#silco eats bees

[skullywullypully]

[a-gal-with-taste]

Baked And Battered (2/3)

Summary: It's the classic story: Boy meets girl, Sumpsnipe meets Promenade-brat, baker meets rebel. And then it becomes so, so much more than that, for both of them.

(Inspired by @sweatandwoe ​ & Secret Ingredient, a must-read)

Warnings: SFW. Baker!Reader, fluff, romance, revolutionary-shenannigans, young love, flirting, time-skips, bit of world-building, slice-of-life-ish, hurt/comfort, humor, angst, eventual happy-ending

Part 1 Part 3

"You can be honest," Silco assured you, resting his fist against his chin to support his head, and you could see the corners of his mouth upturned, gaze mirthful. "I won't tell, promise."

".. .It's just so dry," You wheezed, causing his hand to raise higher to cover his cough as you glowered, hurriedly reaching for the flask of water he grabbed- likely because the bastard had predicted your reaction. "It's a honey-roll, how is it-... it's barely even sticky!"

"Astoundingly, it turns out importing important ingredients this far-down in the Entresol is a bit difficult," There's still laughter gleaming in his eye as he shrugs a shoulder towards the stall across the walkway. "It's been watered down so much, the honey probably had more in-common with fish than bees."

At this, you couldn't resist a small-snort around your next sip, rolling your eyes as you turned to look around, at lights at people at... how different the Lanes really were, you felt like you stepped from one world to the next... but far more incredible, was how different Silco had become.

He seemed to take a complete turn - there was always a standoffish-air about him during his trips in the Promenade, and that all but melted the deeper the two of you had gone into the lift.

There's nothing but confidence, practically radiating off his skin as he takes his hand into yours... and you daresay that the man almost looks relaxed.

"Checking me out, are you?"

You blink, then elbow him while the crooked smile of his only grows. "With charm like that, I'm not surprised you have half the Undercity wrapped around your finger," The obvious sarcasm is only met with a grin, the largest you ever thought him capable of.

"More than half."

"I'm sure."

"Doubt, from you?" Silco shakes his head, almost mournfully... but you see that dumb smirk still twitching at his lips. "Oh, the misery."

"Only misery here, is the food. You eat... things like that, all the time?"

You were never one to judge others taste, or culinary abilities - after the stunt with pasta, you would've ran Vander out with the steel cooking-prongs if that was the case - but you could swear there was still a spot on your tongue that was dryer than the desert from that honey-roll...

"Before you, I didn't eat much of anything," Silco said, snapping you out of your thoughts with a cold splash of reality. Reality that, Silco continued to map out for you in perfect clarity, with nothing more than an absent shrug, "Down in the mines, you're already well six-feet-under, and there's a million others willing to take the job. Foreman often figure, why feed one when there's another at-ready to replace it? Waste of food."

Passing by another stall, almost on reflex, you see his other hand flash out over the nearest basket of apples. You blink, a second time when his other hand comes to press at the small of your back, urging you at a calm, and sharp pace beside him as he continues to speak, as if nothing happened and there isn't a slightly bruised, round red-fruit in his hand.

"So, we had to go out. Scavenge, steal... sometimes just hope, or fantasize to get through one hungry night, to the next... there were too many nights in a row, once. So, I decided to do the previous-steps, although a bit further Uptown," He eye glinted at you in time with the edge of a knife catching in the knife. You don't know where it came from - you hope not from his boot - but it shines cleanly as Silco reduces to fruit into slices.

And then you blink, when one is promptly offered to you on the edge of his blade.

"I never did thank you. That first night."

Pinching off the apple-slice, you regard it for a heartbeat - noting it at least doesn't look shriveled and dry - before popping in your mouth. "I don't think it needed a thank-you. You said it yourself, it was for survival sake."

"On my end, yes. But what was your excuse?"

You paused, and thought about it for a moment, silently walking beside him along a busy street, in a part of a city you didn't know.

"I could? So I did." Realizing that gives the impression of impulsiveness, you're quick to revise your words after taking another bite of fruit. "I mean... you needed someone to help you, and I was there. And it would've felt wrong not to."

"So you acted on ethics?" His tone impassive, but Silco's eyes peer at you intently, thoughtful and deciphering.

"No. Acted on... compassion, I guess."

There's silence for a moment, and it's quiet enough that you're about to take in every-detail of Silco's calloused palm, meeting with yours, squeezing tightly.

"... Thank you."

"I told you, Silco, you never needed to-"

"And you didn't either," He interrupts, and there's a long pause, as if Silco debates with himself, wrestling with what he does next...

But even though it takes him far, far too long, he leans down enough to brush his lips against your cheek, his warm breath tickling your warming skin as he breathes, "You didn't, but you could. So, thank you."

It's quiet for the rest of the night. But as you lay in your bed, back above the bakery, smiling and cheek still tingling warm at the kiss, you think you both said more than enough.

You never knew how quiet it could be.

And indeed, alone in the bakery, it can be... extremely quiet.

Older now, and more alone than you've ever been, you subtly part the curtains with your fingers, just enough to take a peek outside. You don't so much sigh with relief, when you take stock of the absence of blue-and-gold armored Enforcers, but some of the weary tension saps from you at the sight, or lack thereof.

The baker took their leave the moment after the first curfew was enacted, and left you the bakery.

The establishment... the place you trained, worked, lived, thrived, all yours and all-empty. On one-hand, you were glad. You didn't hate your mentor, far from it, but there was a callousness, hot-tempered part of them that you were glad to watch go out the front door with two bags, and no intent to look back.

You were certainly glad to have the shop all to yourself too - even with business slowing down to a crawl in the wake of double, triple Enforcer patrols along the Promenade. But the fact that it was all yours, from the two-room apartment above, to the shopfront you'd frequent from the moment you were taller than the counter, to your beloved, and ancient kitchen, of which you had practically every inch of surface memorized by heart...

It was like a dream. But it was a dream far, far too quiet.

Even now, moving away from the door, your body twitched at the sound of your small-sigh, and how it seemed to echo around the building. It was just too empty, with your mentor gone, customers often too weary to risk the Enforcer-monitors streets...

Clenching the mug tight in your hands, your mind slipped back to Silco.

Silco, Vander and Benzo... and the fact that all three hadn't shown up at the bakery in weeks. On one hand you understood, on the other, you were pacing with fingers shaking around the ceramic, and you were worried.

Worried of what, exactly? You weren't sure... but even in the worst of time, where life, work or whatever else kept the boys busy down in the Lanes, they always found a way back. With sheepish smiles, apologies and a ravenous appetite, it had become habit to expect the three to sneak in from the front periodically, not to mention you had long since gotten use to their visits as a fact of your life...

You were, perhaps a bit desperately at this point, keeping one ear out on the front door as you reluctantly returned to the kitchen to complete the afternoon batch of rolls.

That's probably why you all but dropped your ceramic mug, when you turned the corner to see Silco, slipping in though the back door.

You were standing in front of him in less than a second, staring up and breathing his name. A boy no longer, the last growth-spurt had been the bane of your existance but looking up at Silco, and taking in his tired, weary and bruised, and... here.

Here, and you don't waste a second longer, before taking advantage of that fact to rush to him, arms tight around his waist and face pressed close to his chest.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be," You hissed - not sniffling, no. "Where were you?"

Silco is quiet, for just a moment. Raising your head slightly with a gentle rise and fall of his breath, one arm loose, and yet securing around your waist. "... shall I be honest, or tell a lie that makes you feel better?"

"The truth, Sil," Scolding a man would be odd to any outsider, particularly when you stepped back to place your hands on your hips, but it worked, with Silco having the decency to look sheepish at your insistence. "Look... life gets busy? I get it. Work gets hectic? Sure... But five weeks, Silco?"

You balled your hands into fists at your sides, to hide that they were shaking, even after his eyes flicked down to them. "You scared me, Silco," You admit, and his tone is apologetic.

"I know, that's... partially why I would rather tell you a lie."

"Silco."

"We," He pauses, again, and you struggle not to tap your damn foot. "... closed down a mine."

You waited, but he said little else, and so with a sigh, the directionally changed for you to walk sharply into the kitchen. He follows, and leans heavily against the counter as you return to the oven - Silco takes a moment to glace between the shut-windows and front-door, before jerked back to attention at your flat-tone. "I see."

You didn't, and he knew it, which is why Silco murmured your name almost weakly, before wisely shuting his mouth.

"Five-weeks, Silco," You repeated firmly, taking out the ready-rolls fresh and hot from the oven. Out of habit, one was scooped off the pan with a spatula, set out to cool and consume by the young man you were scolding. "Closing down a mine took you five-weeks? Without any words or messages or-"

"We didn't close it. We blew it up."

Mid-scoop, your arm jerked violently. You don't even mourn the fact that a roll bounces off the coutertop and is left to cool on the floor, as you turn to gaze opened-mouthed at Silco at his announcement. He doesn't meet your eyes, and when he speaks, it's as clinical as sterilized-steel.

"It's been opened for generations. Thousands lived, died, and are buried within it's walls, all under Enforcer command. No more."

You blink, inhale, and exhale lowly, shakily, "Did... was there... anyone...?"

"No. We cleared it, did it at night, but..." He hesitates, before jerking his chin, long dark hair flicking at the movement he makes towards the window. "If you were wondering why about the new influx of patrols, I know of a handful of reasons."

Body slumps against the counter. Your arms, thankfully, keep you propped up, but you can only stare at Silco. A million and one thoughts running through your mind, but from them all, you can only manage four words, "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?"

"Okay, how... what's next?"

The weariness in bright sea-green eyes fade into determination, the kind you had seen that night in the Lanes, years ago. "There are others, willing to fight beside us, willing to do whatever it takes... it's possible." Silco says it firmly - not as if to convince himself, or even you, but perhaps to convince the world. "It's... our freedom, is possible."

You want to shake him, really. Thoughts of patrols, of cave-ins, recklessness, arrests, of Stillwater, fill your mind, while you know there's only the glowing hope of a better, grander future filling his.

He's scaring you, but it's with his hopes for a better future, a better life for himself, and for the people in the lower-parts of the Undercity.

How... how can you possibly dim that hope with your fears?

But maybe Silco sees it, when he looks to you fully, and takes in the slight shake in your arms as you lean heavily on the countertop. Pushing away from his own counter, he reaches towards you, and you're quick and eager to meet him halfway, grasping his arm tightly as you look up at him. "I... what... what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing."

A blink - from both baker and newfound rebel, as if neither could believe the force behind his words. Silco tries again, licking his lips, "I don't... want you doing anything. Getting involved with this. We reside in different seconds of the Undercity, and it's far-safer for you to continue up here..."

"But I want to help you," You insist, reaching up with your other hand, and though the young man jerks, bright eyes widening at the touch, you watch as he leans slowly into the palm that cups his face, eyelashes flickering, "Silco... whatever you need. However I could help. Let me, please."

For a moment, there's silence. From you, fear and worry, but also assurance that your support was far from shaken. And from him... his eyes open fully, and Silco gazes at you with a mixture of emotions, all swirling too fast for you to decipher.

He says far, far much more, with the way he leans down to brush lips to yours, than with words.

Another kiss, one made far too late, and far too sweet, that you almost stumble in the man's grasp at it.

It's so full of adoration, that you know even Silco couldn't put it all into words.

You canteen find your own, and a forehead presses against another for a long heartbeat, before Silco speaks again, quietly, and yet firmly, "It would help me to know you're here. Safe. Working, doing your business and... staying out of the Lanes."

"Forever?"

"No, just... just until."

"Would... would you be able to come see me?"

Another kiss, this one quicker to come, and this one far more firmly, as Silco whispers urgently against your lips, "As often as I can."

Those same lips smile, and you let out a small laugh - part hysterical, but Silco seems to share it. Euphoria and fear mixing together, a perfect and chaotic blend...

As he kisses you, a third-time that speaks not of the joy of the possible future and the anxiety of war-indeed, but of the joy sizzling between you at these long-awaited kisses... you try to ignore the fact that it feels like this perfect mixture, feels only one ingredient away from disaster.

Disaster, it turns out, comes in many forms.

The Children of Zaun quickly turn into a disaster for Piltover. A group of children, the product of generations of apathy, misery and oppression, lash out with the full-force of descendents making up for their predecessors lack of fighting in the past, and it's simply a disaster for the Enforcers.

Patrols allbut swarm the Promenade, and the Alcoves fared even worse with harbors constantly under-watch, but it only helped the Topside efforts so much.

Smuggling became a full-time profession. The Lanes already made no secret of the extra items among their stalls, but now, there was no secret on the raids made, typically against Enforcers themselves.

It's impressive. It's sending a message, showing that the Children of Zaun are a legitimate force, with a real, clear goal of refusing to cow to enforcement.... and it's scaring you half to death.

A bakery, obviously, doesn't warrant any searches among the swarms of Enforcers that stalk the streets - in fact, they're almost cheery to get warm, fresh-made food at your little shop on your lunch-breaks, and while the gold is appreciated, the polite smile on your face forever feels frozen as each Topside customer.

You try to picture, which Enforcer gave Vander that walloping on the harbor last month? The one that threw that gas-canisters into a safehouse Benzo had been guarding? You can't even hate them - all you energy goes into the worry of what these Enforcers are doing to your friends, and for those trying to fight for their right to exist in a better life.

It shows in your baking too, though Silco, bless him, doesn't comment. Even as his brow twitches as he takes a bite of an turnover - apple. You both had developed a sort of fondness for them, since that night in the Lanes.

"Was anyone else...?" You don't finish. Maybe because a part of you doesn't want to know, but also because the stitch in his arm requires your full-attention - years ago, you would've balked at the thought of even attempting it. But times are changing.

"No. We had a decent force... as the leader, I worked to made sure everyone got out of their first." A pause, then he crams the rest of the pastry into his mouth, avoiding your gaze. Silco chews slowly, to avoid speaking (and also because you both knew full-well it was more chewy than flakey) before finally answering in an almost sheepish-tone. "And it is just a scratch."

"One that's taking a dozen amateur stitches to close. Sure."

"You're doing a good job," His assurance is met with a grateful squeeze on your knee, pressed against his own as you work closely. Nails dig faintly through your apron and your pants beneath it as you work to snip of the excess, and carefully tie off the stich, before it eases as you reach for a nearby wrapping. "Who knows? Could be my personal baker and nurse one of these days."

"I can't fix everything, Silco. And I would be grateful if you would... you know. Visit an actual doctor."

"Ah, but where would I get the opportunity to eat as you work?" His tease ends in a hiss, as you tie off the wrap just a smidge tighter than necessary... for his benefit, of course.

Leaving him briefly to wash up, clean yourself off, and remove your apron - he made a habit of showing-up at the tail-end of your shift. When he could show-up, that is. Upon returning, silently, Silco held his hand out to you.

You offered your own without hesitation, and for a moment just... tried to enjoy this.

Even with worry plucking at every nerve, and even fear spiking through you everytime you glanced at the carefully-curtained windows, knowing what the world was outside, you tried to enjoy this moment with Silco as much as you could.

It wasn't hard, as his thumb carefully strummed along your knuckles, and his hand was so, so warm in yours.

"... there's some benefits to all this."

"I know. Never said there wasn't."

"We're making progress," Mouth twisting in a sneer at Piltover's iconic buzzword, his eyes softened at your glance. "We are. The Sumps are all but abandoned by Pilties, and the central-Lanes are in our control. If we just keep pushing, keep working... we can do it. We could have the Nation of Zaun by the end of the year, so long as we keep up."

Smiling, you shook your head, "You'll work yourself to death... you could afford to slow down, Silco. You, Vander and Benzo." You couldn't even remember the last time you saw the other Sons of Zaun. Had Vander grown another half-foot in your absence? "You can take a break... Zaun will still be here for you, if you just slowed down a bit."

"I can slow down when the Undercity is ours, or I'm dead." Stubborn as he was, there was a soft look in his eyes as the gentle notes of your voice, all but asking him to take care of himself.

"If I have to bury you, I'm going to be real upset." You tried. You tried to make it sound like a joke, tried to keep the pinched-note of worry from your voice, but you tried and failed.

Though, at the very least, the seagreen-eyes looked guilty at your words. It wasn't as much as a comfort as you would hope, but you kept focus on your joined hands... meaning you missed the way the soft look in Silco's eyes faded, and were replace by determination. A firmness that wasn't showed in his quiet, almost reassuring words.

"If I do-"

"Stop."

"If I-"

"No. Stop it. Don't you dare start that," Snatching your hand away like he scalded you - he might as well have, there was a sudden heat behind your eyes - you didn't get more than two steps before his hand shot out, latching and interlocking with yours.

"If I do," He starts again, far, far too calmly. "Then I want you to focus on you. Not me, don't..." Silco pauses, then shrugs the shoulder that isn't bandage, with all the casualness of a man discussing weather, save for a bitter smile on his lips. "Bit late to tell you to forget me... but it wouldn't be worth it, to keep going on life thinking about a dead man."

"Why are you so certain that's what you'll be?"

He laughs, and you blink at the way it sounds so dark, and worst of, knowing. "Because I know who I am? Because I know where I came from? Because dying is a risk I've known all my life...?"

You could shake him, for how careless he shrugged, and how he wouldn't even meet your gaze. "Death has always been the logical end-point... not the goal, but I know it's coming. I just want to make sure you'll be okay, when it does."

You're about to shake him. About to rip your hand from his, teeth-bared and eyes furious instead of releasing the embarrassing tears behind them, but you can only hoarsely whisper, "Why?"

"Why would I want you to be okay, when I'm no longer here?" Silco laughs, just as sullen, bitter as the previous. "I think we both know why... and we both know the feeling is mutual."

"Of course it is." You manage not to flinch as his fingers tighten, his gaze flashing to you with intensity, and for just a moment, pure and never faltering love for you. "But why... why are you saying all this now?" A swallow, before you add in a breath, "Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye?"

Silence reigned, and not even Silco, pushing the chair back and standing, could break it.

Only your inhale, shaking and tight, broke it by the time he had stepped halfway across the shopfront to you. "Are you?"

Silco opens... closes, opens, and closes his mouth again. Losing his words and losing his thoughts - both first-time occurrences. His arms reaching out to you, wrapping around your waist and pulling you into an embrace against his chest, is far from a first-time occurrence.

But it's the first time you leave the front of his shirt wet, the bright, rebellious maroon color bleeding darker, like blood with your tears.

"Are you?" You whisper against his sternum, and you hear and feel the shudder in his exhale, before Silco speaks.

"I hope not. Gods, I hope not... but how can I stop? Change can't stop, anymore than this revolution can... the only end for change is death. And I've... always aimed to desire change."

"Can't you aim any lower?"

Again, the chuckle you both share is a little hysterical - for you, quite a bit more so.

Silence once again fills the space around you, and the smaller space between you. Enjoying the moment is impossible, but even as you cling to Silco, it's impossible to ignore the comfort he brings, as his hand cups your head, with fingers caressing though your hair as he holds you close.

"Promise me one thing?"

Silco hesitates. "I'll try."

"Try, to stay alive. For me." Even if he couldn't come every day. Even Zaun's freedom wasn't a guarantee, even if you had to sell the damn bakery to bail him out of Stillwater if he got arrested..."Just, stay alive. That's all I ask."

The quiet only lasts a minute, before you feel a small dip of his chin on your head, in the motion of a brief nod. Allbut slumping into your arms, Silco holds you even tighter to him, other palm now reaching to rub circles into your lower-back in an assuring motion.

"May I ask something as well?"

"Mm?"

There's a pause, and you brace for another promise. Extracted form you, assuring him that whatever happens to him, you would be okay. A promise, you weren't sure you could keep.

You're braced for all that and more. Not the kiss he presses to the crown of your head, firm enough that you feel his words, more than hear his words. "I miss your cooking. Promise to have something ready, the next time I come back?"

A laugh all but bursts out of you - again, hysterical, but actual comedy in your tone as you weakly smack his arm for such a silly request, in such a heavy atmosphere. Perhaps he's lightening the mood, perhaps he's just trying to distract... it works, for a moment, though...

"You moron...  what do you want?"

"Anything you make, is simply delectable, my dear. Though, I'm curious what your version of a honey-roll would be."

"Not dry, that's for sure..."

For just a moment, like children, you can almost forget how dark, and cruel the Undercity could be.

Despite the mirthful air between you, despite laughter, you pray to any God that hears you, that they won't try to remind you.

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[mischiefxmuses]

"I promise. I'll be back in the office in no time. This is just a precaution." Silco smiled at her. The shimmer in his system also healed him faster. Didn't make him invincible but it helped. But he didn't advertise what the shimmer had done to him. How it changed him. "I am glad I didn't and that no one did. I can get lost in revenge. Would rather not show that side of me." A nervous chuckle left him. If she had been hurt it would have been something he could have easily fallen into. "Well colour me intrigued. We should definitely go then." Back home relaxing and going places without major reason wasn't a luxury he had. But here he could do just that. Spend time with someone special and experience things. "Still getting used to it but I'll get there. But I am keen to do new things." He smiled at her. But glanced out the window for a moment, seeing a different city in front of him. Blue sky. A horizon. Not something he often got to experience back home. He glanced back at their hands when she took his and ran his thumbs slowly over her knuckles. "I did what I had to. Some may paint me a villain for it. But after being so oppressed for so long. The people who called me villain didn't know who I had been and turned into due to circumstances." Silco had been a scholar. Spending his younger years studying. Trying to build medicines, create bee things and join the academy but because of him coming from the Undercity he was turned away. After that all he say was rage. How few opportunities those from the Undercity got. He wanted revenge. An uprising. "I hope to be the man I should have been here. Not the man war turned me into." He had wanted to prove the academy wrong. Make them eat their words that he'd never be successful or amount to anything. "I look forward to it. Seeing who we are here." He brought her knuckles to his lips and pressed a respectful kiss to her knuckles.

post continued from here bc the new editor sucks :))) @mischiefxmuses

sarra smiled. "I'm glad you're alright, truly," a small laugh left her lips at the others comment - he was right, she wasn't usually as brash, but she'd been worried enough to forgo her usual calm and collected demeanour. "you didn't hurt me, so you have nothing to worry about in that respect, silco - I'm perfectly fine," maybe a little emotionally shaken, but she was fine physically and didn't want him to worry about her too much. "thank you," she smiled, taking the mug, moving her position to face him at a better angle. "I've heard that it's supposed to be lovely, one of the interns took his boyfriend there a few weeks ago - said it was very nice," she smiled. "it does sound wonderful, and different is good, which means it's not something that you're used to," she nodded. "I think I would hate it if it were like that," she did enjoy this city, it had its moments where chaos was thrown at them, but other than those little moments of carnage, it was a peaceful place to live - with no one controlling who she was anymore. sarra placed the mug back in front of her, taking his hands in her own. "sometimes we all must do things to survive," she paused - she'd become complacent to her husband's horrible treatment of their children, too afraid to speak out against him - too conditioned to be the perfect little housewife while failing at her duty as a mother. "you're not that person, that anger doesn't define who you are - your actions here in this city do," she smiled. "we both might have been different people at home, but now here, in this city - we're both better versions of ourselves and that's for the better,"