Vague CW for alcohol use, discussion of drug use, and the infamous eye injections (at the end)
It feels a while before he manages to calm down.
He releases Silco's wrists as soon as he realizes how tight he's gripping them, afraid that's he's been hurting him, and he's ready to apologize but, instead, thin arms wrap around him in a silent embrace. To each their turn, he thinks after a while, and that alone shakes him out of it a little. He finally returns the hug, trailing one hand up and down Silco's back, feeling the knobs of his spine through the shirt.
"I miss them," he gets out, not quite sobbing but breathless all the same. "My kids. I miss the time when Jinx was still Powder and Vi wasn't this hardened young woman yet. I wish we could have had more. All of us. I wish we, you and me, I wish that we could have stayed together. That I didn't have to ruin everything. That, and the bridge too, and… and…"
"Shh. We can't change that. We can only go forward."
He puts one of his hands over Silco's slender one, thumb sliding down over his pulse point, feeling his heartbeat just below the skin.
"I missed you, Silco."
"I know, dear. I missed you too."
Vander lets his arms drop back down to his sides, and Silco sits back on his heels, hands clasped, still looking at him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he prompts.
Vander shakes his head.
"No… Not now. I wanted this night to be fun. Sorry."
"I asked."
"Yeah…" His gaze falls on the forgotten bottle. He grabs it. There is still about half left. "Hey, Sil, did you have enough, or…?"
"I feel fine."
Reasonably, they probably both drank their fill already. The alcohol burns on its way down. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and passes it over to Silco.
They drink in silence for a while, but eventually they start talking again. Nothing substantial. Nothing serious. They can hear figments of conversation, floating by from all corners of the Lanes, a few words there and there, a shoot or a laugh, and they take turns giving them context. This is their oldest game. Something to do when you don't have any toys and want to rest your legs for a bit.
At some point, there is a passerby whining loudly about it starting to get cold. This is still early autumn, and usually the pollution keeps the heat in, but tonight a chilly breeze has wormed its way through the maze of the Undercity. Silco hums and shifts, then swears between his teeth.
"What?" Vander asks.
"They are right. 'S cold. My vest is..." He gestures vaguely. "All the way there."
All the way there, it's maybe three or four feet away, however Vander doesn't like the idea of getting up to fetch it either. He was not prepared, though, for Silco solving the issue by pushing him into his back and just laying down on top of him.
"Uh, love? What you doing?"
"You're warm," Silco mutters, slightly slurring his words. "I should have added that, earlier. When you asked why I love you."
"I see how it is. I'm being used."
Silco groans and turns his head a little more, pressing the side of his face into Vander's shirt, who hums in amusement. The ember-black eye looks up at him when he strokes the side of his lover's jaw, then Silco pulls away, his movement hurried, visibly making him dizzy as his eyes cross a little.
"Don't want to be touched?" Vander enquiries softly.
"No, I… It's weird to look at your face only out of my injured eye. My vision is shit. And… well, I know it's creepy, too."
Somehow, it never truly crossed his mind how Silco might feel about being… well, disfigured. Vander certainly doesn't think he's anything else than beautiful, the scars only giving an alien quality to his features, but that doesn't change the fact that half his face is marred by the blackened dead tissue. A permanent reminder of what happened, every time he looks at himself in the mirror. And the lidless eye can be unsettling, as much as fascinating.
He thinks about saying something thoughtful. Really. Except, that's never been his strong suit, and the alcohol doesn't help.
"Honestly, you're the sexiest person I know," is all he ends up with. "And other things too, of course," he quickly adds, "but–"
Silco laughs. A breathy, almost silent sound, that Vander missed so much.
"Yeah, I know, you horndog. You love with your dick."
"No! Well, not only." He lets his hand slide over the side of Silco's body, the slope of his ribcage giving way to his narrow waist. "Though my dick really does love you."
"Hmm-mh. Sure. You are drunk."
"Yes. You too. Come back here."
Silco doesn't resist at all when he draws him back in, settling his arms over his small frame to keep him in place, chest to chest until their breathings sync up. Vander doesn't want to move, savoring that moment that feels suspended in time. For a moment, he thinks that this is how it was, before, but… this isn't exactly true either. Things weren't great, before. They weren't even always good. Now… Vander hopes they might be able to make amends. Then, he promised to himself that he will never raise his hand on Silco again. No matter the reasons. Never.
They stay like that for the longest time, enjoying the quiet and the warmth of the other's body – for so long that Vander is starting to drift off. He wakes up fully with a jolt, prompting Silco to grunt wordlessly against his shirt.
"Why are you moving."
"I'm about to fall asleep, love. We should go to bed, or my back is going to kill me tomorrow."
"You're old."
"Two years, Sil, two years. You said it yourself. Come on. Move, let me up."
It's only when they are back inside, in the corridor with all the private rooms of the Last Drop, that he notices Silco starting to drag his feet behind him. Vander stops and turns.
"Hey, what's the matter?"
"I… Hum. Can we still sleep in different rooms? It's… The alcohol helps, but tomorrow… I'm not sure I will like to wake up next to you."
Vander bites his lip, pushing back the words that instinctively rose up. Only then does he realize they are standing in front of the door to what has become his room. He lays his hand over the handle, sees out of the corner of his eye Silco visibly relaxing.
"Okay," he finally says. "For the record, I would really like that. Waking up next to you. Will you tell me when you're ready?"
Silco nods. Vander hesitates then, wanting to pull him closer, closer and into a kiss – and to do a lot more too – his muscles twitch and he can't think of words. His hand has wandered and closed around Silco's forearm, prompting slightly glassy mismatched eyes to glance at it before coming back up to meet Vander's own.
"What?"
On impulse, Vander brings both their hands up, pressing a soft kiss to Silco's knuckles before letting go.
"Good night, Sil."
He watches his lover's expression flicker between surprise, amusement and something softer, rawer, that makes his own heart ache slightly.
"Wait, this whole night… are you trying to court me?"
"Maybe," Vander admits with a sheepish grin. "Is it working?"
"Hmm, depends on whether I have a hangover tomorrow." His lips pull up, just enough for a flash of chipped teeth. "I'm afraid you're going to have to ask me again then."
"Hi, love."
The pet name earns him a quirk of Silco's brow, though he still doesn't protest it.
"So," Vander continues eagerly, "verdict about last night?"
Himself woke up with a slight hangover, which has surprised him. They drank too much, yes, but it would have taken a lot more before to get his stomach vaguely queasy like this. Then it dawns on him that the keyword there is "before". Groaning, he covered his eyes with his arm, trying to shield them from the greenish light coming through the window, and decided that getting up could wait. If the sisters are old enough to wander outside for most of the night – not to mention kill people –, they are definitely old enough to know how to fix a quick breakfast for themselves if they get hungry.
When he finally dragged himself out of bed to fetch a glass of water and on the way back walked past Silco's office door, he wasn't surprised to see the light coming under, only vaguely irked.
He took the time to go downstairs and fry himself a couple of eggs, before on second thought fetching some bread and butter and heading back upstairs.
"Unless you're nauseous, Sil, eat."
Silco eyes the plate without much enthusiasm, but he does drag it closer, poking the toast with one finger. Vander can't help but smile at that. It's far from the first time he has tried to coerce his partner into eating, and it's bitter-sweet to know that some things haven't changed throughout the years.
"Come on, you know what bread is, love. I'm not trying to poison you."
Silco scoffs but he does tear up a piece of the toast and puts it in his mouth, so Vander considers that a win. He grabs the chair opposite of the desk, turning it around so he can cross his arms over the backrest and rest his chin on them.
"So? Do you have a headache?"
"Hmm. Not much worse than usual."
"That's good– Wait. 'Usual'?"
"I have issues with chronic pain," Silco answers dispassionately, his attention already shifting back to his work, the bread all but forgotten. "Because of the eye."
Because of you. He doesn't say it out loud but the words ring in Vander's mind all the same.
"How does… how does it feel?"
Silco glances back at him, arching an eyebrow at the question, before he seems to pause and consider it.
"It's… a bit like a black eye. On good days."
"And on bad days?"
He regrets asking the moment the words tumbled from his lips.
"Like someone's jamming an ice pick through my eye socket. By the way," he continues before Vander has had the time to react, "have you seen Jinx around, by any chance?"
"Yeah… Yeah, no, she's out. I ran into Vi setting out to join her, said they wouldn't be back until midday."
Silco has paused half-way through opening one of the desk drawers, frowning.
"What did you want to tell her?" Vander asks. "I can be the messenger if I run into here before y– What is that?"
He looks down at the object Silco is now presenting him. It looks delicate, golden-brown metal polished by use, and… his heart sinks when he notices at the same time the needle and the purple vial nestled inside the device. He looks back up, feeling like he has swallowed a stone.
That's… He has come to understand Shimmer is not only a make-monsters serum anymore, rather now it seems to double as a party drug. That's why Silco has been able to distribute it so widely and expend his empire as he did. He has seen people using it in the Last Drop, drinking, inhaling, injecting it. But never would have Vander guessed that his partner would… He doesn't dare finish that thought, nor voice his question out loud.
"Silco…?"
"Can you help me? It's usually Jinx that does it."
"What is…" He swallows, before forcing himself to continue: "What is 'it' exactly?"
"Shimmer. Medicinal kind."
It's only then that it dawns on Vander.
Silco did say he had been using Shimmer before, after the river; that's how he survived the chem-poisoning from the toxins swimming along the water. It just never occurs to him that it might not have cured the infection once and for all.
"It keeps me alive," Silco continues, confirming what Vander had just glimpsed. "And it helps with the pain, too. I used to do it on my own, but the angle is awkward. Can you do it, or are you still opposed to the use of Shimmer altogether?"
It keeps me alive. Vander sighs.
"How could I be?" He cautiously takes the injector when Silco hands it to him, turning it around to examine it. "What exactly do I do with this?"
"Stab me in the eye."
Vander blinks.
"Really?"
"Yes. The trigger is there," Silco adds helpfully, pointing to it. "You just have to press it, then quickly move the injector away."
"Okay… You sure?"
"Hmm-mh."
Silco sits back in his chair and Vander gets up, leaning over his partner and awkwardly positioning the base of the injector around the ember-black eye. He can't help then but notice then that Silco's bone structure itself is asymmetrical, the brow and cheek area less pronounced there than on the other, healthy side. He feels his heart clench painfully in his chest at the thought.
Long fingers ghost over his arm, a silent encouragement, before gripping the armrest. Vander takes a deep breath, trying to calm his heartrate down. He doesn't quite know what to expect when he presses the trigger.
He certainly did not expect that reaction.
He pulls away hastily, can only watch in silent horror as Silco curls onto himself, his features twisting in obvious pain. His nails screech against the wood as his knuckles turn pale. His chest heaves, his breath wheezes through his throat.
"Fuck, you– Silco, you okay?"
"I–" Silco grimaces, visibly struggling to reign his reaction in. "Yeah."
He wipes away the Shimmer-laced tear slipping out of his bad eye, leaning back with a sigh. Vander stares at him, unable to move or say anything. The metal of the injector in his head feels so, so cold. He doesn't know what would be worse, that he did something wrong, or that… that he didn't.
"This is normal, dear," Silco says, as if he heard his thoughts. "I should have warned you."
Vander opens his mouth to speak and the mismatched eye suddenly harden.
"If you're thinking of apologizing, don't. Spare us both."
"I… I'm not. I know you don't want my apologies, Sil. It's that… I'm slowly realizing just how much I hurt you. Janna, I really wish things could have gone differently, but that's not possible, is it? So… I can only hope I can try to redeem myself. That you will give me a second chance."
Silco stares at him for a long time, then sighs.
"How can I not? You saved my life, twice now. And…"
His eyes go down, and when Vander follows his gaze, he's reminded of the injector he is still holding.
"Oh," Vander quietly breathes out.
When he looks up, he finds Silco's looking at him again, his cheek resting against his closed fist, elbow on the armrest. There is something almost soft in his expression.
"Yeah… Okay, love. I see."