#Concil: So.... how did your officer get injured again? Marcus:... he tripped

[a-gal-with-taste]

Thoughts:

Silco with a s/o who is seriously injured trying to defuse a rapidly escalating confrontation between enforcers and some folks outside the Last Drop on a day Silco is tied up with business elsewhere. Enforcer shoots first. Rage to tender? Some care for wounds? Strong independent minded female admits they were scared/ feeling shame for pain or fear and protective!Silco emerges?

You had me at "protective!Silco," That is just the, mmhm, yeah👌 good shit. Enjoy!

Silco X F!Reader (Established)

Warnings: Language, blood, descriptions of wounds, mentioned panic-attack, tension, couples argument, hurt/comfort, fluff, protective!Silco has been summoned

If Silco was the head of the operation, and Sevika is right hand, you imagined you were the left. 

Perhaps it was overselling your skills. You'd just been a regular grunt on the street, a street-kid grown up into a street-teen, then a street-woman who got picked up for a more... long-term employment opportunity. Still,, you hadn't forgotten your street days. You knew how to block and deliver a punch, what type of wood to bite down on while popping-in a shoulder, or straightening ankle back into place. How to haggle, when to steal. Who to mess with, who to watch your back around...

You didn't know much about bullet-wounds. Streets used knives and fists, guns were where your weaponry intelligence faltered. Which wasn't good, considering you've gotten shot by two in the last week, and the newest was casually leaving a puddle on the floor in the office of The Last Drop.

You let out a low groan of pain between clenched teeth as there was a dull clink of the bullet bouncing into the glass. Digging nails into your knee while it shook, you forced the rest of your body to stay still as gauze is quickly pressed to your bicep, attempt to stauch the bloodflow before it can get all over the couch.

"... 'had it handled,' my ass." Sevika grunted. "Shoulda left Mek in charge, least he would've scared the rookie off before he'd even take the gun out. Dustin could've looked more intimidating, and at the very least, not looked spooked after taking a one hit-" Sucking in a breath through teeth, you glared up at the woman with pained-sharp eyes as you leaned back heavily on the couch, "Piss off, it was fine until Marcus got stupid enough to leave the rookie alone for five seconds. I had it handled."

"Like the last mission, right?" The mocking note in her voice does not go unnoticed, and your uninjured arm squeezes slightly around your aching abdomen. Bandages still thick around it, you haven't felt the chill that informed you that the stitches had already been opened. A miracle, since it had not been days prior that you got them. "Piss. Off."

Whatever scathing lecture she had planned for you was halted, as the door banged open. So unlike the normal cool and suave creaking, you couldn't help but flash your gaze over, hand jerking to your weapon-holster at your hip in case that rookie decided he wanted to finish the job after all...

"Out. Make sure Marcus and his subordinate get back to Topside." Silco's voice was as hard as his eyes, but Sevika still let out a small scoff as she stood, shoving the roll of gauze into your chest for you to grunt, and catch. She said nothing, only a brief glint of her eyes to yours, before turning to stride out the door, wiping your blood off her flesh hand onto her pants.

Silco shut the door sharply the moment she crossed the doorway. You averted your gaze back down to your arm, peeling away the sticky cloth with a small huff as you worked trembling fingers to unroll the gauze. You nearly dropped it when the sharp, cold steps finally came to a stop in front of you.

"Let me see it." He didn't give you a chance to rebuttal or ignore him, "Or I will have you dragged to Singed."

Another day on that damned table? Repressing a shudder, you swallowed back a grunt as she shuffled to the side of the couch, letting the Eye of Zaun sit beside you on the couch. Fingers all but snatched the wrapping from your hand, and your afflicted arm was captured before you could move away any further.

"... It's not as bad as the last one." You attempted, finding Jinx's drawing along the rafters more fascinating then your superior wrapping your bicep securely in stony-silence. A small sigh from your nostrils, turning into a hiss when he pulled the wrap hard enough for you to feel fire flare up your arm.

The burning hand around your wrist slipped slowly, but with much practice, to curl fingers between your own, sturdy palm against yours until the tremor in your arm finally came to a still.

Not a word was spoken when you gave a short nod, reaching up to wipe the sudden-sweat from your brow. His movements returned to repetitiveness, wrapping your arm with careful practice while his hand still remaining in yours. "... Marcus wanted assurances. To ensure this doesn't occur again."

You scoffed, and it came out sharp, "I get shot, and he wants assurances?"

"He wanted that boy to technically still be alive when they leave the Undercity. I had to give him something, before he started to get silly notions of heroism." Sounds like Marcus. A dark burst of satisfaction fills you, much like when you started to hear the loud bangs, yells and screams from downstairs while Silco and the gang had remained in the bar to discuss the situation with Marcus and the rookies insubordination.

Consitering how quiet it got after enough loud bangs, you imagine that 'technically' alive comment to be quite correct in terms of the Enforcer's condition. Not that the true-cause would be in any official reports, of course, but you felt avenged nonetheless.

"He comes solo to meetings now. We meet on a more concrete schedule, no more surprise visits like what happened today. Weapons holstered and put on safety..." Reasonable enough, though you held back a smirk at the last one, Silco would have at least three at-ready regardless of the agreement... It fades quickly at the next condition he says, grip tightening on your hand as he calmly informed you, "And to dispel any rumors of the true situation, you remain off the streets for the next several weeks."

"... Silco, that's not funny."

A small yank on the bandage as he tightens it, pulling it taut before tucking it into place, completed. "I agreed to all conditions."

"Bullshit." You go to stand, and immediately find yourself right back on the couchseat. Whether by the yank Silco gives to pull you back down, or the wave of nausea, pain at your sharp movements, you refuse to admit to either. "You want to bench me? For getting a couple scratches?"

"Scratches?" Silco's voice is soft, deadly, and shaking with barely-restrained fury. "Two times, in twice as many days. Two times, you've gotten shot. I imagine it's not a coincidence that each one creeps closer to that apparently-empty head of yours." You scoff, and turned away, when fingers of his free-hand reach over and snap around your chin, pulling your head sharply back to face him.

His expression is close to volcanic, the red iris flaring with every careful inhale and exhale as he glares into your eyes, teeth gritting. "These aren't scratches. These are you, getting reckless, getting foolish and getting hurt." You swallowed thickly but sneered back at him, "Think I haven't gotten my fair share of bumps and bruises before, Sil? Think I don't know pain? We live in the Underground, for fucks sake, almost-dying on a daily basis is practically our birthright."

The green eye narrows, and the black and red eye is at a boiling-point at the D-word. "No. You're not allowed to die. Not for this, not at an Enforcer's hand, not for anything. Die, shot, scratched, none of it."

You scoff, and wince slightly as his thumb digs a bit deeper against into your chin at your sharp eyeroll. "What?" You huffed, challenging him by leaning closer to him, so his hot exhale was brushing against your face. "Sevika gives up an arm, you an eye, but the minute I start doing shit that gets me a couple new scars, you draw the line? What're you, scared? Going soft?"

There's a cool, quiet beat between the two of you.

"... The men told me you started going into shock after you were shot. No," He smoothly reaches down the moment you started to shuffle off the couch, gripping your forearms with enough strength to keep you there. "No, you don't get to scurry off because I'm pointing out facts. Not after you throw yourself into danger not once, but twice-" "I didn't throw myself-" You retort, and then immediately have to suppress a yelp as one hand slides up to grip your freshly-wrapped arm, and the slight bump of your abdomen from the bandages beneath clothing.

"Thesw two, days apart, suggests otherwise," Silco says lowly, and you grit your teeth, looking down as you catch your breath. Finally, lowly and with fists curling, "I couldn't... fuck, fine. I couldn't stand by being useless, being weak, just lying in a chair when some undergrad with a pistol started getting antsy. That's not who I am, you know that." No response, only cool, observant eyes watching you as you turn your gaze away, looking anywhere else.

"... and fine. Maybe it spooked me a little. Maybe my breathing started picking up a bit, and I started getting shaky in front of the guys. I had just gotten shot, again, sue me for being a little shaken-"

Damn it. You could tell he heard the voice-crack too, his grip tightening suddenly, and only releasing when he realized his touch was what was causing you discomfort.

"... I couldn't stand by, and I couldn't help but stiffen a little after I got hurt. That's all that happened, i'm-"

You trail off, half because it's getting embarrassing how much effort you have to put in to keep your voice steady, and because it's too comfortable being pressed against him to keep trying to deflect.

"I'll be okay..." The man only hummed, the infamous Eye of Zaun sliding a hand up your back to curl fingertips into your hair, thumb brushing against the nape of your neck. You'd been in this exact position not 72 hours before, after being discharged off that damned table at Singed's... it's a bit embarrassing to admit that, even after a small burst of time between these moments, you've missed the comfort of it.

Silco quietly rests his chin atop your head as you slowly slip an arm up around his shoulder, other remaining pressed close to avoid aggrevating the fresh sting of a wound. You're tired, suddenly, any remaining adrenaline from the incident leaking from you in his arms. "... I'm still getting benched?"

"Yes." He says, immediately and unapologetically, but it's not a biting remark anymore. Quiet, calm, like the repetitive brush against the back of your neck as he holds you securely. "I can't... not like that. You're not allowed to do that to me, not a third time, and you're hardly doing yourself any favors by throwing yourself into line of fire, even on hot-headed instinct." You suppressed the snort. Silco telling you the dangerous nature of self-destructive habits?

He must sense the bitter irony, as you feel the small smile when he presses lips to your hairline. "You know I'm right." "Hm... we'll save a debate for when I can move without aching." A small sigh is your only reply, the slight tightening of his arms around you merely a reflex. You sighed, eyes flickering a little as you turned your head, resting your cheek against his vest, moving with every, now much calmer breath, and heart thudding distantly beneath your ear.

"... You know you can't protect me from everything, right? I'm muscle for reason, you can't find a way to stop me from going out and getting hurt on a job..." There's a hum of consideration, no verbal answer as he simply focuses on the feel of you, safe in his arms, and you close your eyes instead of rolling them, letting out a small-sigh regardless.

It was clear he was going to damn well try. You imagined the next few weeks benched were going to be long, boring... although, if it was anything like this moment you were sharing with Silco, you might not go as stir-crazy as quickly as you would otherwise.