Chapter Text
If Silco wasn’t the hardened, bitter man he was, he would call himself nervous.
He could tell Viktor could see it. The kit was too observant- he usually benefitted from his observations, but at the moment it was being used to try and pry details of their meetup from the stoic hybrid.
“The tiger hybrid- that’s Vander?” Viktor asked, intrigue coloring his voice lightly intertwined with the Old Zaun accent that marked his upbringing.
“An astute observation.” Silco drawled as he swirled his drink around the short whiskey glass. He hadn’t even ordered the drink- Vander had seen him come in and pulled the bottle of Ionian spirit from the top shelf like they were just kits again. Silco’s war-tattered ear flicked lightly, betraying his aloof attitude.
Next to him behind the bar was a strapping young lad- Doberman hybrid, but his ears were clipped in a way popular with the Piltovian crowd. Silco was sure if he turned around he would see the docked stub of a tail. He had assumed he was just Vander’s assistant barkeeper, but the hand on Jayce’s lower back when he passed by and the cheeky little smile the boy gave Vander after making him laugh said otherwise.
He didn’t have much of a right to be jealous- the two of them had exchanged letters for the past five years, slowly gathering not the courage but the strength to meet again. Janna knows he had picked up his own little scientist. He had found Viktor in a scrap heap scouring the scraps of metal for parts while he had been looking for parts himself- Sevika’s arm had been on the fritz. He knew genius when he saw it, and the cat hybrid’s bright yellow eyes were brimming with it.
They were work partners with benefits, at best. At least- Silco told himself that. There was something disgustingly tender about the way he remembered what balm the boy preferred for his leg, or the way he always seemed to have a full bag of his preferred coffee grounds at the ready whenever Silco’s ran out.
Viktor had watched Silco meticulously groom himself in their bathroom mirror, bordering on obsessive until Viktor had asked what was wrong. He didn’t have to tell the kit anything; Silco knew if he wanted to, he would give Viktor some sarcastic response and Viktor would take the hint. But to have someone on his side while entering Vander’s turf might be…welcomed.
“I’m meeting with Vander. At the Last Drop.”
Viktor’s thick eyebrow raised in surprise.
“You mean ‘mysterious penpal that requires two fingers of Scotch’ Vander?”
“Do you know of anybody else that meets those requirements? Don’t play stupid, it doesn’t suit you.” Silco snapped, feeling a twinge of guilt almost as soon as the words came out of his mouth.
“You only get this waspish regarding him, I was just confirming.” Viktor replied, ignoring the venom lacing his tone. Viktor knew by now when he didn’t mean the words he said, and it irked him. Endeared him. Some horrible cocktail of the two.
To his credit, he was the one who stuck around like a bristle in his fur. He had earned his place in Silco’s bed- he knew better than to slip a hand under Silco’s pillow and slice his hand on the wickedly sharp Kris dagger that laid there. He knew not to get close to him when he woke up drowning. ‘And yet’ was a good way to sum Viktor up.
Viktor walked back in with a nice shirt on, buttoning it up with long, spindly fingers.
“What time are we going?”
And that’s how they found themselves there- a place where the bass of Vander’s voice was the heartbeat of the community just as much as the music that flowed from the jukebox.
The doberman kept looking at him- flitting little glances filled with the same curiosity that was in Viktor’s. As the night went on, the patrons slowly began making their way out the door- rowdy teens and old couples reminiscing, boozehounds and miners. Soon it was just the four of them. As Jayce wiped down the bar, Vander made his way over with his own tankard of beer.
Viktor was quick to get to his feet, waving away the hand that Vander offered to help him out of the booth.
“I’ll sit over at the bar and, eh, play nice.” Viktor muttered to him as he walked by, making Silco chuckle lightly despite himself.
And then it was just the two of them- face to face for the first time in maybe ten years.
He had aged like a good whiskey. The grays and crows feet looked good on him, his body just as strong as those days in the mines. His hands were just as large as when they wrapped around his wet throat.
“You look good, Sil-co.” His name stuttered on Vander’s lips, tacking on the second syllable of his name like he forgot for a moment that this wasn’t one of the old days.
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Mm, maybe not. Seemed like a good place to start.” Vander relented easily. Soft rock played on the speakers of the jukebox, the kind of stuff Felicia insisted on putting on when she was “helping” to close. For a dizzying moment he felt like he was stuck in an odd limbo between past and present.
“Who’s the boy you've got working behind the bar?” Silco asked, anchoring himself in the present.
“Oh, Jayce? He’s a good lad- found him in a bit of a rough spot and offered him a safer place to earn his keep. He’s grown on me like a barnacle, little fucker.” Vander chuckled. They both glanced at the bar where Jayce and Viktor had their heads almost together, pouring over a journal Jayce was talking about with his hands gesturing wildly.
“And you? I thought picking up strays was my thing?”
“Saw his potential, and you don’t need to know anything more than that.” Silco replied sharply.
“Fair.” Vander held up his hands in supplication, but it only succeeded in making Silco’s lip curl into a snarl. He wanted the pushback. He wanted venom, he wanted shouting, he wanted something to fuel that burning unease in his belly that had nowhere else to go. Vander showing him his proverbial underbelly made Silco want to sink his teeth into it.
He had missed his particular brand of humor. He craved it. This tired old barkeeper wasn’t the prickly young adult Silco knew.
“Why did you want to meet, Vander? Negotiations? A favor?” Silco sneered, draining the rest of his drink. Vander shook his head slowly and let out a bone-deep sigh.
“I…I wanted to see you. I wanted to apologize, even if you don’t forgive me… I missed you.”
“You’ve already apologized. Several times, if memory serves me. I had to threaten you with cutting off my letters to you to get you to quit.” Silco reminded him.
“I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll let me, Sil.” Vander replied, his voice raw in a way that scared Silco. Vander was always too tender for the undercity, too believing, too trusting.
“Stop talking like that- what, are you dying? Is that what this is? Some- some last minute conscious clearing?” Silco hated the way his voice stuttered in his incredulousness.
“I’m just tired, songbird- it takes a lot of energy to hate, you know that?” Vander replied wearily. The tense silence between them stretched like saltwater taffy. To Vander’s credit, he did not even flinch as Silco slammed his palm into the wood table.
“You owe me 3 bottles of Ionian Vodka.”
“Songbird-” Vander gasped as Silco moved himself to slide across the table.
“Shut up. Three bottles, my expensive cigarettes, and groveling until your mouth tastes like my boots!” Silco hissed, holding his knife out to sit at the hollow of Vander’s throat. The pupils of his eyes were fattening as he stared up at him, mouth slightly ajar sp he could see the sharp tips of Vander’s canines.
“If you don’t take me upstairs and fucking show me how sorry you are, I’m walking out of here.”
…………………………………
Viktor blinked in surprise as Silco and Vander- very much preoccupied with each other- went upstairs, leaving the door to the upstairs apartments ajar.
He turned back to Jayce, whose face was scarlet at the raunchy display.
“U-um- we have a guest room, if you’d like?” Jayce offered meekly, and despite it all Viktor found himself thinking of the man as cute. Viktor chuckled and closed Jayce’s journal.
“I think I will take you up on that tonight.”