I’ve never met him before, how could he be my uncle?” Powder released her grip on Vander’s pants, stepping out from behind him cautiously. 

 

“You have, you were just too little to remember,” Vander said to her softly, patting the top of her head. She crept forward, looking back at Vander for reassurance, “Go ahead- say hello, and then we’ll go collect your siblings” 

 

Silco’s eyes snapped back up from Powder, mouthing ‘ There’s more?’ Over her head at Vander, which caused a taut chuckle from Vander’s chest. 

 

“Hi, I’m Powder” she had her hands behind her back as she approached him. “It’s nice to meet you, Mister Silco.” She recited the script Vander had given her for introducing herself to adults. 

 

The pleasantries he taught the children were meant to keep them out of trouble with enforcers, but they served a larger purpose. Vander’s ankle biters were a troublesome bunch, but he’d be damned if anybody implied he didn’t raise them right. 

 

Silco glanced up at Vander for a moment, stuttering before crouching so that he was eye-to-eye with Powder, “Hi there- um, Powder, you can just call me Silco.” he laughed nervously; Vander doubted this Silco had ever been called Mister in his life.

 

Powder dropped her hands from behind her back and gazed up at him with wonder, “Vander says you knew me when I was little, do you remember? I don’t” 

 

Silco pursed his lips, sparing a glance at Vander again, “O-of course I remember, you’ve… grown so much, you’re practically a young woman” 

 

Vander remembered Silco swearing from Janna’s heaven to the pilt that he was terrible with children: he refused to even hold baby Vi for weeks, only relenting when Felicia begged him to hold her so she could take a picture of ‘her two favorite people in the world’ 

 

Vander had swung an arm around Connol, commenting that they must’ve been no better than a dog’s breakfast.

 

Silco talked to kids like they were adults, which was concerning sometimes- because he swore like a sailor and didn’t shy away from bloody details. But for the most part, children adored that. Powder, being ever-independent, glowed at the compliment. 

 

Vander heard a faint sound like the beating of metal on metal. He remembered Vi and the boys, downstairs in that cell Silco had held him in. In a panic he had told them to stay put- wrenching the warped door shut to keep the kids safe inside. 

 

Powder had started explaining her bomb device to an utterly lost Silco, who nodded along as if he was following. “Powder, let’s go- we still have to get your sister and-“

 

”Can we leave Mylo here?” 

 

“No. Now come along- stay close to us.” 

 

Vander started towards the stairs, momentarily assessing if they had been damaged in the blast before leading the way down to the first level. Powder stayed next to Silco, poking the patches on the hem of the jacket and asking what each meant. 

 

The sounds of Vi banging on the door beckoned closer as Vander weaved through overturned oil barrels and large wooden crates. 

 

“What about this one?” Vander glanced back, Powder was reaching up to point at the red heart-shaped patch sewn into the inside lining of the jacket. Silco opened the jacket further so she could get a better look. 

 

“It says: if lost, return to Silco ” He was looking at Vander when he said it, a coy smile on his face that made Vander’s stomach drop gravely. This is not good. 

 

He heard Violet’s hurried slams against the door growing louder, her panicked voice echoing through the warped metal made him pick up his pace into a light jog calling after her: 

 

“I’m here, Vi- we’re all okay.”

 

They reached the holding cell, the bent and malformed edge of the door that Vander had slammed shut created a difficult jam with an opening to the inside. “You kids alright?” Vander looked inside, Vi was close to the door, breathing heavily likely from slamming her entire weight into the metal for the past fifteen minutes. 

 

“The hell was that noise?” She stood on her tiptoes to peek through the gap. Vander saw Claggor and Milo rush forward to peek out as well.

 

”Yeah it sounded like something exploded. Did someone die?” Mylo was too short to be seen through the gap, but his tall hair moved animatedly in Vander’s vision.

 

”Nobody died- and watch that mouth, Violet. Back up from the door so I can get it open” Vander wiped his palms that had grown sweaty like a teenager from when Silco had touched him. He flexed his fingers and put one hand on the folded edge of the door, the other pulled at the seam edge that Vander had busted through. 

 

It took him a couple of tries, but with Vi pushing on the other end and Powder’s cheering “Pull, Pull!”, he was finally able to wrench the door from its stuck-in place. 

 

Vi surged forward and hugged Vander when the dividing metal had finally been vanquished. “I’m sorry” she mumbled into his chest. Vander, startled by the touch, patted Vi’s shoulder before hugging her back. 

 

Vi, usually stoic and hard-headed, wasn’t as affectionate as her younger sister. She didn’t hug or apologize often, keeping her head high and indignantly refusing any consolation or apologies. Vander related to her a little too closely, he understood the need to keep up appearances as the self-reliant brute force. 

 

“S’alright Vi, you were only trying to help. You did quite good; For a moment there I thought you might fight ‘em all off on your own” Vander chuckled 

 

“Boys? You okay?” He asked, keeping Vi pressed into him for as long as she wanted to be held. 

 

“Yeah, except my balls hurt. That old lady kicked me directly in the balls. What’s that about?” Mylo emerged tentatively, seemingly looking for the old lady as if she was lurking around the corner and waiting to do it again. 

 

Claggor shuffled after him, rolling his eyes yet keeping silent at Mylo’s dramatic pantomime of holding his crotch. Vander clapped a hand on Claggor’s shoulder as he walked past.

 

“That’s gross!” Powder called from where she stood in front of Silco, who lingered in the background- holding the jacket tightly around himself while his eyes darted wildly across each child, blinking hard with his brow furrowed.

 

Vi scrambled at the sound of Powder’s voice, whipping around “The fuck are you doing here, Pow- I told you to stay at home!” Confusion bloomed across her features when she noticed Silco. “Who the hell is that?” 

 

Vander flicked the lobe of her ear, earning a hiss as she cupped a hand over it “Language. I told you all to stay home, so let’s call it even. This is…” Vander trailed off, noticing how Vi was putting together vague recognitions from her childhood. 

 

“This is our uncle Silco, duh” Powder said, tugging Silco’s hand so he stuttered forward, nerves apparent in his shuffling feet. 

 

Vi blinked at Silco, turning to Vander, certainly confused and almost upset “I thought uncle Silco-” 

 

“-Not now, Violet. We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we need to get home.” Vander hurried, shuffling Violet and the other kids to a single file out of the door. Silco didn’t move from his spot on the concrete. 

 

The older kids were murmuring to each other, ignoring Powder’s pulling on their clothes and loud questions of “What are we whispering about?” 

 

Vander touched Silco’s arm, and he snapped his attention from the floor to Vander, smiling tersely, far-off and hazy. “You alright, Sil?” 

 

“Hm? Um…yeah, Vander. I’m just- heh- I’m really confused…” Silco brought a trembling hand up to move a piece of hair behind his ear “I’m really… kinda dizzy, too” he said faintly, tilting his head up to look up at Vander. 

 

Noticing a small bead of blood emerge from Silco’s nose, Vander’s eyes widened in a panic, opening his mouth to say something before Silco’s eyes fluttered and rolled back. 

 

Silco made a noise, faltering on his feet and fainting into Vander’s arms. 

 

“Shit” Vander caught Silco around the waist, easily shouldering his weight as Powder turned around, noticing the two adults lagging. 

 

She gasped, “He’s bleeding!”, catching the attention of the other kids who rushed over to observe Vander checking Silco’s pulse and the steady puff of his chest. 

 

“Alright, lot. Back up— he’s fine, just… must’ve hit his head is all” Vander thought that warping through time was a more likely causation than a simple knock to the dome. 

 

Vander scooped Silco up gently, carrying him bridal style against his chest as they made their trek home in the dark across the fissures. He was in shock, and he was tired. His ass and knees hurt from being knocked to the ground so many times in the past few hours, causing an aching creak in his joints every time he took a step. 

 

Silco was alive, a version of Silco that didn’t hate his guts was in his arms, breathing softly as his dark eyelashes fluttered across the tops of his cheeks. Vander’s head swam, and if he weren’t so determined to get the kids home safe and Silco tucked into a comfortable bed, he might’ve collapsed and fainted himself. 

 

When he did finally shoulder the door to The Drop open, he watched as the kids filed towards the basement while he made his way to the stairs- set on getting Silco somewhere comfortable to sleep.

 

“Don’t even think about sneaking off- sit. All of you. I’ll be back down in a moment, we need a family meeting” Vander said stern but quiet. The kids grumbled and scraped the barstools back. Vi slumped against the bar. 

 

He carried Silco up the stairs, opening his bedroom door with a soft creak into the cold and dark dwelling. Vander held Silco up with one hand, peeling the jacket off his shoulders, leaving him in the sleeveless t-shirt and his cargo pants. 

 

Vander set him on the bed, a vision of a fairytale princess under a witch’s spell. Silco’s arm draped over his chest and his flushed face turned to the side, wisps of dark hair floating across his porcelain cheek. 

 

Vander’s breath caught in his throat, he stared at every inch of Silco’s body, each arch and curve of him that had been committed to memory and commemorated in the halls of his consciousness. The sight of him, sleeping soundly on his side of the bed, was everything he had ever wished for since the bridge. 

 

This room that they used to share together- stained with the memories of their youth that Vander couldn’t bring himself to scrub away- it mocked him, Silco was a manifestation of everything he gave up that day- everything he no longer deserved. 

 

He shook his head, tucking his overgrown and unwashed hair behind his ear he knelt to untie the heavy black boots on Silco’s feet, his eyes wandering upwards across the militant green of his pants. 

 

He unclasped the button on the front, looking to discard the pants so Silco might sleep more comfortably. However, only two shakes down Silco’s unconscious hips, and the dust of dark hair out of the popped open fly, arousal twitched in Vander’s trousers, smacking against him like a wave of nausea. 

 

He stopped, turning swiftly away and starting towards the door. He turned around again, grabbing the quilt from under Silco to drape it over his snoozing fame. 

 

Once he shut the door, Vander rested his head on the cool wood- his brain hurting with contemplation and his body sagging with exhaustion. His stomach turned sickly, churning with dread at this impossible situation. 

 

II 

 

Vander had stayed up much longer than he had hoped for. Bone-tired and aching from being hit, kicked, and thrashed around by Silco and his goons earlier in the evening. All of the activity of the day had set him up for sore muscles and disoriented thoughts. 

 

He hoped that he might melt into sleep after his conversation with Vi, holding her up after dismissing the rest of the kids to bed (following a sufficient fatherly scolding)- which was much less a conversation and more of her asking questions that Vander didn’t have the answers to: 

 

“I thought you said Uncle Silco died ” 

 

“I thought he might’ve been— didn’t know for sure” Vander knew— he knew that the ‘Eye of Zaun’ was possibly more on the nose than ‘Hound of the Underground’. And he knew that there was only one person who could pull themselves out of the pilt half- blind and still have a full drug enterprise running within the decade, fueled by spite alone. 

 

Vander’s plan for peace had left something to be desired, some viscous independence that filled the chasm of Vander’s empty placating. It dawned on him like a brick to the head the second he looked into the passionate eyes of his ex-partner again. 

 

“So, what?… he’s just— evil now?” Vi seemed genuinely curious, shifting her weight and staring at the basement door where her siblings were sleeping soundly below. 

 

If he’s evil now, it’s only because I made him that way. 

 

A list of statements filed away under ‘thought but not said’, Vander sighed “It’s not that simple, Vi- I wish it could be boiled down to good and evil” 

 

Vander clamped a hand around the cuff on his forearm, worrying at the leather “Things aren’t black-and-white like that. It’s gray, all of it’s gray.” 

 

Vi sputtered, “He kidnapped you!” 

 

“He had his reasons,” Vander grunted, a signal that there would be no elaborations on his statements, a silent ‘trust me, you don’t want to know’ 

 

Vi accepted this, as she always did, with the light bobbing of her head as she studied Vander’s expression for any clues. “But… he isn’t-“ Vi pointed at the ceiling “ him - right?” 

 

Vander let the silence tingle around the uncomfortable squash in his stomach when he remembered that the younger version of Silco was sleeping upstairs in his bed. “No- I mean, yes.” Vander gestured vaguely upwards. “I know him a lot better than I know whoever it was that took me.” 

 

Vander had to consolidate the two into separate beings to appease his guilt and rationalize bringing Silco home with him. Self-loathing roiled under his skin. 

 

Vi hummed, yawning and shrugging, “Are you okay?” 

 

Vander cracked a weak smile- the eldest, an ever-intuitive and selflessly caring little girl- Vi was every bit of himself that he wished he could be if he had a ‘do over’ button. 

 

“You don’t have to worry about me, pinky— I can take a punch” Vander did feel that his eye was swollen, and his rotator cuff creaked when he rolled his shoulders back— he was older, and he felt the ache a touch heavier than he used to, but it was nowhere near the worst he’d been beaten. 

 

Vi rolled her eyes. “It must be strange,” she pointed at the ceiling again, “having him back” clearly indicating that she wasn’t asking if Vander was okay physically . 

 

Vander pursed his lips, sniffing and glaring at the floor—he shrugged as if he didn’t know what she was talking about. “It is strange— he’s travelled through time and landed in the future” 

 

Vander wasn’t dense— okay, he frequently could be— but he understood that Vi wasn’t talking about the obvious oddity of young Silco’s appearance. He ignored it anyway, intentionally redirecting so he wouldn’t have to explain how truly pitted he felt. He was rough and raw as if the top layer of his skin had been removed, sensitive and burning. However, that was the last thing that he needed to share with his daughter. 

 

To show her his weakness would be shattering the image of infallible strength and safety he hoped to project on his children, no matter how dishonest it may be. 

 

Vander had a knack for dishonesty, it seemed. 

 

Even when he settled on the couch, hulking body hanging a quarter way off the cushion as he shut his eyes and gathered the napkin of a throw-blanket closer to his chin- he was extremely aware of Silco’s presence in the room. His even breathing, the restless rustling bookended by intelligible sleep-talking. 

 

Vander felt sick, like an evil, rotten person for feeling so content just to listen to the young man breathe. After all he’d done to hurt him, to push him away, and worst of all try and forget him. 

 

Vander turned his face to the glowing embers of the dying flame in the fireplace- dry heat brushing his cheeks and casting the room in a flickering dream-like glow. He continued to stare, listening to Silco’s snores until one of his sleepy murmurs turned into actual words. 

 

“Vander?” 

 

He stilled, unsure if he should pretend to be asleep or run to his side like his instincts were telling him to. The rusty metal bed frame creaked as Silco sat up, rubbing his eyes. Vander watched his duskily illuminated silhouette blink blearily as he focused on Vander. 

 

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?” He asked in a husky, fragile voice, weighed down by sleep. It tugged at Vander’s chest, a mist tingling in his tear ducts. Vander sat up then, unsure of what to say as he took in the sight of Silco head-on. 

 

Vander had to keep repeating to himself that this was real, and not just a desperate illusion he created in his guilt-addled and lonely mind as Silco stood from the bed, shuffling over to the couch and dumping himself to sit on Vander’s legs.

 

Suddenly overwhelmed by his presence, the way Silco’s bony backside fit so easily into Vander’s lap, the way he smelled: like hard work and earthy grit, a wisp of something sweet under all of his layers. He was real and staring expectantly at Vander for an answer.

 

”I wouldn’t wanna disturb you, dove” The nickname slipped from Vander’s lips before he could think better of it, fitting around his tongue like something that didn’t belong to him anymore— strange, indulgent. 

 

Silco hardly blinked, just cast his eyes back to the mattress, then to Vander again “plenty of room” Silco shrugged, leaning to rest his forehead against Vander’s shoulder, winding his arms around his neck.

 

Vander’s hands twitched to brace Silco’s waist, but ultimately remained at his sides. Silco’s head popped up, eyebrows creasing in confusion “What’s wrong?” He grabbed one of Vander’s paws and placed his palm on the small of his back. Vander’s mouth twitched in a frown. 

 

“I have some things I need to tell you, Sil— I just don’t know if now’s the right time. You should sleep.” 

 

Silco sat upright in Vander’s lap, retracting his arms and crossing them over his chest “Wide awake, now” he arched a brow, staring at Vander with tentative alarm, bracing for foul news.

 

He averted his eyes, his hand rubbing over his mouth contemplatively- well, it’s not like he was getting much shut-eye, anyway. Vander gently placed Silco on the couch cushion next to his feet, carefully standing with the creak of his bones and the soft shuffle of the carpet underneath him. 

 

Silco shifted in his seat, and Vander could feel those intense eyes following him as he paced in front of the fireplace, the smoldering embers pricking his bare calves with warmth. 

 

“You might notice I’m a little hesitant around you— It’s only because… I haven’t seen you in a long time, Silco.” Vander rushed it out, chewing on the inside of his cheek and not looking up to see Silco’s reaction. 

 

“What does that mean?” Silco still had his arms crossed, and he sounded lightly offended. 

 

Vander screwed his eyes shut, the admission burning like something toxic on his tongue “There was an accident— on the bridge to Piltover.” He swallowed, licking the dry skin on his lips and blinking hard. 

 

“We organized a protest. The lanes were angry, there had just been two kids killed at a councillor's factory— makin’ enforcer’s helmets, no less” Vander scoffed at the memory. He knew the mother of one of the kids who had been killed— he was her last remaining son, the other two of hers catching gray-lung from the fissure-shack they lived in, passing away before they each could turn ten. 

 

The kid was eleven when he was crushed between two heavy metal compressors. 

 

Silco drew his knees to his chest, his already large eyes gone wide in anticipation of the story. “People were pissed at the Council, we were all so angry and we thought that if… if we didn’t do something then, Piltover might crush us under their boot and stomp out our plans for revolution” 

 

“You and Felicia were there at the frontlines- Some enforcer knocked Fel in the back of the head with their rifle, you threw somethin’ into the crowd of ‘em, trying to protect her.” Vander stopped his pacing and his voice grew quiet “They opened fire and killed her, Connol too” 

 

Silco gasped, the sound of his hand muffling a pained “ No… ” 

 

Vander talked over the light sniffle of Silco’s cries- finding them nearly unbearable to listen to after all of these years. 

 

“The kids. The girls- They’re hers and Connol’s- I take care of them now. Mylo’s mom was a friend of ours, Claudia- That little cart runner from the mines. Gray took her legs, and she stayed here for a couple of months until she passed away. Claggor, the big guy‘s the only one who’s my flesh and blood. Cousin Ratchet’s kid- he fucked off and died” Vander began to mumble towards the end of his explanation. 

 

“She can’t be dead-“ Silco finally piped up “fuck- it was my fault wasn’t it?” 

 

“No!” Vander snapped his head up, voice a little louder than intended. “No.” He corrected in an even tone, catching Silco’s bewildered and saddened expression. “It wasn’t your fault- don’t ever think that” he breathed, a stabbing pain in his lungs.

 

 “I should have been there, I promised you I’d always be there-“ his breath caught in his throat, the violent shards of memory flitting in wild firelight. 

 

“Instead I-“ Vander was stopped by the soft look in Silco’s eyes, so forgiving and tempting him to give in to his shame and hide the truth forever. He stuttered over his words. 

 

“I died, too— didn’t I?” Silco said, rough and weak from behind his knees as he curled up in a ball on the couch. Vander blinked, his admission dying somewhere between his insistence to be truthful and actually getting the words out. 

 

Of course, Silco could comprehend his death before he would think of Vander’s betraying him. It was a sick knife to the gut that twisted with each pained glance from Silco. 

 

But Vander was weak, and he wanted comfort. 

 

All he wanted was for Silco to hold him and tell him everything was okay. 

 

“Yes” he choked “I lost both of you that day” Vander made his way over to the couch and sat down next to Silco, his palm easing across the chasm between the cushions to grab Silco’s hand “I wish I could fix it— I wish I could change what happened more than anything ” 

 

Silco had fresh, wet streaks down his face, his eyes red and watery. His mouth twitched in a sad smile, scooting closer to Vander to lean against him. Vander moved his arm around Silco like he might break if Vander applied too much pressure, his arms barely brushing Silco’s clothes. 

 

“I’m sorry, Silco” 

 

“It’s alright” he shushed him, sniffing away tears “I’m here now” Silco moved his chilly hands across Vander’s dragging his fingertips across the map of his palm. 

 

“You don’t have to go it alone anymore, Van— I promise you, I’m here” 

 

III

 

Vander awoke with a sore back and a stiff neck, he could tell by the brightness of the haze glowing through the bedroom curtains that he’d slept later than he usually liked to. 

 

In the mornings, he would typically get up at dawn, check the shipment schedule— sometimes waking Claggor and Vi to help him down at the docks and collect the shipment from Bilgewater, he might grab them breakfast from the food stalls by the docks or make them wait until they arrived home with the heavy crates of booze and straw. 

 

Meals were difficult with the kids— his youngest two were particularly thorns when it came to feeding: if there was something Mylo liked and requested, Powder refused to eat it. If there was something that Powder wanted to eat, Mylo would complain to no end and criticize the dish between mouthfuls. 

 

Most meals came down to ‘eat it or starve, little maniacs’ 

 

So when Vander smelled food— good food, with no trace scents of burning-  he sat up, groaning and wincing at the crick in his neck when he placed his feet on the floor, pushing himself off the couch. 

 

Vander dressed himself while paying more attention to the sounds coming from downstairs— his ears perking for any sign of bickering or fisticuffs.

 

Instead, all he heard was laughter and the hums of unintelligible conversation between his children’s overlapping questions and Silco’s unmistakable rumbling tones, obliged to answer. 

 

“And then— we were jumping back off the balcony, Vi thought we had killed the Piltie guy, but it turns out he was okay” Powder stated, mouth full of her breakfast. Vander could hear her swiveling restlessly in the barstool as he stood at the top of the stairs, listening to their conversation before descending to the first level.

 

”Powder— you ought’a remember what I told you about tellin’ folks of your trip to Piltover.” He called as he creaked down the stairs, watching the kids still their movements as they ate, lined up like little ducks in a row at the bar. 

 

Mylo scoffed, flicking one of Powder’s braids “Yeah, blabbermouth. You’re gonna get us in trouble, again ”

 

Vi rolled her eyes “Leave her alone” she shoved a helping of her breakfast into her mouth, wiping her lips on her sleeve and talking with her mouth full “You were jus’ braghin ‘bout your—“ she swallowed “lock picking skills ” 

 

“Yeah, even though I was the one who got the door open in the first place” Claggor chimed in, overlapping the arguments Vander noticed Silco’s laugh as he slinked around the bar top. 

 

“I was listenin’ to you guys get along while I was upstairs, why do you lot always have to bicker when I come around—“ 

 

They continued to fight, Powder stood on the footrest of the stool to get the physical high ground as Silco moved past her, carrying a cup of coffee that was still generating a healthy amount of steam. 

 

He offered it to Vander, making the older man’s heart melt a bit. He tried not to think too hard about the gesture— It was just a cup of coffee, after all— not everything Silco did reflected what he could’ve had all along (the caring, sweet partner that Silco was). Vander accepted the cup, tuning out his arguing children “Thanks, canary” he mumbled softly, embarrassingly emotional over the simple act of thoughtfulness. 

 

Silco shrugged “It’s no trouble- I figured you needed it after yesterday.” Silco leaned in and pressed a short kiss to Vander’s cheek, causing him to flush red and grip tightly onto the handle of the mug, the blood rushing in his ears like the sound of a thousand rounds of applause. 

 

He hadn’t even noticed that the kids had stopped their squabbling, Vander staring wide-eyed and caught in the crystal pools of Silco’s eyes. 

 

“…eewww..” Mylo groaned, nose scrunching in disgust as all of the other kids sat flabbergasted and staring at the two men. Vander cleared his throat, stepping back to put that dreadful space between them again. He tipped the mug of coffee at Silco again in thanks- his lips pulled in a tight, awkward smile. 

 

“Right then, mind your business, lot” Vander nodded at their plates, taking a long sip of coffee as Silco fidgeted in front of him uncomfortably. 

 

“Sorry,” he whispered “force of habit, I guess” Vander hadn’t seen Silco embarrassed often, but my— did he look cute when he was bashful. Doe eyes under lidded lashes, blotchy color on his cheeks, and the red tips of his ears. 

 

“S’alright, Sil” Vander shook his head, trying to ignore the wavering gooseflesh on his arms. The kids continued to murmur among themselves as Vander made his way around the bar, excusing himself to the kitchen to see what Silco had made for breakfast (certainly not to escape his children’s tracking eyes). 

 

When the kitchen door swung closed, he heard the kids begin to murmur again as he looked over the mess Silco had made (multiple sullied bowls, water and egg residue on the floor, leftover vegetables on the cutting board). The pan on the old woodfire stove was full of a hearty scramble of eggs, vegetables, and some shrimp that Vander must’ve had left over from Jericho’s in the icebox. 

 

Vander’s stomach rumbled, pleased with the idea of eating without having to make anything himself. His ears prickled at the sound of Silco’s hushed voice on the other side of the door. 

 

“Does he ever… talk about me?” 

 

The kids murmured among themselves, “No.” 

 

“… ever since that night that our parents died- that was the last time we saw you, too. Vander hasn’t talked about you at all after that.” He heard Vi’s remark, casting his eyes to the floor. 

 

There was nothing to say about Silco to the kids. Powder hardly remembered him, and Vi’s memories were spotty at best. They never asked, and they were grieving the loss of their parents more than anything. What was he supposed to say? ‘By the way, kids— I tried to kill the only person who cared about your mother as much as we did.’? It was infinitely easier to believe that his grief over losing Silco and his guilt for being the catalyst of it all simply didn’t exist. It was easier to pretend like the life he had been living before the bridge was nothing but a pleasant dream that he had sadly woken up from, alone and unable to escape his reality. 

 

Vander returned with a bowl of his own breakfast just as the kids seemed to finish up. He placed his breakfast on the bartop, watching the children push their stools back with synchronizing scrapes against the wood flooring. 

 

“Aye- where d’you think you’re off to?” Vander used a particularly stern tone of voice, tacked with the staple rhetorical question. 

 

“We wanted to go out to the banks with Silco” Mylo explained, walking backwards towards the bar’s exit, the other kids nodding along in corroboration. 

 

“Not until you’ve cleared your messes- either way, I’ve got things for you lot to do before opening tonight. I can’t have you runnin’ off before they’re done.” Vander crossed his arms sternly over his chest, shrugging in a paternal ‘that’s the way it is’ manner. 

 

Vi rolled her eyes but began collecting the plates from the bar regardless. Claggor was behind her, gathering the mismatched mugs and glasses of water and milk that left condensation rings on the bartop. 

 

“That’s not fair- Powder never has to do anything.” Mylo frowned, placing his hands on his hips and looking menacingly at the young girl, still in her pajamas and playing with her stuffed bunny. 

 

“Now, you know that ain’t true-” Vander eased, finally taking a bite of his breakfast. 

 

“It is! Just because she’s little doesn’t mean she can’t wash dishes!” 

 

“She can’t reach the sink, Mylo” Claggor gruffed, brushing past him with the stack of cups to reach the kitchen. 

 

Vander shook his head fondly “And look, neither of you has to do anything, because you just stand there and complain about ‘er while Pinky and Claggor do all the work” 

 

Mylo huffed and crossed his arms, looking at the little blue-haired girl with ire as she stuck her tongue out at him and held her bunny’s hand up “he’s giving you the finger.” 

 

“Powder, don’t be rude. Go an’ get dressed, I’m sending you and your sister to pick up a package for me from the docks.” Vander moved past Silco, leaning up against the edge of the bar— mumbling a curt and flushed “sorry” when their fronts brushed together. He checked the clipboard sandwiched between the cash till and the wall— checking off the weekday shipment. 

 

“Mylo I’ll need you to help Claggor with the kitchen— I want it clean before dinner time— after that, you’re free to run amok.” 

 

Vander reached over the bar to tug at Vi’s sleeve as she was headed towards the door, a freshly combed and presentable Powder in tow “Pinky, I need you to keep your head down— and be watchful. Lots of enforcers down by the docks, remember, we’re still waiting for this whole Plitover problem to blow over. Hide that mop of yours, alright?” 

 

Vander ruffled Vi’s hair, her stoic look of understanding breaking into an annoyed grunt hiding a suppressed smile. She pulled the hood of her vest over her hair, grabbed a pageboy cap from the hat rack by the door and fit it on Powder’s head. 

 

“Good luck girls” Vander called after them before the door shut, the forms of their bodies moving away from the glass border of the front entrance. Vander sighed and set the clipboard down, distantly listening to Mylo complaining to Claggor in the other room. 

 

He glanced at Silco, who was still leaning against the bartop, he was wearing the same thing he had donned yesterday, mining jacket buttoned to his chest to warm him from the drafty downstairs of the bar. He sipped his mug of coffee in silence, sparing sideways looks at Vander from the end of the bar. 

 

“The children told me about what happened in Piltover” Silco finally spoke, filling the uncomfortable silence between them with even more uncomfortable conversation. 

 

Vander pinched the bridge of his nose “I heard.” 

 

“I see not much has changed, then- I suppose talks of revolution have stunted?” Silco raised an eyebrow and set his mug down, leisurely stepping towards where Vander stood. 

 

He clicked his tongue, unable to meet Silco’s eye as he flipped through the previous week’s ledger, a mess of miscalculations and the chicken scratch of his handwriting. Even though he had reviewed it only a few days prior, he couldn’t quite make out some of the smaller numbers in the margin- Janna, he needed some reading glasses. 

 

“Look, Silco- It’s complicated-”

 

”They say you struck up a deal with enforcers?” 

 

Well, shit “I needed to keep the kids safe.” He gruffed as Silco wandered closer, a challenging glint of annoyance on his features. 

 

“And didn’t that work out perfectly ” 

 

Vander felt that last bit of remaining resentment towards Silco flare up in his throat- Silco had left him with the children that they’d both promised to protect, and though Vander knew it was entirely his fault that Silco decided to flee, it still stung that Silco disapproved of his parenting methods. 

 

“I’m not even half of the leader you were” Vander swallowed down his anger, shutting his eyes and breathing heavy through his nose, he dropped the ledger on the counter with a thump. 

 

He could feel Silco slide up next to him “The lanes only ever listened to you, I just came up with the slogans” Silco huffed, tugging at Vander’s arm in an attempt to get him to look in his direction. 

 

“That’s not true- It was all you, Sil. When I lost you I just… I couldn’t kid myself anymore. I had to do what was best for them” He nodded towards the kitchen door as Mylo’s complaints over cleaning echoed through the wood.  

 

“You know that’s a load of crap.” He scoffed, pushing at Vander’s chest “Vi’s just like you, I can tell. She wants to pummel the world to bits just like you did” Silco’s fingernails dragged up Vander’s forearm “She wants to help- if you don’t tell her how to use that energy wisely, she’ll just go off biting more than she can chew with or without your support”

 

“You got all that just from making them breakfast?” Vander cast a sideways glance down at Silco who was still tracing those sharp little fingers through the fur on his forearms. 

 

Silco shrugged “didn’t even have to pry” he retracted his hand “Cut off that deal with the chief— or you’ll suffocate Zaun, you know it to be true” Silco held his gaze in that entrancing way he could when he wanted something. All Vander wanted to do was nod dumbly and agree whenever Silco hooded his eyes like that. 

 

“I wish it were that simple— there’s a lot tied up in this deal, for the sake of the undercity—“ 

 

“We’ll figure it out. Just give me the contract, I’m sure I could find a loophole somewhere. Topside hardly thinks we’re literate, I doubt that their finest would bother to draw up an airtight contract for a sumprat” Silco trailed his hands up Vander’s chest, using that familiarly convincing tone, soft around the edges. 

 

Vander shivered, feeling the warmth of Silco’s palms through the fabric of his shirt “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have you take a look at it…” Silco hooked his arms around Vander’s neck, the fronts of their bodies flush together as he gazed down into Silco’s pleased expression. 

 

“Good, after that we can recirculate some old fliers— get the lanes back in fighting shape.” 

 

Before Vander could protest, the bell above the door chimed with entry and Vander stood caught and breathless with his hands at Silco’s hips. 

 

“Sorry, Vander! I was just coming by to see if I could pawn Ekko off on ya while I run to the market— I didn’t think you’d have company—“ Benzo stood in the doorway as Vander peeled Silco off of him, standing with his large hands on Ekko’s shoulders. He squinted, something eerily familiar struck him about the lanky, dark-haired little thing Vander had been snuggling. 

 

“My Gods— Silco ?” His eyes darted wildly across the young man, trying to make sense of his youthful appearance. 

 

“You should step inside, Benzo…” Vander cleared his throat and glanced at Silco “I’d be happy to watch Ekko. However, um— some things we should discuss first.”

 

***

 

“Number three B, If you really wanna get this dance party going” Silco handed Powder a coin before she bobbed over to the jukebox. Silco finished his drink and stood from his seat. 

 

“Vander says we’re not supposed to touch the third slot.” Vi chimed from the booth, laying out playing cards for her game of Go Fish. Silco grinned when the beginning guitar chords resonated lazily through the speakers after the clanking and humming of the old machine’s efforts to get the record on the player. 

 

“That’s because it’s my favorite” he took Powder’s offered hand, twirling her in the small area in front of the jukebox clear of any tables or chairs. Vander was slicing citrus for his garnishes, sorting them into small bowls as the usual sparse weeknight crowd crept in after opening. 

 

Benzo sipped on his beer, a frown pressed tight between his lips as he cast sideways half-glances at Silco and the kids. Silco and Powder were dancing, the rest content to sit and watch between turns of their card game, Ekko squirmed anxiously in his chair, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched Silco and Powder giggle and dance in front of the jukebox. 

 

It had been a long time since Vander had heard this song- and Silco was right, he had banned its playing because the fond memories of out were sometimes too much to bear alone. 

 

“Mighty lot of trouble you’ll be neck-deep in now” Benzo murmured, after the long stretch of silence since Vander had explained their peculiar situation to him hours ago. 

 

“M not following” Vander shrugged, peeling a third orange in a spiral pattern. 

 

“Silco was always trouble, for you— for me. For Fel and Connol” Benzo mumbled around their names, muffling the last against his mug. 

 

Vander sighed and set the knife down “I understand you don’t approve. ‘S a good thing you're not my mother. Though you sure do act like it, sometimes” There was a warning inflection in his voice, peering up from the zested lemons on the cutting board. 

 

“Look, Vander- you’re playing with fire keeping him around, and you know it. I don’t imagine you’ve told him the truth about what happened— n’fact he probably’d be wringin’ your neck if he knew” Benzo jutted a thumb to the dancing duo, stumbling over their feet and laughing as they spun in circles. 

 

Vander was silent for a contemplative moment, slicing wedges out of lime halves “I’m waiting for the right moment” he gruffed, shoulders shrugging in feigned nonchalance. 

 

Benzo bitterly laughed against his mug, shaking his head “Yeah, good luck with that one” he set the mug down and leaned closer “You can’t possibly be foolin’ yourself into thinking this is some sort of do-over for the two of you—“ 

 

“Benzo, I’ve changed a lot since that day. Some ways for the better and others for the worse.” Vander lowered his voice to a whisper, his knuckles bunched against the wood of the bartop. “All I know is that missin’ him has been slowly killing me— and I hadn’t even realized until I saw him again” 

 

Benzo chortled, short and in a state of shocked disbelief “Yeah alright, you just miss havin’ your bed warmed.”

 

Vander resisted the urge to drive the kitchen knife into the cutting board, gritting his teeth “It’s not like that at all. I realized it when I saw the right Silco- when he first looked me in the eye with that… burnin’ pupil he’s got—covered in that nasty scar I gave him…” he lost track of the point of his statement, thinking of the fear Silco had inspired in his gut- something primal clawing at his insides that made him bitterly rethink all of the choices he had made since that day on the bridge. 

 

“Janna, Vander- you’re some type of messed up I don’t even know how to comprehend” 

 

Vander ignored the jab— he was probably right, and there was no reason to refute what was an accurate reading; he had been feeling like his life was messed up beyond repair lately. 

 

Vander shrugged, glancing over to the leather-bound ledger under the bar. “Say, you don’t happen to have any spare specs lyin’ around do you?” 

 

***

 

After the kids were put to bed, Vander begrudgingly made his way up to the office— dreading dealing with the ledger all by himself like always. It was unfortunately the worst way to wind down for the night— a headache over reading the small print with his strained eyes, and a blooming cloud of anxiety over his finances. 

 

He turned on the little green desk lamp, illuminating the room in a sickly sea-glass glow. There were crates in the corner, boxes of contraband medicine that Vander kept hidden in the office for it to be sold or used if one of the kids got sick. Stacks of cardboard boxes acting as file cabinets stacked on top of each other in small towers, the disorganized mess of the place made Vander slouch mindlessly in on himself.

 

Opening the ledger to the bookmarked page- Vander pawed at his shirt pocket, pulling out the narrow square-framed eyeglasses that Benzo had given him. They were a bit too small for his face, and they squeezed behind his ears uncomfortably— but at least Vander could accurately read the numbers on the page without squinting. 

 

A meek knock sounded at the door, the half-shut oak creaking open with a groan. Silco poked around the door as Vander scrambled to shove the glasses off his face, needlessly embarrassed as he fumbled over his words. 

 

“Silco!” He said a touch too loud for such a late hour “I thought you had gone to bed already” Vander cleared his throat and covered the glasses on the desk with his hand. 

 

Silco wandered into the office, taking in the state of disarray. He had found some of his old clothes in a trunk in Vander’s closet. The old, mothball-scented sweater hung loose around his neck, and the greyed cotton sleep-pants shifted on his hipbones “I couldn’t relax. My mind is restless again” He gave a short laugh, turning back to Vander “I was wondering about that contract we talked about earlier— I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep until I read it.” 

 

Vander blinked at him for a moment, Vander remembered Silco’s restless nights— working through the wee hours in the morning to get pages of his manifesto finished, tossing and turning in bed as his mind chased itself in circles. 

 

“Yeah,” Vander murmured “Yeah, I think I’ve got it around here somewhere” He stood from the squeaky old chair, shuffling over to one of the box-towers and looking at the dates haphazardly labeled in black marker on the sides. 

 

“Gods, Vander— don’t tell me you don’t know where it is” Silco cocked his hip, crossing his arms and tapping his finger against his forearm. 

 

Vander waved a dismissive hand in his direction as he opened up one of the boxes “I know where it is! Well, at least I’m pretty sure…” 

 

Vander eventually procured the contract. It was fairly brief, only three pages long and Grayson had explained to him that it was mostly Piltie legal jargon, a formality for her higher-ups. 

 

Vander hardly remembers reading it before signing the dotted line next to the council’s seal. 

 

“See, right here. Just where I thought it would be” Vander turned back to Silco, who was leaning over the desk and eyeing the ledger. 

 

”I didn’t know you needed glasses” He accepted the contract, flipping through the paper-clipped pages. Vander pursed his lips, sliding back in the chair and grabbing them off the desk. 

 

“Yeah, that’s a new development” he gruffed, trying to focus back on the ledger as Silco hummed, reading the first page of the wordy contract. Vander slipped the glasses on, a surprised gasp tugged through his nose when Silco sat himself down across Vander’s lap. 

 

“Can you scoot back a tad? I need to see this under the light.” He mumbled, glancing back to Vander who was stunned silent and digging his fingernails into the leather armrest. Nonetheless, he obliged, shoving the chair back so Silco could sit his legs under the desk, using Vander’s knee as his stool. 

 

He made a small pleased noise as his finger made it halfway down the first page. Uncapping Vander’s pen with his teeth, he underlined something- followed by a few quick scribbles. 

 

It went on like that for a moment, Vander sitting unnaturally still as his eyes darted restlessly across the arch of Silco’s back and the hunch of his shoulders. He focused on the juncture of skin that attached Silco’s shoulder to his neck, exposed to the drafty air by the loose hem of the sweater. That sweet, faint mole at the base of his hairline that Vander desperately wanted to get his mouth on. 

 

“See!” Silco flung himself away from the desk, his back landing solidly against Vander’s chest. He pointed to the first underlined word on the opening page “They completely messed up the names of the harbor district’s neighborhoods— in fact, the fissures aren’t even mentioned at all. They didn’t even include a map here, the whole thing’s bullshit” 

 

Silco turned his head, beaming at Vander with that jackknife smile of his. “If everything gets played correctly— we could win territory rights with this, we’d just have to win the war, first” Silco nodded contemplatively. 

 

Vander’s breath caught in his throat, the words coming from Silco’s mouth so quickly and so easily that it made his head spin. “War?” He offered dumbly, his hands still itching to brace around Silco’s middle. 

 

Silco rolled his eyes “Look, Van. Just because I was gone doesn’t change the fact that this conflict is inevitable. You can’t let what happened in the past scare you into complacency” and then Silco’s hand was on his jaw, their faces mere inches apart as he spoke in hushed tones. “You can’t take it lying down, Vander— It’s the last thing Fel would’ve wanted. I need you to find that fight that I know is in there— okay?” 

 

“Okay…You’re right. I’ll find it— I swear” Vander mumbled, breath coming fast as Silco’s other hand pressed against his chest. 

 

“Good” That lazy smile tugged at his lips as his body shuffled in Vander’s lap, burrowing closer to his warmth. He sighed, tossing his legs over Vander’s other knee and moving his fingers across the bulge of Vander’s arms. 

 

Vander could hear his heart pounding in his ears as he remained rigidly still, afraid that one slight movement might cause Silco to get up and leave. 

 

“You wanna fuck? I’m still kinda wired” Silco asked casually as he picked a lint ball from his sweater. Vander all but short-circuited. 

 

“What?” He sputtered, eyes bugging wide as panicked arousal flooded his veins. What would it be like? Vander wondered distantly as he felt lightheaded and time around him seemed to stop. It had been so long— so many nights without Silco in his bed. He wished desperately for years that he could forget that Silco was the best he’d ever had, he prayed that he’d be able to numb his desires inside another without feeling achingly unsatisfied when all was said and done. 

 

But at the end of a long night, it was the memories sticky with desire and soiled by Vander’s betrayal that kept him company. Each sob-accompanied wank he’d had in the better half of ten years was spent thinking about their first time, their last time, and every taken-for-granted moment in between. 

 

”We could take it back to the bedroom? Or you could just bend me over the desk—“ Silco kicked the chipping wood surface with his heel “seems solid enough.” Silco’s eyes were teasing but serious— Vander’s insides twisted as Silco squirmed in his lap. 

 

By Gods, how he had missed that— the simple spontaneous and cautionless screw in the middle of the night fueled by Silco’s restlessness. His time to indulge was over, though. Vander had already given in to the simple comforts of having Silco around, accepting breakfast and coffee from him like some overslept housewife, relenting to those incessant talks of revolution again, and letting him sit in his lap of all places. 

 

Vander shook his head, Benzo’s words echoing around his thick skull—

 

He’d be wringin’ your neck if he knew.

 

“Silco…I’m sorry— but I…I can’t” He blurted, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he rejected his body’s immediate need to say yes and crack Silco over this desk like he was so plainly asking. 

 

Silco’s mouth twitched, brows furrowing “Why not?” His hands wandered across Vander’s neck, beckoning him to change his mind. 

 

”Because—“ Vander’s mouth pursed, annoyed by his guilty conscience “I-it’s like I said, I haven’t been around you in quite some time, Sil. I’m just… not ready for that, yet” 

 

Silco’s expression drooped in disappointment, and he dropped his hands from Vander’s neck “Fine. I can wait.” Silco stood from Vander’s lap, and he selfishly missed the contact as soon as it was gone. 

 

He weaved through the box towers, stopping and turning to Vander in the middle of the room “But if you won’t sleep with me, I can’t have you sleeping on the couch again. The bed’s too big without you in it.” 

 

Vander still held his death grip on the armrests— Vander hardly deserved the couch, he hardly deserved to sleep on the rug in front of the fireplace.

 

“Maybe you can play with my hair until I drift off?” Silco pleaded innocently, as if he hadn’t just asked Vander to fuck him against his desk. Vander opened his mouth to retort— to tell Silco that it wasn’t wise for them to sleep in the same bed given the… delicate situation. Silco looked at him expectantly, a warning look etched onto his brow “Don’t reject me a second time, Vander” 

 

“Yeah,” Vander choked, his mouth moving in agreement against his better judgement “I think I can do that, canary- for sure.” The ledger could wait until the morning.

 

IV 

 

It had been a quiet day at the bar, like the weekdays usually were. The kids were home most of the day— running to the market for Vander a couple of times before dipping out in the mid-afternoon, with a promise to be home by sunset. All except Claggor, who took his book to the basement with a cup of sugar soda and hadn’t been seen since. 

 

Vander served the regulars, with Silco moving restlessly from his bar seat, to the booth, back to the bar seat, inspecting the tables— all due to his probable lack of stimulation. Silco liked to keep busy, he had a talent for multitasking, and though he did enjoy his downtime— he still liked to be reading, playing cards, or writing in his journal. It was pitiful how droll he looked.

 

“It’s just strange— don’t you think?” Benzo appeared beside him once his shop had closed— making his way to the bar to help with the sparse evening rush (though Vander knew he was mostly there for the free ale). 

 

Vander peeled his eyes away from Silco’s flitting about the room for hardly a moment to spare a look Benzo’s way. He then glanced down at the cup he’d been polishing for the last ten minutes, setting it down before he rubbed a hole in the glass. 

 

“Course it’s strange” Vander gruffed, nodding to a customer as they stood from their seat, cogs on the table next to the empty wineglass. Silco approached the bar then, boredom painfully apparent in his eyes. 

 

“I’m gonna go up and shower, probably take a book to bed.” He yawned, grabbing the edge of the bar and stretching his shoulders. 

 

“Of course- I’ll bring a towel up for ya. Laundry’s out on the clothesline” Vander’s mouth twitched around a smile, that piece of domesticity that he loved so deeply finally being returned to his home. He could practically feel Benzo’s rolling eyes. 

 

Silco nodded, a curt twinge of something in the fine line of his lips before he turned to go up the stairs, glancing back to catch Vander watching him walk away. 

 

“You know-“ Benzo started as soon as Silco was gone, and Vander braced for whatever he was about to say. 

 

“You could do away with the twerp- probably save us all a fair amount of trouble if the real one ever tries to come back” The way he said it— musing, with an air of ‘more gained than lost’ made Vander’s blood simmer.

 

”Watch your mouth, Benzo. I’m lucky he’s alive” Vander set the glass down and clenched his fist on the bar top. 

 

Benzo hardly noticed, scoffing a laugh “Tell that to the kids on the street no older than our own, doped up on shimmer and dead to the world.” Vander moved around him to reach the door to the small side yard that held the washtub and clothes lines, shaking his head at Benzo’s ignorance. 

 

“You know as well as any of us that if it weren’t Silco pushin’ shimmer- it’d be someone else. That shit’s only a means to an end” he kept his voice tight, minding himself not to yell in front of paying customers. 

 

“Look at you, couple of days under the same roof and you’re back to being completely whipped—” 

 

“I told you to watch it, Benzo.” Vander gritted through his teeth, leaning out of the door to pluck a towel off the clothesline. He made his way back around the bar to the staircase, pointing a finger at Benzo’s smugly disapproving expression. 

 

”It’s not like what we’ve been doing up here’s any better— selling out the rest of Zaun for half-hearted ‘peace’ in the lanes. It’s not right. It’s the lazy way to go about things— leaving it up to our kids to fix the mess we’d promised to fix ourselves.” Vander huffed, leaving up the stairs as a stuttering Benzo remained behind the bar. 

 

Pushing open the bedroom door, he could hear the soft sound of water running through the old pipes, and he could feel the brush of steam against his skin when he entered the room. Silco (though Vander would wager he’d hardly admit it) preferred to bathe in scorchingly hot water— it was a luxury that was scarcely found in the undercity— and certainly not one that Vander or Silco had grown up with. 

 

Vander drifted to the door, remembering the time that the two of them stumbled upon a hot spring in one of the coastal caves past the docks while they were combing the beach for wood scraps. Vander remembers indulging in the sounds of relaxation that Silco let slip unabashedly from his lips. 

 

And Vander warmed at the memory of how pliant Silco had been after marinating in the hot, salty water- taking Vander in the cave and causing echoes of their skin slapping against each other down the beach. 

 

Shaking the sun-drenched and fond thought from his mind, Vander pressed forward, nearing the bathroom to hook the towel on the doorknob and leave Silco to his pleasant shower. His chest swelled with a touch of pride, installing the new boiler had been expensive and hard work. Living with four kids though, had justified the purchase and the extra elbow grease. Of course, he had thought about Silco when he was installing it— and every time that he enjoyed the warm water afterwards. 

 

It was rare that Silco wasn’t on his mind, anyway. 

 

The idea that Silco actually got to enjoy the amenity that Vander wished he could was a boost to his mood, soured previously by Benzo’s savage insinuations about his young houseguest. 

 

Vander placed the towel on the doorknob, lingering by the door for no reason in particular, simply listening to the water run and the slip of Silco’s feet against the porcelain tub. Just before he was about to turn away, get back to work downstairs- and probably apologize to Benzo for snapping at him- Vander heard a faint, low sound. 

 

It was Silco’s husked voice, groaning before a choked gasp. Vander remembered those sounds too well, the distinct gasping echo bouncing off the tile and gracing Vander’s eardrums in a dreadfully arousing realization.

 

Silco was masturbating in his shower. 

 

Before Vander could even wrap his mind around the thought: water dripping down his chest in clear little streams, wrist aching as he propped his leg up on the lip of the tub, fingers buried inside himself as he tried to catch the right angle, his other hand toying with his stiffened cock. Or perhaps he was on his back, bathtub faucet gushing water over his cunt, stimulating him with hardly any effort.

 

Vander heard another groan, unsuppressed and open-mouthed. 

 

His hands instantly went flying to grip the hardening form of his cock in his trousers— willing it not to swell any more than it already had. It was a futile effort, and if Vander really wanted to solve the problem— he should've just walked out of the room and gone back to work downstairs. Instead, he pressed his ear flush to the wood, trying to decipher any particular sound so he could better visualize what scene was transpiring behind the barrier.  

 

Trying desperately to tune out the monotonous sounds of the shower running, he could weed out small huffs of pleasure from Silco’s voice, along with the slick shlk of his thin fingers sliding in and out of himself. 

 

Vander’s mind raced: how many fingers was he using? How long had he been pleasuring himself before Vander showed up? How long had he been thinking about going upstairs? It was the classic cure for boredom, after all. 

 

He settled on imagining Silco sitting on the lip of the tub, hips stuttering and wet hair plastered to his cheek, gasping with his mouth open as he tried to be quiet-

 

Vander grimaced, pulling back from the door- what a sick wretch he was, just sitting there enjoying the sounds of Silco’s private moment, dick pressed to his palm like a horny bastard peeping on the bathhouses. He flushed a deep red, feeling waves of shame crash over him as his cock throbbed in his pants. How much more pathetic could he get? Denying Silco’s advances out of fear only to turn around and perv on him through the barrier of a door—

 

“ Vander-r ” 

 

The sound of Silco’s voice was washed out by rushing water, but when Vander closed his eyes he could practically see the ruddy blush high on Silco’s cheeks from arousal and the plumes of steam. 

 

He hardly registered that he was rutting against the flat of his palm, delicious licks of pleasure that weren’t nearly enough jolted through his groin as he listened to the increased pitch of Silco’s gasps and groans that echoed and vibrated against the wood of the door. 

 

“ So close- “ Vander gasped in time with Silco’s hitched breaths, the slick sounds now accompanied by the slap of Silco’s palm against his pussy. 

 

“ Harder, Vander- Please… ” 

 

Vander’s breath had become labored, a sheen of sweat across the grit on his forehead from working the bar all day. He shoved the heel of his palm with more force against the bulge in his denims, his hips jolting and chasing the pressure he craved as he listened to Silco’s climbing moans. 

 

“ Fuck- ” Silco gritted through his teeth and came hard- Vander imagined his face, pinched and wound tight- biting on his lip or his other hand as he shoved his fingers inside of himself, flooding the room with punched out sighs and oversensitive gasps. 

 

Vander hadn’t realized that he came in his pants, a slowly cooling mess in his trousers that seeped between his thighs.

 

“Fuck” he mouthed to himself- not springing into action nearly as quickly as he should have, still enjoying the tingling shocks to his limbs from his unplanned orgasm. 

 

At least that solves the issue of trying to hide a hard-on - he thought distantly, jerking with alarm as he heard the squeaking sound of the tap being turned off, his eyes bugging wildly out of his skull. 

 

He could hardly indulge in the sweet hums of contentment that Silco was breathing into the damp air as he wrung his hair out, squeezing the access water from his raven waves- because Vander was scrambling wildly to shove the ruined pair of slacks down his thighs, waddling over to the laundry basket near the dresser to fish out a replacement.

 

Vander cursed himself- how could he have possibly let himself get this carried away? He was acting like a virgin- or worse, a middle-aged divorcé who was climbing the years on a decade-long dry spell. 

 

The latter was more fitting for his irrational behavior. It still didn’t excuse cumming in his pants like a fourteen-year-old. 

 

Just as Vander had buttoned the replacement pair of slacks, he heard the glass doorknob rattle as Silco opened it, shivering as the cool air of the bedroom permeated the bathroom still thick with steam. 

 

He poked his head out just after Vander kicked the evidence of his depravity under the bed, plucking the towel from the doorknob, smiling lazily at Vander, and blinking sluggishly “Thanks for the towel” 

 

Vander might’ve been imagining things- but he swore that Silco’s voice had a pitch of teasing to it. His dark head popped back behind the door and into the bathroom, a crack of light illuminating the bedroom settled in dusk. 

 

“You’re welcome” he croaked, craning his neck to make sure he was out of Silco’s line of sight before he pulled the biohazard pants out from under the bed with his foot- shoving them in the laundry and burying them between layers of work shirts and soiled bar rags. 

 

“The water temperature is quite nice” Silco commented as he toweled off his hair. Vander wandered around the bed, settling close to the bathroom once again. 

 

“Saves me a lot of trouble with the kids” Vander craned his neck, trying to catch sight of Silco in the mirror- he could only make out a bare shoulder and the plain expanse of his back “No more fights over warm water” 

 

”You fixed the water pressure on the tap as well” Silco noted, and Vander swallowed, eyes blinking hard “Yeah-“ he choked “That wasn’t as expensive as the water heater” 

 

Silco hummed in understanding, emerging from the bathroom with the yellowish towel wrapped around his waist. Vander sat on the bed, watching Silco pay little attention to him as he made his way over to the trunk of his things in the closet. 

 

Silco reached into the pile and pulled out one of Vander’s old shirts that Silco had claimed as his own forever ago- Vander had shoved it in the trunk because although it still fit, it carried Silco’s scent between the fibers.  

 

Vander narrowed his eyes, noticing the coy look that Silco threw over his shoulder “You…you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” 

 

Silco spared a proper glance at Vander before turning back to slip the shirt over his head “Did what on purpose?” He shrugged, pulling his damp hair out of the neck of the shirt. 

 

Vander shook his head, scoffing- now convinced that this was yet another plot set up by Silco simply to torture him. He stood, unwilling to give in to any more of Silco’s schemes “I’m headed back down to the bar” he gruffed “Enjoy your book” 

 

Silco’s mouth twitched in a frown “Thanks, I will” he said sharply, dropping the towel to slip his feet through the loose cotton boxers he held in his hand.

 

It took every shred of willpower Vander had left to turn and leave- though the image of Silco’s bare body and the sound of his precious grunts of pleasure ricocheted around his mind for the rest of the night.

 

*** 

 

Silco was already asleep when Vander creaked his way up the stairs, the bar deserted and dark save for the twinkling lights that remained plugged in behind the bottles of liquor. 

 

He scrubbed a hand down his face, still grimy with dried sweat that nestled in the lines of his crow’s feet. Looking at Silco’s young, sleeping form- snoozing contentedly with his cheek mashed against his knuckles on the pillow- was like torture for Vander. 

 

He had expected that the Gods would take retribution for his savage actions against Silco, he only hadn’t expected it to be this painful, this difficult . Killing him would’ve been almost easier, having Silco drive a knife into his abdomen and once again make orphans of his kids would have felt like apt deliverance. 

 

Instead, this wretchedness that didn’t have a name- this gnarled and twisted feeling of being able to look but not touch, well- it made Vander wish for the cheap mercy of death. 

 

He settled uncomfortably on the mattress, lying on top of the covers, his pants unbuttoned and boots kicked off somewhere near the bedroom door, the weight of him on the springs sent Silco rolling over and tucking himself to Vander’s side, holding on to him like one big, warm pillow. 

 

Vander sighed, shutting his eyes tight and accepting every ounce of his cruel fate before slipping into a dark dream shuttered with light. 

 

Vander never dreamt in color- everything was bright white and pitch black or a fuzzy gray like some noir film you could see for a copper on a Wednesday night.

 

The bedroom was the same as it had been before Vander had enough money to fix the mountain of issues the bar and subsequent apartment above had- there were still floorboards missing, hidden partially under a tattered rug, creeping cracks from the ceiling to the middle of the wall, jagged like lightning striking an empty plain. 

 

It smelled like Silco- all around him, suffocating him with the gritty, earthy scent he had that drove Vander sick with grief. How could someone with spotty access to clean bathing water smell so good?

 

The room was brushed with his touches of decor. The hand-fashioned candles shoved into empty wine bottles to collect the drips of wax, the trinkets and small bobbles that were once discarded like trash and collected by Silco like bits of treasure. They were scattered and grouped across every flat surface, cute and innocent, childish in a way that Silco had been bashful about when they first shacked up together. 

 

“I don’t know if I could ever forget what happened” The sound of Silco’s voice carried through the room like chimes on the wind— echoing through Vander’s ears, whispery and haunted. 

 

“It just seems so easy… to live in the past like this— pretend that nothing bad’s ever gonna happen.” 

 

The dream shone monochrome light over the mattress, unmade with the sheets tangled between legs. It was Silco— the right Silco, his Silco— unclothed and lying on the chest of a younger version of Vander. 

 

“Then stay.” His younger self offered, holding loosely to Silco’s wrist as the older man traced those nimble fingers across Vander’s features. The man in the corner touched his own face, swearing he could feel the chilly tickling of the man’s index down the straight of his nose. 

 

“Vander, I can’t.” It came out painful and strained, the tracing across the young man’s skin halted. 

 

“It’s not up to me… and I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until I’m unexpectedly pulled back to where I belong” 

 

Vander watches his young self tighten the hold on Silco’s wrist, guiding his hand to wrap around his neck, the hold loose and unsure.

 

”I can’t let myself hurt you again— not in this life or the next” The young man gulped as Silco’s expression remained static. Vander’s hand ghosted over his throat. “Kill me.” 

 

Silco was silent for a long moment, the stark white vision of his back heaving with each lungful of breath, the knobs of his spine prominently dividing his ribs. 

 

”You’re so dramatic” Silco huffed an unconvincing laugh, but Vander could practically hear his heart pounding from across the room: heavy, fast thuds bounding like the sound of boots against pavement while running from enforcers.

 

”Don’t be scared.” Young vander hushed, ignoring Silco’s lighthearted attempt at diffusing him “I want you to” 

 

Silco didn’t move his hand “that won’t solve anything” he gritted through gnashed teeth, Vander couldn’t see his face— but he knew what he sounded like when he was about to cry: choking down each breath, every muscle in his face focused on not letting any tears spill from his eyes, the bubble of something awful and suppressed in his throat. 

 

“Maybe not for you— and Janna knows I’d give my life to save you from that pain but I’m too late— and for that m’sorry” Young Vander dragged a breath through his nose “You might still be able to save him from me, though. Save him the trouble of losin’ me and himself” 

 

Vander was nauseous as he paced the corner by the door, now clearly feeling the fingers wrapped loosely around his windpipe as his eyes welled with tears. 

 

“If you want death then why don’t you go out and chase it yourself? Why do you want it haunting me?” Silco’s voice was thin and venomous, a light squeeze about his trachea but not enough to choke. 

 

Young Vander smirked, brushing his thumb on Silco’s scarred cheek “You’ve always done my dirty work, canary” Vander felt the cool brush of Silco’s breath leaving his lungs waft against his face, frigid and lonely with the phantom of his touch against his skin. 

 

“You’ve always done what I was too scared to do- always said what I was too afraid to say. ‘Sides- there’s no other way I’d like to go out, with your pretty hands wrapped around me. ‘Least I won’t be afraid- I don’t wanna go out afraid, Sil” 

 

Young Vander choked, The pressure on his windpipe grew with every word he spoke. In turn, Vander’s throat began to constrict, being crushed under thin hands as those sharp fingers dug into his ligaments. 

 

He gasped for air, knees buckling before they slammed to the ground. His fingers flexed, grabbing at his throat to try and relieve the increase of pressure- but to no avail, he only clawed against his own skin- there was nothing there to pry off. 

 

He would die alone, and he would die afraid. 

 

The world was in color again as Vander shot up in bed, gasping breaths and heaving air into his lungs. Even still, he couldn’t quite catch his breath- still choking around saliva and his own stuttering gasps. 

 

“Vander…? Vander- what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Silco rolled over from his side, blinking awake with alarm when he noticed Vander’s state. “Hold on puppy, just breathe for me- everything’s okay, you’re alright.” Silco scooted closer, rubbing a flat palm against Vander’s back in slow circles just like he used to when Vander was hungover and puking into a bucket, or after he had a rough night at the pits and was bleeding and bruised. 

 

“Look at me.” Silco grabbed Vander’s jaw, pointing his gaze down to him “You’re gonna be okay, Van- It was just a dream” he whispered, stroking his thumb down the side of Vander’s face. 

 

He caught his breath with a stuttering inhale. The world bloomed with vibrancy, pulsing like the fluttering in his stomach as he looked into Silco’s eyes. 

 

“Just a dream,” Vander repeated, reaching out to place his hands on Silco’s shoulders, breath shuddering as he stole a chaste kiss, momentarily pressing their lips together just to cruelly remind himself what it felt like.

Chapter 2: A Scar Away From Falling Apart

Summary:

With tensions wound tight and Vander's resolve quickly slipping, Silco and Vander crash into each other seeking relief for their friction. Silco and Vander have always been perfect for each other, fitting together like a key in a lock. Vander almost forgets the delicate situation slipping like water out of his palms until he's faced with the consequences of his actions.

Notes:

this is it guys... I'm getting emotional.

V 

 

Vander looked at himself in the mirror, willing himself to get it together. It had been hours since he had woken up with Silco in his arms, their legs tangled between each other, and proving extremely difficult to unwind without waking the sleeping beauty. 

 

In the end, he excused himself to shower, promptly ignoring the twitching erection half-mast in his pants. It’s wrong. He told himself, All of this is wrong.

 

Vander came downstairs to find Silco at the bar, kicking his feet against the legs of the barstool with absentminded disregard. He had his shoulder hunched and was writing quickly, with his hand spread across the page to keep it still as his eyes darted across the lines as he wrote. 

 

Silco didn’t seem to notice Vander step behind the bar. He knew that Silco sometimes lost himself in his journals, but the way his hand scribbled at its alarming pace, with his bottom lip pinched between his teeth– tipped Vander off to the importance of the note. 

 

Vander kept his eyes on him as Silco squirmed slightly in his seat, the front pieces of hair that framed his face had come undone from the loose bun in a knot at the base of his neck. Vander gulped, suddenly thirsty as he picked up one of the glasses from the shelf. 

 

The second Silco noticed Vander in front of him, attempting to peer over the re-lacquered wood of the bar that separated them to catch at least a sentence of what Silco had been so feverishly writing- Silco slammed the notebook shut, leaving the pencil lodged between the pages.  

 

Vander pouted slightly. “What’s all that, then?” 

 

Silco was blushing, and the tips of his ears peeked through his raven hair, glowing rose. “It’s not that important, it’s just–” Silco put his hands over the journal, as if Vander might take it from him. 

 

The fear wasn’t unfounded, Vander used to do that– snatch the journal from Silco’s hand whenever he didn’t feel like sharing. He’d hold it above his head and read it aloud, while pushing Silco’s scrambling hands down before he knew how much Silco revered privacy. 

 

Vander looked at the younger man– for him, it hadn’t been that long ago that Vander had taken his notebook after sneaking up on him in the corner of one of the old haunts they used to frequent before The Last Drop existed. He had taken the notebook from him while Silco was mid-sentence, dragging his pen across the page in a line of interruption. 

 

Silco protested, begging Vander to give it back, so profusely that Silco had tears in his eyes. Being the self-important dunce he was, Vander had laughed it off and read the page anyway, his teasing tone dying out once he realized the subject of the page was him. 

 

Silco had documented his feelings for Vander on the paper, and Vander could assume that this wasn’t the first time that Silco had written about him, based on the language used. Silco referred to him as a “savage brat” when Vander was pissing him off and “glorified teddy-bear” when he felt sentimental.

 

By the time Vander had gotten a clue, Silco was already halfway down the street, hunching over and covering himself from the rain. Luckily for Vander, Silco was fairly forgiving about the incident as soon as Vander confessed to wanting Silco all to himself just the same. 

 

Vander’s heart seized, the memory being an unfortunate reminder that the time of Silco’s forgiveness had long since passed. So, Vander let Silco cover the book, and didn’t go to touch it, no matter how badly he wanted to know the contents of that page. 

 

The kids walked in before Vander could say anything. Claggor carried a duffel of what sounded like scrap metal, dumping it on the floor next to the entrance as soon as he crossed the threshold. 

 

“That better not be more piltie crap” Vander called from behind the bar as the children looked at each other guiltily. 

 

“…What if it’s the same piltie crap that we lost last week?” Mylo kicked the bag that Vander now noticed was soaking wet. He let out a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face. Claggor smacked the back of Mylo’s head, and Mylo shoved him back. The two were squabbling with each other until Vi punched them both on the shoulder. 

 

“It washed up on the banks of the river. We didn’t want any enforcers to come across it, so we just decided to take it home” Vi explained. 

 

Vander sighed, looking over to Silco, who wasn’t paying any attention to him, too busy snickering silently as Powder made silly faces at him across the room. 

 

“Put it downstairs, hide it. And sit down at the table, I’ll start lunch.” 

 

*** 

 

Silco doodled on one of the bar napkins as Vander tapped some pints for a couple of regulars. The sun had set, and the nightlife in the lanes began to yawn and stretch through the streets, a steady flow of patrons coming through The Drop every so often. 

 

Vander had sent Vi to wait on the booths as his weekend employee hadn’t shown up. He certainly wasn’t going to ask Silco to do it; customer service wasn’t necessarily in his wheelhouse, hence why he was working in the mines while weighing no more than a hundred-ten pounds soaking wet. 

 

Vander caught sight of Vi, placing drinks down on the table in the center of the bar– the round was full of young Piltover Academy girls, one of them hadn’t even bothered to take off her uniform. Vander got a kick out of watching Vi– leaning on the table, an inaudible joke falling from her lips, causing the group of girls to respond with curt giggles. 

 

The noise caught Silco’s attention, and he turned and watched Vi fumble with the serving tray while trying to make a cool exit– pulling more laughter from the girls. Silco turned back and looked at Vander, setting his pen down, “Casanova” he commented.

 

Vander crossed his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes fondly. “This is why I usually have her clean plates in the back.” Silco cracked a grin, pinching the straw of the drink Vander had given him earlier between his teeth. 

 

“She has a type, it seems. Noticing it’s one of the more strange things about being the parent of a teenager” Vander spotted a smudge on one of the whiskey glasses on the counter, picking it up and pinching the rim from between his dishrag– scrubbing the fingerprint away. 

 

“Oh really?” Silco rested his head in his palm, leaning closer in amused curiosity. Silco fluttered his eyelashes– maybe Vander had been a little heavy-handed on the pours for his little lightweight. 

 

“She always goes for the pretty little ones.” Vander tipped his chin at the girl sitting closest to them, buttoned-up academy uniform over her slim shoulders. “Takes after me in that regard, I suppose.” Vander watched Silco turn back around from noticing the small girl at the table. 

 

Vander hadn’t meant to flirt, lost in the comfort of talking to Silco just like they used to. He hadn’t realized just how much of his life was missing something– him– until he had him back. To Vander, making his canary blush was like breathing air; he needed to do it– but it also came naturally, as if he was born to flush the tips of his ears. 

 

Silco ducked his head with a grin, sipping the straw until his drink was gone– he pushed the empty cup towards Vander. “So, are you going to make me wait until closing time, or are you gonna let me take you to the alley for a quickie?” Silco wiped the condensation that had accumulated on the glass with his knuckle in a little star, looking up at Vander through his lashes. 

 

Vander nearly dropped the tumbler in his hands– going pale as his body betrayed him, blood flow being diverted below his belt. “Sil-“ he choked, clearing his throat and lowering his voice (as if anybody was paying attention to their conversation), “I can’t do that.” he leaned closer and took the empty cup, filling it with just tonic water this time. 

 

Silco rolled his eyes, “and why not- I’ve been here a week and you’re still hesitant to even kiss me.” Silco snatched the drink from Vander’s hands. “Is there someone else?” Silco asked indignantly. The way that Silco had turned away from Vander as if he didn’t care about the answer, still keeping Vander in his sight in the corner of his vision– it made Vander note that this must not be the first time he had thought about asking. 

 

It was juvenile, and irritating– but it warmed Vander’s insides to think that Silco would even have the notion to be jealous over Vander in his middle age. “Janna, Sil, no– that’s not–”

 

“So you never slept with anybody else? After I died?” Silco narrowed his eyes in the vindictive, watchful way that he used to, as if he had lasers in his eyes that could peel through Vander’s bullshit. 

 

Vander hesitated, caught up in more than one falsehood– there hadn’t been anybody else, for a very long time. He was convinced for a while that Silco would return to him. Vander’s hubris faded after so many years, and after a short burst of bravado– bruised ego and disdain from being left behind– Vander had taken the first offer he had gotten from a slim, dark-haired patron at the bar. 

 

He could feel in his bones how wrong it was– the anatomy wasn’t right, the moans and whimpers from the customer under him were the wrong pitch. He could barely get through the ordeal when he imagined confessing to Silco that he had taken this person into their bed. 

 

He swallowed, “They were never you, so it doesn’t matter” he choked around the statement. Vander kept his eyes on the bar top, Silco still had his arms crossed over his chest– growing chillier with each wrack of jealousy. 

 

“What?” Vander sighed, exasperated, “What was I supposed to do? How could I have known you’d come back to me? I never thought–”

 

“I don’t know, Vander.” Silco snatched his cup from the counter, cocking his hip and giving a look that could only mean Vander’s in deep trouble. “But if the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would hesitate to fuck you if you somehow appeared.” Silco smacked his journal shut and shoved it under his arm- walking away with an angry sway in his hips to his corner booth.

 

He told the group sitting there to move. “It’s reserved” he barked, causing the couple to slink out and find a table by the door instead. 

 

Vander still watched him all night, hesitant to tear his eyes away for the fear Silco might run off, trying to teach Vander a lesson. If Silco was sulking, it wasn’t evident by the way he nonchalantly journaled by the window hour after hour, arched shoulders, and decided glance turned permanently away from Vander.

 

It echoed a song and dance they had done hundreds of times: Vander saying the wrong thing or doing something stupid, earning him the cold shoulder for the rest of the evening until they went upstairs and Vander begged for forgiveness, usually earning him some searing make-up sex…

 

Vander’s mind wandered towards the gutter again, cutting through his guilt and uncomfortable position with ease. Distracted, Vander lifted his head towards a customer who tapped his glass for a refill. 

 

“Sorry,” Vander mumbled, shaking his head and pouring more ale into the glass. The customer shrugged, following Vander’s gaze over to Silco’s booth– absentmindedly taking his glass and leaving a couple of cogs on the table as a tip. 

 

He took his leave with a short nod after Vander thanked him for his generosity, the shorter, batish Vastaya customer then wandered over to Silco’s booth before placing his glass on the table. 

 

Vander breathed a laugh through his nose. Silco was rarely friendly with strangers, especially when they invaded his personal space or didn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer. Vander waited for his vindication, wondering if he might have to intervene so Silco wouldn’t stick him. 

 

To his surprise, Silco closed his journal and turned his attention to look up at the man, blinking his wide and curious eyes that were missing their characteristic judgmental sharpness. 

 

Vander frowned, gritting his teeth when he heard Silco laugh at something the man had said. He dug his nails into the bar rag, feeling the urge to rip it in half. 

 

Before he could process his own reaction, Vander was marching out from behind the bar, over to where the man was now leaning on the table, taking a slow, sultry sip of his drink as the lingering laughter from his joke dissipated. 

 

Vander snatched the drink from the man’s hands, startling him with a surprised “Hey, what the–” he turned and met Vander’s stormy gaze, having to crane his neck to meet the eye of the tall man.

 

“We’re closed.” Vander gruffed, placing the drink on the table as the man stammered 

 

“Hey– I paid for that–” the Vastaya started, nervously darting his eyes between Silco (rolling his eyes in annoyance and clicking his tongue) and the wall of mass that was Vander in front of him. 

 

Vander fished the cogs from his apron, grabbing the man’s wrist and slapping them into his upright palm “out.” 

 

The man slinked out unceremoniously, and Vander hailed last call to the remaining customers in the bar (about two hours early). Vi had disappeared hours ago when the rush had gone, slipping out the back and going Janna knows where. Presumably, the other kids were still in the basement, or possibly they had taken off with Vi– Vander only hoped they would return unharmed before sunrise. 

 

As the patrons started filing out, Silco was back to ignoring Vander’s existence while doodling in his notebook. Vander leaned over, placing both of his palms on the sticky wood table. 

 

“I need to talk to you. Upstairs.” Vander said, clipped and certain. Words raced endlessly through his mind– statements and confessions for Silco that filled every inch of his brain and threatened to spill out of his mouth too soon. 

 

Vander couldn’t decide if he was just angry, apologetic, or sexually frustrated. The years of numbed and dulled feeling— like his emotions that existed, knocking around a hard shell of resentment and shame were finally cracked open and exposed. It stung, it ached, and churned something sick inside of him– 

 

But it was something. It was feeling. 

 

He was tired of pushing it down and repressing it, tired of setting it aside only to go through the motions. He knew it was indulgent, that it was selfish— he could practically feel the slipping hand of control losing its grip on his conscience. 

 

Silco hummed, not looking up from his journal. “You want to talk to me.” he corrected, sliding his cup towards the end of the table. “I want a refill.” he quirked his eyebrow brattishly, marking something off with the flourish of his pen. 

 

It was like his control not only slipped, but fell flat on its face, losing the race to want by a mile. 

 

Vander hummed curtly before leaning over and plucking Silco out of the booth by his waist, tossing the young man over his shoulder as he thrashed, trying to get out of his grip. 

 

“Vander, put me down!” Silco seethed, squirming as Vander carried him towards the stairs. He continued to beat his fists on Vander’s shoulder as he carried Silco up to the second level. The heavy boots on his feet kicked up to try and knock Vander in the jaw. 

 

“I’m gonna kill you— you fucking—” He thrashed again, frustrated groan ripping through him when Vander didn’t budge “Asshole!” 

 

Vander kicked the bedroom door open, pulling Silco off of him by the crook of his knees while his legs still kicked and squirmed violently— he tossed him onto the bed. 

 

Silco moved his bangs from his eyes with a lightning-quick movement, pointing a finger of accusation at Vander, who still loomed over him, casting him in shadow. “Now you wanna fuck me? You’re so predictable, Vander— nothing but a pathetic possessive dog—” Silco sounded genuinely enraged, his voice pitching as he spat venom, hissing around each word. Silco’s shoulders hunched, tight and bunched at the bottom of his ears– his face bloomed an angry red. 

 

If Vander didn’t know his tells like the back of his hand, he would’ve backed off, taking his outburst at face value— but Vander knew that Silco was getting exactly what he wanted. That’s why he started their dance in the first place.

 

He only wanted to throw his plan off slightly. 

 

Vander reached down to Silco’s shoulder, being promptly smacked away, “Don’t fucking touch me.” Silco growled, pouting his lips and tipping his chin in disdain. He still didn’t move away. 

 

“Cmon, Sil, you look so tense” Vander surged, clamping his hand around the juncture of Silco’s shoulder and neck, moving his thumb in rough circles in an attempt to press the knots of strain there. “Won’t you let me apologize for leavin’ you out to dry– hmm?”

 

Silco still stared at him with a look of loathing etched into his brow and in the knife-sharpness of his gaze— but his mouth dropped open when Vander applied pressure on his shoulder, stuttering a breathy moan. 

 

“Let me take care of you, canary.” Vander’s eyes had lidded, the words leaving his mouth unfiltered and autonomous like the huffing exhales of air from his lungs. Silco frowned deeper, his bottom lip wobbling as he caught it between his front teeth— sighing as if in protest before tipping his head back and groaning. 

 

“Whatever—” Silco gasped when Vander unbuttoned his waistcoat, slipping it around his shoulders and leaving him bare up from the top of his high-waisted pants. “Just make it quick.” 

 

Vander chuckled lowly, massaging the meat of Silco’s shoulders before easily flipping him over on his stomach with a startled gasp from his twitching mouth. Vander moved his strong fingers over the lean muscle of Silco’s back, over the protruding knobs of his spine, and smoothed his hands under his shoulder blades. 

 

Vander had been growing thicker in his pants from the moment Silco started hurling insults at him, but hearing the sighs of satisfaction from his partner, muffled as he pressed his face into the quilt to try and hide his easing pleasure, had Vander swelling achingly fast. It spurred him on to lean closer to his still-squirming form on the mattress and mutter hushed admissions to the young Zaunite, cheeks flushed red and hands trembling. 

 

“I think I’d rather take my time with you, birdie,” Vander slurred through lust-drunk tongue ties. “I’ve waited this long— what’s a few moments more?” Silco whined and arched his back, pushing his clothed ass over the front of Vander’s trousers. Vander hissed as if he had been touched with hot metal.

 

“Are you through with your defiance, pretty? Back to being needy, is it?” Vander’s heart pounded, loud rushes of blood that roared in his ears. Silco grumbled in response, bringing his hips back down and trying to flip himself back over, but Vander held him firm. He pushed Silco back on his stomach so he could ease the taut back muscles on Silco’s body for a few moments longer. 

 

They continued like that for a while: Vander easing the wound-up tension in Silco’s sharp shoulders and his lower back. The impatient jerks of Silco’s body, trying to regain his vantage, were shut down every time by Vander’s halting grip. 

 

The older man felt like he was about to explode. Silco looked simply divine with his hair coming undone from tossing his head back, only to be pushed back in place by Vander’s large hand. His body was covered in a sort of blush around his shoulders, the muscles in his back twitching as they eased away their tautness. 

 

Silco hiccuped a gasp, his head turned to the side, groaning out “Vander– Please-e” 

 

Vander sucked a breath, anticipation bubbling in his chest. “What do you need, birdie?” He eased the pressure of his hands on Silco’s back after tugging the leather tie from the man’s loosely wound hair, causing his glossy dark waves to sprawl over his shoulders and then fan around his face on the crimson quilt. 

 

Silco flipped over, hooking his legs around Vander’s middle and pulling him flush against his clothed cunt. 

 

“Need you—” he huffed, tossing his head back and reaching out to curl his fingers around the hair at the nape of Vander’s neck. “This week has been torture– you look so fucking good, Vander.” Silco’s hand wandered down Vander’s neck and smoothed across the knitted material of his shirt— grabbing a fistful of the soft flesh of Vander’s pec through the fabric. 

 

Vander was blushing and dumbstruck by Silco’s beauty in the low lamplight— feeling almost high from getting his touch reciprocated. “I thought your body was already perfect— like, annoyingly perfect, but now-” 

 

Silco’s blown pupils fluttered from Vander’s face to his chest, kneading the soft fat and muscle below the shirt in his hands. “It’s— Janna, I’m almost speechless.” Silco was staring, mesmerized at how the flesh moved. 

 

“That’d be a first” Vander quipped through a suppressed groan, his cock throbbing in his pants and straining at the tight material around his thighs— no doubt Silco felt it. He snapped out of his daze, looking up to Vander’s face with agitation. Silco pinched the fat of his chest a touch too hard. 

 

“Ow- fuck.” 

 

“Take your shirt off.”

 

”Okay- sorry.” 

 

Vander pulled the material over his head, tossing it over Silco’s top on the other side of the bed. He turned his attention back to Silco’s wide eyes— the reef blue of his iris almost completely enveloped by his pupils. 

 

Silco bit his lip, blinking his gaze up to Vander’s face for a moment only before training it back on Vander’s chest. His wide eyes wandered down, drinking in each curve and pudge of Vander’s older body. 

 

He bit his lip again, squeezing at Vander’s love handles before smoothing over his stomach. “You’re so sexy,” Silco said it like a curse— as if he was pissed off at the validity of his own statement. “This—“ he said, squeezing Vander’s tummy with a sensitive growl from the man above him.

 

”I want this pressing up against my back while you fuck me with that thick cock of yours.” Silco tightened his legs around Vander’s waist, sending the man forward and almost crushing the young thing underneath him. Silco whispered his request hotly into Vander’s ear, sending a throbbing pulse of blood to his lower half. 

 

”How would I get to marvel at that pretty face if we’re fuckin’ from behind?” Vander kept smoothing his teasing touches across Silco’s chest, the younger man stilling at his words, his mouth dropping open with a string of spit connecting his lips. 

 

He sat up, unwinding his legs from Vander’s waist before placing a heavy boot to Vander’s chest, pushing him away. Silco rocked himself to stand in front of Vander with such speed that Vander’s knees ached at the thought of moving that swiftly. He placed a hand on Vander’s chest, pushing the larger man backward. 

 

“Sil— what’r you doing?” Vander let Silco push him back, so entranced by the look in his eyes that he nearly tripped over the edge of the carpet. 

 

“You like my face?” Silco batted his eyelashes, cocking his head to the side, causing his bangs to fall over his eye. Vander gulped— violent images of fire and pilt water clouding his vision before he blinked them away, nodding pathetically as an answer. 

 

“You think I’m pretty?” Silco kept walking him back until the backs of his knees caught on the seat of the couch. Silco pushed him with unexpected force, causing him to knock against the backrest as he sat. 

 

”You know I do–” Vander choked around his words as Silco bracketed his legs on either side of Vander’s thigh, tying his hair back up. 

 

“Do you like my… mouth?” Silco said with an amused quirk to his tone, a hand reaching out to cup Vander’s cheek and scratch at his beard. 

 

He swallowed “Ye-uh, yes” 

 

Silco’s hands traveled down Vander’s bare chest, the tip of his pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he spread Vander’s legs apart and dropped to his knees between them with a slight thud. 

 

Vander’s breath was coming in harsh pants, his eyes shining with reverence at the man beneath him as he coyly undid Vander’s belt and unbuttoned his trousers. 

 

“Would you like it if I stretched my mouth over your cock? If I choke on you until you paint my pretty face with your cum?” He was pawing at Vander’s length now, hard and leaking in his boxers. 

 

“Gods, Silco” He chuckled nervously, tipping his head back as his hips bucked to the warm grip through the fabric. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” Silco had successfully pulled down Vander’s boxers, breathing hot air over his erection as he marveled at it for a second.

 

Vander gasped, Silco bringing his tongue out to lick a stripe across the underside of his cock- opening his mouth and swirling around the weeping tip of it. In an instant, Silco had wrapped his hand around the base and began shoving the cock to the back of his throat. 

 

The wet pulsing heat of Silco’s mouth was hauntingly familiar– the swipes of his spongy tongue and the light scrape of his jagged teeth were all so perfectly Silco that Vander grew overwhelmed by the feeling, almost ejaculating right there with one thrust into the younger man’s throat. 

 

Silco gagged, his jaw stretching around the thickest part of Vander’s shaft about halfway down. He pulled off, foamy spit connecting his mouth with Vander’s slick tip. 

 

Breathing hard through his nose, his eyebrows furrowed in determination, and he opened his mouth again, swallowing down the jaw-splitting thickness. 

 

“Silco!” Vander groaned, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of him swallowing around his rigid cock. “Sweetheart, calm down— you’re gonna— ngh! Hurt yourself” Vander tried his best to sound like he wasn’t enjoying how Silco’s eyes screwed shut with effort, pushing out the gathered tears at his waterline.

 

He didn’t respond, only shifted his head to nestle Vander’s member deep in his throat before he began bobbing his head, swallowing around the length while jerking the base of it with his spit-slicked hand.

 

“Silco—“ Vander huffed, smacking his head back as the tension inside him continued to tighten still, taut as a string that began to wind the second Silco had asked him into bed his first night home. 

 

Pulling off to breathe heavily, Silco looked absolutely wrecked— spit dribbling down his chin, blown pupils brimmed with tears. “I take it better when you’re fucking my throat, but I thought I’d be good and save you the trouble, since you’re being sweet.” Silco’s voice came out thoroughly destroyed already, the deep and husky tones of his regular bedroom voice were marred into a rumbling dulcet that swam through Vander’s veins. 

 

Silco grabbed Vander’s hand and placed it in his hair, “Make me take it, big guy.” 

 

Vander whined high in his throat as Silco went to swallow him down again. His large hand held loosely onto the bundle of hair at Silco’s nape, afraid to pull or choke him any further than he was already doing to himself. 

 

Silco swallowed— those precious keening noises cut short as he gagged again, pulling off and gasping for air. Vander froze, staring wide and blank as the gruesome memory of the last time he heard Silco fighting for oxygen radiated in his ears, between rolling, rumbling sounds like thunder inside his head. 

 

He doesn’t remember that night. Not from his own point of view, at least. He remembers flashes, sounds, feelings. But he doesn’t remember holding Silco underwater; he doesn’t remember tearing the wound on his eye open. 

 

He hears Silco’s pleas in his sleep, hears the rushing sound of muddy rainwater patting against the brackish pilt. He hears those sharp little gasps for air— gargling against the liquid stuck in his throat.  

 

“I can’t.” Vander whispered, retracting his hands and holding his trembling palms against the couch cushions. 

 

Silco had caught his breath, face screwing up in concern as he blinked up at Vander’s face– now freshly distraught instead of the rolled over lust he had seen moments before. 

 

“What’s wrong? Vander— are you okay?”  Those wide eyes looked up at him, thin blue rings curved around dilated pupils, his eyelashes still fluttering from arousal. 

 

“It’s okay, Sil- I’m fine, I just–” Vander still felt rotten, the tension had been wound so tight for the past week, Vander had let it get the better of him— he was never all that great at denying Silco when he wanted something. 

 

Horrible as he was, one glance down at his sweet canary perched between his legs, and he was jelly again, unable to stop the sin in its tracks, although he was cognizant of its distasteful nature. 

 

“I can’t bring myself to hurt you– I’m sorry… not even like this. Not after how I lost you.” Vander decided that was truthful enough for the night. 

 

Silco looked struck for a second before he grinned, pinching that thin bottom lip against his chipped front tooth. He stood, leaning over and smoothing his hands across the taut fabric stretched over Vander’s thighs. He leaned forward, their faces mere breaths apart. 

 

“You’ve grown sappy in your middle age.” Silco teased, breathing shivers down Vander’s neck. 

 

“I’m sorry, I know how you like to be handled. I didn’t forget.” Vander shook his head, feeling next to useless as he cast his eyes down to his lap— spit glistened cock throbbing in protest of his halting “I just— I can’t do that anymore.”

 

Silco hummed, bringing a rough palm against the short prickles of hair on Vander’s cheek. The touch was so light and adoring that Vander nearly dissolved into puddles of tears. He brought his palm up to catch the back of Silco’s knuckles, feeling the coolness of Silco’s temperature through the scarred skin of his hands. 

 

“You can bring out the rose petals if you need to,” Silco joked, laughing with sincerity, “eat fruit off of me, I don’t care. I just want you, Vander.” Silco looked at Vander like he was something to be pitied, and he sort of was: cock hanging out the front of his trousers and eyes brimming with tears that he blinked away swiftly. 

 

Vander huffed an unconvincing laugh, standing as his other hand slid greedily around Silco’s waist, wandering thumb slipping beneath the hem of his pants. “Rose petals aren’t really my style.” 

 

“Well, whatever you have to do—“ Silco gasped as Vander spun him around by the hem of his pants, pressing Silco’s back to his chest, fingers skating over Silco’s bare stomach, leaving blooms of goose flesh in their wake. Silco glanced up, looking through his lashes at Vander’s cunning grin. 

 

The teasing tone fell short, and Silco could only whisper lightly, “Just make me feel good, V- I missed you.” 

 

Vander heaved breaths like he had just been suffocated under the world’s softest pillow, his hands wandering to unbutton Silco’s pants and slide the zipper down slowly, earning him a view of where Silco’s treasure trail bloomed beneath the fabric of his pants. 

 

“I missed you too, Sil… more than you know.” Vander breathed heat across the shell of Silco’s ear. The young man’s thin arm reached up to caress the back of Vander’s head as he nosed at Silco’s neck, the sensation of his facial hair scrubbing the sensitive skin of his nape. 

 

Vander maneuvered his lover to the side of the couch, hooking his thumbs around the waist of Silco’s pants to shove them down his hips. Silco complied but did little to help Vander with the tight fabric around his thighs– instead, he stood on the tips of his toes to try and press his ass against Vander’s bare cock. 

 

Vander planted his feet back on the ground with a grunt, shoving his hand between Silco’s thighs and feeling the burning warmth of the slick at his fingertips as he pressed against Silco’s hole. 

 

“Hey-ah…ah!” Silco sucked a breath through his teeth, held in place by an arm bracing across his chest to keep him upright. Vander grinned at Silco’s pleasantly surprised noises as Vander teased his fingertips over Silco’s hole, decidedly ignoring his erect cock twitching in time with the fluttering of his entrance. 

 

“Vanderrr” Silco groaned, digging his blunt fingernails into the forearms that bracketed him still. Vander had stuck his nose into Silco’s hair, breathing in the scent of his sweat mixed with the soap Vander had in the shower. 

 

“What do you need, canary?” Vander rumbled against Silco’s scalp, bringing his hand up to card back the strands that fell in front of his eyes as Silco ground his cock helplessly against Vander’s palm. 

 

“Your mouth on me–” his breath hitched as Vander pressed two fingertips at his entrance, pushing with light force. “Now.” he whined, breathy and demanding as he threw his head back against Vander’s shoulder. 

 

Vander burned– Silco was pretty and stark as ever: swollen lips and cheeks ruddy against his pale skin, dusted with freckles and hormonal blemishes. The older man’s heart thumped in his chest, demanding and loud in his ears. His insecurity crept between the cracks of lust; he didn’t deserve Silco– perfect and authentic in every aspect of himself– Vander had never deserved Silco, even before. 

 

Vander was reminded by the impatiently raised brow thrown over Silco’s shoulder that he had been chosen– for whatever reason, he wasn’t sure. But Silco had chosen him, regardless. 

 

“Gladly,” Vander choked, placing a light kiss on Silco’s shoulder before crowding him against the couch, gently pushing his shoulders so Silco was draped over the arm like a pretty little throw blanket. 

 

Silco sighed, arching his back as Vander got on his knees behind him, grabbing the sparse fat of Silco’s ass before spreading his cheeks apart to grab a full lighted view of his dripping entrance and his hole, fluttering in anticipation. 

 

Vander shuffled Silco’s pants down to just above his knees, kneading the flesh of his thighs before spitting on his hole, his cunt clenching in time with a gasp of air from his lungs. 

 

Vander’s breath shook as he pressed his thumb against the tight ring of Silco’s asshole, rubbing slickly through the foamy glob of spit. Silco keened, pushing against the light pressure.

 

“Gods- Vander, hurry up for fuck’s sake” 

 

Silco only got this bitchy when he was desperate for it. Vander was back in tune with his body like they hadn’t ever parted, slipping back into Silco’s bed like an old glove that he lost long ago but still fit him perfectly. 

 

With his resolve unshaken, Vander only wanted to impress Silco after all this time– to convince him that he was still a worthy lover, that he was worthy of being chosen. Though his muscles had softened and he could no longer bring himself to slap Silco around like he used to, he recalled their first time: Silco pinned against the tile as Vander bullied his way into Silco’s ass– and still, Silco had goaded him for more, to be rougher, go harder– Gods, any harder and he probably would’ve broken the poor thing. 

 

It was a shame they hadn’t done it more before they parted, but Vander had never been all that great at prep work when he was younger– too eager and too greedy a lover to really do it properly. He pressed on, intent on showing Silco that he was different– he could be better than before. 

 

Silco hissed in pleasure-soaked pain as Vander’s thumb breached Silco’s hole, pushing back and trying to take his finger deeper. Vander placed a gentle hand on Silco’s hips, stilling his motions and willing him to adjust to the change in girth as he slowly crooked and straightened his thumb. 

 

Mesmerized by watching how pliantly Silco accepted his fingers, Vander snapped out of his daze, looking backward towards the bedside table. Silco smacked a hand on the couch cushion, grunting in frustration as Vander withdrew again. 

 

“Hold on a moment– don’t move.” Vander stood and made his way to the table, shuffling through the drawers and retrieving the bottle of lubricant oil he kept there, still mostly full as Vander had only used it himself maybe once or twice after purchasing it.

 

He glanced back, the sight of Silco shifting against the arm of the couch, his hand stuck immediately between his legs as he rubbed rough circles on his clit, pushing his hips forward and rutting against his hand on the arm of the couch, making Vander’s cock jump. 

 

He tutted, moving to loom over Silco’s bent frame again, oil in hand– but Silco still didn’t stop, breathing out huffing moans with his cheek pressed to the couch cushion. 

 

“Enough of that now,” Vander said softly, reaching over his hips and pulling at Silco’s forearm. “You be a sweet little thing and take what I stuff in that tight ass of yours– alright?” 

 

“Ah!” Silco jolted as Vander’s finger returned to push inside of him after rubbing some oil into the spitty, slick mixture on his rim. “Fuh- Fuck you, touch me.” 

 

“I am touching you” Vander murmured, old knees creaking slightly as he lowered himself to the ground again, slowly pushing his middle finger in and out of Silco.

 

”You know what I mean, fucking- unh!” Silco pushed back on Vander’s fingers when he pressed the pad of his index finger to his hole. “Fucking- touch my cock, make me cum– fuck me, already. Come on!” Silco whined against the cushion through his gnashed teeth. 

 

Vander eased the second finger in, sinking inside and feeling the plush pulse of Silco’s insides against his digits. ”Patience, birdie- I always take care of you, don’t I?” he cooed, the thrill of Silco’s pitchy, pleading tone settling thick like a caress around his straining cock. 

 

“You’ve hardly touched me for five days.” Silco bit back, clawing at the floral pattern of the upholstery. 

 

“And you won’t even let me apologize properly.” Vander crooked his fingers downward, massaging the membrane separating his fingers and Silco’s vaginal walls. 

 

“You-you’re pissing me off.” Silco grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as Vander slipped his ring finger inside, pushing up to his knuckles and holding it there. He felt Silco shudder and still, breathing ragged as he tensed around the three thick fingers. 

 

“Is this your roundabout way of telling me this doesn’t feel good?” Vander didn’t move, mostly bluffing (because Silco was dripping from his cunt, blooming dark stains against the silk stitched begonias), but he remained still in case the stretch was more hurtful than pleasant. 

 

“No! It feels… fine.” Silco shifted, lightly pushing back against the digits. “Your cock would feel better- c’mon, Vander– I’m ready” 

 

“I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you…” Vander’s fingers twitched inside of Silco, causing the young man to gasp and jolt against the armrest. 

 

“Don’t care.” Silco huffed and reached behind him, pulling at the meager pudge of his ass right at the tops of his thighs, presenting his hole stretched and clenching around Vander’s fingers as his cunt gleamed with slick in the lamplight. “Cock. In me. Now.” If Silco had sounded any more petulant, he would’ve been stomping his foot and asking for a pony.

 

”That sounded mighty bratty,” Vander scoffed as Silco squirmed underneath his hold, “only good boys get cock– remember? Do you think you can be good for me, sweetheart?” He was almost embarrassed by the filthy sound of his voice, the downright smut of his words– he was out of practice, but he could feel the hound of his lust batting at its cage, deep in his chest. Silco always had a way of breaking out his most depraved bits, caution to the wind, inhibitions be damned. 

 

“Oh, fuck off- you were blushing like a damn virgin when I tried to suck you off, now you wanna play daddy? I’m not convinced.” Silco scoffed, moving his hips in slow, deliberate circles on Vander’s fingers. And Vander almost missed that smirk on his lips, the twitch at the corner of his mouth that gave away that this is exactly what Silco wanted. 

 

“If you wanna be that way, fine.” Vander withdrew his fingers. Silco’s hole chased him back, whining high and frustrated as he dropped his forehead to the cushion. 

 

“You’ll take what I give you, understood?” Vander’s voice shook, his mouth watering as Silco’s hole winked at the loss of his fingers. 

 

“Fine.” Silco managed, panting with his cheek still pressed to the upholstery. 

 

Vander’s mouth twitched in a self-satisfied smile before he spread Silco’s ass apart again, leaning in and dragging his tongue from Silco’s taint across the rim of his hole, stopping and his tailbone. The oil was bitter and industrial on his tongue– but the taste of Silco underneath the slippery sheen was worth the unnatural fore-flavor. 

 

Vander shut his eyes, sighing through his nose as he worked his tongue languidly over Silco’s hole, firming it to dip the tip inside his rim just to retreat and lave over the sensitive pucker over and over again. 

 

“Oh… my-y Gods” Silco choked, his hole clenching while trying to keep Vander’s tongue inside of him. He could feel Silco’s attempt at spreading his legs, his toes scrambling against the floor as his knees were kept inches apart by the fabric of his pants bunched around them. 

 

Vander pulled back to spit directly on Silco’s hole, tensing when the dime of saliva smacked against his rim. “Doesn’t that feel good, luvvy?” Vander cooed, dragging his fingers through the slick and breaching inside once again to scissor Silco open. 

 

“Yah-“ He breathed, his back arching again and pressing himself to the increasing pressure from Vander’s fingers. Vander felt lightly feral, on his knees with the sight of Silco’s ass greedily accepting his fingers– the rosy pink of his rim turning redder with each stroke of friction and each bloom of stimulation. All while Silco’s pretty pussy remained untouched and weeping, his erect cock poking through the pitch dark thatch of hair and practically begging for attention. 

 

Vander brought his tongue alongside his fingers, spreading Silco’s hole wide to accommodate the girth of his stiffened tongue. Silco’s back went rigid, an alarming gasp leaving his throat as his hand skittered back, grabbing a healthy handful of Vander’s hair. “Fuck me, puppy– don’t stop”

 

And Vander wouldn’t dream of it. 

 

He groaned at the tight grip Silco had on his hair– the delicious, electrifying licks of pain at his scalp reminding him of just how special it was when he and Silco made love– 

 

Though Vander, on his knees with his tongue buried deep in Silco’s ass, would hardly count as lovemaking. Every time they fucked, it was like some sort of cosmic confirmation that they were perfect for each other, so yeah, no matter what they were doing, it always felt like lovemaking to Vander. 

 

He remembers that before he and Silco had met, he used to be turned off by pain, his life and his work was painful enough– but after Silco, each slap on his face, each tug of his hair, every pinch to the pudge of his stomach, and every bite on his chest over his heart felt like they brought him a touch closer to heaven. 

 

The squelching sound of Silco’s hole wrapped around his tongue was obscene next to his ears, and he felt the nonstop dribble of precum from his cock drip uselessly into his lap. He figured that the only thing more humiliating than orgasming prematurely would be to cum untouched against the back of Silco’s legs. 

 

With Silco desperately gripping onto Vander’s hair, forcing his mouth to his hole as it sucked his tongue in and clung to the stimulation for dear life, it was difficult to pull back. When he succeeded in retrieving his tongue, Silco whined and kicked his legs in protest. 

 

“Think you might be ready for me, canary?” Silco’s hands released Vander’s hair, going back to brace the couch cushion by his head. 

 

“Yes!” His back arched again while Vander still held his cheeks apart, looking at the thoroughly stretched hole. “Fuck, Van- I’ve been ready. Been dreaming about your cock for days now. C’mon, give me what’s mine.”

 

Vander stood then, stroking his neglected length with some of the leftover lube. “Yeah? This is your cock– isn’t it, birdie?” 

 

“Mhmm–” Silco looked over his shoulder, wiggling his backside while wearing a particularly sultry smile. His hair was messy around the leather tie again, loose at the base of his neck. “All mine– it was cruel of you to keep it from me for so long, I thought I might have to sue for custody.” He joked, gasping when Vander spread him open again to slide his achingly hot member against Silco’s exposed and waiting hole. 

 

“You knew it was only a matter of time until I’d give in— I can only resist you for so long. This tight little body of yours drives me mad.” Vander gritted his teeth, his hips rutting against Silco. 

 

“It’s yours, too.” Silco ground his ass along Vander’s shaft in time with the older man’s shallow thrusts. 

 

 “S’unlike you, canary,” he breathed, heart bounding in his chest, “to give up yourself like that.” 

 

“Maybe just for tonight, then,” he teased, “c’mon, hound– show me you wanna earn it for keeps.” 

 

In that moment, heart bumping in his chest so hard he thought it might shatter his ribcage, Vander knew he was done for. Fuck, he’d have Silco with him every day for the rest of his life, or he’d die trying. Going back to his life before simply wasn’t an option— he’d sooner throw himself into the pilt and drown. 

 

Vander had no retort; he simply began slowly easing himself into Silco, watching as his hole stretched to accommodate the tip of Vander’s drooling cock. Silco offered little but a punched-out, droning sound from his open mouth. 

 

Vander was breathing hard, panting as some gray hairs swept into his vision. It took immense effort to drive his focus away from how perfectly tight Silco felt around him, tensing and tightening with each inch sheathed further inside. 

 

“Relax, dove” Vander managed, moving his hand to smooth across the back of Silco’s neck. His blush was full-body, worked up and hot to the touch; his pale undercity skin was the color of a smoldering ember. 

 

“Easy for you to say” he panted, but Vander could feel his attempts to loosen his muscles. 

 

“Just breathe, Silco— focus on my voice, try not to think about anything else.” Vander’s finger lightly traced the knobs of Silco’s spine, admiring the short puffs of his lungs, a whining tone between breaths. Silco had no biting response, and Vander watched his fingers flex then clench back to fists next to his head, so he continued.

 

”You look bloody gorgeous like this, birdie,” he mumbled, feeling Silco tighten then relax further as his breath hitched. “S’still a shame I can’t see that perfect face ‘uv yours— but I’d bet I could guess that face you’re pullin” 

 

Silco squirmed, Vander’s cock about halfway shoved into his ass. 

 

“Bitin’ your lip—“ Vander huffed as he started to sink into Silco with ease. Pitchy and perfect moans coming from Silco’s sweet gasps beckoned him further inside. “Wrinkling your cute nose, taking me so well, sweetheart.” Vander reached out to drag his fingers along the glossy wisps of hair tucked around Silco’s ears. 

 

“Yeah—“ Silco breathed out with the last inch of Vander’s cock sheathed fully inside of him. He looked over his shoulder, hair falling loose around his shoulders again. “You feel so good, Vander.” Silco moved his hips gingerly, moving only a few shallow strokes before he shuddered, his eyes screwing shut for a moment. He opened them a second later, straightening his back and propping himself up with his palms flat on the cushion— that incubus look in his eye shrouded by dark bangs thrown over his shoulder.

 

“How do I feel?” 

 

Vander shook out of his daze, blinking hard and slipping his hands over Silco’s fidgeting hips, wrapping them around the small circle of his waist. “Canary…” 

 

He trailed off, shaking his head with a satisfied grin. “You feel like heaven.” Vander’s voice had dropped to a rumbling, deep octave—quiet and intimate between his shaky breaths.

 

Vander slowly drew his hips back a touch, thrusting into the tight heat of Silco’s body and letting the girth of his base do most of the stretch work. He bent closer to Silco’s ear, hearing the wetness of his gasps and the tight groans of zapping pleasure licking and teasing at him— not quite enough to get the job done, but just enough to draw it out. 

 

“Now, you know I’m not so good with words like you are, but I’ll try my best because I still love you, Silco— with every beat of my heart, it’s still yours.” 

 

Silco whimpered and nodded furiously, “luh-love you too, Van. So much–” 

 

Vander shushed him, cooing and petting the loose strands of hair at his nape. “Shh— Jus’ listen for a second, okay? Focus on how that feels,” Vander punctuated his point by shoving back in quicker than before, drawing his cock back out as soon as it hit nice and deep. Silco stammered around a moan, clawing the silk flowers like he was trying to shred the petals. 

 

“You’ve been bad, Sil.” Vander quickened his thrusts, still shallowly pushing into the impossibly tight hole of Silco’s ass. He shook his head, whimpering and trying to grind his cock against the arm of the couch. 

 

“Yes, you have” Vander insisted, drawing back a little further as his strokes became longer and harder. “Teasin’ me, tryin’ to make me jealous—” Silco hung his head, humming out moans as Vander fucked him harder, his quests for gratifying stimulation on his swollen clit proved fruitless as his knees buckled together. 

 

“Tell me, dove, do you think that twit downstairs could’ve fucked you like this? Do you think—” Vander was rapidly approaching his orgasm, his balls heavy with spend as they slapped wetly against Silco’s neglected cunt. After swallowing and trying to stave off his orgasm for the sake of his partner, he grunted, shoving in with focused pressure on one spot. “Do you think he could’ve given you what you need? Make you feel as good as you feel now?” 

 

Silco shook his head again, his arms giving out before he fell forward on the cushion, mumbling out a little  “mn-mn” between gasping moans that were hardly audible. 

 

“Words, canary.” Vander moved his thumb at the base of Silco’s spine— blessing every skin cell and bone that made Silco just the way he is. 

 

“Ngh— no… only you… Only you,” Silco chanted with his face against the cushion, his words coming out as sobs between stuttering breaths.

 

”That’s what I thought.” Vander breathed, fucking into Silco and grabbing at his waist— It wouldn’t be long until he came undone, the savory sweet sensations of Silco stretching around him, the sight of him: blushed and panting– desperate to release the tension wound so tight inside.

 

“Think you could cum like this?” Vander breathed, fucking him hard—tip to base, the power of his thrusts causing the old couch to shift and squeak with every stroke. 

 

Silco jerkily shook his head. “Need more—” he gritted, “need you to touch me. Please, Vander, please-e” Silco’s voice shook in a pitiful warble just before Vander’s thrusts halted. He quickly pulled his cock out, the length of it jumping and twitching as he teetered on the edge of ruining his own orgasm. 

 

Silco writhed against the arm of the couch, his stretched hole red and slick with oil as it pulsed and winked— unable to close fully as it was stretched too wide by Vander’s bullying inside of him. 

 

Vander had wasted enough time, and intent on getting Silco to finish before he inevitably did, Vander picked Silco up by the waist, relishing the light squeal of surprise from Silco’s throat that melted into a pleased giggle at being manhandled. Vander placed him on the edge of the bed, wrestling Silco’s pants over his boots and ripping the fabric in the process. 

 

Vander dropped to his knees, bracing his forearm against the fold of Silco’s legs. He marveled at how impossibly slick Silco was, drenched from his entrance to the pink peak of his cock. The glossy sheen was webbed between the wiry hairs around Silco’s cunt, hot and wet and so mouth-watering that Vander almost cried. 

 

Mashing his face into the wet piece of art that was Silco’s pussy, Vander stroked his tongue across the slit, gathering slick on his tongue before sucking the mass of Silco’s cock into his mouth. He moaned at the taste, loud, so loud it would be utterly humiliating if Silco wasn’t so far gone that he was canting his hips as best he could with the position, groaning just as loud with his mouth hanging open and his eyes rolled back. 

 

Silco grabbed at his hair again, fisting tight around the strands like they were his last anchor to reality. He shuddered a gasp when Vander sucked around his cock, softening the grazes of his teeth and biting back his enthusiasm. Vander’s tongue braced Silco’s swollen cock against the roof of his mouth, the wet contractions of his hole absolutely soaking Vander’s beard as he came. 

 

Long, sighing moans punched out of him as he struggled to catch his breath, writhing against Vander’s hold as he was still at the mercy of his position: bent in half and only able to grab and scratch at any surface available in his reach. 

 

Vander continued, dutifully sucking slowly over the form of Silco’s twitching cock and letting his young bedmate dig those sharp fingernails into the skin at his shoulder, dragging across the muscle there to leave red-hot marks streaking in curved lines. 

 

“Fuck” he breathed, shuddering and dropping the arched small of his back to the mattress. Silco pushed at Vander’s head, whining in overstimulation. With a gasp for air, Vander pulled off Silco’s cock, saliva and slick dribbling down his chin and marrying into the mess in his beard. 

 

“You— you got even better at that” Silco huffed stuttering breaths, his legs falling open over the edge of the bed. 

 

Vander licked his lips, savoring the taste of Silco on his tongue as he lowered himself to the ground, his knees aching and cock leaking profusely over the tops of his thighs. He closed his eyes and rested his head on the corner of the mattress, just above the staining, sticky mess he had made from rutting against it as he ate Silco out. 

 

“You alright, puppy?” Silco slurred in post-orgasmic sloppiness. He propped himself up with his elbows, nudging the side of Vander’s head with his knee. Vander whined, nodding his head against the mattress without looking up— afraid the reins of his control might slip when he saw what a gorgeous mess Silco had made of himself. 

 

“You wanna cum?” He led, fingers reaching down to card through Vander’s hair. Vander nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he felt his hands tremble at the tone of voice Silco was using: stern and mocking— like Vander was being teased with a reward. 

 

“Look at me.” Silco demanded, “And use your words.” 

 

Vander’s mouth went dry, but he obeyed as if it were muscle memory. It always boiled down to this, Vander could be brutish and forceful— and that’s usually how it started, with the overwhelming desire to dominate Silco and please him, handle him roughly and bring him to his finish. But after all his performance, Vander desperately needed Silco to tell him he had done well— that he had his permission to cum because he was good and he deserved it. 

 

There had always been chatter about Vander and Silco’s relationship when they were younger— jokes and ribbings that sounded like: If Vander’s the hound, then Silco’s his master. Vander had always protested those jokes so fiercely because of how true they rang in his ears. 

 

The humiliation had always been an aspect he enjoyed about it, anyway. 

 

“Yes, please— Silco, please.” He looked up from the mattress, catching the cocky, filthy smile on Silco’s lips. 

 

“Very well,” he sighed, “you get to fuck me again and cum inside— I’ll even let you pick which hole, on one condition.” Silco placed his foot on Vander’s hunched shoulder. “I’m ready to cum again— you’ll take me there, won’t you, puppy?” 

 

Vander nodded furiously, “I promise, yes— I promise.” 

 

“And Vander?” Silco questioned as Vander began to stand from his position on the floor. He paused, blinking with rapt attention. Silco fluttered his lashes, suddenly looking bashful instead of dripping sensuality. “You still haven’t kissed me…” 

 

Vander backtracked their entire encounter, realizing that he had completely steamrolled over one of his favorite things— kissing Silco. It was something he missed so deeply, and something he only got a semblance of when he hastily pressed their lips together in the middle of the night that previous evening. 

 

Vander grinned and stood fully, grabbing Silco’s ankle and kissing the delicate bone before he brought Silco’s legs to wrap around his waist, bracing his palm on the mattress next to Silco’s head. Leaning down, his heart began to race again, remembering their last kiss before they severed ways. 

 

It was an unremarkable abortive thing, a smack on his lips before bed. The day before the bridge, they had fought— and then they fucked, quick and angry. And Vander hadn’t kissed him then because he was upset. He only kissed him goodnight, his tongue still curled in resentment, and his hands were kept to himself. 

 

He savored every second he could make up for it, putting every ounce of love he felt for Silco and the apologies burned into his psyche into every slide of his lips against Silco’s. He moaned into his mouth at the taste, Silco’s hands coming to brace the back of Vander’s neck and pulling him closer, closer. Vander’s cock rutted against Silco’s, the wetness of the two sliding together messily. 

 

Nips against Vander’s lip, gasped breaths, and mindless grinding of their hips together— all things that Vander remembers from the best of Silco’s kisses that he hardly appreciated enough in the past. With enough time, Vander would be able to cum like this, pathetically all over Silco’s cunt without even slipping inside. Remembering his promise, however, Vander soldiered on— reluctantly dragging his lips away with a sultry smack. 

 

Silco was breathless and red, his hair a frizzy halo around his head as he smiled dopeishly, eyelashes fluttering happily against his cheeks. He pushed at Vander’s chest, putting him upright. 

 

Vander realized he was wearing a matching smile, sickeningly sweet and soaked with love— he was drunk off the feeling. Vander unwound Silco’s legs from his waist, humming as he held the thin calf in his grip to fold Silco over again, presenting his blushed holes that shone with wetness in the lamplight. 

 

He growled, pulling Silco further to the edge and hiking his hips higher so Vander could sink his fattened, leaking cock back into Silco’s ass— still stretched and covered in Silco’s slick juices, Vander’s spit, and the bitter oil from earlier. 

 

Silco’s breath left his lungs with that whining drone, saliva pooled at the corners of his mouth as his eyes rolled back into his skull. “Good— so good Vander, holy fuh—”

 

Vander knew it wasn’t technically within Silco’s parameters— but he couldn’t help himself, he didn’t want to choose. So his hand, wandering as the other one held Silco’s hips off the bed, cupped Silco’s sex, teasing his thumb against the slick hole before breaching inside— stretching him out on the thick digit. 

 

“Oh my Gods,” Silco choked, tossing his head back and circling his hips to meet with Vander’s shallow thrusts. He was whimpering like a dog left outside, pushing into the spongy, sweet heat of Silco’s insides. 

 

“You’re so— so deep,” Silco groaned, and Vander squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his balls draw up as he rubbed the inside of Silco’s squelching cunt, fucking into his ass with longer strokes and more force. 

 

“More,” he whined, “harder puppy, fuck— I’m close already.” Silco gasped, his eyes snapping open and dark brows drawing together in concentration. 

 

Vander obliged easily, panting open-mouthed into the sticky air between them and shoving his cock deep into Silco. “Silco— please let me cum, please! you’re so beaut’ful- Fuck!” Vander rubbed his thumb blunt and unrelenting against the nerves towards Silco’s belly, his palm a rough and harsh grinding pad for Silco’s clit. 

 

“Just—” Silco huffed and whined, his hand grabbing at his breast and pinching his nipple. “Just a little longer. Oh gods, you’re doing so good, puppy— gonna cum all over your cock.” 

 

So Vander used every shred of his will to stave off his orgasm, huffing and sweating as Silco’s nails raked down his back. The walls ricocheted sounds of skin slapping and hushed, bitten groans— muffled curses and wet, slopping smacks. 

 

Silco grew louder as Vander teetered on the edge again, the thrusts into the young man’s ass punching in time with the circular motions of his thumb inside Silco’s pussy. He sobbed, and just as Vander couldn’t hold his own any longer, Silco’s cunt gushed a clear stream of squirt against Vander’s sweaty chest. Silco’s eyes were rolled back as he whimpered, pushing out the wet ejaculate with each shuddering stutter of his hips. 

 

Vander came immediately. 

 

He pulled his finger out and folded Silco in half once more, pressing their foreheads together as he spilled his pent-up load into Silco’s hole. He chanted Silco’s name like a prayer, the evidence of his orgasm never-ending as it leaked around Silco’s clenching rim and dripped onto the quilt. 

 

Silco still whimpered, his legs twitching around Vander’s thick hips as he reveled in the mess they had made. 

 

He stayed inside of Silco until he had gone completely soft, the pulsing of Silco’s hole leaking spend around Vander, content to stay stretched around the flaccid length as he dragged his tongue through the salty mess in Vander’s chest hair— biting and panting against the fat mounds of flesh. 

 

Vander clutched Silco’s head to his shoulder, his thumb moving in slow strokes across his hairline. With one last shudder, Silco went limp under Vander’s weight— sighing and clutching weakly onto Vander’s back. 

 

Vander willed himself not to cry— the warm, shimmering sensations of his orgasm dissipated to his limbs as he held Silco close, feeling the blush-warmed touch of his bare body and hearing the consistent huffs of air from his nose as his hands wandered across his skin. 

 

“I love you, Vander.” Silco murmured, lips pressed to Vander’s collarbone, “That was…” he sighed dreamily, throwing his head back to the mattress, “fantastic.” 

 

Vander shuddered through his breaths, taking a moment to feel strong enough to look at Silco’s face. Propping himself up by his hands to marvel at Silco’s face as he slowly drew his length out of his hole. 

 

His mouth dropped open, gasping before hissing in sensitivity. Vander slowly drew his cock out, the cum that remained inside Silco slowly oozed out with the winking of his spent hole. 

 

“Holy shit—” Silco let his head fall against the mattress again. Vander chuckled lightly at his dramatics, standing on wobbly legs to take in the state of the room. The old couch was skewed slightly to the left, the arm of it darkened and wet from where Silco had ground his cunt against it. He looked down at Silco- tangled and knotted hair fawned around him on the utterly mussed bed (sheets pulled off the corners, quilt bunched under Silco’s back and absolutely covered in mystery fluids). 

 

He was utterly ethereal— the same gaunt bone-deep beauty that Vander had fallen for all those years ago, haunting and gothic with his dark hair and pale skin that made Vander’s stomach flip nervously every time he cast that intelligent gaze his way. It was a hopeless cause, trying to forget the way that Silco made him feel. 

 

“We should wash off— I have to get downstairs and clean up, get ready for tomorrow” Vander sighed, though he wanted nothing more than to shove his limp cock back inside of Silco and fall asleep tangled in his arms.

 

Silco whined, tossing his arm over his eyes, “I don’t wanna—”

 

Vander hung his head, laughing at Silco’s pouting. “Well, you’ve made quite a mess of us, haven’t you?” 

 

Silco sat upright, his nose twitching in defiance. “Look who’s talking, you came like a hydrant!” 

 

When Vander finally wrangled Silco into the shower (gently, he was still sore), he turned the water on to that signature scorching temperature, wetting his hair as Vander got in behind him. He wrapped his arm around Silco’s waist and kissed his temple, the steam quickly fogging the cool air in the bathroom. 

 

“Is this where we begin round two?” Silco asked, blinking up at Vander coyly with his shiny oil-slick hair plastered flat to his head and melting around his shoulders. Vander breathed, his bones aching at the thought of trying to keep up with Silco, given their age difference. 

 

“I’m not the hound I used to be, Sil— ‘m afraid I might be spent for the night” 

 

Vander didn’t miss the flash of disappointment in Silco’s eyes as he reached for the soap and wash rag around the tap. He spoke again, taking the wet rag from Silco so he could drag it through the mess on Silco’s inner thighs. 

 

“Wouldn’t be opposed to watching you in here, though— I could even help, though you seem fairly capable of doing it yourself, evidently.” Vander parsed a laugh, glancing up to catch that feline devilishness cross Silco’s features. 

 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Silco’s smile was suppressed between his teeth as he turned around and braced himself against the tiled wall, spreading his legs and allowing Vander to wash the sex off of his sensitive folds. 

 

“You’re trouble,” Vander grinned, shaking his head and returning to his bathing.

 

***

 

They forgot about the bar downstairs, lying on the bed with wet hair between lopsided sheets, the sullied quilt kicked unceremoniously to the floor. Silco was almost immediately fast asleep in his arms, naked body flush to his side, and his arm draped over Vander’s chest. 

 

The lights were out, and only the passing headlights of cars below spotted through the blinds. He traced his fingers across Silco’s face in the dark— alone with his thoughts and shoving his guilt into a closed jar for the morning. 

 

Looming dread haunted him— he knew that this security, this warm, fuzzy feeling of finally giving in to Silco’s presence— bending into him like a black hole that swallowed every last shred of self-restraint he had left, it wouldn’t last for much longer. 

 

And it was only a matter of time until the truth burst through the windows and doors, flooding the room in horrible sorrow like a house underwater. 

 

VI

 

The water started to seep through the floorboards the second he woke up alone, he had slept late again, and Silco hadn’t woken him. He could hear Silco downstairs with the kids again, chatting and laughing without realizing the water had risen to their ankles. 

 

The guilt chased him around like a shadow all day, sickening him. The base simmering of it in his gut that he felt at all hours magnified by each honeymoon-eyed look from Silco across the bar. 

 

He had paint on his cheeks from helping Powder decorate some of her devices, a fingerpaint smudge of teal blue right next to his dimple. He had looked up at Vander, beaming bright through a shared laugh with one of the kids, his jagged teeth gleaming like gems in a cavern. 

 

How depraved, how selfish, how utterly blind was it to give in to the calls of his love— without even dignifying him with the truth. 

 

He only wanted a chance to show Silco that he had changed, but he hadn’t. At his core, he was still selfish enough to put his own sorry self above the one person who loved him for all his depravity, for all his blindness. 

 

In the evening, he sat alone in the dark. He had closed the bar early and retired to the bedroom. Silco was out with the children— they were showing him the lanes, new and improved, ten years later. Vander stared, sunken and empty, into the crackling flames in the fireplace, licking the red brick on the inside and turning it black. 

 

Vander remembered his letter, then— he wondered if Silco had ever found it. Part of him hoped that it was still collecting dust in that mineshaft, along with all of their punch-drunk memories, at least then Silco would’ve been spared the horrible apology he had scribbled out through anxious tears. If he had read it, Vander thought, then it was probably ash at the bottom of Silco’s fireplace— wherever that may be. 

 

He distantly heard the excited myriad of his kids’ overlapping voices, childish laughter and Silco’s subdued but amused reactions. He heard his lonesome footsteps up the creaky stairs, felt the cold brush of air as he pushed the bedroom door open. 

 

“Hey,” Silco lingered by the door frame, cautiously approaching the couch from behind, “closed up pretty early tonight,” He commented. Vander kept his eyes trained on the meandering flame, staying silent for the simple fact that he couldn’t possibly think of the right words to say. 

 

Silco moved around the couch, sitting down gingerly next to Vander— the chasm between the cushions separating them again. “Vander…?” Silco’s head flopped to the side, trying to catch Vander’s eyes. He avoided his searching gaze, hanging his head between his shoulders and willing himself to own up to the truth. The water was rising, about to suffocate them both. 

 

Silco fixed his lips in a tight line, tossing himself against the backrest and crossing his arms. “Is this about last night?” He asked, dashed with annoyance at being ignored. 

 

Vander shook his head, snapping out of his catatonia. “No—“ he croaked, hand searching across the cushions to gently squeeze Silco’s knee, “not… not really. I mean— it’s nothing that you did, I just…” Vander fumbled over his words, hardly able to look Silco in the eye. 

 

He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, standing from the couch and wandering to the edge of the rug. Silco’s confused silence was deafening. “Silco, I have to tell you that I haven’t been entirely honest,” Vander choked out, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth. Silco still didn’t speak, his eyes tracking Vander from the couch. 

 

“About your death? That was—uh, not… not entirely true.” Vander drew a shaking breath, forcing himself to look into Silco’s eyes when he said it, because he deserved the torture of seeing the look of Silco’s trust curdle and seep into fear and hatred once more. 

 

He was rigid against the back of the couch, jaw tight and fingertips twitching against his knee. Vander swallowed down the sorrow in his voice, an unconscious attempt at victimhood. “You’re still alive, you didn’t die with Felicia,” he gulped around the lump in his throat, gaze unblinking as he stared into the vacant confusion of Silco’s eyes. 

 

“You’re still alive, but you just—” Vander placed his hands on his hips and let a nervously ironic chuckle bubble through his throat. “You just hate my guts.” 

 

Silco’s eyes searched for an answer on the ceiling, and after a beat of silence, he finally spoke. “Vander, that’s ridiculous, I don’t see how I could ever possibly—”

 

“It was that night on the bridge that I told you about… the night we lost her,” Vander sniffed, the vague shards of memory slicing through him as he recalled each thing he could visualize. 

 

“I told you not to go,” Vander whispered, “we had been at each other for weeks at that point… at odds for a few years, even. After Vi was born, you threw yourself into revolutionary work, I felt like you had shut me out… shut us out and–“

 

Vander lowered himself on the bed, his pupils burning with unshed tears. He screwed his eyes shut, rubbing the pads of his fingers roughly over the lids. Silco was unfortunately shocked into silence— no reprimand for his lies, no flurry of open-palmed smacks against his chest for his dishonesty and greed. 

 

“I can’t defend what I did to you, Sil” Vander’s breath shuddered, feeling like scrapes of broken glass against his windpipe “I hardly remember it happening, but when I saw Felicia lying there—” He choked, the repressed vision of her dead eyes staring blank at the heavens, the reflective and mischievous twinkle in her eye was gone. Her gaze was vacant and stretched out long like an empty corridor. 

 

Vander remembers being confused, his mind unable to wrap around the thought of her dead as he tried to piece together how she could be resting at a time like this, with her eyes open and reflecting the smoldering flames on the bridge, lying in a puddle of rainwater. 

 

Except it wasn’t rainwater, it was blood— buckets and buckets of blood still seeping from the bullet holes and soaking her pretty cream skirt in blackish-red syrupy ichor.  

 

And there was Silco standing over her, his hands dripping with her blood, shaking and covered in soot, a scrape on his temple, and a muddy boot print on his neck. His eyebrow was split, deep and trickling blood into his eye— the white of his sclera turning red, the blue of his eyes in a sheen of dark purple. Vander could only hear the sound of rushing water from the pilt. Silco’s mouth was moving, the tone of his voice pleading. 

 

“I didn’t mean to—“ 

 

And then Vander grabbed his shirt. He hauled him over the railing and dropped him into the water below.  

 

The next thing Vander knew, he was up to his knees in the toxic muck, grabbing Silco by his hair and dragging him back when he tried, disoriented and water-logged, to run away. 

 

After that, remain only the flashes, blood dissociating into the water, flesh under his fingernails, sideways rain pelting his face. The haunting sounds of Silco drowning remain fresh in his ears, his pleading voice— cracking with chokes, gurgles of screams snuffed under the surface of the water. 

 

Silco only sliced him once. Granted, it was deep and it hurt like hell— the pain of it nearly enough to snap him out of his feral rage. But Silco had only hurt him enough to get away, to disappear into the forest and leave Vander to the pieces of the life that he fractured. 

 

Vander had discarded the leather cuff hours ago, sitting in front of the fire and tracing over the knotted and puckered scar with his thumb to feel every groove of his minimal punishment— the last mark that Silco would ever make on him, and this one was permanent. 

 

Silence hung between them when Vander finished speaking, the shaking and labored breaths from Vander not quieting or subsiding in the slightest. He dug his thumb into the groove of the scar— the infection that had ravaged him for nearly three weeks after the day of ash had left some residual pain in the area that would never go away. Though it paled in comparison to the pain of being faced with the consequences of his actions. 

 

“I hate when you lie to me.” Silco spoke softly, his eyes trained on the fire as his arms remained crossed over his chest with his right leg tossed over his left, boot bobbing with the unconscious jittering of his leg. 

 

“I know,” Vander sniffed, fingers pressing at his closed eyes again. ”I’m sorry.” 

 

Silco faded back into silence, synthesizing the information in an agonizingly quiet internalized process. 

 

When he was ready to speak, Silco turned his head to catch Vander’s lingering gaze in the intense and almost scary way he conducted serious business. “I can understand your outburst over Felicia— I know that your love for us is where you carry your strength, but… I understand it’s a weakness all the same.” Silco cleared his throat. “I believe you when you said you’d do anything to change what happened. I can see that burns you up inside,” Silco said this with an irritating amount of compassion. 

 

This compassion, this comfort, this familiar soothing and gentle voice, it was nothing that Vander deserved. Vander deserved all the pain he couldn’t stomach anymore; he deserved every ounce of hate that Silco had for him tenfold. Not the soft looks of understanding, the nodding comfort of forgiveness, or the warmth of Silco’s body on his. 

 

“I do forgive you, Vander— though it may not be my place I… I see the savagery that I harbored in you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t encourage it because it served me—“ 

 

“Silco, stop.” Vander felt a panicked jolt flare in his chest, the tone in Silco’s voice indicating that it might’ve been his fault for molding Vander into somebody capable of his actions. 

 

”It’s okay, Vander. I see you now for this evolved version of who I knew you to be.” 

 

”Silco.” Vander pleaded, dragging a breath through his nose 

 

“You’re still kind, you’ve grown paternal for the kids, it’s cute—” 

 

“You don’t understand, Sil.” Vander was growing annoyed at his insistence, “I hurt you— badly. Physically. You have a scar across your face now because of me— I allowed you to be isolated for six years after Felicia died. I let you fester in hatred and pain all by yourself.” Vander was a proud man; he hadn’t cried for a very long time— even after the events on the bridge, he was numb, only forcing himself to function half-way normal for the children. 

 

It was like Silco’s entrance back into his days had dropped a live wire into the stagnant, stinking pools of Vander’s life— exciting in him what it meant to actually feel something again. Phantom pains from the life he had mauled and left behind, creeping desire and a desperate, gasping need for Silco to tell him everything he needed to hear. 

 

He knew that this Silco, bright doe eyes and blinding, trusting compliance in Vander, could never grant him the forgiveness he needed. No, if he wanted forgiveness, he would have to crawl to the right Silco, on his hands and knees through a field of broken glass to sputter his apologies and beg for absolution— even still, Silco would never accept him as he was; he wouldn’t be stupid enough to make the mistake of loving Vander twice. 

 

Silco scoffed, uncrossing his legs. “I understand just fine, Vander. You hurt me all the time. You can be a real pain sometimes, you know?” Silco stood, arms still petulantly crossed against his chest, and marched to where Vander sat on the bed. 

 

Vander opened his mouth to retort that it was different- but Silco grabbed his face between his thumb and index finger roughly, “—Let me finish.” Silco tilted Vander’s face up, causing him to fix his posture and listen obediently. 

 

“You’re my pain,” the way Silco looked at him, referring to Vander as his, made Vander’s insides turn to mush; he had to stop himself from keening like a dog. “Sometimes,” Silco continued, “you make me so mad, I want to scream at you until I’m red in the face. You try to act all tough instead of just talking to me, and you placate me with these little lies. I know you, Vander— you’re soft on the inside, just like the rest of us.”

 

This struck Vander, harkening back to something the right Silco had said to him in the cannery before trying to drive a knife in his gut. But instead of the statement being soaked in resentment, hearing it fall from Silco’s lips, it felt like a kiss instead of a stab. 

 

He felt the dreaded prickle in his eyes, the wobble of his lower lip as Silco lowered himself into Vander’s lap, pulling Vander’s head onto his shoulder to hide his reddened eyes and save at least a shred of his dignity. 

 

“Come on, you big baby— let it out.” Silco’s teasing tone and familiar caresses through his greying hair pulled a shivering breath from Vander’s lungs. The dam that Vander had built to keep his sorrow at bay, the one that had been cracking under the pressure for years now, finally burst. 

 

Hot, stinging tears left his eyes as he tried to hold back his sobs, clutching on to Silco’s back like a lifeline. Silco’s slim, bony hands moved across the expanse of his back, nails scratching the threadbare t-shirt he wore to sleep when the weather got cold. 

 

“It’s alright, I’m here.” Silco soothed, sounding a little startled if anything. Vander tried to pull back, tried to apologize for the outburst, so he could go back to shoving all the pain, guilt, and self-loathing he felt brimming inside himself back where it belonged: locked tight in the box of his memories, never to be spoken about or acknowledged. 

 

Vander held Silco in his arms and cried for what seemed like hours. He cried about the loss of Felicia, remembering that he would never hear her laugh again and that she would never give the girls another horrendous haircut. 

 

He cried about his kids, how they would never get as much love as they deserve— they deserved all the love that Felicia and Connol wanted to give them. They deserved to live comfortably without Piltover’s oppression and enforcers clipping their wings before they could even learn to fly. 

 

He cried because he had been so fucking stressed these past years, running on empty for so long had exhausted him to his bones, and he was just tired of it all. He wanted time to stop for a couple of days so he could sleep like the dead.

 

Silco had helped time stop, those moments in the previous evening where he was pressed between Silco’s fingers and toothy kisses- in that moment, he hadn’t cared about his bills or what he was going to do with the kids the next day, all he cared about was hearing those precious little whines falling from Silco’s lips. 

 

He used to have that all the time, and instead of holding on to it for dear life, he not only let go— but smashed it to pieces.  

 

He cried about Silco, his precious canary. For a long time, he was one of the few precious things in Vander’s life. For a long time, Silco had turned him into a better person— someone who could cherish people and keep them safe instead of just breaking everything around him like he had broken his mother’s decorative plates when he was ten. 

 

“A bull in a china shop” she used to call him, because Vander was plump and tall, six feet already by the time he turned eleven. 

 

He cried about his mom. Her funeral was something he didn’t remember well, just her plywood casket floating off into the distance of the sea and the alarmingly small shipping crate of all of their things from the shack he had called home. 

 

It was off to the mines after that, and the shack crumbled a couple of months later. The foundation was basically non-existent, and the pitiful thing had collapsed in on itself, sinking into the marshland by the water in a matter of moments. Vander had thought at that moment (sixteen and passively suicidal) that had his mother been alive, they still would’ve lived in that shack when it collapsed, and at least Vander would’ve been spared the pain of trying to make it through life all on his own. 

 

Things got easier after he met Felicia; her bright disposition remained despite all the shit she had been through as a child, ever-optimistic and scorchingly caring. 

 

He cried about Felicia again, and the cycle continued for a long while until Vander felt as if his throat was closing up, and his eyes stung with the salty tears. The sadness felt numbing and silly at the same time. 

 

He pulled away from Silco, who had tear streaks down his face too— the evening’s application of kohl smudged at the corners of his eyes and ran gray down his cheeks. Silco had always been a sympathetic crier (and a happy crier, and an angry crier, you get the picture), but he rubbed his thumb under Vander’s eye to wipe away the drying tears, smiling sadly, “Feel better, pup?” 

 

Vander nodded gravely, not trusting himself to speak. 

 

“Let's get you some water, then we can sleep like the dead.” Silco stood, knees wobbling as he shook his numb foot awake. 

 

Vander sighed, digging the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “The kids, it’s past their bedtime. I need to put Powder to sleep at least—” Vander stood, the exhaustion hitting him like a wave on the shore. His red-rimmed eyes were heavy with tiredness and his shoulders sagged. Silco turned, placing his hands on Vander’s shoulders to gently push him towards the bed again- Vander was too tired to protest. 

 

“I think I can handle that,” he said with a light laugh. “I’ll check on the kids and get them to bed— you need to sleep.” Silco pushed Vander’s chest so he lay flat on the mattress, crowding over him and poking his sharp kneecaps into the meat of Vander’s thighs, peppering kisses onto his tear-stained cheeks. 

 

Vander was paralyzed, the gentle gestures and free expressions of love from Silco filled his chest with a glowing warmth. Those kisses, given unconditionally and for the sole purpose of transferring feelings of affection, were something Vander had fought tooth and nail to receive, once. 

 

Silco, like a feral cat, had grown accustomed to being alone. It took Vander years of dedication— powering through hissing reluctance for Silco to accept his free affection other than heat-of-the-moment kisses and embraces after sex. 

 

How long it took Silco to return these tokens of affection was a whole other ordeal. 

 

Vander drew a shuddering breath at the memories, keeping his eyes closed as Silco stroked along his cheek. Vander grabbed his hand around the wrist, dragging the knuckles across his chapped lips and savoring the feel of his skin. 

 

Silco smacked his cheek lightly with his other hand. “Let me go, brute. I have to do your dirty work.” 

 

Vander let Silco slip like silt through his fingers, the loving weight and warmth of him gone in a moment. Vander brushed the tips of his fingers over his lips; he felt the impression that Silco’s bones had left in his thigh muscles. 

 

He had dreamed about sweet scenarios like this, Vander worn out and tired from work— Silco with a wedding band around his finger, carding through his hair to comfort him to sleep before getting the children to bed. Silco would slip under the sheets and hold him in the dark expanse of their bedroom. Everything shared, no empty stretch of space that was too big for Vander to claim on his own— no cold, empty bed, no lengthy scratching loneliness. 

 

A proper family, which Vander had always been envious of in his youth. What Vander only mourned he couldn’t give his children. 

 

He fell asleep with the lights on and his legs still hanging off the latter half of the mattress. Silco came in an hour or so later, rousing Vander to get under the covers before excusing himself to shower. 

 

Vander fluttered in and out of sleep, the lamplight casting shadows over the furniture as he dreamt of things like ocean animals and his daughter’s funeral. Silco returned damp and glowing from the shower- his hair falling just below his shoulders in stringy waves. 

 

Vander curled into Silco’s side, jolting awake from a half-dream where he was falling off the bridge and into the pitch-black pilt. Silco’s skin was warm and soft from the steam, aside from the tips of his fingers and his feet. Those remained perpetually ice-cold from Silco’s poor circulation. 

 

He hummed, pressing his face to the crook of Silco’s bare shoulder, a cold, bony hand coming up to sort through the silver hairs at the crown of his head. Vander kept his eyes closed and traced his fingertips up and down Silco’s chest, to his sides, and back up to his arms again. Vander wanted to memorize how Silco felt in his arms, press the indentation of his small body into Vander’s softer, older self.

 

It was like picking up the gauntlets again; the reminiscence was tangible and muscle memory overwhelming. Loving Silco, holding him static in his arms, was something he had once wished he could forget entirely. Now, remembering the ecstasy and righteousness he felt with Silco all around him— it would be impossible to scrub from his conscious mind. That feeling would never fade. 

 

Silco was surrounding him, like a cloud of The Gray, creeping in corners and covering the floor in his scent. Black strands of hair on his pillow and stuck to his clothes, his used socks, discarded jacket, and boots scattered around the room so carelessly. 

 

The twitching ache in Vander’s lower back from how roughly Silco liked to be fucked, scratches from his deltoids up to his nape, bite marks on his pecs. 

 

The same conclusion he arrived at when he dragged himself and the girls home to the bar that fateful night had struck him again in an ironic and bitter sensation. Silco was everywhere. He could be pressed and folded into corners, swept from the rug, shoved in a trunk- but he would always be there. 

 

Vander and Silco were intertwined in ways Vander had yet to fathom. Ripping Silco apart had felt nothing like mutilating another person and everything like mutilating himself. 

 

His heart and lungs had been living on the other side of town while Vander had been trying to falsify a sense of normalcy- dragging himself around the lanes bleeding, blind, and stupid. 

 

He swallowed hard, keeping his eyes closed tight as Silco settled in to lie on Vander’s chest with a hum of contentment. Vander brushed his palm against Silco’s sharp shoulder, circling where he remembered the moles on his back to be. 

 

They wouldn’t be parted like that again. Vander would crawl through a thousand fields of glass before he let Silco be taken from him again. 

 

“Stay with me” He murmured into Silco’s ear, hardly thinking about it.

 

“M’right here” Silco responded in a lightly amused voice, shuffling impossibly closer.

 

Vander drifted back into sleep, a dark premonition in his gut as he clutched onto Silco. This time, he didn’t dream, only fell deeper into the dark pit behind his eyelids, comforted by the weight and warmth of the man on his chest. 

 

As the two slept tangled between limbs and under the cover of darkness in Zaun, two young scientists in Piltover were testing their risky hypothesis, sending blue light wall-to-wall at one of the labs in Piltover Academy. That blue light sent a beam to the heavens and dimmed all of the artificial glow in the city of progress for the rest of the night. 

 

The pulse of ancient runic energy murmurs across the land in residual waves, combing over the undercity to right the wrongs of its misfire. 

 

When Vander startled awake, it was still dark outside, and dawn had just started to crest the horizon in Piltover. In Zaun, the slate sky outside lightened only a twinge through the haze. Silco was on the far side of the bed, curled over, facing the wall and hogging all the blankets. 

 

Vander felt nauseous and hot despite the cool morning, a sheen of sweat covered him as he shivered and his body shook involuntarily. He set his feet on the floorboards, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to shake his dizziness with little success. 

 

Stumbling to the bathroom, Vander shut the door softly before clicking on the light. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, looking like hell: his face was pale and washed almost green, his hair was stringy and unwashed, sticking up on one side from being pressed to the pillows. 

 

His stomach churned then, almost causing him to collapse before he gagged up watery stomach bile into the sink, dry heaving after there was no liquid left to purge. 

 

He grabbed the glass from the lip of the sink, filling it with water and washing out his mouth before he greedily gulped down the rest of the glass. He filled it again before shutting the light off and opening the door. 

 

Silco, the right Silco, was sitting up, scarred face and short hair with a streak of gray through the dull black at his hairline. His back was slouched as he held the blankets to his chest, staring at Vander with his perpetual burning black eye. Vander dropped the cup, the flimsy bar glass shattering on the ground. 

 

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, Vander breathing out “Silco…” in a whisper. 

 

Silco’s eyes narrowed, murmuring, “I fucking knew it.” he wrenched the blankets off, flying to the other side of the room and scanning the floor for anything that might cover his bare legs. 

 

Vander stood there, stuttering and frozen in fear. “Silco-” he said louder this time, watching as the man paced around the rug, grabbing young Silco’s dark cargo pants off the ground. 

 

Silco looked up venomously from the ground and pointed a long, trembling finger at him. “You shut the fuck up. Don’t say another word or I swear to Janna I’ll-” Silco swallowed, averting his eyes and focusing on shoving his heel through the legs of the pants. 

 

“Sil, please,” Vander heard the neediness and the crack in his voice, humbling and desperate. 

 

Silco grumbled and buttoned the pants— shoving his feet into young Silco’s boots by the door. 

 

“Please don’t go.” Vander continued, his stomach lurching with head-spinning nausea again. 

 

Silco scoffed and put the boots on the arm of the couch to tie them, leaving a hasty mud-print on the light upholstery. “And why would I stay, Vander? So you can finish me off?” 

 

“No.” Vander surged forward as if on impulse, momentarily forgetting about the shards of glass on the floor. A sharp peak drove into the ball of his foot, drawing a pained yelp from his throat as a streak of blood began to pool under the wound. 

 

Silco grimaced and flinched. He looked at Vander like he was a stranger. 

 

“Can we talk-? Please, please— don’t leave!” Tears pricked the corners of his eyes from the sharp pain of the slice in his foot and how Silco shrank, slinking back in fear when Vander took a trudging step forward. 

 

“Consider yourself lucky I haven’t killed you already,” Silco spat, ruthlessly denying Vander’s request. 

 

“Don’t think about following me.” Silco backed towards the door, turning the knob and rushing down the hallway; the sound of his hurried steps running away from Vander sent a pang of hurt to his chest with every footfall. 

 

Vander collapsed to his knees into the small pool of blood that had collected in lethargic pumps along with his heartbeat. 

 

If Silco had leapt up to kill him, this time he wouldn’t have fought him off. He was still breathing, and Silco was out of the door and on the streets of Zaun by now. 

 

He was still breathing, he thought again. There was blood, but he was still breathing.

Notes:

if you didn't think I was gonna milk this for all it's worth, you were sorely mistaken. I'll see you in a few months with the old man yaoi chapter.

one final thank you to my friend & beta stripe for the constant support and encouragement, as well as the read-over for this monstrosity of a piece.

And of course, thank you all for all of your kind comments and kudos on this AU- it always means a lot.

as always, let's talk over on twitter

Much love, M

Notes:

mueheh I'm keeping you guys on the hook for another chapter before you get the conclusion to this part, so stay tuned! The second chapter is nearly finished so I won't keep you waiting for another six months, I prommie.

As always, let's talk over on twitter

Thanks for reading, let me know what you're hoping for in chapter two

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Call it Fate, Call it Karma