CW: mentions of past unhealthy / violent relationship dynamics

That night, as somewhere far above their heads the morning sun casted its first rays, with Silco's blood still staining his fingertips, he kissed him for the first time in years.

It was mostly just a press of their lips, one of his hands finding the dip of Silco's waist, feeling him tense up, but he's not pushing him away either, is he? Vander almost reached up with his other hand to cup the back of his head, pull him in closer – remembered just in time that he probably shouldn't try and touch his partner's neck just yet. He breaks the kiss, not without a quick slip of his tongue over Silco's lips. It feels different, what with the scars. He can't wait to get used to it again.

Vander slips his hand from Silco's waist to the small of his back, encouraging him to stay put as he presses a fleeting kiss to the side of his lips. To his disappointment, the hand of his thigh then withdraws.

"I- ah, I have things to do."

Vander shifts closer, Silco's knee brushing against his growing erection, and he has to make a conscious effort not to grind back against that leg.

"Things that cannot wait?" he whispers in his ear. "It's pretty early. No one will notice if we go missing for a while…"

"Let me go. Please."

Before complying, Vander steals another kiss, tongue softly pressing past the barrage of thin lips to the familiarity of chipped teeth.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind."

Silco stands up, slipping out of Vander's loose hold, carefully avoiding his legs as he maneuvers around the tight bathroom space. It's only at the door that he turns around, giving him a long, unreadable look. The overhead neon light sharpens the angles of his face, accentuates the dark circles under his eyes, deepens the ridges of his scars. Vander feels his heart clench, reaching for him on a whim, but Silco steps away, and Vander's hand only closes on thin air.

It becomes a pattern, the days after that.

They are spending a bit more time together, in the office, as Vander is familiarizing himself with the new current state of affairs in Zaun. Sometimes it feels like he has been in jail for way longer than he actually was, for all that has changed. Maybe he should say this to Silco, how much he, well, admires his work – even if he doesn't agree with all of the means. Maybe it won't earn him side-steps, side-glances, that. He's growing frustrated with how Silco responds to his every touch. He hates it, that creeping doubt that he's somehow forcing Silco into this, even when he isn't the one that initiated. Right?

Even now, when Silco finally let him in during a meeting, he can't refrain from thinking about it as he watches his slender hands searching through the piles of documents on his desk and imagines them trailing over his skin again. He keeps his mouth shut and his own hands still, though, because there is Sevika on his left and two others on his right. Ran, that he knew from before, memories of a snotty timid child he has trouble reconciling with the person they grew up to be, and another that was introduced as a supervisor in the Shimmer factories. Vander isn't sure where he stands amidst this carefully crafted organization, but when he isn't busy staring at Silco's figure, he can appreciate that he's even there at all.

He forces his mind out of the gutter and tunes back into what Silco's saying. And frowns. He understands that things have changed since he was in charge, but still, he would have thought it was needed to-

"You disagree."

It's merely a statement, but Vander feels a surge of adrenaline surging through his limbs all the same.

"Yes," he admits, because he has never been able to lie to Silco's face and he doesn't intend to start now.

"Why?"

"Ah, it- it doesn't matter."

He glances at the two on his right, and tries not to look at Sevika, who he'd swear is watching him with an intensity that makes his skin crawl. That's how he gets caught off guard when Silco insists:

"It does matter if you want it to. Go on."

Sevika seems as puzzled as he feels. Even meeting those mismatched eyes, he would certainly not bet anything on where this is going. However, he has seen it enough to recognize that currently there is none of that sarcastic coldness Silco so often opposes his business partners with. No, as far as Vander can tell, this is genuine – not a challenge, rather an honest invitation to speak his mind.

And he knows that this, his work and Zaun itself, it means way more to Silco than his own body ever did. For him, standing up and kissing Vander on the mouth right in the middle of the meeting, it wouldn't be more of a statement that they have reconciled than this simple offer. So, Vander smiles, and he takes it.

It didn't quite matter that, in the end and despite Ran groaning their approval after he was done presenting his point of view, his suggestion was more or less rejected. Well, he did get a "Hmm, I will think about it" but he knew better than to think it meant more than a polite no. It's alright. They always had their disagreements. They both know it's better not to escalate.

Vander lingers around after the meeting is over. Ran and the other guy have already gone out, and Sevika pauses at the door, giving him a wary glare, before leaving them both alone.

"Hey, Silco… Sil?"

"Hmm-mh."

"That, earlier, I… Thank you. I really appreciate it."

Silco's movements slow down. He glances at Vander, then nods awkwardly, a wordless acknowledgment. Surprisingly, for all that Silco is good with words, even loving ones – Vander has seen him comforting Jinx already, as he was going to knock on the office door, and decided to silently back away instead –, he will avoid at all cost talking about feelings directly. As if that scared him.

He remembers them dancing around each other, when they weren't even twenty yet; Silco dropping hints while Vander was afraid to risk their friendship at the time, unable to figure out whether his own attraction was making him read too much into things or not. He remembers it took months until his patience snapped and he pushed Silco against the wobbly kitchen counter to passionately kiss him.

It's a desk, this time, and his movement is probably gentler than it had been all these years ago.

"No, Vander, y-"

Despite his rebuttal, Silco lets the kiss happen, much to his partner's satisfaction. Emboldened, Vander slips one finger in the tight space between his pants and his skin, feeling the point of a hipbone against his knuckle.

This time, Silco pushes him away.

"We are not doing that right now."

"Oh, come on…"

He compromises, right: slips his hand out from underneath Silco's belt, instead sprawls it over his lower back, bringing him closer until his crotch rubs against his own muscular thigh. He misses the way his good eye widens, because he's kissing him again, long and languid, tongue forcing its way in.

He enjoys it for a short time, and Silco doesn't fight him, sure, but it's no fun when he isn't participating. He thought his partner would warm up to his touch, though it seems like he is only clamming up instead. Vander pulls back, his frustration bubbling up.

"What's wrong? What do I have to do for you to actually fucking respond?"

Silco doesn't answer, no, instead he tries to walk away again – not even looking at him – and that's when Vander finally loses his cool. He forgets his own strength for a second, Silco's back colliding with the wall harder than he intended. His gasp of surprise and pain – and maybe something else, too – it nearly makes Vander release him there and then. Almost. But he wants to have this conversation, they both need it, and if his partner isn't willing to listen- well, Vander will make sure he does anyway.

He can feel how fast Silco's heart is beating underneath his palm, despite the layers of both the shirt and the fancy vest. Vander grins.

"Is that it? Do you want it rough?"

That doesn't come across as that much of a surprise. More than once, before, he has walked in on Silco trailing his fingers over the bruises on his arms, hips, thighs, left behind by none other than Vander in the throes of passion, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Vander." It's spoken through gritted teeth, and suddenly he's made aware of how hard Silco is breathing. "Move. Away."

"Oh, love, is that an order?"

There are three taps on his upper arm. Safeword. The non-verbal kind, from the time they used to play around with gagging, choking, and just generally making sure Silco was not in a state to form words anymore.

Vander immediately lets go.

"What's wrong?" he asks again, at a loss. "You okay?"

"Move away," Silco repeats, accentuating the consonants, voice tense.

Vander complies, taking two steps back for good measure. Silco crosses his arms over his chest.

"What's that saying, again? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." He gestures vaguely at the space in between them. "Let's keep it that way, hum? You don't want to go back into that second category, do you."

"But we are not friends, are we? We are… Fuck, Silco, what do you even want?"

"This is the middle of the day and my office. Someone could walk in. Our girls could be searching for us at any time."

"Our girls…" He shakes his head in disbelief. "So then, what's your excuse, for all the other times? You… You said you love me."

Silco shakes his head. He isn't looking at Vander anymore, picking at the bandage wrapped around his palm and almost talking to himself:

"I did that, hum? I wonder why."

"And what? You were lying?"

"By the Kindreds, I wish."

"What? What is it, then? I'm not good enough for you?"

Silco stares at him for a few seconds, then laughs. It doesn't sound like a laugh. It sounds much more like broken glass, like the shards under his soles that night.

"You really didn't change at all. It's not a good thing," he adds, even though Vander didn't need it spelled out more clearly. "I… You found me drinking at six in the morning, you held me as I cried on the fucking floor. Are you so stupid that you can't connect the dots?"

"So you're still mad at me. Is that it?"

He flinches when the empty bottle shatters against the wall just next to his head. The silence stretches out, tense and sharp, his ears still ringing from the crash.

"Tell me, Vander, is that maybe a language you understand better?"

Vander doesn't answer. Slowly, instead, he brings his hand up to brush the pieces of glass off his shoulder. When anger rises, when words fail you… it's easy to resort to hitting. Silco has just always been the more eloquent one out of the two of them, that's all. And the weaker one. That helped, too, to make Vander disregard the vague aches over his chest, soon-to-be bruises in the shape of smaller fists, when Silco was spitting out blood on the floor.

"Silco."

"What?!"

Vander takes a step forward, another, and Silco backs down, one hand trailing the side of the desk as he puts it between the two of them.

"Will you tell me what the matter is?" Vander presses on.

"I would think–"

"Come on! What's the matter? Are you scared, or what?"

"Yes!" There is a beat, then Silco runs a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "Yes. I'm really, fucking scared of you."

Vander opens his mouth, but no words come out.

"You tried to kill me, Vander. Broke my ribs, my face, held me underwater. I really thought I was going to die there. I would have, if I didn't stab you, hum? You weren't going to stop."

He extends his hand, giving a flick to the handle of the knife laying on the desk. He said he kept it as a reminder. Now, Vander wonders if that's really the truth, or if that's only because it makes him feel safer.

The guilt threatens to suffocate him for a moment. He didn't want that. He never wanted that. Janna, he never wanted to see his love hurt in the first place, and now he is painfully aware the scars left by his violence – the ones slashing through half of Silco's face, and the bloody eye, and the ones he can't see, that make Silco tense up at his smallest touch.

"We got interrupted," Vander begins quietly, "when you told me you knew about the Sheriff's deal, and I asked why you took the risk of talking to me even though. What were you going to say? Why are you…"

He trails off. How do you still love me?

There is a long silence.

"You were wrong," Silco starts, slowly, searching for words, "when you said Zaun needed only one leader. That day, by the river. Alone, you can't afford to pause and question what you're doing, because if you doubt yourself, it's the end. That's a weakness. I want you to stand with me, fight with me, as you did before."

Of course, he would talk about Zaun. About the cause.

"And you made me happy, back then," he adds, quiet enough that Vander has to strain his ears to catch the words. "I want that again."

"Oh, Sil…"

He takes one step forward, then hesitates, but Silco closes the rest of the distance himself. Thin arms snake around his chest, and Silco stands on tip-toes, hooking his hands over Vander's broad shoulders to keep his balance. He feels his small frame trembling against him, but that means their bodies are pressed against one another so it doesn't quite matter.

"Can I touch you?"

The answer comes only in the form of lips pressed against his, and he's left to decide whether that means yes or no. One of his hands rises up but doesn't quite make contact. He has no fucking clue what to do, because scared is not an emotion he would have ever linked to the man kissing him right now. Vander thought he still knew him, despite the years passed. That he could still guess what his partner was thinking – if he had, in fact, ever been able too.

This time around, he has been prepared for anger, hatred even, reproach and resentment, and despite everything he was also hoping for something else; a repeat of before, working side by side, hand in hand, and curling next to another warm body every night. He missed having someone he could always rely on, someone being his everything. He very quickly understood those fantasies were pointless, and of course he had only himself to blame for that. So, when Silco talked of love, in the dead hours of early morning, with his hand over Vander's thigh- well, Vander didn't quite take that word at face-value. He distinctly remembers thinking that in the absence of trust, he would gladly welcome lust.

Silco's hands are cold against his when he guides them to his own hips, and Vander can't feel the warmth of his body through the fabric of his vest either. And he thinks about fear again. About that glacial hold where he expected the burn of anger or, maybe, hopefully, desire.

He feels Silco's breath ghosting over his lips as he pulls away, mismatched eyes searching for his, and it's only then that Vander remembers that for all he's used to manipulating people, Silco very rarely lies. Half-truths, sure… but there wasn't any of that either, that night. When he talked of love, he meant that word, and no other. He meant that warmth.

Silco raises his hand to Vander's cheek, then strokes the side of his jaw, his beard, almost curiously. It's been a very long time since he has been touched like that. He has had a few flings, during the in-between, but no one like Silco, and no one at all since many years. At a loss for words, he can only look at his lover, taking in the mismatched eyes and wishing, once again, that things could have played out differently.

Silco finally steps away, rubbing at his good eye with one hand. There is still some tension in the line of his shoulders, in the creases of his face, but the way he leans against the desk is more relaxed. Open.

"I need a drink. Care to come downstairs with me?"

"Sure."

It feels natural to slip behind the bar counter again. He grabs the whiskey, the kind stashed on the lower shelf where clients don't see it, and it's probably too early for something as strong, but when he raises the bottle to Silco in a silent query he does get a nod in response.

The clicking of glasses almost masks the light footsteps of Jinx entering the bar, the girl maybe drawn in by the sounds of their voices, but she isn't quiet for long; she's excited about something and that's not something she is not letting everyone in the vicinity know. (He's amazed by just how loud timid, mousey Powder had become. How confident she is, now. He's glad Silco was here for her.) The stool creaks as she climbs onto it, knees onto the seat, leaning immediately into Silco's personal space with only her hand on the bar counter to keep her balance.

"It worked! The thing I was working on, with the dual-capacity compressor, it worked! I was right, it was enough-"

"Jinx, where did you test it exactly?" he cuts her off, but she completely ignores the interruption, happily continuing on with her explanations:

"-enough to suppress any relative movement between the connecting rod and the eccentric sleeve, so the crank pin doesn't rub onto anything, you remember, last time it scratched the cylinder pretty badly when I started the motor, sparks went flying, and that was pretty for sure, but also it very nearly exploded, which was, for once, not what I was trying to do."

She giggles at herself, and Vander realizes only now that it's not a trick of the light, it does look like her right cheek is sunburned. Except she usually doesn't wander far enough from the Last Drop and her workshop for the sun rays to be an issue, and there is also the very clear demarcation of where her goggles laid against her face, leaving the pale freckled skin underneath her eye completely unscathed.

"But no worry," she blabbers on, "now it works! I just had a minor mishap when I tested it, not because it doesn't work perfectly fine now, thank you very much, but I just had one of my new incendiary bombs laying around. Oops." Her gaze darts to the side, her mouth contorts into a playful grimace, though one of her eyes twitches in a way that betrays how affected she was by what only she heard. "Yeah, yeah, I gotta be more careful, I know. At least now I'm aware I have to work on how sensible the trigger is! Come on," she adds, grabbing Silco's arm, "you have to come see it. The compressor, I mean, not the bombs, they are not quite ready yet. As I said."

"You- Jinx, I- Okay. Tonight?"

"Great! I gotta run back, see you later."

She jumps down from the stool and gives Silco an one-arm hug in the same motion. He does pat her back in response, clearly used to her spontaneity, although Vander didn't miss the way he tensed up instinctively at the contact.

It's a little better to know it's not only his touch Silco tries to avoid. It's a lot worse to realize just how much he hurt him. How deep the trauma goes.

He's taken out of that thought by a light touch over his arm.

"Do you still want to have sex?"

He stares at Silco, dumbfounded. He didn't hear that right, did he?

"Don't look at me like that," Silco scoffs, but there is a slight edge to his voice. "I thought that was what you wanted."

"It- yeah, it is, certainly. But do you want that? I can wait like… a week, or so. Until you feel ready, I mean."

"I am. As much as I will ever be."

Vander raises a skeptical eyebrow – if he does know anything about Silco, it's that the man gleefully disregards his own limits – but at the same time… To begin with, he really wants this. And he said he was going to trust his partner, right?

There is now a hand wandering south, too, fingers teasing over the bulge in his pants, and mismatched eyes boring into his with an intensity that makes his throat go dry. Vander licks his lips.

"Yeah. Okay. Let's do that."