Chapter Text
It wasn’t often that the Undercity was ground to a halt because of weather. When the atmosphere was already thick with toxic fumes things like precipitation and temperature didn’t often sway people from living their lives.
But this was . . . not typical.
Summer had suddenly concluded and the rainy season fell upon Zaun and Piltover in buckets and waves. Small hurricanes kept battering against the cities’ shorelines; the Pilt swelled up so high that the smallest wave crests licked the underside of the bridges; the streets of the lowest districts in Piltover transformed into babbling brooks and the deepest parts of the Sump filled with the onslaught of rain water.
The Storm of Our Time they were calling it . . .
A dramatic name for a dramatic time. But it wasn’t all bad . . . not as far as you were concerned.
The rain steadily beating against the bedroom window once again pulled you sweetly from sleep. It had been your wakeup call for the past three weeks since the first of the storms rolled in. The sound comforted you, though not nearly as much as the feeling of the warm chest under your cheek.
This was the reason you couldn’t be bothered to be too upset by the bombardment of inclement weather.
The basement of The Last Drop flooded in the first couple days of the rainy season. Then the streets outside did, prompting Silco to close the bar and have sandbags stacked around the establishment’s perimeter. All employees were sent out. Whether they went home, to a brothel, or to a drug den, Silco didn’t care. He just didn’t want them underfoot if there was nothing for them to do.
Singed’s lab flooded at the end of the first week. The damage was immense. Shimmer samples and shipments diluted beyond saving; other personal projects of Singed’s were ruined and washed away. The usually unflappable scientist was beside himself, and it had been the only time he demanded Silco to get out of his lab.
With no one to do business for or with, Silco’s tasks soon dried up. Which meant no need for late nights (all-nighters, really) or accidentally falling asleep in his desk chair or on his office couch. He actually came to bed. Which meant you actually got to wake up with him.
Your head slowly rose up and down to the tempo of Silco’s sleepy breathing. The soft percussive beat of his heart thumping against your cheek made your lips pull into a gooey smile. The arm you had slung over his torso flexed and you snuggled closer to his side. Like a wandering vine, your leg and ankle coiled further around his. Sharing a bed was so rare now, waking up before he did was even rarer, and you planned to enjoy every moment.
Rainy season could last for another three months for all you cared. The water could flood all the way up to your living quarters above The Drop, and even then you weren’t sure if it would bother you.
Silco shifted under your hold, a sleepy grumble rattling at the base of his throat. The arm he had wrapped around your waist slid up until his hand could curl around your shoulder and pulled you closer. Your smile widened enough to let your teeth graze against his sleepshirt and you made your own pleased, dreamy sound, nuzzling closer.
Lazily, you tilted your head to peer up at him through your lashes. His sea-green eye was closed, the ember-orange one was hidden behind the soft-shell eyepatch he wore for sleep . . . when he remembered it. His jet hair was a soft, tousled mess atop his head. Having no meetings, not venturing out of The Drop, meant Silco hadn’t felt a need to pomade his coif into its usual slicked back style. Absent of product, his hair was fluffy, waving and kinking like it had when you were both young revolutionaries. You hadn’t really realized how much you missed it until he let it dry naturally after the first shower he took once The Drop was closed down to wait out the storms.
Jinx was obsessed with it.
She touched it, ran her fingers through it any chance she could. When he read to her before bed, she had taken to sitting higher up in the crook of his arm so she could easily twirl the soft strands absent mindedly around her small fingers. You could hardly blame her. His hair was very soft, the twists and turns of his waves sliding satisfyingly around interested fingers.
It took a great amount of will power to not stretch your hand up and tangle it in Silco’s bedhead now. It was so very tempting. The only thing that stopped you was the lax, peaceful expression that sleep offered your partner. The long lines of his face were softened by rest, wrinkles less deep. Even the scarring on the left side seemed less severe at rest, despite not being covered up. It was so very rare for him to look so . . . peaceful. Even if he was pleased when awake, Silco’s face was always a little tight, perpetually set in expressions that commanded and set others on edge.
Much like the natural state of his hair, the softness of his face was familiar to you, too. Warmth bloomed inside of your chest. You wondered if he could feel it against his abdomen.
Gods, you adored him.
“Go back to sleep.”
The tired mumble broke you from your reverie. You blinked and went to lift your head. The movement was quickly thwarted by Silco placing a firm hand against your skull, holding your head to his chest.
“Sleep,” he repeated.
You snickered and muscled your way out of his grip, sliding up his chest into the crook of his neck. Your nose slotted into that delicious spot where Silco’s jaw hinged behind his ear and you took a deep breath in. He smelled sweet and deep; like sleep, Shimmer, and smoke.
“It’s morning,” you murmured into his neck before sucking a drowsy, open-mouthed kiss against his jugular.
He hummed and nestled his jaw against the crown of your head. “It’s still raining. There’s no need to get up right now.” Silco tilted his head enough to kiss your hairline, “Go back to sleep.”
“Hmph,” you huffed. “Says the man who won’t get a regular night’s rest even if I ask him.” You kissed the same spot, sucking a little harder this time. Silco gave a hissy grunt and his legs gently squirmed in the grip you had on him.
“Lovely, I’m here now,” he insisted. You didn’t need to look at him to know there was a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “I know you don’t think it crosses my mind, but I do realize we don’t have the opportunity for many moments like this anymore. So, please, let’s just rest. Let me just have you here.”
You slid your body the rest of the way up so you could stare down at him. Silco’s good eye was open, the other remained covered. His expression was soft, much like the hand that was slowly grazing up and down your spine. Finally surrendering to the urge, your free hand carded over the longer locks on top of his head before sliding down to softly scratch through the shorter strands of his undercut. Silco’s eye fluttered shut and he groaned appreciatively, his head lulling and pressing into your hand.
You smirked. If Vander had been the Hound, Silco was the Feline. Not that you’d ever actually say such a thing out loud.
Your fingers wound to the back of Silco’s head and you dipped your head down to plant a kiss on his mouth. His lips had slightly parted during your ministrations, and your upper lip easily took up residence in the juncture. Silco groaned again – sounding much more like a purr now that your lips muffled his noises – and his left hand slid up to weave his fingers in your sleep-mussed hair while his right continued to run up and down your spine.
The kiss was deep, but not hungry nor heated. Lips slowly rolled together, tongue tips occasionally glancing over each other. A kiss for the sake of kissing with no other goal in mind. In so many ways so much more intimate and personal than Silco burying himself to the hilt inside of you.
Not that you minded that. Maybe later today . . . if you could busy Jinx with some menial task.
For now, this was perfect. You placed a final, firm peck against Silco’s scarred mouth before pulling away. Before he could grumble about your absence, you ran your nails through his hair again. Just like before, he hummed and his head followed your hand.
“I hope you know,” you said, “that I don’t say those things to nag you. I just worry. And I miss you. I miss this, too.”
The sea-green eye opened again, looking at you meaningfully. Silco firmed his palm against the back of your head and pulled you in for another kiss.
“I know,” he whispered as your lips parted.
You softly smiled and moved your fingers from the back of his head to sweep down the grooves on the left side of his face. Your thumb swept along the apple of his sharp cheekbone as you leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth, where his scars met his upper lip.
“I love you,” you cooed, settling back down against Silco’s chest.
“I love you, too, my Lovely,” Silco replied, wriggling his body deeper into the bed and adjusting the hold he had on you. Your limbs were now so knotted together you weren’t entirely sure where you stopped and Silco began.
You loved it.
Silco’s chest puffed and a long yawn blew from his mouth. “Now let’s rest. We’ll get up when Jinx comes looking for us.”
Neither one of you fell fully back asleep. Silco’s fingers lazily swept up and down your back and arms, his blunt nails leaving tingly trails on your skin. Your hands gently massaged and rubbed loose circles across his chest and back. You both listened to the rain patter and pound against the bedroom window. Occasionally, thunder would rumble and lightening would crack. Inconsistent but easy conversations about nothing were mumbled between the two of you.
It had never rained so hard, but you were reminded of moments early in your relationship. Lazy mornings spent together, tangled on a cot, tucked underneath a ragged blanket, thoroughly wrapped up in each other. In the starts of the revolution, before Vander’s betrayal, when things were simpler, lighter. Although, it hadn’t seemed like it at the time.
Hindsight was 20/20, you supposed.
Never the matter. You had it again now. Except now your bed was spacious and the blankets were warm.
You hadn’t bothered to look at the time when you first woke, so you weren’t sure how long you and Silco simply laid there holding each other before the ‘morning’ insisted on starting.
The morning for the last three weeks, since the start of the torrential rainy season, had come in the form of a wriggly, blue-haired gremlin. Jinx either barreled into the bedroom or crept in. There was no in-between. Today you and Silco were bum-rushed by a small, blue cannon-ball.
Jinx hurled herself onto the bed, stuffed bunny tucked under her arm. Her loose hair was a tangled rat’s nest of clips and hair ties.
“MOR-NING!” she sang. “Up! Up! Time to get up!”
Jinx crawled over to Silco and lifted the eyepatch off his ember eye. “Siiiiilllcooooooo!”
You snorted into Silco’s chest
“We’ve talked about this, child,” Silco huffed. “Knock and wait to be invited in.”
“I’ve been up for hooourrsss!” Jinx exclaimed, flopping onto the pillow next to Silco’s head. As you anticipated, her hands wove their way into his hair. “I’m bored. Let’s get up and do things already.”
“Jinx,” you called from your spot on Silco’s chest, “do you know how to figure out the distance of lightning strikes?”
The girl peered down at you, eyes wide and fingers dancing through Silco’s hair. She shook her head.
“You count the number of seconds between a flash of lightning and the sound of thunder that follows it, and then divide that number by five.”
Jinx’s lips made a perfect ‘o’ and she shuffled to prop herself against the bed’s headboard, fingers never leaving Silco’s crown. Her gaze fixed to the bedroom window and she – you all – waited. Eventually, lightning flashed behind the glass and Jinx began counting under her breath.
“One Shimmer shipment, Two Shimmer shipments . . .”
Thunder clashed when she reached ten. Both your and Silco’s eyes tilted up to her, waiting. Jinx’s brow furrowed and her lips pursed in thought.
“Two! The lightning is two miles away!”
“Very good,” Silco said.
“Nice math, pumpkin,” you yawned.
Jinx beamed under the praise and watched the window again.
Before long, all three of you were softly counting the space between lightning and thunder together.
“One Shimmer shipment, two Shimmer shipments, three Shimmer shipments . . . “
Yes. The storms could keep rolling in as far as you were concerned.