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The exact, perfectly-structured set up for tragedy lies before you, and you can do nothing but stare in complete horror. Terror, too - Gods know you won’t live after this, not after your companion sees what lies before you.
You ponder if there’s time to run. To duck back through the doors and sprint down the halls, or better yet, duck into the nearby closet in order to hide from fate itself, or Silco’s entirely predictable ire.
The only problem is, you have no idea if the closet is big enough to hide in.
Another problem arises when the door opens behind you, and Silco steps into the hotel room before you can even attempt to run or hide. Stepping inside, you don’t dare to turn and catch his expression, the reaction to what outrage he’s viewing with his own, two-colored eyes.
You have a pretty good guess as to what the reaction he has, when you hear him growl, low and darkly, at the sight of a single queen-size bed in the room, “What?”
“I… they said-” Helpless, you chance a glance over your shoulder, and are struck. By his dark expression, yes, but also how long his dark, gray-streaked locks are when wet. “Oh. You took a shower?”
“I don’t fancy going to bed while covered in the day's grime and blood, thank you very much,” He said, still low, and tone sharp as his eyes snapped towards you. “I spent too many nights like that, and I don’t plan to spend another… nor do I plan to spend it with you.”
You turn, panic bleeding into outrage. “I didn’t plan this!”
“And yet there’s two of us, one bed, and I certainly didn’t request either-”
“This was the only room available!” Your voice borders on a wail, embarrassment and terror clear in your high-pitched tone as your hands come up, running through your hair in an anxious-tick. “I thought there would be two beds in one room, I obviously didn’t think there would only be one for couples!”
Though, that explained the front-desk’s raised brow, and knowing smirk twitching on painted lips as she handed over the keys. Thinking she was giving the keys to a fun night, and not literally handing the keys to your own doom.
Melodramatic? A bit, but Silco was too, so it fit… the man is pacing, for Gods’ sake, and you imagine there could be an additional bill for damages by tomorrow morning, if he continues to burn a hole in the floor like that.
“Ridiculous,” He manages, glaring at the bed as if it personally offended him. And when Silco raises his gaze, he fixes you with the same look. “What did you say to them?”
“What do you-?”
“Did you tell them we were a couple?” His thin lips downturn into a displeased scowl, in time with a rivet of water cascading down his face from his hairline. Apparently, he feels nothing on the scarred-side of his face, as the man doesn’t so much as twitch as the small stream crosses over the cracked-skin. “What… Did you hope to get a discount?”
“No, I-” Cutting yourself off, you pause, thinking. And after thinking for a couple heartbeats, you suddenly feel angry. “It was an accident, Silco. I had no control over this - and I clearly didn't do this on purpose!”
Sleeping with your boss… even in its most innocent format, such a sentence would be cause for years, decades of torment from your fellow thugs within the main-gang, and Janna knows there was already some raised brows and shared sideways-glances at the news that you, and only you, would accompany Silco on an out-of-town meeting.
If Silco let you live through the night, the taunts and teasing from your fellow gang members were certain to be the death of you, if they ever found out.
“Regardless of intentions and plots, this is unacceptable,” He said flatly as you bristled, the back-handed accusation clear in his tone. “Thankfully, there’s rugs.”
You blink, a bit confused. “Rugs…?”
“Rugs. Floor-covers, mats, carpets,” You were surprised his throat hadn’t closed up, considering Silco had been nothing but dry since returning from a shower. “A decently soft surface for you to sleep on. I’ll even allow you a pillow.”
I’ll even allow you a pillow…?
Expectant. Silco looks at you, cool, and waiting - it’s much like the look he gives when you’re hesitating at the doorway of the office, papers or collections clenched tight in your hands as he awaits for you to step into the snake’s den. You’ve never thought of yourself as being at-risk of being bit by the man, but it could not be understated on the aura of danger, and the air of deadly confidence that surrounded the man.
A confidence that, despite your own good and life-longevity, drew you towards him. It was… intoxicating, an overwhelming presence of control, pure power radiating from him that was too impossible to simply ignore.
Like now - you can’t ignore that piercing look, one that stabs straight through you and sends thoughts to scatter about your own mind, as he looks to you and waits for his orders to be followed.
But - he hasn’t given an order.
“I… I don’t follow…?”
Silco doesn’t look away from you, and the sigh he gives is, oddly, patient, despite the blaze flickering faintly in his eye of swirling blood and shadows. “It makes no sense to send you away now, and you need as much rest as myself. Thankfully, there’s an abundance of pillows, and a ground soft enough to sleep on-”
“The ground?!”
“Yes.” The new sigh isn’t so patient due to your rude shriek of an interruption; again, an expectant glint in his gaze. “I’m sure you’ve slept on worse.”
Gawking, that outrage born from a day’s travel, and exhaustion of keeping on-guard around this dangerous Chem-Baron, once more flares inside you as you mull over his absolute gall. “You want me to take the floor?! I told you, I didn’t plan for there to be only one bed-!”
“And believe it or not, this isn’t a punishment for your oversight,” He says, a voice now a sharp hiss that, any other time, would strike you still and silent. “It’s unreasonable that this is what we are left with, but while options are limited, they are not scarce or nonexistent entirely.” Gesturing with a hand still damp, faint steam rolling from his skin from a hot shower, he speaks as if discussing battleplans, and not the sleeping-arrangements.
“Obviously, it’s unacceptable to split up, and should this be the only room available in the hotel at the present moment, sharing is a temporary-exception I can make for an evening. You take the floor, and i’ll settle in the bed-”
“Or you take the floor, and i’ll take the bed.”
The short growl you make causes Silco to look at you with wide eyes, as if you just suggested he should do a backflip off the Bridge of Progress.
Then they narrow, and the cerulean and crimson-laced eyes become dangerous.
“Insubordination is not wise at this time,” He says, tone soft in a way that makes every follicle on your body rise in a goosebumps. “It’s been a long day. A long, tiring day, and I imagine that streak is bound to continue…”
Silco takes one step towards you, and the radiating aura of power doesn’t just reach you - it consumes you, and overwhelms your senses enough that all you’re aware of, is his duo-colored gaze fixated on you, and the soft, deep baritone of his voice.
“So I advise you not to be difficult. It’s hardly a trait that suits you… normally so pliable, so obedient,” There’s the beginning of a purr in his voice, but you know that behind it, there’s plenty of cutting-claws. “Let’s make this simple, yes? Get on the floor.”
“No.”
“No?” The singular-brow Silco still possesses, is raised. Not just from your quick reply, but the choked, quiet firmness that lies in the near-mute voice you now own.
A deep, deep inhale, and you try not to choke on the smell of fresh soap, and the lingering remains of spiced-smoke. Both from him.
“No. I won’t take the floor - with all due respect, but we’re in the same situation. We both need to rest, and rest well, and I somehow I doubt I'll be able to do either on all the comforts of a floor,” You open your eyes, unaware you had ever closed them, and fix your gaze to Silco. For once, not twitching, not avoiding, and meeting his gaze squarely with a raised, steady chin.
“So, no. I’m not going to sleep on the floor, and if you’re gonna be an ass about it, you can find yourself another room.”
Your voice is steady - everything else is trembling, ever so slightly, and Silco’s gaze drops briefly from yours to observe the shaky-nature of your body. Trailing slowly, eyes observant but otherwise unreadable in his study of your form, you try not to flinch back as you watch the Eye trace along every curve, every dip, contour and shape of your body…
It’s like he’s looking at you. Not for the first time, but the first time he is indulging at taking in every single detail your body has to offer his sight - and you, the fool, are unable to do anything but offer freely, simply by standing there and staring at him.
Truly, like an idiot.
An idiot, and a coward.
A flinch races through your nerves and muscles when his eyes snap towards yours, and you twitch again when you realize you can see nothing but blue and dark, bloody red - there’s only colors, not a single speck of emotion within that infamous gaze.
It would put anyone on edge, and quietly fearing for their life after delivering such sharp words to a man who owns several knives that are far, far sharper.
That’s why you’re certain that, when he takes one step forward, it’s instinct and self-preservation that urges you to take two-steps back -
The back of your knees hit the end of the bed, and the limbs buckle under the sudden, surprise stop behind you. Squawking in surprise, you go down with wide eyes and a mouth dropping wide in a single, punching exhale as you land back-first onto the bed, bouncing once, twice, before settling and growing still.
Stiffer than a corpse, staring up at the ceiling, and absolutely mortified in the long silence that follows from your obvious actions, and the embarrassing way it showed directly in front of Silco himself.
You await a growl. A sigh of disappointment, aggravated by your pathetic and ridiculous display - as it continues, you half expect the silence to soon be filled with the sounds of your frantic apologies and shrieks as Silco drags you from the room.
What you don’t expect is for him to simply say, “Fine.”
And without another, Silco returns with ease into the quiet that unnerves you, moving around the room as you continue to stare up at the ceiling. Bewildered, and still bracing for… another form of reaction from your curt disrespect, and show of cowardly behavior in the very-face of the most powerful man in the Undercity.
But Silco gives you no such respite. Moving in silence, save for the occasional rustles and the sparse shuffling around the room as Silco prepares for bed. Otherwise, there’s only the quiet symphony of his even, slow breaths aligning with your own breathing, to offer any form of evidence that he didn’t just storm out of the room.
You think he would. You don’t dare to raise your head to see, but a part of you - stupidly optimistic - likes to think that he would take his chances in finding new accommodations for the evening, and leave you to spend the evening alone, and alone to contemplate on how to explain away all of… this, to him in the morning.
The world of Runeterra, of course, is never that merciful.
“Move over, there’s more than enough space,” Silco’s order comes in a clear, firm tone from the corner of your sight, and it’s one that you’re so used to hearing, that you go to follow without question, before you pause.
Confused, you inquire, “I… do you want me to take the floor-?”
“No. You’ve made your feelings on that quite clear, and I have no energy to battle with you further on such juvenile matters,” He says flatly, and you wince again at your previous conduct. Before you can even attempt to apologize, his hand reaches down, long fingers curling just-enough to grip your shoulder with enough strength to command your attention - as if he doesn’t already have it. “We’ll act as adults for once, and learn to share without throwing a fit. Now, move over.”
… Is he…?
There’s the faintest, but pointed push on your shoulder and your stunned body is so lifeless that you turn with the movement onto your side, now facing the empty half of the bed…
The bed that, you realize with a jolt, that Silco means to share.
This is worse.
This is so, so much worse. Not only because death-by-embarrassment would be all but assured should anyone from the gang find out about not only sharing a room, but now a bed with the Eye of Zaun himself, but now there’s a very real chance that you could die by Silco’s hand.
You wouldn’t put it past him not to strangle you in your sleep, for the absolutely abhorrent way you chose to dismiss his idea of sleeping on the floor - an option that looks far, far more comfortable to your nerves, but it’s too late to backtrack now.
Numbly, you shuffle over, still looking towards the ceiling with wide, disbelieving eyes at the situation you found yourself in. In twenty-four hours, you went from a drinking contest with Dustin and Ran to nurse away the stings of a successful, but rough transportation job, to being the road-trip buddy of an Undercity crime lord.
A crime lord who tucks himself under the covers with all the ease of a man in his own element, his own room, and like you didn’t even exist.
Which… could be a positive thing. If he forgot your existence, at least for one night, then maybe he would pretend your previous behavior didn’t exist as well - yet another benefit for you.
Again, the universe is not that merciful.
“You’re typically loyal,” Silco comments, mildly. If he feels the bed twitch at the sound of his sudden voice, he makes no note of it. “Not simply to a fault - wholly so. Entirely dedicated, never once questioning… certainly never back-talking.”
Another flinch, and this one triggers a sigh from him, “I’m sorry, sir-”
“Apologize again, and I'll gag you.” Eyes wide, you turn your head with your cheek on the pillow beneath you, gapping at a man whose expression is as flat as your voice. “I’ll lash you to the bed for good measure. You’re right on one account… It's been a long day. I would prefer to simply sleep, and neither of us will get much of it, if all we focus on is apologies.”
“R-right, sor-”
Silco turns, mirroring your own form, side of head resting on the pillow as he glowers at you, a deep frown on his face and eyes… still not quite readable. “I mean it. Stop apologizing.”
Wisely, brilliantly, you decided to keep your mouth shut.
Silco gave you a moment’s peace - from his voice, but not his eyes. Those remained latched onto yours, almost searching, from what you could decipher, and you found yourself frozen, prevented from even attempting to look away from his piercing gaze.
“... I didn’t realize there was a bark behind the bite,” He says, and his tone is as oddly unreadable as the look in his eyes. In fact, it’s almost as if he’s forgotten you were here entirely - impossible, as he looks directly at you - but his musements continue as if you’ve ceased to exist right in front of him. “You’ve been an acceptable employee to date. Fiery, with a decent punch if the numbers add up correctly, but I didn’t realize that would extend to myself…”
“Sor-”
His skin tastes of water.
Fresh-water, straight from a shower - even his palm is devoid of that consistent stench of cigars, and as Silco grips your lower chin with his fingers, palm flat and firm over your lips, all you can process is the taste of water on Silco’s skin.
“Last. Chance.” Silco says, softly in a way that once again, reminds you of the sharp claws and teeth that the cleverest of predators hide from their prey. “You can follow one order, can you not? You’ve followed so many in the past… don’t disappoint me now.”
The thought makes your stomach do flips… but for the first time, not in fear.
Maybe you’ve experienced too much of it, and that the effect has faded somewhat because of the abundance of it, with sharing such close-quarters with him.
Or maybe it’s the thumb stroking faintly at a patch of skin along your jaw.
Maybe that has something to do with it.
But regardless, you nod. And Silco doesn’t quite smile, but there’s a glint in his eyes that doesn’t directly remind you of the tip of a blade, that saps at the tension in your body, enough that you don’t even try to speak as his palm pulls away from your lips, that are now incredibly dry.
His fingers remain, though. Twitching along your jaw-length in time with his head tilting slightly, once more resting on the pillow as his gaze travels over you, again, taking in details he had never bothered to make a note-of before.
Any attempts to do the same, or even do anything, fade immediately as he commends you for your self-control over silence, by simply saying, almost matter-of-factly, “Good girl.”
He pauses, almost mutely daring as he gazes into your eyes, and you do nothing but stare back into his.
If Silco is disappointed at the lack of a reaction from your short-circuited brain, or feeling thwarted that you didn’t dare respond with a confused sorry, he doesn’t show it. And simply continues, once more pointed and yet aloof as well, “I like that fire. You don’t show it often, and I didn’t think you had the guts to show it to me… but I've heard tales of it. It’s impressive, the thought that you’d swallow back your nerves to backtalk a man you seem petrified of-”
“Not petrified,” You comment, and his fingers stiffen at the feel of the thick swallow, gliding down your throat before you attempt speech again. “But… you… you know you’re pretty imposing, right?”
“Of course. Even with only one complete eye, doesn’t directly make me blind. Yet years of being in my employment hasn’t softened your trepidation around me? Not one bit?” The hand, not holding your face hostage, braces on the bed beneath him. This time, there’s not even a creak as Silco pushes himself up to gaze down at you from over the sharp, severe curve of his nose - taking you in fully, and fully curious about you.
“Years with me,” He murmurs, more soft than anything you had ever heard in your life, and a million times as deadly. “And yet you still fear?”
Again, he feels you swallow thickly. And maybe Silco can feel the words gathering beneath the skin of your throat before you even speak them, because there’s already a shifting-light in his gaze when you finally, hoarsely, make out your reply.
“Fear what you don’t know. Think that’s a pretty typical mindset, sir?”
“Would you like to?”
You blink, and Silco just became more deadly than any apex predator on the face of the planet. You didn’t think it was possible, but a single look at that small, unpracticed smile on his face, would be enough to send anyone else running.
It’s almost warm, and you find that to be just as dangerous as when Silco is acting coldly.
“Would you like to know me? I’m finding myself suddenly incredibly curious in regards to you… perhaps we can learn to know one another?”
“Sounds… dangerous.”
“Ah. But it would not be unknown… or rather, I would no-longer be.”
“And,” Another swallow, and his fingers drift further down. The cool, calloused pads of his fingers, barely brushing at the soft skin at the hollow of your throat don’t press any further at the skin, and yet, you feel as though you are choking. Not at his hands, but his gaze. “You… you would do that? For me?”
“Again,” He leans close, and you’re frozen. And not even his soft, warm breath that brushes along your skin as the distance goes from inches, to less than an inch, can warm you. “I’m curious to know you as well.”
A single inhale, and you taste smoke on his breath. Direct contrast from the water on his skin.
Then, he releases you. Turning his head away before he removes his hand, the Eye of Zaun shuffles elegantly to place his bare back - he’s not wearing a shirt - to you, fingers brushing as they pull away slowly from their place along your skin. Then, once he’s comfortable settled, Silco says, “But another time. It’s late. Get some rest.”
You blink.
Then you sit up, fighting away the urge to breathe heavier as you brace your hands against the bed to loom and stare down at Silco, but also to get some oxygen to your brain so that things can start making sense.
“I… you… what?”
“Goodnight,” He says your name, tacking it onto the firm, not-command to his obvious command without even bothering to look at you, while all you can do is stare at him, stunned to silence over… whatever…that was.
What… What was that?
Were it any other human on the planet, you wouldn’t hesitate to reach out, snatching shoulders and turning him to straddle him, fist braced overhead until some good, old-fashioned answers poured out of his mouth.
But as is, you’re stunned into silence, and into stillness, as you simply gaze down at the slightly-askew waves of damp, dark, and gray-streaked hair. It takes all the strength you have to manage to move your eyes inside your very skull, and even then, they seem to move without permission - trailing along long, lean body full of pale skin, marred and splotched in places where wounds, injuries and mistakes of an old life lie along his skin…
Silco has a scar, curved perfectly like a large fish-hook, coiling over his shoulder.
You’re not so stunned still - your fingers twitch at the idea to trace over the pale-pink skin-
“One typically grows restful after closing their eyes for an extended period of time. I would highly suggest it, and go to sleep.”
Your face flops onto the pillow beneath you, almost violently, and you can’t tell what burns your face more - that Silco didn’t even have to face you, or open his damn eye to know you were staring, or that the bed shakes slightly beneath you in your hasty retreat for pure mortification at being caught.
But not terror.
No… it seems you’ve been stunned into silence, largely-stillness, and fearlessness, in a sense.
There’s still something, churning and cold, deep in the pit of your stomach from whatever just transpired between you and Silco, but something warmer seems to encompass it. Pressing, tight and deep inside you… and you don’t have a word for it, the intensity that’s suddenly sparked from within.
Eyes wide, staring into the dark of the room - entirely unaware as to when exactly the lights turned off, you’re in the middle of trying to decipher the exact word for what you are feeling inside, as Silco says in a low, smooth voice of a predator on a hunt, “Sweet dreams.”
And you, like prey, fall into the trap of his words so easily.
You instantly slam your eyes shut - choking out something vaguely humanoid and something resembling a reply - to try and will yourself into sleep, and those so-called dreams Silco hopes for you.
If you find them, you don’t remember.
Or perhaps that’s the point - that the greatest of your dreams is empty, dark and without any form of pleasures or torments to fill your dreamscape. A dreamless sleep… possibly the sweetest of all, because Gods know after today, you just might need it.
But there’s one dream, that you ebb in and out of in the dead of the night, when the line of consciousness is so blurred, that you don’t even know if you’re crossing-it in truth, or just dream that you do…
The feel of arms around your middle, soft breath warming and waving the hairs at the back of your skull rhythmically. Heart beating faintly in a chest pressed against your back, and, for a moment, before darkness remakes you once-more into sleep, you drowsy realize you are more comfortably secure than you had ever felt previously in your life…
Surely, the thing of dreams?