I love how we as a fandom exclusively refer to this guy as Chuck even tho his first and up to this point only scene was literally about the fact that his name isn't Chuck
I’m a little unhealthily obsessed with Silco’s graying hair in acts 2 & 3 and I’m just imagining him reacting to being a called a silver fox because he is and he deserves to have someone tell his middle-aged ass how hot he is.
Sweetie, there's nothing healthy about our obsession with this cartoon evil man. His hair is the least of our worries ❤
Warning: Crack, kinda fluffy, minor pining, Reader is simping a lil' bit & is so absolutely oh my god they are so far gone you guys drunk, if Silco had any physical self-esteem issues before, he doesn't have them after this
"I should tell him." Ran immediately raises their brow, turning as they observe you. You don't pay attention though, turning a glass to catch under the bar-lighting. It's pretty, the ever-changing colors sparkling the glass and the shine catches on your eye and makes you blink. After a beat, you smile. As if you had found the answer in the see-through material. "Yeah.... yeah, I'm gonna tell him!"
Your co-worker almost looked weary to ask. "Tell who what?"
You frowned, rolling your eyes, suppressing a giggle at how the world swirled. "Tell Silco he's sexy, duh!"
Ran needed a moment to process the words that just came out of your mouth, and when they did, they turned and made a swift-cutting motion to the Thieram-... no, Chuck. You thought with a snort at the new nickname going around the crew. Chuck sounded funnier. "I dunno if a lot of people tell him... have you told him he's sexy, Ran?"
Clenching their metal-hand, Ran looks physically pained. Like yourself, Ran liked to keep to themselves, following orders and doing the dirty-work without complaint, before camping out at base or heading home without much fanfare. It had taken a while for the two of you to become more regular-drinking buddies, and right now, Ran looked like they were seriously regretting it. "... No."
"Well, why not?" You scoffed, lifting your chin and crossing your arms to rest your head atop of them, fingers lazily tapping on your other wrist. "He is, and more people should say it." Sudden though flashing through you, you jerked your head up to look at the barkeep. "Hey, when's the last time you told Silco he's-"
The taste of metal on your tongue, but Ran is in enough control of her prosthetic not to crush your jaw as they effectively muzzle you. "Do not finish that line of thought." A glance to your glass, and Ran snatches it up with the other gloved hand. "And don't finish the drink, either. I think you'd be absolutely suicidal if you try to complete either one." Scoffing, you tugged at the metal grip on your face until it relented.
You spat out the taste of sharp metal and rubbed at your lips. "Well, it's true. And don't people, like... like compliments? What's wrong with me telling the truth and complimenting him?" Silco was enough of arrogant asshole that he would probably lavish in the praise. But he was still really, really attractive so you supposed it was fine if he wanted to be a jerk about it...
"Whoops." Apparently that internal-thought wasn't as internal as you thought, for Ran is rubbing the wrinkles between their eyebrows with a groan. "Please don't get up and call our boss... attractive. Or arrogant, or an asshole, Janna's sake..."
They're right - if you're going to tell him, you might want to cut out the negatives.
"You are right, I shouldn't call him that," You didn't even give Ran time to sigh in relief, tilting your head. "But like, I don't think there's enough in our language to say about him. Do I just, like... make-up words?" Your co-worker promptly chugged-back half of your stolen drink, but you were squinting too hard towards the ceiling to notice as you pondered aloud. "I mean, I know what's hot about him, but how do you like... put that into words when... he's just... that... hot?"
A poet, you were not, especially in this state.
But you were determined, and even though Ran half-heartedly made a grab for you, you slipped off the stool, regained your balance before you fell flat onto the floorboars, and started a half-shuffle, half-stumble towards the stairs.
Some distant, far-away part of you that still knew what the word 'sobriety' meant, was screaming at the top of its lungs. Do not go up those stairs, it howled. Don't even think about it. You know this doesn't end well, you are drunk, and he's SILCO.
Unfortunately, that sober-part of you made the mistake of saying the S-word, and you only smiled at the thought, and took the steps two-at-a-time. Only nearly-falling twice.
"I'm busy." Piltover's Industrialist, and the Underground's Eye didn't even look up at the sound of his door swinging open without warning. If it had been Jinx, she would've come in through the skylight, hanging from the rafters, and Sevika knew to knock.
And if it were any assassin, he knew one of the two ladies wouldn't be far behind to take care of it. Therefore, Silco could focus wholly on his paperwork, debating whether or not to actually approve this distribution sale...
"Hey, what's that... fuzzy... dog-thing? We don't have them here, but like... they live in forests and stuff."
"I believe it's called a fox." He doesn't know why he answers, but it's offhanded and short. The 'get out while you still have the chance,' is clear in his voice, but you don't hear it, and only grin with a snap of your fingers. "Fox, that's it!"
You flop onto the plush couch, letting out a coo underbreath at how comfortable it is as you set your feet on the arm, one crossed over the other with a grin as you proudly declare, "You're a real silver-fox!"
Silco, whose decided to approve the sale, promptly smears the ink of his pen halfway across the page.
A blink from his eye, and, very slowly, he sets the pen down atop of the paper. Folds his hands together. And lifts his chin to look over at you. "What," His tone was calm, measured, and both red and green eyes were downright murderous. "Are you doing?"
"Shh, don't interrupt," You pout, and miss the way his knuckles go white when you wag your finger at him.
Crossing your arms overhead, a sigh sounds from you as your boss fumes at your gall, but you're too far gone to even notice. "It's like... ridiculous how amazing you are. I'm talking head-to-toe, just... my Gods, have you ever seen yourself in a mirror??"
Again, you wag your finger in the air. "Nuh-uh, I'm not finished! Like, it's everything about you, from the silver-hair, to the biceps, and that tight little ass..."
You sighed dreamily as Silco prompted choked on his own air at his desk, hand darting to grab his glass of brandy.
"But like... I don't see how everyone doesn't see it! You're just like... incredible." Again, you hate the fact that you can't even spell the word sobriety anymore, for you wish you had a better grasp on your vocabulary at the moment. Words are swirling around your head faster than the ceiling is, so you press the heels of your palms against your eyes with a frustrated grumble. "Like, just fucking beautiful. Do you know how stunning you are?"
The fact that you sounded genuine, and also absolutely plastered, made Silco grit his teeth as he set his glass down with a sharp clink. "Is this a joke? Do you think I renovated The Last Drop into a comedy-club? No one is laughing."
You frown, and somehow, find yourself on your feet. Arms sway in air as you caught your balance, and with the world swooping and swaying around you, make your way over towards the desk. "Oof, no, hey-" You nearly fell over it at the same time as Silco shot to his feet, face twisted in a snarl, reaching for the nearest sharp-object-
Smack
The reigning crimelord of Zaun flinched as both your palms landed on either side of his face. You were too out-of-it to avoid the sting entirely, but it faded quickly as he realized you were standing there. Smiling like a complete idiot, but standing there and beaming as you held his face in between hands, like it was something precious.
"See? Even when you're cute when you are angry... or, other-way," You giggled, lolling your head to the side. "Just... I don't know how everyone doesn't see it. How amazing you are, every part of you is just... words suck." You finally gave up, pouting as you lifted one hand to gently pat his scarred cheek, still holding his face as you leaned over the desk to gaze up at him, in true adoration.
"Words suck," You repeated. "You? Perfect."
Then you closed your eyes, finally hearing the far-away sober part of you wailing at your idiocy, and already drafting your eulogy. Distantly, you were aware of long fingers reaching around your wrists, and lowering your hands from his face. You assumed the slight tremble was from your own intoxicated muscles, all out of sync.
"How... much did you drink?"
"A lot." You hiccuped, cracking open your eyes to chuckle sleepily as you watched the world seem to smear and smudge past. "Would still mean it if I was sober, though."
"I'm..." A pause, so long you thought you fell asleep. As your eyes slipped close, you felt something slim and warm wrap around you, and you let out a happy murmur as you felt the couch beneath you again. "... I'm sure you would."
You frowned, blindly reaching a hand up when you felt the warmth leave you, after propped your hand on the armrest. Fingers caught the edge of an designed, leather vest, and tugged slightly. "Hey, nuh-uh. I would. I've been wanting to say that for months now, don't you go... not-believing me. I'm serious."
"Months... is that right?"
You snuggled back against the couch, hand limp and falling as you felt something heavy but comfy fall over your form. Almost hesitant, but you all but snatched it up around your body, smiling happily at the faint musk of smoke surrounding you. "Yep."
Again, it was quiet for so long you thought you'd fallen asleep. You felt that you could, honestly, and curled your legs up so you were nearly buried under the jacket.
Heh. Buried.
You'd probably be dead by morning for this ridiculous transgression, so the humor of mortality was becoming truly funny to even your dazing mind.
"We can discuss this further. When we are sober, and able to speak naturally." You hear a shuffle of something being set by the couch, but only frown. "What if this is how I naturally speak?"
"Ha," He doesn't sound impressed. "There's a bin beside you. If you even think about staining my couch, floor or coat, you won't get a chance to sober up. I'll kill while you're suffering from the worst hangover of your life, but I will not make it a merciful death. Understood?"
"Sure thing, handsome." Lengthy silence, but you strove to fill it. "My silver-fox. Cutie-pie. Hotstuff. Mr Right. Mcdreamy. Apple of my Eye..." You had to giggle at that one, and heard a small sigh, before a press of a finger at your lip, attempting to silence you. "Stop talking," The order isn't biting, but firm. "Go to sleep."
You were one to follow orders, and do as they were told. So obediently, you felt your weighted mind start to sink deeper into those depths calling to you, pulling in for a long, dreamless sleep...
But you didn't go quietly, not without ignoring his orders one last time to whisper with a smile playing on your lips as you drifted to sleep.
