Work Text:
Silco liked nice things.
It was something the man never said nor showed outwardly but if one knew him for as long as Vander had, you could see it. How he always neatly mended his clothes, expertly stitching so that the evidence of a tear was near invisible. He never wore anything with a hole or stain and if something didn’t fit his standard, he would hand it down to someone else who didn’t care. During some jobs, Silco would casually nick unnecessary items. Like aged Noxian wines, sculpted candlesticks, a set of whiskey glasses with detailed rims. Once, Silco had taken the time to remove all the place settings on a table during a particularly precarious heist in a Piltovan house just so he could take the tablecloth. He had made the said material into a new vest for himself and now wore it regularly.
Silco never brought much attention to his preferences. He bummed it like all the rest of their group did. He drank cheap spirits, wore scratchy shirts, smoked, fought, just like all the other guys did. Vander was the only one watching closely enough to see how Silco would fix his hair neatly after wrestling. That he never strayed far from an ashtray when he smoked, keeping the ashes neatly away and preventing any possible loose soot. That even as he glared at anything Piltovan, there would always be at least a second of admiration lingering in his eyes; a yearning he couldn’t satiate.
It couldn’t be said that Silco was soft because of this. No, he was the epitome of an Undercity thug, even more so than Vander was. He had grown up on the streets of the Sumps, he fought dirty, bit and scratched and cursed. Even their friends called him a “dirty little thing” behind his back sometimes and even more so to his face.
But Vander knew better.
Because Silco was anything but dirty. He may act a certain way but that was because he was just Silco. And, yes, Silco could be rough but that was because he was bold. Silco was loud because he was passionate. He fought because he was a survivor. Silco was all those things but he was so much more. More that he hid away, even from himself.
Vander thought that was beautiful.
He wished he could indulge Silco’s vanity more. Wished Silco would allow him to dote on him. If not in their everyday life then at least in their more intimate moments. But, no. Silco was prideful. He was determined to prove himself just as much of a man and just as much of a Zaunite as anyone. He didn’t need anyone’s attentions or care. Which was true, he didn’t need it. Silco could do anything he wanted without help. Vander just wanted Silco to know he didn’t have to.
He wanted Silco to know he could have nice things and enjoy them. At least when they were in private.
Which is why in the middle of a job, Vander stopped with interest at a large wardrobe in the bedroom. He opened the doors to see a line of pressed, fresh smelling clothes, presumably belonging to the couple who lived here.
He skimmed through the dress shirts, waistcoats, and dinner jackets but all of them were too big for Silco and too small for himself.
“Vander!” Felicia called from the other room. “Time to fly!”
Vander cursed under his breath and took a chance, grabbing at a soft midnight blue material hanging on the other side of the wardrobe and shoving it inside his knapsack.
“Coming, coming!” He yelled, jogging back out the room with a corner of embroidered fabric hanging from his newly acquired loot.
Vander praised himself. He was finally going to be able to give Silco something. A real romantic gesture. Silco could hide his affectations with measured actions and cover-ups, but in the heat of the moment? Vander could imagine how Silco would light up and preen over his gift.
Even though the clothes had been too big for Silco, he was sure the smaller man was crafty enough to make it into something to look perfect on him. He made everything look perfect on him. Silco knew it too.
Silco had an entire theory about presentation of personal appearances. That cleanliness and decoration were associated with power and control because they were hallmarks of Piltover. Taking the initiative on those signatures and integrating them in a fashion more suited to Zaun would mark a person as someone to pay attention to. Whether or not he truly believed that or had made it an excuse to justify his prim appearance, Vander didn’t know. Either way he was grateful for Silco’s creed of looks. It made him very nice to look at.
At home, in the room he shared with Silco, Vander dumped out his personal keepings. Most of it would be sold, others were practical, but there, in the middle of the pile was that velvety, shining blue. Vander grinned, reaching for it to get a better look. Should he wrap it up for Silco? Leave it out on the bed for him to find? Or—
Vander’s anticipation dissolved.
“Oh, fuck,” Vander groaned in disappointment.
He was holding a dress.
In his hurry, he must have overlooked that he had grabbed from the half of the wardrobe dedicated to the more feminine clothing inside. The dress was made of a fine crushed velvet in a deep rich and royal color that would have been perfect for Silco. If it were not a damn dress. The sleeves were sheer and draped down in flowing waves. At the cuffs, collar, and hem, little embroidered stars were placed, made of shining golden thread.
The dress was beautiful.
Silco would never wear it.
Vander stared at the offending item in a huff. He could pass it on to Felicia but she would probably take it in insult. She never wore anything this fancy, and hated putting on airs. Vander considered the garment a moment longer, trying to think of who to pass it on to, and ended up with the image of Silco in the dress in his mind’s eye.
Gods, he shouldn’t think that. Silco wouldn’t appreciate that particular musing. Vander shook the fantasy from his head.
It wasn’t that he wanted to see Silco in a dress specifically. He just wanted to see Silco in something nice. Something worthy of Silco’s indulgent vanity. And Vander wanted to be the cause of the smile that would bring to his partner and best friend.
“I hope you aren’t planning to tend the bar in that.”
Vander’s neck made a popping sound from the force of turning his head towards the now open door. Silco was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking at Vander and the dress. Vander dropped the gown like it had burned him. Silco raised his eyebrows.
“You got that on the job?” Silco pushed off of the frame and approached Vander, getting a better look at the pile of loot. “Why? Was it owned by some famous Piltie or what? Doesn’t look like it would fetch all that much otherwise.”
“I wasn’t going to sell it,” Vander answered Silco, rather vacant in his tone and expression.
Silco glanced at Vander, picking up a corner of the dress to inspect it. “Okay…but Fel sure as hell won’t wear it.”
“I didn’t get it for her.”
Vander felt like an automaton. He sounded mechanical and blank, eyes glued on Silco. He didn’t know exactly why he wasn’t brushing this off and averting Silco’s attention. It would make the current scene feel a lot less like he was a child caught nabbing from a sweets bowl.
Silco was completely suspicious now. “Then why the hell did you steal a stupid dress, Vander? We don’t need it.”
“I was gonna give it to you.”
Oh, how Vander wanted to take the words back as soon as he had said them. Silco’s teal eyes widened and he visibly tensed. Vander cringed inwardly.
He should learn to keep his big mouth shut. But his brain had been on the track of impressing Silco, pleasing Silco, for most of the day that he didn’t think of the consequences when he should have.
It wasn’t as if Silco had a fragile masculinity, but the man did have an inordinate sense of pride. Silco worked to prove himself equal to Vander and Benzo and Connol and the rest of their group. That was part of the reason he never paraded his more frivolous desires. Vander was usually so careful in ensuring that that pride wasn’t put in danger, including him in the roughhousing like he would any man, keeping him in the thick of their friend’s business, never shunned to the sides for too long if Vander had his way.
He had just thrown that all into a fiery pit by saying he had gotten Silco a dress.
“I didn’t mean—” Vander stammered, snapping back to himself. “I didn’t get the dress for you! I didn’t know—! I didn’t realize—! See, I was there, and there were all these clothes, and Fel was rushing me, so I grabbed and—!”
“Vander, shut up.”
Vander shut up.
Silco was carding the material between his fingers looking thoughtfully at it. He was silent for a good minute and Vander obediently was as well. When Silco finally released the dress and crossed his arms, facing Vander fully now, he tilted his head shrewdly.
“Why did you get me the dress?”
Vander lurched back into his patchwork explanation. “I didn’t mean to get you a dress! I just wanted to get you…something.”
“I got that part,” Silco shrugged his shoulders. “But why?”
“Um…” This was not at all wahtvhe had expected from Silco. He had imagined an angry finger pointed in his face and gnashing jagged teeth as he was yelled at. Vander hadn’t counted on Silco’s calm, levelheaded disposition. “I just wanted to give you something nice.”
Silco’s brow furrowed. Another long, quiet pause. Silco seemed to be staring into Vander’s soul. Vander kept still, fighting the urge to shuffle his feet or break the silence. Not because he feared Silco now but because he was waiting for whatever Silco had to say or do next.
Gods, this man could be a mystery to him. Vander was never bored and he fucking loved that.
“Why,” Silco tasted the word luxuriously before finishing the rest of his question, “would you give me something nice? It isn't my birthday, is it?”
“Um, you won’t tell me when your birthday is…”
“Because I don’t have one,” Silco brushed the miscellaneous subject off like dust in his jacket. “Now, why give me something? What do you want?"
Vander’s lips parted, not speaking for a second. Silco was looking for an ultimatum. Because of course he was.
“No, Silco, it isn’t like that,” Vander shook his head. His voice was less rushed now. “I don’t want anything from you. I just wanted you to be given something nice instead of taking it for a change.”
Silco’s eyes narrowed and he once again asked, this time more pointedly;
“Why?”
Vander blinked. Why? Why give to Silco when he hadn't asked, when he insisted he needed nothing from anyone, least of all Vander? Why care if Silco received something common and tried and true as opposed to something uncommon and risky, like this dress? Why was that important to Vander?
“Because…” Vander searched for the right words. “Because…because you deserve it.”
Neither Silco’s face nor posture changed. Yet, somehow, Vander could recognize a difference. Maybe it was in the air or in Silco’s jeweled sea-foam eyes. In any case, Vander could tell that a switch had been flipped. And there was hope igniting in him that it was for the better. That maybe he hadn’t royally fucked up the near future with Silco.
Silco hummed, glancing down at the dress. Vander waited with baited breath.
“Hang it up. It will get horribly wrinkled like that.”
Silco gestured passively, chin in the air, dropping his crossness. He moved past Vander to adjust the curtains. Vander watched him, dumbfounded. When Silco turned and Vander was still in the same position, Silco frowned.
“Well? What did I just say?”
Vander didn’t dare be told again. He grabbed up the dress and shook it out, taking it to its new home in their small closet, thinking of how he would never understand Silco, would he?
The dress stayed hung up where Vander had obediently put it, untouched. Vander was too perplexed to press the issue, worried still that he had offended Silco. It wasn’t that Vander felt like he was walking on eggshells. But his relationship with Silco was already delicate enough. It always felt like he was pushing it with Silco, that he was the one initiating anything remotely intimate. Vander really had no idea what they were at this point. Boyfriends? Friends with benefits? No label seemed to fit them. Vander stuck to introducing Silco as his partner and the man had never corrected him.
Days went by, the weekend crowded with patrons and busyness at the Drop. Vander’s mind became too stirred up and occupied to worry about any of the previous thoughts.
He had all but forgotten about the dress when he walked into the bedroom and saw Silco wearing it.
Vander froze, jaw dropping at the sight. Silco’s back was to him as he looked into their cracked and dusty mirror, swinging slightly to look at himself from different angles. One hand was placed on his hip while the other held a smoking cigarette. Silco’s eyes caught Vander’s in the reflection.
“Well? What do you think?” Silco asked rather dryly before taking a long drag of his cigarette and flicking away the ashes neatly in the nearby tray.
The dress, while about Silco’s size, hung off of his awkwardly in the front and sides, his body lacking the curve and bosom to fill it out. He didn’t have any jewels or stockings to accentuate it. The dress was meant to cinch at the waist but on Silco it seemed to resist that. Had he had some kind of belt or ribbon, it would have done the job. Silco’s chest tattoo peaked over the V-neck collar and where it dipped low in the back, Cander could see the littered tiny scars from a broken bottle long healed over on his shoulder.
Overall, this dress was clearly not made for Silco. It didn’t belong to him, was never meant to come near something like him.
Vander thought he looked perfect.
“Oh…” Vander found that his feet moved under him and he came up smoothly behind Silco, placing his hands on the bony shoulders. “Sil, you look beautiful.”
A puff of smoke curled around the tight smile. “You are easy to please.”
Lips pressed against the crook of Silco’s neck. Silco’s eyes fluttered shut, savoring the warmth that became wetter the more bold Vander became.
“You didn’t think I’d wear it, did you?” Silco had a melodic hum to his voice.
Vander made a sound that Silco translated as a “No.”
“Couldn’t let such a lovely thing go to waste,” Silco’s smooth tone remained even as Vander’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Besides…I liked what you said.”
It took several more kisses and a tightened grip on Silco before Vander briefly looked up. “What I said?”
Silco’s eyes opened and locked in on Vander’s in the mirror. “That I deserved it.”
Something both equally fierce and tender swelled in Vander’s chest. His fingers pressed into the fabric on Silco’s hips. “You do.”
He felt a tremor pass down Silco. “Yes,” Silco tipped his head back, eyes shut again. The cigarette was burning away between his fingers. Vander had to pause his affections to pluck it away, putting it out on the ashtray.
Vander put his hands back on Silco and spun him around. “You deserve this,” He said, dipping back down to mouth at Silco’s neck. Long fingers grabbed at the front of his shirt, several going down his collar and brushing against his skin. “You deserve all kinds of lovely things. I’ll take everything you deserve for you.”
It was a promise Vander wanted to keep. That was a part of the dream of Zaun, wasn’t it? To get more than their lot. What they were owed?
Silco groaned. Leave it to Silco to consider their idealism dirty talk.
“Tell me what I deserve,” Silco demanded with a slight growl in his voice.
That stoked up fire behind Silco’s lustful expression sent sparks straight to Vander’s core. His arms traveled up and down the soft sides of the gown.
“Everything. Comfort. Respect.” As Vander said the words, he kissed down Silco’s neck and chest, down the open V of the dress. “Luxury. All the things as beautiful as you are.”
“Fuck. Yes,” Silco preened. “Call me beautiful again.”
Vander smiled. He’d done it. He’d broken past this particular defense finally. Had Silco openly displaying what he had known was buried under the surfaces: that Silco was vain as sin, jealous, and greedy in more delicate ways. That he craved nice things. That he wanted to be known as someone deserving of them.
The triumph brought Vander slowly to his knees, kissing the front of the dress as he descended. As soon as he could reach, his hands went up under the skirt and grabbed at Silco’s ass.
Vander felt harsh pulling in his hair. “Say it,” Silco demanded again.
“You are beautiful, Silco,” Vander didn’t hesitate to oblige the needy man anymore. He kissed the velvet covered spot between Silco’s legs. The muscle under twitched when he did. Silco’s fingers dug deeper into his hair, pulling his face forward to be flush with his warm groin.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Vander repeated, hands sliding down to grip Silco’s thighs before lifting him effortlessly up and practically tossing him onto their bed. “So fucking beautiful it hurts.”
He leaned down and crashed their mouths together finally as he pinned Silco there. No teasing. Just raw need and loyalty. This was one of the few ways Vander felt he could rightly express his loyalty to Silco. In the day, he took the lead, had to be “the Hound.” But here? Alone, with Silco? He belonged to the Eye.
Silco could feel how hard Vander was through his trousers already. He smirked, pleased.
“You forgot one thing,” Silco said, roughly pulling Vander down on the bed with him.
“Forgot what?”
“What I deserve.”
Vander cradled Silco’s face with one hand and held his throat firmly in the other. If he tightened his grip he could have choked him. But he stayed gentle. Silco trusted him, to be close, to hold and bend him. Vander was devoted. Silco craved that. He could allow a hand on his throat if devotion like that came with it.
“And what’s that?” Vander asked, smiling as he kissed the left side of Silco’s face, just under his eye.
Silco grabbed at Vander’s back, ensuring they remained flush together.
“You.”