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kikiiswashere · 28 days

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Children of Zaun - Chapter 23

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Katya patches Silco up. Enyd is very distaught when her son comes home with a battered face. She becomes even more upset when she hears why, and decides to pay Katya a visit.

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 6.1K

The silence in Katya’s head was quickly overtaken by the vicious and mighty rush of blood in her ears, the thundering of her heart in her chest. Her stomach twisted and squeezed.

She stared at where Kells had been, skin going cold. She felt an urge to crawl to the edge of the turbine blade and peek over. Was the pit deep enough that the shadows would blanket his body? Was the fall so great that he would be left down there, an extraction deemed too costly and unsafe to retrieve him?

The gentle call of her name pulled her from her clamoring thoughts. Her head snapped away from the blade’s edge over to Silco. He was propped on his knees and hands watching her intently. Katya’s eyes flicked over his head to see the entire fissure’s unit huddled along the edge of the turbine’s chasm, staring at them with dirty, pale faces and wide eyes. They were muttering amongst themselves, she realized. Their voices slid into her ears, crawled under her skin.

Silco called for her again, and her eyes were pulled back to him. She took in his bloody face, how his nose was bent, his eyelids and cheeks already beginning to swell and discolor. How blood dribbled freely from his mouth and nose. Despite all this, he looked at her like she was the one to be worried about.

“What’s happenin’? Wha’s goin’ on?” Foreman Baz yelled, muscling his way through the crowd.

He stopped at the edge of the cliff, taken aback by the sight of the pair on the blade. Katya looked at him with a fearful, tear-stained, and scraped up face; Silco with his beaten and bloodied one.

“One of the miners was attacking them!” a small voice piped up.

Both Baz and Katya looked over and saw the young teen she’d been called down there to patch up. His glossy dark eyes flitted to her and back to the foreman. Baz looked to the boy, back to Katya, then to Silco.

When no one refuted what the boy had said, Baz shifted agitatedly and ordered, “Help him up! Get them to medical!”

A few of the miners nearest to the blade stepped forward, and lifted Silco up by the armpits, hoisting him onto unsteady feet. One of them approached Katya, and she waved him away, scrabbling onto her own legs. She stumbled after the pair that had Silco slung between them. She kept her eyes on his back as she followed, keenly aware of the probing, curious eyes on her.

Katya did not remember the trek back to the medical clinic. One moment, she was in Fissure 27, the next she was in the cool light of the exam room. The miners who had carried Silco placed him on the table and whispered to him.

Belatedly, Katya realized they were members of the Children. She didn’t know them by name, but knew their faces. They assured Silco that they would make sure to spin Kells’s death in his favor; that there would be no trouble, no word about it after today.

They hurried back to the fissure, ready to fulfill the task before them. The room was quiet. The clock on the wall ticked and ticked.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Katya muttered, going to the small sink.

Her hands trembled beneath the faucet. The soap fell from her hands multiple times as she attempted to wash them. She tried to breathe, tried to steady herself. Closing her eyes, she gripped the soap like she might’ve gripped Kells’s throat had her body not locked in fear. Like when the Enforcer attacked her papa.

“Kat.”

His voice sent a shiver up her spine. She ignored him, drying her hands and riffling through the cabinets in search of her tools.

“You need to get patched up,” she mumbled, gathering gauze, a small splint, and rubbing alcohol. “Your nose needs to be set before it becomes even more painful to do so.”

“Kat. Kat wait,” Silco grit, his voice pained and nasally.

He reached for her wrist and she lurched back, dropping the supplies in her arms. Silco retracted quickly, murmuring an apology. She gave a perfunctory nod before ducking down, and gathering her tools. She set them next to him.

“You are alright to sit up?”

Her eyes were on him, but she wasn’t looking at him. Silco’s chest caved at the vacantness of her face. He gave a small nod – it was as much movement his head would allow without causing spikes of pain to radiate through his skull.

Katya softly muttered what she was doing while tending to him, but he only part-listened. Barely a wince pulled at his lips as she wiped away the blood on his face, as she inspected the gash across the bridge of his nose. She explained she couldn’t stitch it shut, that there was too little flesh to suture together. She’d use a butterfly bandage.

The sensation of the edges of his skin being pulled toward each other sent his insides crawling. It reawakened that small spark of rage that had risen in him when he’d first seen Kells holding Katya to the wall. He’d finished working the engine of the excavator, and jogged to the fissure over to see her. A group of sullen looking teens had pointed him toward a small crack in the rock near the turbine, and he went.

If he hadn’t went . . .

His body shuddered with fury. Katya thought she did something and apologized.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he was quick to say. He noticed how speaking was becoming painful. How his teeth ached at the roots. His blue eyes, filled with cold fire, locked onto hers, and she finally looked at him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was a long moment where their gazes remained tethered. Silco willing his words to sink in, Katya trying to let them.

“Your nose is broken,” she finally said. Her voice was hoarse and quiet. “I need to set it.”

Carefully and swiftly – her hands having stopped their trembling in the comfort of performing familiar tasks – she placed a small splint on either side of his nose, taped them down, and then covered the whole thing with a pad of gauze.

She turned her attention next to his mouth. A deep cut had split the left side of his upper lip. Blood was beginning to clot, but still dribbled down his chin in a bright crimson river.

“I will need to sew this.” She eyed it carefully, assessing. “It’s most likely going to scar.”

She gathered a sterile needle and thread, and an empty syringe. She stuck its needle into the membrane of a dark bottle and explained, “This is local anesthetic. Open your mouth slightly.”

Silco did so. He bit back a grunt when the needle pierced his swollen lip. Then the sense of his lip fuzzed out, and disappeared into the haze of the drug. He fought the urge to poke at it.

Katya brought thread and needle up to his mouth, and began suturing the split together with expert quickness. While he couldn’t feel his lip, he could feel the pull of the thread and pressure of the needle. The process didn’t hurt, but the ghostly sense of the thread’s pull and needle’s point made him feel nauseous. His mouth watered and bile rose at the back of his throat.

“Do you need to vomit?” Katya asked, watching his eyes fog over and shoulders sway.

Silco shook his head. A mistake, it turned out. The motion loosened the already shaky hold his stomach had, and he pitched over. Luckily, Katya was fast, and had placed a small wastebin under his face before the sick gushed from his mouth. As he retched, she held his hair back and stroked a hand up and down his spine.

When it passed, Katya let go of his hair and placed a hand over his heart. “We’re going to sit you back up now. Go slow.”

Silco’s vision swam as he was guided back up. He winced as the ache and pressure in his skull jostled and thudded during the movement. As if his brains had turned to jelly and sloshed freely and heavily in his skull.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not unusual for such a response after something stressful. You are also most likely concussed, which would cause that reaction, too. Here, I need to knot and clean those sutures.”

She doused a small cotton round with rubbing alcohol and gently pressed it to the stitches on his upper lip. Silco hissed and grimaced, and then winced further when the expression caused a great swell of pain to ripple across his face.

Katya tossed the sodden pad in the wastebin, and finished tying off the small line of stitches. She then turned to the room’s sink, and filled a small cup with water, before handing it to him.

“Swish, then spit into the sink.”

It hurt, but Silco did so. He watched as blood swirled down the drain, and then sat back on the exam table. Katya’s hand at his back the whole time. But he wasn’t soothed by it. Despite her attentiveness, she felt distant. He knew, and understood, that it was an unconscious defense mechanism on her part; keeping her safe and separate from what had happened in the fissure.

Had his mother behaved similarly in the days following her own assault?

Silco muscled that thought back. It was too much. And he wasn’t the one who needed sturdiness right now. Katya was.

But she was closed off.

He could feel it. And he wanted in. Wanted to take care of her.

“Kat – “

“Open your mouth,” she instructed.

Silco did so, and Katya leaned forward, inspecting.

“Your two front teeth have been chipped.”

She stood back up, and turned to one of the upper cabinets. Reflexively, Silco ran his tongue over his teeth, and shuddered at the roughened edges of his incisors. Embarrassment joined the sickening ache in his body.

“It’s not too bad,” Katya said, returning with a bottle of pills in her hand. She gave them to him and explained, “Painkillers. Take two as needed every four hours. Ideally with food. If you can, take the next few days off and keep the apartment dark. Avoid looking at or reading anything too intensely. It’ll help with the concussion.”

While he was grateful for her expertise, Katya’s perfunctory motions and monotone voice continued to madden and scare him. He could feel her slipping away. Retreating from him.

Instead of grabbing for the pill bottle, he gripped her hands.

“Kat,” he pleaded. She jolted beneath his hold. He internally winced at it, but couldn’t bring himself to release her. She looked at him, her eyes big and glassy. He swallowed, unsure of what to say now that he had her attention. “Just . . . stop for a moment.”

She blinked. And then her body tensed. She didn’t want to stop. Doing her job allowed her mind to settle into the rut of monotony, instead of replaying what had happened in Fissure 27. Stopping meant having to feel the fear and shame rattle through her bones. Stopping meant having to listen to the hateful and disparaging voices pounding in her head. They became clearer the longer she stood still. Voices that insisted that what had happened in the fissure was her fault.

Her fault because she’d deviated from the quiet, monotonous life she’d set up for her and her brother. She had stupidly stepped into the open arms of the Children of Zaun. Had gone from a solitary, anonymous life to one of community, and it had gotten her sexually assaulted. The tentative understanding and belief in her own value, her own hopes and desires were dashed.

Were not worth it.

Were nothing.

Silco gently pulled on her hands and she jumped back into the moment. She stared at him, no longer sure what she was looking at. He had brought her into the Children’s fold, and adamantly spoken of her and Zaun’s inherent value.

She didn’t blame him.

She blamed herself for not keeping herself safe.

“Why did you come for me?” Katya heard her speak the words, but had no sense of doing it. They suddenly just floated in the space between them.

Despite his swelling eyelids, Silco’s eyes widened. His mouth gaped, those two newly chipped teeth peeking out from under his stitched lip.

He was hurt because of her. Tears began to burn at the corners of her eyes. Her heart began to jump and tap the longer she stood still. Her legs trembled.

“I – because,” Silco stumbled.

The clinic door suddenly creaked open. They both jumped, Katya ripping her hands from Silco’s hold.

“Katya?” Will called.

Katya busied herself at the exam room’s counter. “In here. With a patient.”

Silco watched sadly as Katya retreated, absentmindedly fussing with a canister of cotton balls. A moment later, Will peered into the room. He couldn’t contain his gasp when he saw Silco.

“What happened?”

“A fight,” Katya answered, adjusting the jar of tongue depressors before turning around.

She set her hips against the counter and folded her arms tightly across her chest. Will’s eyes widened as he took in her dirtied clothes and scuffed up face.

“I just finished patching him, and giving the medication instructions.” There was a pause, and then she spoke in Silco’s direction. “You’re able to go. Do you think you can get home, or should I call for ‘Vika?”

Silco’s voice stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to leave. But he also did not want her cross with him.

Finally, he mumbled, “I can get home on my own.”

Katya’s lips thinned and she nodded, not looking him in the eye. “Put ice on your nose and lip when you get home. It will help with the pain and swelling.”

Silco looked at her for a moment longer before gingerly slipping off the exam table. He limped passed Will, who watched him with careful, distrusting eyes.

It was late enough now that Silco’s shift had ended. He didn’t care to go find Sevika or anyone else who could let him know what was happening in the way of Kells, and the story that was being spun. Slowly, he made his way for the lift, ignoring the mutters and looks that swirled around him as he went.

A bone-deep ache settled into his body as he walked away from the mines. His hands throbbed and he winced as his back repeatedly squeezed in small spasms with every other step. But it was nothing compared to his face and head.

Nothing compared to the sinking feeling in his chest.

His feet carried him home, slow and sluggish. He leaned into the door as he shuffled inside the apartment. A warm, scratchy horn piece softly bled from the gramophone, his mother’s humming accompanying it. Silco slipped off his shoes and limped toward his bedroom.

“Silco?”

He knew it was pointless, but he didn’t answer her and tried to shuffle as quickly as he could down the hall.

“Silco? Are you home? – “

Enyd’s voice guttered and dropped as Silco hobbled past the doorway. She could see that something was obviously wrong with his gait, but her heart plummeted at the sight of his face. Hurriedly, she set her sewing aside, leapt from her rocker, and followed him down the hall.

“Silco!”

He grimaced, but kept the course to his room. Until his mother closed the space between them, grabbed a hold of his arm, and spun him around. She gasped and tears immediately welled up in her eyes.

“Wh-what happened?”

“I’m fine. I have medicine for it,” he muttered, gently shaking the pill bottle in his hand.

He went to turn away from her again, but Enyd reached up and gently cupped his jaw. Silco gasped in pain and dropped the bottle. It hit the wood floor with a thud and rolled away.

“What happened?”

“It – Just a fight at work.”

“You need ice. Come with me.”

Too hurt and tired to argue, Silco let his mother lead him back down the hall toward the kitchen. She scooped up the pill bottle as they went.

She placed him on one of the dining table chairs, and flipped the overhead light on. Silco grunted and squinted at the brightness. His stomach curdled.

. . . keep the apartment dark . . .

Before he could say anything, Enyd was on him, worriedly inspecting the bandages over his nose, the stitches in his upper lip, and the intense bruising and swelling around his eyelids and cheeks. Her breathing was shallow and watery, her eyebrows pitched upward with intense concern.

“Janna’s sake, Silco,” Enyd whispered. Her eyelids fluttered, and the tears that had been shelved on her lower lids trickled down her pale cheeks.

She turned and went to the icebox, pulling out a tray of frozen cubes. A clean teacloth from a drawer near the stove was fetched, and the ice was dumped into it. Pinching its corners up, she created a small sack, and brought it to him.

As she gently pressed it to his nose and mouth, Silco hissed at the biting cold and tried to jerk his head away. Despite the concern trembling through her limbs, Enyd stayed solid and held the ice to his face regardless.

Silco’s hand quivered, and he propped an elbow on the table to steady himself. Slowly, his other hand reached up to hold the ice to his sore face. Enyd extricated her hand, and returned to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water, and brought it to the table, sitting in the chair next to her son.

“Mum,” Silco finally croaked, “would you turn the light off? It . . . hurts.”

Enyd stepped to the wall and slapped the light switch. Silco’s shoulders sagged in relief as the kitchen and dining area fell into shadow; the only light the soft, warm glow of the lamp by his mother’s rocking chair in the room over.

“Silco,” Enyd whispered as she took up her seat again, “what happened?”

Her hands slid across the table, but stopped short of touching him. Her eyes were wide, fear threatened to collapse her lungs. Scared, angry voices began hissing in her ears – the same ones that had initially flooded her when she had learned of the Children of Zaun.

Today he came home with a broken nose and beaten face; what if next time he came home with a bullet wound? What if next time he didn’t come home at all?

Silco swallowed, his throat clicking. His breaths became shorter, shallower as he thought back to what he had seen in that small crack in the cave wall. Kells pinning Katya against the rocks, one hand tangled in her hair, the other snaked between her thighs. He had watched in rage and disgust as Kells’s hips slowly undulated against Katya’s backside.

Rage flooded him, sent his heart pounding. The wrath was not the same as the variety he wielded at Piltover. This was something different. Something somehow deeper, more personal.

“Another miner assaulted Kat today,” he finally said. “One of the Children.”

Enyd’s eyes widened and her body went cold. She couldn’t find her breath. Her hands and feet began to shake. A memory flashed in her head. Of her and Katya sitting in one of The Drop’s booths after a meeting. She had sneered at a blond young man who had ogled back at her.

“I – I walked in on him holding her against the wall,” Silco recounted, his voice a low scrape. “Forcing himself on her.” He swallowed again and said, “I attacked him.”

Enyd wiped at her eyes, chin wobbling horribly. Her breath had come back, but in small hiccups.

“I wanted to beat him into the dirt until he wasn’t recognizable,” Silco admitted, “but I knew I needed to get Kat out of there. Away from him.” He paused, mouth gaping for a moment before he quietly said, “I wished someone had done the same for you. Had noticed and come to help.”

A small sob burst through Enyd’s teeth and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Tears streamed down her face. She nodded. She wished that, too.

“But he got up and swung a length of track at us,” he rustled the ice against his face. “He got me. I – I went for him again, and – I don’t remember it happening – but we ended up on one of the turbine blades. He hit me with a rock,” Silco gestured to the side of his head where his hair was matted to his temple with dried blood.

Enyd sobbed, her fingers twitching horribly. They itched to gather him up, to do something.

“He tried again, but then Kat appeared and pushed him off me. Pushed him off the turbine.”

Enyd held her breath, her thrashing heart stilling, fingers going rigid. She watched as, even through the bruises and cuts on his face, a myriad of emotions washed over him. She could see him trying to snatch up any one thing to feel.

He finally settled on anger.

“If he hadn’t fallen,” Silco grit, barely tethered rage seething through his bloodied teeth, “I would’ve killed him. I wanted to kill him.”

A shiver trickled down Enyd’s spine. She gawped at her boy. Part of her insisted that he was wrong, that this wasn’t him; but another part – a hurt and vengeful part – was irrevocably grateful for what he’d done. Him wanting to kill Katya’s assaulter soothed her, soothed the traumatized seventeen-year-old who had been left in a dark mine tunnel, her skirts ripped, a tearing ache between her thighs, and semen dripping down her legs.

She was proud of him. And that silenced the part that tried to assert his actions, his desire, was wrong.

Finally, Enyd took up Silco’s free hand in both of hers. She kissed his bloody and swollen knuckles before resting her forehead against them.

Will had tried to convince Katya to let him attend to her. He eyed her scratched face and disheveled clothes worriedly. She refused, promising that she was fine. And that Silco had nothing to do with the state she was in.

Will was unconvinced, insisting that he help her. She had jerked away from his well-meaning hands, and yelled at him to leave her alone.

“I will not be in tomorrow,” was all she said before she grabbed her coat and left. Leaving behind all the supplies she had set aside for the Children and for Enyd.

She pulled the large lapels of her coat up around her head, using them as blinders as she silently walked home. She didn’t hear the city around her. She didn’t know if people called out to her. She didn’t even know if she passed any Enforcers. She focused on the feel of her boots striking the cobblestones, on the static filling her brain, on the scratch of damp fabric rubbing against her thighs.

She threw herself at her door when she arrived home, messily staggering inside. Relief washed over her, a heavy weight that pulled at her taut muscles, loosening them beyond function. She slammed the door’s locks back in place before crumpling to the ground, sobbing and shaking.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, the warped and rough floor scratching against the scuff marks on her cheek. Her tears, for the time being, had run out. Breathing came in raspy, raw gulps. Her head throbbed. She either couldn’t – or didn’t want to – feel her body.

She needed to get up. She didn’t want to spend the night on the floor in front of her apartment door. She wanted to get out of her clothes, and wash the whole, awful day from her body.

With a great amount of effort, Katya staggered to her feet and shed her coat, stumbling for the bathroom. With shaky hands, she peeled her clothes off and started the shower. Her eyes stared down at the pile while she waited for the water to warm. She wanted to toss those clothes, burn them. But that wouldn’t be practical. If she got rid of them, that just meant she’d need new ones; and she didn’t have the money for that.

Warm steam began to float from the shower stall and she numbly stepped inside. Normally, she relished a hot shower, but now she barely felt the comforting heat of it. Water beat in uneven patterns across her back and shoulders, small rivulets trickling down her arms and legs. At least, that’s what she would usually feel. Now it all felt distant. Almost as if the shower didn’t matter. There was no way to wash away the events of today.

Katya reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes closing as water ran over her face. Suddenly, she was back in the small crevasse. Kells breath on her cheek. His dick pressing against her.

Her eyes snapped open. A great, shuddering gasp burst from her mouth, sucking water droplets down her throat. She coughed and sputtered, her hands gripping fruitlessly against the tiled wall as her legs threatened to give way. Coughing morphed into desperate cries, and Katya slid to the floor, curling up on herself as the shower beat down.

She wanted comfort.

But also wanted to be alone.

Deserved to be alone.

The luxury of community had gotten her here, an oily voice in her head jabbed. If she had just told Sevika, Vander, Benzo, and Silco to fuck off, she could’ve gone on living her lonely life with little incidence.

Yes, she would’ve needed to find a way to deal with Viktor’s rising tuition cost. But she had always found a way before. She didn’t need anyone to step in and shoulder the load with her . . . however nice it had been.

I got you.

Silco’s promise rumbled through her head, agitating and temporarily dispersing the hateful voice.

Katya hiccupped, wiped her nose, and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t deserve to ‘be gotten’. He’d nearly been killed trying to ‘get her’. She didn’t want that for him. Silco’s endeavors were dangerous enough without having to worry about her.

Her heart ached at the thought. That foreign sense of wanting and desire throwing an equally loud tantrum at the thought of pulling away from him.

Katya reached up and turned the shower off, forgoing soap. Water would have to do. She crawled out of the stall and reached for her scratchy towel. With little care, she dried herself. Before shuffling from the bathroom, she grabbed her father’s pocket watch from the heap of clothes. She left the rest.

Despite the vile rhetoric in her head, Katya still opted to sleep in the shirt Silco had given her. A small keepsake of when she had dared to want for herself, she figured. She snuggled under her thick new blankets; another lovely item belonging had gotten her.

Her chest caved, the fragile muscle of her heart collapsing like a dying star.

She prayed for sleep to come hard and fast.

It must have, but it was not at all satisfying. It felt like a blink. The night passed so fast, in fact, that she was certain it couldn’t be the next day. But someone was knocking on her apartment door. And the watch she’d left on her nightstand insisted that it was 10 o’ clock in the morning.

Her head pounded. And the insistent knocking at the door didn’t help. Katya threw her blankets over her head, and waited for whoever it was to get the hint and go away. In the dark nest she’d made for herself, she tucked her knees up toward her chest, grit her teeth and waited.

Then someone called her name. Katya shot up, blankets pooling at her waist.

Her heart thudded as she gingerly got out of bed, body tired, heavy, and aching. She pulled the blankets around her like a great, puffy cape, and shuffled to the front door. The voice was familiar, but Katya peered through the peephole all the same.

The sound of scraping, old metal filled her ears as her hands undid the door’s latches and bolts. Wrapping her hand around the knob, Katya took a deep breath in, and opened the door.

Enyd and Sevika stood on her front step.

Katya felt her resolve waver at the sight of the two women. Her chin wobbled, and she choked on her own breath.

“Oh, Katya,” Enyd whispered, stepping forward and pulling the girl into her arms. “I am so sorry.”

Katya crumbled. She dropped her head into the crook of Enyd’s shoulder and wailed. The older woman did not buckle under the weight of the taller, thicker girl. She stood solidly and held her with strong hands.

“Come,” Enyd whispered after a minute. “Let’s go inside.”

Katya couldn’t bring herself to deny them. She was too tired. And despite that voice working so hard the night prior to convince her of the safety if loneliness, she wanted their company.

Enyd ushered them inside, and Sevika locked the door behind her.

The next hour was a whirlwind.

After wiping her boots on the doormat – chips of white paint flaking off – Sevika steered Katya toward the couch. Enyd headed to the kitchen, and made her tea and something to eat. Once she delivered a steaming mug and a plate of toasted bread with butter, she scurried through the apartment, straightening up and cleaning. She gathered the soiled clothes from the bathroom floor and began scrubbing them in the sink.

While Katya timidly gnawed at her toast, Sevika told her about the fallout of the previous day – or lack thereof. It turned out Kells had no family. He was orphaned at some young age, and had grown up in the mine’s barracks until he had aged out. Having no family made his death easier for people to forget, easier for the mine to ignore. Even the sniveling troupe he ran with did not seem willing to put up much of a fuss. Sevika wagered they were too afraid to go against the rumor in the mines that Kells had attacked Silco first. Katya didn’t doubt her, but she also felt Kells’s friends were probably the types who had loose loyalties.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. If she pulled back now, wouldn’t that make her the same?

“I’m glad Silco went to go find you,” Sevika said quietly. Then, with a wry grin, “I almost feel bad giving him grief about it when he ditched me.”

The tops of Katya’s cheeks colored at the story. Then, ducking into her tea, she muttered, “I am glad he came, too.”

A moment later, Enyd strode from the kitchenette, Katya’s damp, but clean, clothes draped over her arm.

“Do you have a drying rack, Katya?”

She shook her head, dark fringe tickling her eyebrows. “I usually just set things up by the radiator.”

She nodded her head toward the old, woven pipes under the window. As if in response, they bumped and hissed. Enyd nodded and stepped forward, shaking out each piece of clothing, and laying them carefully around the warm metal.

“I may have a spare drying rack,” Enyd mused as she fussed with the clothes. “I think its broken, technically. But it would be safer than putting your things directly on or near a heat source. I can bring it over tomorrow – “

“That is very kind, but not necessary, Enyd.”

The older woman shushed Katya’s worries with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense. You’ll have it.”

“I should get going,” Sevika said, rising from the couch. “I promised to meet Nasha today. We’re playing hooky.”

Enyd looked wholly disapproving, but chose not to rebuke the young woman’s decision.

“Just don’t push your luck.”

“I won’t. I won’t.” Sevika turned to Katya, before dipping down and giving her a warm squeeze. “I’m glad you’re okay, Kat. Let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?”

Katya’s throat swelled, and she glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep from crying. She looked up at Sevika and nodded.

“Bye, Ms E!”

“Good bye, Sevika. Be safe.”

Sevika smiled broadly and left.

Silence seeped into the apartment. Katya trembled despite her blanket cocoon. Enyd eyed her, her face full of motherly concern. And understanding. She stepped toward the coffee table and bent to pick up the plate of crusts.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry Silco got hurt.”

Enyd’s hand jerked away from the plate as if it had burned her. Her head snapped up, eyes staring at the bleary-eyed young woman on the couch.

At once, Enyd rounded the table and took up the cushion Sevika had vacated, pulling Katya close.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

Katya sniffed and choked, burying her nose behind the curtain of Enyd’s ebony hair. The decision to draw back, draw away, quickly dissolved as motherly comfort wrapped around her, warmer than her blanket.

“You did nothing wrong, Katya. And Silco is fine. Banged up, but fine.”

Katya keened into Enyd’s shoulder. Thinking on Silco’s mangled face, on how much worse it must look today. Her arms snaked out from the blanket folds and wrapped around the older woman, holding tight. Holding on as if Enyd was her own parent. Enyd held her back with equal fervor.

“He’s home. Resting. Vander is with him right now.” A pause, and then Enyd whispered again, “It wasn’t your fault, Katya. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She pulled back to draw the young woman’s puffy and tear-streaked face between her hands. “Do you hear me? It was nothing you did.”

Katya hiccupped, her eyes – turned the color of sap by her tears – searched Enyd’s face.

“How long did it take for you to believe that?”

The older woman’s shoulders sagged. She ran her thumbs under Katya’s swollen eyelids, wiping tears as she went.

“Too long, considering it was not my fault,” she quietly answered, her voice hoarse with her truth and her illness. “Don’t let it be so long for you, sweetheart.”

Eventually, Enyd cleared the table and brought Katya a tall glass of water. Instead of drinking it, she slid horizontally on the couch, tucked herself deep into the burrow of her blankets again. Enyd sat with her, a thin hand resting atop her covered feet and ankles.

She stayed when Katya drifted into uneasy sleep. She was there when Katya woke back up, feeling dry and sick. Clumsily, she reached for the glass of water – Enyd steadying it as she brought it to her parched mouth. The drink was necessary, but not soothing. It cut ravines down her raw throat and sat heavy in her stomach. Her nose wrinkled in a wince and she tucked herself back in her blankets, curling towards the couch’s back cushions.

Sometime later, Enyd hovered over her cheek and whispered that she was leaving for the day, but that she’d be back the next. Katya tucked her lips between her teeth to keep her from pleading that she should stay. Instead, she nodded. Then, Enyd kissed her temple, and it was a staggering effort for Katya to not start crying again. She listened to the soft padding of Enyd’s light steps, the front door opening and closing, then silence.

Thick, lonely silence.

In the quiet, thoughts grew like weeds. A contemplative garden taking root in Katya’s brain. She pruned through each thought. How joining with the Children put her more directly in Kells’s path. How Silco had sacrificed his safety to assure her own. How Enyd and Sevika had appeared unprompted on her doorstep, out of concern, out of love, out of a sense of responsibility for her. How other Children had spun the story to protect Katya and Silco from any scrutiny over Kells’s death.

Katya sighed and pressed her forehead into the lumpy couch cushion.

She wanted Enyd to come back. She wanted Silco tucked against her side, so they could heal together.

She wanted, she wanted, she wanted.

She thought on Enyd’s words.

It wasn’t her fault.

Kells had tried to take something from her, and, perhaps, if she did pull away from these people, he would posthumously succeed: He would manage to take away her sense of belonging, the comfort of her community. The idea that she was worth something. And she wanted that. Badly.

She wanted, she wanted, she wanted.

Notes: Our poor baby girl, Katya 😔 She'll come around. Don't you worry.

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear yout thoughts in the comments or reblogs ❤️

Coming Up Next: Rynweaver pays Heimerdinger a visit. Grayson and Bone have a talk.

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @dreamyonahill @sand-sea-and-fable @truthandadare @altered-delta

#children of zaun #coz #arcane #arcane fanfic #silco #young silco #orginal characters #sevika #young sevika #silco fanfic #silco x oc #silco x katya #silkat #found family

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kikiiswashere · 2 months

Text

Children of Zaun - Chapter 21

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Katya teaches Silco the crawl. When they go their separate ways for the evening, each wishes they hadn't.

Special Note: Many, many thanks to @sand-sea-and-fable for being my swim expert and beta-ing that part of this chapter ❤️

Chapter CW: Masturbation and sex dreams, MDNI

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 8K

“Ya don’ think it sounds too threatening?” Vander asked, eyes glossing over the note again.

We are the Children of Zaun

Consider the coin the beginning of your reparations

We are the Children of Zaun

We are The Storm’s Fury

And we demand freedom.

“Sure makes a statement, doesn’ it?” Benzo said, glancing over his friend’s shoulder. He didn’t seem convinced either.

Silco stared at them from across Vander’s kitchen table, his fists gripping the back of a chair, cigarette dangling from his sneering lips.

“We are not going to ask nicely for our freedom. We are not going to ask for it at all.”

“’M not sayin’ we gotta go in with ‘pretty pleases’ n’ the like,” Vander sighed, setting the paper down. “’M just sayin’ is it wise to be so aggressive off the mark?”

“They are not going to believe that the airship crash was an accident. They are going to come at us with their teeth. They need to know we have our own,” Silco retorted. “That we won’t be pushed around any longer.”

His eyes went to the clock on the wall, and he pushed off the chair. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, he crushed it into the ashtray at the table’s center.

“You goin’ somewhere?” Vander asked, eying the sudden movement.

“Kat wants to show me something. I’m supposed to go meet her.”

“Showin’ ya? What’s she showin’ ya?”

Silco averted his gaze as he said, “She’s going to teach me a few swimming strokes.”

Benzo guffawed. “Where? It’s bloody cold out.”

“Apparently there are some hot springs near those lagoons that kids like to play at. The ones between Zaun and Topside,” Silco explained blandly, going to gather his bag by the door. Katya had instructed him to pack a towel and dry change of clothes. “Besides, I need to give her the coin.”

At the top of their meeting, Silco had proposed the Children spare a negligible percentage of their recent treasure to Katya, so she could afford Viktor’s higher tuition rate for the upcoming semester. Vander and Benzo had agreed without a second thought.

Brothers and Sisters looked out for each other after all.

They all knew this would not be a long-term solution; and they all privately hoped that by the next time Viktor’s tuition fee came around, that their cause was far enough along that Piltover was agreeing to fully foot the bill.

Vander frowned. “Sil, I think we need to talk about this message some more. What if Piltover comes down hard on us?”

Silco slung his bag across his back, a hand patting protectively at the pocket that held the sack of gold.

“When have they ever come down easy on us? The only thing that will change is that they will now know there is a concentrated effort on getting their bootheels off us. Send the message.”

With that, he slipped out of the room. Benzo sighed and sat heavily next to Vander.

“What a fuckin’ prick.”

“He’s not wrong, I suppose,” Vander murmured, looking at the message. “No matter how we word it, Topside’ll still come after us. Best they know we’ll meet ‘em head on.”

His eyes drifted back to where Silco had been, his stomach knotting.

Silco stalked down the hall and through The Last Drop’s backdoor. He and Katya were meeting at the Bridgewaltz. The location was central enough, and made more sense than meeting at either of their homes.

When he arrived, it was mostly deserted. Which was to be expected in the early-afternoon; the Waltz did not burst to life until very late in the evening, Zaunites and Topsiders alike milling about the colorful streets taking in everything the Undercity had to offer: Crispy and well-spiced street food, boisterous musicians, and clever artisans with their unique wares.

But there was awhile before such nightly festivities began. Now, a few slow-moving, but dedicated, proprietors tended to the upkeep of their booths and stalls. A few Zaunites were hunched over tables or countertops, having fallen asleep the night before and had been deemed too troublesome to try and shoo away.

“Silco.”

He spun to see Katya strolling down a slim corridor of colorful awnings. She smiled brightly at him and adjusted the bag slung over her shoulder. His lips quirked and heart pattered at the sight of her; relieved and happy. Despite her invitation, he had been concerned that what had happened in the airship – how yet another thing did not go to plan – would scare her away from the Children. From him. But it had not, and he found himself inordinately relieved.

She wore her usual long, too-big charcoal coat and her hair fell loose around her shoulders. As she passed under a string of chem-bulbs, he noticed a flash of rosy gold undertones to her locks. He felt compelled to reach out to run his fingers through the strands to find that hue again.

Instead, he tightened the grip he had on his own bag, and nodded at her in greeting.

“Are you ready?” she asked, skirting around a vendor’s table to him.

“I believe so,” he said, jostling his pack. “Lead the way.”

They walked together through the Bridgewaltz, the winding alleys and gangways of the Lanes, and a short section of the Promenade before heading toward the Oases. The sun gleamed on the Promenade stones and the pair squinted against it as they traveled. Despite the brightness, the chill in the air was persistent, a promise of the cold season arriving shortly. A few shops they passed were even beginning the process of decorating for Snowdown. Business owners had threaded ribbons of gold and silver over window boxes and door lintels. A few storefronts boasted colorful paper garlands and delicate, star-shaped string lights. A few shop owners they passed were swapping details and ideas of impending holiday sales.

Before long, Katya led them down a steep rickety staircase that ended abruptly. She had always assumed that the builder had gotten fed up with trying to navigate and place the iron posts and steps over the uneven and sandy rocks, and had just given up halfway down the embankment. It would be easier and faster to travel down to the small rivulets that would lead to the Oases with Silco than it was with Viktor. She had nearly forgotten how quickly the landscape could be traversed. They walked along the bank of the largest tributary, mindful of the runoff trickling down from the sewer outlets that peppered the stone walls that rose above them.

“How did you learn about these hot springs?”

Katya shrugged. “My parents always took me to them. I do not know how they discovered them.”

As they neared the larger lagoons of the Oases, the sounds of screeching and laughing children overtook the noise of the gently running water. The pair spied a gaggle of scrawny Undercity youths scampering along the banks of the largest lagoon. It was too cold to swim, but that did not stop the children from investigating the shoreline, or skipping rocks. Katya was certain she spied a couple of Sevika’s sisters, but made no mention of it.

“This way,” she said as they approached a fork in the small river.

She veered right and Silco followed. The sandstone pressed in, narrowing the chasm they traveled, until a cave mouth yawned open and Silco took in this little secret of Zaun. The cavern itself did not seem particularly deep; the sun was able to illuminate most of the rocks and steaming, turquoise pools within the cave’s maw.

“Does anyone ever come here?”

Katya shook her head. “I have never seen anyone else here.”

She leapt down from a rock and stepped into the warm cave, swinging her sack from around her shoulders and dumping it to the ground. Silco remained at the mouth of the cavern, eying the glistening pools within apprehensively.

“It will be difficult to learn how to swim on dry land.”

Silco started, and looked down to Katya. She lifted her thick eyebrows and grinned at him.

“I won’t let you drown,” she said. “I promise.”

Silco returned her smile and followed her into the cave.

It was balmy. The heat of the water swirling around them in clouds of steam. The air smelled of the tang of minerals and wet sand. Katya knelt down and opened her sack, pulling out a large, fraying towel. She sat on it and began unlacing her boots. Silco began doing the same. When she stood, he looked up at her in slight confusion, but the question died on his tongue as she began unbuttoning her pants.

She noticed his wide-eyes and uncharacteristically stupefied face, and explained, “It will be easier to learn without soaked through clothes. Just in our underthings. Is that alright?”

Silco nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

He casually looked away as she slid the trousers down her legs. He felt a warmth blooming inside him that had nothing to do with the springs. He began to follow suit, writing off the tremor in his fingers as a need for a cigarette. When she shed her shirt, leaving her only clad in underwear, a camisole, and a brassiere, he bit the inside of his lip. He kicked his trousers off and stood, and unclasped the hooks that held his shirt in place before peeling it from his back. He tossed it next to his bag and tried to stand as nonchalantly as he could, dressed only in his thin undershorts. His pale skin was turning pink, and he prayed that she thought it was only because of the cave’s warmth and humidity.

Katya began braiding her hair, and glanced him over once. Twice. And then at his head.

“Would you like a hair tie?”

Silco’s hands flew to his lanky hair and pet at it. He looked to the water, and then back to Katya. “Will one help?”

She shrugged. “It might. Hold on.”

She bent over to dig through her bag, and despite everything inside him begging him not to, he eyed the curve of her wide hips and swell of her ass. She rose again and handed him a small elastic band.

“Here.”

He mumbled a thank you and began pulling his hair back as Katya headed to the nearest spring. She delicately jumped in, the water rippling and gently splashing around her body. A soft, pleased groan blew from her lips as her muscles were wrapped in warmth. The pool only came up to her chest and she dipped beneath the surface, wetting her hair. As she came back up, she wiped her bangs from her eyes, and looked back to the edge of the pool. Where Silco stood, waiting for instructions.

She noticed his slender body in a way she hadn’t during that initial physical. Slightly broad shoulders and chest that tapered to a very narrow waist; his muscle sat tightly against his bones, the cut and shape of them becoming more apparent as sweat and moisture collected on his skin. He had very little body hair. A small, light smattering across the planes of his chest and a thin line that began beneath his navel and disappeared under the waistline of his shorts. Her gaze lifted back to his face, the angles of his cheekbones and nose more apparent now that his dark hair was swept back into a messy knot. Lean, elegant, and magnetic she thought.

Beautiful.

Katya nearly choked at the word as it flashed through her mind. She played it off and jerked her head back, beckoning him.

“Come on. Hop in. The water is far better than the Pilt.”

Silco toed the pool’s lip for a moment more before jumping in. He created a larger wake than Katya did, and she laughed at the small waves that splashed at her.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, stepping forward, cutting his sinewy arms through the water.

Wiping the water from her eyes, she chuckled, “It is fine. I’m already wet anyway.”

Silco gave her an apologetic grin as his feet and toes squeezed and gripped the uneven rock beneath them, feeling the slight slick of algae that grew there. There were nerves coiling his stomach. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. In general. And not in front of her.

“What’s first?” he asked, infusing his tone with a confident, blasé bravado.

“Well, since you can already not drown,” she cheekily said, “I figured we would just focus on a more efficient technique.”

First, Katya took him through a few arm and shoulder warm ups, and mobility exercises: instructing him through shoulder rolls, chest and back stretches. She mimed the crawl stroke she was preparing to teach him by throwing her arms into the air in controlled, alternating sweeps. He did his best to copy her. And to not feel foolish.

“Keep your arm in its socket,” she told him, stepping over and gently adjusting his right shoulder down, away from his ear. “Use the muscles in your back, not your ligaments and tendons, to reach and pull.”

She touched the muscles in the center of his upper back and at his sides in direction. Silco adjusted his technique.

“The arm that is drawing back, bend its elbow more,” she added as he mimed the movement again. “It is called the crawl, yes? Imagine that you actually pulling yourself through something. Like this.”

She turned her back to him and did the stroke into the air, making a point to exaggerate pulling back through her elbows. He watched the slight rotation of her wrists and hands as she went, as if she were pushing material out of the way. He watched the way her back muscles moved. How the band of her brassiere strained under her camisole.

Katya turned to face him again, and gestured for him to try. He obliged and she nodded at his technique. She then explained the breathing pattern for the crawl: to turn his head in the same direction the arm sweeping back.

“Both sides?”

“Typically, yes. But you may find it easier to just turn your head to your dominant side for now. You’ll get a feel for it once you start swimming. You use your left hand, yes?”

Something pleased fluttered inside Silco that she knew that. He nodded.

“Good. Now, I want you to use your arms like that and swim the length of this pool,” she said, walking over to one end.

Silco looked at her, then to the spring’s opposite end. It wasn’t too long; maybe forty feet.

Slowly, he waded across the pool to her side. She gave him an encouraging smile, and he rolled his shoulders before launching forward into the warm water. Shifting the movement he’d just learned to a horizontal position was harder than he anticipated. His arms didn’t feel as strong and his lower body kept sinking, despite kicking furiously. Every time he turned his head to breathe, not only did he get a mouthful of air, but water splashed in, too.

Finally, his fingers scraped against the ledge of the pool’s far side and he stood up, panting. He looked down at the ledge, and then turned to look at Katya at the other end of the pool. The water between them was frothing and choppy, but she gave him an encouraging smile.

“Not bad,” she called. “Now, come back.”

Silco heeded her instruction and attempted the crawl again as he swam back. He was huffing and puffing by the time he returned to Katya’s side.

“I don’t know why,” he gasped, “but I did not think it would be so tiring.”

She smirked up at him. “Swimming is a different beast from roof running. It probably doesn’t help that you smoke, either.”

He recalled her final comment that night he had shown her Zaun.

You shouldn’t smoke, anyway. It’s bad for you, too.

He slyly grinned back at her, and purred, “I am allowed a vice. Piltover has made life hellish enough to deny ourselves any small pleasures. I’m sure once I get this stroke down, I’ll swim just as fast as you. Perhaps faster – “

Katya snorted, throwing her head back. “That sounds like a challenge.”

Silco shrugged cockily before diving back into the water and practicing again. After a few more laps, he began to get a better handle of how to move his arms and neck, his stroke pattern becoming smoother, surer. Slowly, he began cutting through the water instead of splashing against it.

“Very good,” Katya congratulated once he returned to her side again. “I think it is time to talk about hips and legs.” She turned to the pool’s edge and placed her hands on a relatively level slab of rock. “One of the reasons your lower half is sinking is because you are kicking too much with your knees. You will swim faster and more efficiently if you keep your legs straighter and kick from your hips.”

She kept her hands on the rock, and allowed the rest of her body to float up in the water. Her rear breached the surface, and Silco fought not to stare. She made a point to flex and straighten her shapely legs and kicked. Despite the movement, very little water was splashed up. Silco scooted down the edge of the rock a bit to find his own level piece. Once he was set up, he kicked his lower half up to the surface. Very ungracefully. His jaw squeezed and brow furrowed as he did his best to lengthen his legs taut and access his hips.

“It is a balance,” Katya explained, stepping over to him. “Straight legs, yes. But allow there to be a little give in your knees so that they remain soft.”

“So keep my legs straight. But don’t keep my legs straight.”

Katya smirked and shrugged. “Viktor can do it. And his bones are warped. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Silco huffed and tried again. It was challenging, but eventually he got it enough that Katya didn’t need to keep reminding him.

“Do not swish your hips so much,” she said, reaching out and gently touched the top of his hipbone.

The feeling of her fingertips on him caused Silco to jolt and stop swimming. He spun to look at her.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gasped, hand pulling back. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I just – I just wasn’t expecting it.” He smiled reassuringly at her. “What did you say?”

“You are rotating through your hips too much. It’ll make you tired. Keep your hips steady. The rotation comes from your back. Remember? From the crawl stroke itself.”

Silco tried again, imagining that an iron beam holding his hips in place. A couple times, Katya reminded him to keep his knees and feet a touch softer. As she watched him, her eyes squinted and she brought the tips of her fingers to her temple.

“What?” he asked, pausing to catching his breath.

“I am trying to think of another way to explain,” she sighed. “Have you ever seen people on the Promenade ride . . . I think they are called Bi-sickles, or something? A metal frame with two wheels on either end?”

“Bicycles. Yeah. I’ve seen them.”

“Okay, well, the leg movement is not dissimilar. Steady hips, strong glutes and thighs propelling the motion, but some soft give from the knees down. Does that make sense?”

Silco pondered for a moment, thinking on the Topside youths he’d seen racing their toys through the Promenade streets. He recalled how their legs pumped their mode of transportation, strong and efficient strokes that powered the bicycle to impressive speeds. He nodded and tried again.

After several minutes, she suggested he put the two together and try swimming another few laps of the pool. Silco rolled his shoulders and shook his legs out a bit before venturing back into the middle of the water and piecing together what he had learned.

Just as before, it took him a couple laps to achieve smooth movements. Once he found a rhythm, he felt like a harpoon slicing through the water, especially compared to how he felt in the Pilt a few days ago. After his tenth lap, he stopped for a break at the far end and turned to look at Katya. His heart tapped firmly against his breastbone to see her beaming at him. Her skin was glistening from the warmth and water, her cheeks rosy. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so pleased or carefree, and he was excited to think he was the source of her happiness in that moment.

Suddenly, Katya leapt forward and swam towards him, streaking through the water like a waverider. He hadn’t really paid attention the night they jumped from the airship, but she moved seamlessly – as if she became one with the water. It didn’t froth around her limbs, just rippled in smooth wakes. It seemed as easy as breathing for her. Despite the improvements he had made to his own abilities, he knew he floundered like a beached fish in comparison.

She appeared at his side, that sun-bright smile still on her face.

“Race?”

Silco stared at her for a moment, his eyes glancing down to her smile, then his own split across his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ‘played’ – had had unproductive fun. He was sure Katya felt the same.

“Prepare to eat my wake, Kat.”

Katya did not eat Silco’s wake. Quite the opposite. He struggled to keep up, but laughed at his own ineptitude in the water. Although, the more and more laps they swam, the surer in his skills he became. Katya told him his slight build would work to his advantage, something he quietly preened at because he never considered his physicality being an advantage for much.

Eventually they tired, and lifted themselves from the pool. They spread their towels over the cave floor and sat, allowing their bodies to rest and dry off. Silco did his best to avoid staring at Katya, at the way her wet clothes had sheered from the water and now clung to her body. A heat that had nothing to do with the hot springs spread through him.

To distract himself, he fished an apple and a small knife from his bag. He cut a slice and handed it to her. Katya stared at the offering for a moment, stunned, before taking it.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, because that it what you said when someone gave you something.

Unsettled warmth bloomed across her chest as she bit down on it in a satisfying crunch. It had been a long while since she had had a bite of apple. It had been a long while that someone had provided for her. She wondered if she would ever get used to being thought of, sought after, taken care of, considered. Silco’s companionship felt as much of a treat like this apple.

The fruit was crisp, juicy, and sweet against her tongue. As it broke down in her mouth, and the sweet sparked into surprising notes of tangy sour, compulsory sadness curled in her stomach; that her experience of the treat was nearing its end. Then her eyes fell onto the fruit by Silco’s pointed knee, and realized she could have more. That one bite was only the first. Her mouth watered and stomach rumbled.

“I brought some bread, too. One of mum’s reject loaves.”

Katya’s eyes flicked up to his face. Why had she gone so long denying herself of company? Denying her own needs? Pointedly skirting the care and lives of others? If she had kept to her solitary way, she would not have this apple, this bread. This man, and his caring mother.

“How is she?”

Silco’s nostrils curled. He cut his own slice of apple and ate it. He shrugged.

“Like she said, it always gets bad this time of year.”

Katya’s eyes softened, empathy and sadness leaching out the joy that had lit them up.

“She is probably due for another vial of medicine,” she said. “I will grab one when I am at the clinic.”

Silco gave her a weak smile and retrieved the lumpy loaf of bread from his bag. He tore a piece off and handed it to her. She took it and held it in her hands, thinking of how she might smooth out the lines that had appeared on Silco’s face at the mention of Enyd. How she might dampen the small flame of ire that had appeared in his eyes, and rekindle the joy that had been there earlier.

“I am glad I got to show you this place,” she decided on, looking up at the stalactites on the cave’s ceiling. “As grateful as I am that only Viktor and I seem to be the ones to ever come here, it’s so beautiful that I feel badly for it that so few people visit. Know about it.”

Silco hummed, biting down on a piece of bread and looking around at the cave. It’s towers and divots. At the lush moss and algae that collected at its mouth, and hung down from its opening like a shredded curtain.

“This is where your parents taught you how to swim?”

Katya shook her head. “No. I learned in the Oases. Like a lot of the children do now. When it came time to teach Viktor, his body did not handle the cool water well, so Papa taught him here. Being in the water also helps relieve some of the chronic aches he has in his body.”

“How did your father find this place?” Silco asked, looking around again.

“I never thought to ask. I wish I had now. He used to talk about taking me and Viktor out on a boat someday. To explore the Conqueror’s Sea.”

“It sounds like he had an affinity for water.”

Katya chuckled and took a bite of bread. “I suppose he did, now that you mention it. One of the books he would read to us most frequently had to do with ocean life. Various habitats, animal and plant life – that sort of thing.” She laughed and said, “My favorite chapter was about the deep sea, and all the monstrous creatures down there. It sort of reminded me of the Undercity. I found it fascinating, but I don’t think Viktor did.”

“How come?”

She shrugged. “He is more interested in building and creating things. He preferred when Papa read about inventions and why they worked. Engineering and chemistry and physics, and those sorts of things. Biology never grabbed him as tightly.”

“But it did you?” Silco asked, taking his knife to the apple again and slicing it twice. He handed one piece to her, and placed his own on his tongue.

Katya shrugged again and bit thoughtfully into the apple’s flesh, Silco’s eyes flicking down to her mouth as she did.

“I do find it interesting,” she said around the fruit in her mouth. “It certainly has served me well with my role at the clinic. And with caring for Viktor. And like I told you, I think I would like to become a doctor once Zaun is free. Once we have the ability to manage such things.”

“That reminds me,” Silco gasped, reaching for his bag. His hand gripped the small satchel of gold within and he drew it out. “Vander and I wanted you to have some of the coin from the airship job. To help with Viktor’s tuition next semester.”

He handed her the purse, and she slowly took it. Her eyes glossed over and became distant as she uncinched the bag’s mouth and peered inside. Gold glittered up at her. Katya sniffed and her throat squeezed tightly. She looked back up at him, and her heart cracked at the soft – almost adoring – smile on his face. She opened her mouth to thank him, but all that came out was a teary choke. Silco scooted over and wrapped his arm around her.

“I got you.”

Katya’s voice failed her again, and she simply leaned against him. She curled against his side; her face pressed into his neck. She nodded against it, overwhelmed and humbled by the sense of gratitude. Her body alight with the feeling of belonging. She felt treasured and valued.

She wasn’t able to speak, but as she closed her eyes and felt Silco’s jugular pulse against her cheek, she thought You have me.

Eventually, when the sun began to fade, they toweled off and redressed, preparing to head home. Katya wrapped the small bag of gold in her towel and shoved it deep within her sack. Despite the extra weight on her back, her heart felt easeful and light. The children that had been at the Oases were gone. Headed home for supper, or for work, or to nothing at all. Silco and Katya hopped onto the bottom step of the incomplete staircase and headed back into Zaun.

The Bridgewaltz was just beginning to brighten and stretch into its evening routine. The chem-bulbs above twinkled various colors, casting rainbow splotches on the pavement and across scattered tables and chairs. A few of the food stalls and kiosks already had customers gnawing at kebabs and drinking whatever brew was offered; the passed-out people Silco and Katya had seen earlier had since woken up and staggered off.

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Silco asked, as they came to a stop.

Katya looked up at him, voice stuck in her throat. The shadows and light did mesmerizing things to the angles of his face, and his pale eyes reflected the flickering magenta, orange, and green lights above.

Would she like? Would she want?

“That’s okay,” she finally answered. Her stomach curled in displeasure at her own words. “You should get home and check on your mother.”

Silco smiled and nodded. He ignored the pang of disappointment that flicked at his heart.

“Right, then,” he said, adjusting his bag. “I’ll see you soon. Yeah?”

Katya beamed up at him. Her milk-colored skin glowed in the colorful light, and Silco’s fingers twitched, fighting the urge to run them down her cheek.

“Yes. I will see you soon.”

“Thank you again for the lessons. For today.”

Something open, vulnerable, and wanting cracked behind Katya’s ribs, and she closed the distance between them, wrapping Silco in a tight embrace. He returned it with an immediacy that left his mind reeling and surprised. She felt warm and solid – not unlike that dream he had had the night he’d fought the enforcers. Turning his head slightly, he nestled his nose into the crook of her neck. The smell of brine, minerals, and warmth from the Springs was stuck to her.

“Thank you for today,” she whispered. “And for everything else.”

Katya gave him one last squeeze and drew back. Silco followed suit, his heart hammering against his chest.

“Walk home safe, Kat.”

“You, too.”

Silco watched her for a moment, before turning himself and walking home.

When he arrived at his and his mother’s apartment, it was quiet except for the warm, prickling drone of the phonograph needle swirling on a record that had finished playing. A singular light from the living room bled into the front hall. Silco quietly removed his boots, and set down his sack by the door before venturing further.

“Mum?” he called quietly, stepping into the living room.

Enyd was propped up in her rocking chair, a sewing project in her lap, her head lolled onto one shoulder, eyes closed. Her breath came in soft, long wheezes as she slept. Silco smiled tenderly at the sight and tip-toed to the phonograph, gently resetting the needle in its bed.

“Mum,” he said again, walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mum.”

Enyd gently started under his touch and blinked awake.

“Wha? – Oh, Silco. You’re home. I – I didn’t realize that I fell asleep.”

She adjusted in her seat, the chair rocking slightly with her movement, and she peered down at the bundle of thread and fabric in her lap. An amused huff blew from her lips at the sight, and a string of dry coughs followed it. When they passed, she straightened her shoulders and looked up at her son with watery eyes.

“How did it go today?”

“It went well. Kat’s a good teacher. It was nice. Spending time with her. Mum, why don’t you go to bed if you’re tired?”

Enyd batted away his concern with a flick of her thin wrist. “I’m fine. I want to get this done before I turn in anyhow.” She gestured to the sewing project in her lap. “Would you mind starting the record again?”

Silco turned back to the phonograph and reset the needle. Soft, warbly music echoed from the soundhorn and Enyd hummed appreciatively, lifting the needle and thread back up to the light.

“I’m going to take a shower. Do you need anything?”

His mother shook her head. She smiled at him, and said, “I’m glad you got to do something light today. Fun. Joyful.”

Silco’s insides squeezed – with what, he wasn’t entirely certain – and softly smiled in agreement.

“Me too.”

With that, he headed to his bedroom, grabbed his pajamas, and then locked himself up in the bathroom. He turned the water in the tub on, holding one hand under the faucet, waiting for it to turn warm. When it did, he was surprised that he could feel the difference between this warm water and the stuff he’d been swimming in a few hours prior. He didn’t know water could feel different. Pulling the tee diverter, the shower head rumbled and spat to life. He quickly divested himself of his clothes; surprised when a flash of Kat in her wet underthings flickered in his mind. He swallowed, tossed the clothes into the hamper by the toilet, and stepped into the shower.

The warm water sluiced over his frame in vaguely relaxing rivulets. The sensation paled in comparison to the heat and comfort he’d found in the Springs. He’d found in the excited, pleased beam of Kat’s smile. Silco ran his fingers through his hair, unraveling any snags and snares he found. He closed his eyes as water ran down his face. The image behind his eyelids was that of Kat standing in the shallow end of the pool, water to her knees, her underwear, camisole, and brassiere wet and sticking to her body. Her skin glowed and shone with the warm mist of the cave. Silco sighed, and finally allowed himself to ruminate on what he’d seen while he lathered himself up with soap.

Like many trenchers, Katya’s body hungered, but it hadn’t kept her hips and breasts from filling out. His mind’s eye roved over her legs. Stopped, and stared at where her thighs thickened into the swell of her hips and ass. Salivated at how the damp sheerness of her underwear had allowed the suggestion of curls at the crux of her thighs –

Silco gasped as he brought the soap to his groin, and found himself half-hard. Balls beginning to lift and ache. For a moment, he considered turning the water to ice cold, to put a stop to this. But his hand made a cursory sweep down his length and the space behind his navel tightened with anticipation. With a plead.

Silco’s imagination took creative license, and the Kat behind his eyes shifted her expression to something sultrier. Hungrier. Her lashes sat low over her golden eyes – those mesmerizing gold eyes. Silco braced one hand against the shower wall, while the other took hold of him in earnest. Kat bit just the inside of her lower lip, and Silco worked himself to full hardness in steady strokes.

His mind’s eye traveled up the length of her torso, wondering what it would be like to touch (taste?) the delicate flesh that ebbed and flowed into that beautiful hourglass shape. Her breasts – their details and shape brought into stark relief by the wet, clingy fabric – were devastatingly heavy and ample. Her nipples had puckered and lifted. He wanted to touch them. Roll them into impossibly tight, pebbled peaks between his fingers. And then suck and bite at them. How she would writhe beneath his attention –

Silco’s breath hitched as a callous on his palm caught along his frenulum. He bit back a groan, grateful for the noise of the shower and the record playing in the other room. Despite those buffers, he choked back any vocalization that threatened to give him away.

The promising lift behind his navel was intensifying – little shimmers of pleasure licking up his spine. The squeeze of his pumping hand tightened, and the one bracing against the shower wall collapsed to its forearm. Silco’s forehead pressed against the meat of it. His eyes clamped shut as his mind shifted, giving form to tamped down fantasies and maddening questions.

What would those plush thighs feel like wrapped around his waist? Kat’s heels pressing into his tailbone as he fucked her –

A whimper vibrated off his lips. Despite the water, he could tell that his cock was leaking all over his hand.

How would she feel wrapped around him? Glorious, he knew. His fist would never be able to compare. Warm, soft, and slick. And tight. Would they fit together like puzzle pieces?

How would she look beneath him? On top of him? Looking over her shoulder at him? He imagined her mouth hanging open – her dusty pink lips turned red and kiss-swollen. Her intense, expressive brows pitching up in elation as she hurtled toward her release. Pleasure he’d brought her –

Silco’s hips bucked into his hand as his own climax neared. Those little laps and zips of pleasure he’d felt earlier grew into spine arching, toe curling flames as his fist became a blur around his cock.

How would Kat sound? How would that rolling, molasses-sweet accent sound in the throes of ecstasy? Would she mutter in her mother-tongue? Chant his name? Look him in the eye and say “You have me”? –

“Kat!” Silco rasped, unable to keep her name behind his teeth. And he came. Strong, pulsing spurts onto the shower wall that were promptly washed away by the water’s spray. His hand worked himself through each throb of his orgasm, until his body felt blissfully heavy on his skeleton and he leaned against the wall.

He stood there for a moment, the water beating against his back; residual glimmers of ecstasy shivering up and down his spine. He huffed and puffed, heart hammering and lungs swinging. He placed his left hand on his chest, and felt the steady percussive, beat within.

As the gooey, post-orgasm feeling draped over his body, Silco finished cleaning himself. And made a point to make sure the wall and floor of the shower was clean of any ‘sign’ of him, too. He dried off, dressed, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. All the while thinking on what he had done, and whom he’d thought of.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling – one hand on his heart; the other tossed over his head – a lonely, wanting, foreign ache pressed into him. The sensation eased as he drifted to sleep and dreamt that Kat was curled against his side.

Katya glided through the dark, star-lit water of her dreamscape. Smooth, warm, and malleable. Like liquid glass. A few easy frog strokes propelled her forward, the water rippling gently. She wondered if she’d ever reach an edge here, if there would ever be something to grab hold of. Something to rest against, in case she ever tired.

“Kat.”

She gasped and sputtered. The water splashed as she spun. She’d never heard anything but her own breath here. The sound of her own body in the water. But now, a few feet behind her, there was a pale figure with lank dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Silco?”

He smiled at her. She realized how endearing – almost awkward – the fullness of it made him look. In life, he’d only ever smirked or grinned at her. Expressions that kept his coolness and distant persona intact, kept him at arm’s length from most people.

Now, he was beaming at her, and she was enthralled.

He paddled toward her. “Shall we?”

Katya blinked at him, and then she smiled in return. Laughing, they pressed forward into the endless space. Silco swam just about as well as he had at the Springs – not with the best form, water splattering about him. But neither cared. They moved together, Silco splashing at Katya; Katya dodging his sprays by elegantly flowing around him. Eventually, they tired enough to slow their pace, lazily floating along the surface. The stars sparkled and winked above them.

“Kat.”

This time he said her name softer, his tone lifting as if in question.

Katya stopped, her arms and legs barely needing to tread water to keep her upright. She looked at him, tilting her head in equal curiosity. He fixed her with an intense, earnest look that held her in place. An enticing heat banked behind his eyes, and he closed the small distance between them. One of his hands slipped up from the water and gently cradled her cheek. The etheric nature of the dreamscape made his touch feel ghost-like, a whisper of how his hand had felt in hers, but it made Katya’s breath hitch all the same. His thumb gently pressed against the beauty mark under her eye and dragged down. His blue eyes left her gold ones to flit down to her lips, and then back up. The look, the touch, sent a blaze through her body. As if her insides were a smoldering fire, and he was a great gust of wind, igniting her in a mighty WHOOSH!

Katya’s fiery heart thundered wildly in her chest as she leaned forward and kissed him. The hand on her cheek wrapped to hold the nape of her neck, and Silco’s other hand wound around her waist, drawing her flush against him. She gripped his shoulders and pressed her mouth more firmly against his, annoyed that the sensation of him was gauzy. She wanted to feel him, taste him.

She tilted her head and slid her tongue along the seam of his lips, pleading for access; hoping it would give her something more solid to experience. Silco obliged, his own tongue melding against hers. Katya squeezed her eyes tight as their tongues, teeth, and lips hungrily explored each other. For too brief of a moment, she thought she could taste cigarettes, thought she could smell that citrus tang and deep terra scent that had been on that shirt he’d given her.

Silco surged forward, his kisses a strange combination of intense and distant. Katya gripped at him, fingers digging into the slick and firm muscles of his shoulders and back. She gasped when her own backside pressed against something solid. Somehow, for the first time, she was able to feel an edge to this dreamworld. She couldn’t see it, only feel it. Silco’s right hand pressed into the starry surface next to her head, his breath a mere suggestion against her warm, damp skin. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers, the blade of his nose caressing her cheek. The inferno within Katya’s belly blazed for him. Her body ached, breasts heavy and heaving, core throbbing.

“Kat,” Silco breathed, pressing against her.

“Yes.” Katya’s breath came in shaky, pleading huffs.

Her legs lifted in the water and wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer. There was a probing pressure at her aching center and a desperate, excited cry pealed from her throat.

The exclamation woke Katya up. She jerked awake in her bed, back arching, breathing erratic. Initially, she was confused, borderline distraught. As her vision cleared and she took in the dark, empty space of her bedroom, she understood what had happened.

She was home.

Alone.

Disappointment settled in her stomach, lead-heavy and cold. Despite this, the ache between her thighs persisted; annoyed at being left unattended.

Katya steeled her jaw and turned onto her side, eyes closing, determined to just go to bed. She would inspect that dream in the morning. Or maybe she wouldn’t. It was only a dream after all.

However, her body refused to fall into stillness and slumber. Her mind swam with images and sense-memories of Silco. His intense gaze, low, syrupy voice; his lithe frame, how his hands had felt in hers, how his hands might feel on her body. Holding her in place, exploring . . .

Katya grunted and turned again, her core reverberating with a nearly painful, needy pulse. Her nipples were pointed and tight beneath the shirt she wore. His shirt. She laid still for a moment, considering. Finally, her fingers skirted across the gusset of her underwear in an exploratory swipe. Her body shuddered at the light touch and she gasped to find the garment soaked.

She decided to not think too hard about it, nor deny her bodily desire any longer. In quick, furious movements, she stripped her underwear down her legs and kicked them off, sending them somewhere deep within the folds of her blanket. Her hand was quick to cup herself, and an intense and relieved sound was pressed out of her lungs.

Her hips lifted into the heel of her hand as her index and middle fingers swiped lightly through her slit, gathering and coating them in her arousal. Slowly, she dipped them inside. A gasp left her, her back arched, her free hand reached for the pillow above her head and gripped it tightly. She was overwhelmed by how warm, wet, and ready she felt. Burying her fingers inside her felt relieving and maddening. Her body grateful that it was being touched, but desperately wanting more. Needing release.

Her fingers began to pump in and out, the heel of her hand trying to rub against her clit. Pleasure ebbed and swelled inside her, promising tickles fluttering behind her navel, up and down her spine. Images flashing through her mind provided titillating inspiration that drove her further and further into carnal need.

The shape of Silco’s member; she’d sneaked a peek of him when his shorts were wet and clinging to it earlier that day. Her fingers couldn’t compare.

The way Silco’s muscles moved over his body as he swam.

Silco’s head between her thighs, those piercing eyes watching her intently.

Silco’s hands grabbing needily at her thighs and hips as he rut against her.

Katya’s body shook hopefully at the thought, her fingers pumping faster, the heel of her hand desperately wriggling against her apex. A whimper trickled from her mouth between ragged breaths. Despite the pleasure building within her, entangling her low spine in teasing tendrils, she needed more. The hand gripping the pillow snaked itself under her shirt, squeezing and pinching at the peak of her breast. A hiss whistled through her clenched teeth, her body writhing.

It wasn’t enough.

She rolled onto her stomach, pinning the hand working at her between her soaked sex and the mattress. Her hips humped and ground into her palm. The position, aided by her weight and gravity, offered deeper, sweeter sensations the ability to curl and build. Katya gasped and cried into the pillow, her legs propelling her hips into her hand hurriedly, the movement not dissimilar to the firelight swim stroke.

“Si – Sil – “

Katya’s breath hitched into a new tempo as her body rapidly approached the peak of her climax. Her toes curled, the soles of her feet flexing in anticipation; thighs and hips quivering.

“P-please. Oh, Gods. S – “

She moaned loudly into her pillow as she crested her release; hips pulsing and grinding over her hand of their own volition, chasing her high, squeezing every last drop of pleasure out of it. Eventually the sensation ebbed away, leaving Katya wrung out, and panting. Slowly, she withdrew her hand from herself and carefully stretched her legs out, rocking her hips side-to-side experimentally.

While she felt satisfied on an animalistic level, as the heavy blanket of sleep began to lay over her, the feeling of loneliness crept back in. Into her chest. Into her bed.

The sleep she was granted was dreamless.

Notes: Ahhhhh! These crazy, pining kids! When will they *actually* make it happen?? Soon hopefully 😈 I hope you enjoyed the start of some smutty-smut! I was really happy to finally get to this point in the story 😅 What do you think? Let me know your thoughts! Please comment and reblog ❤️ Til next time, my sweets!

Coming Up Next: Piltover's answer to the Children's declaration, Zaun prepares for the Snowdown holidays, and Kells attempts a monsterous act.

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