Birthright: Prompt 5 [Silas]

Spring takes a while to warm up in the woods around the Washington-Oregon border. You've known this your entire life, but it still doesn't keep you from being shocked again each year.

"Fuck," you mutter, stomping your feet and shoving your hands deeper into your coat pockets. You weave from side to side, watching the administration building's door impatiently.

Any minute. Silas will finally show up any minute, and you can get warm at home.

But three minutes tick by, and Silas doesn't appear.

"Asshole," you mutter, pushing through the two sets of doors leading toward the administration office.

You can hear raised voices before you turn the corner, and now Silas' tardiness makes sense.

There's a family argument happening, and you want no part of it.

That is until you hear your sister's voice rise above the din. "I think I have the biggest say in this!" she practically yells.

Oh no.

You curse yourself -and her- under your breath, breezing down the hall and stepping into the crowded admin room. "Kimberly," you interrupt.

All eyes turn on you - Kimberly's inky, Florence and Xavier's icy, and Silas' warm honey brown.

Silas is the only one who looks pleased to see you. The others seem too wrapped up in their emotions to be anything other than pissed at your interruption.

"Do you need something?" Florence asks in a tone sharper than she's ever taken with you.

"Jesus, Mom," Xavier hisses, giving you a distracted but apologetic half-smile. "Sorry, we didn't know you were here."

"Just waiting for everyone so we can go home."

"Oh," Xavier breathes, clearly relieved. "Right, it's Friday. I won't be able to make it tonight; there's-" Xavier begins, breaking off when he glances at Florence. "...I have some things I need to take care of. Dinner is my treat next week, okay?"

He's rambling, nervous about something. "It's cool," you say, narrowing your gaze. "Bring us all bubble tea next time you're in town, and all is forgiven."

"Sure," he laughs, relieved, and moves aside. He reaches out to help Kimberly toward the door, but Kimberly is still seething.

"Stop babying me!" she snaps at him, batting his hand away. "I'm pregnant, not infirmed!"

Florence rolls her eyes and gives Xavier a look. He gives her a shrug, tosses an awkward smile at you, and then says, "You're all good to get home? I can walk you if-"

"We'll be fine, Xav," Silas interrupts, finally saying something. He seems to have lost his patience somewhere in the past few seconds. Or maybe he's trying to get Xavier to shut up before Kimberly goes nuclear. "We'll just steal your golf cart."

You don't miss Xavier's appreciative smile or how he cuffs Silas on the shoulder as he passes. "Thank you," he says in an undertone.

Silas nods, ushering you out after Kimberly. "Alright," he announces with a false cheer that doesn't suit him. "Dinnertime."

The three of you shove into the small admin golf cart, Kimberly grumbling with each bump as Silas cuts across the grass and speeds toward the closest bunch of cabins.

When you reach the cabin you and Kimberly share, Silas takes his usual course of action - bustling into your kitchen and riffling through the cabinets.

"Pasta?" he calls.

Kimberly lowers herself onto the couch, a hand on her belly. "We had pasta last night!"

Silas mumbles something under his breath - probably something about not eating in the cafeteria with the rest of them- and switches cabinets.

You shrug out of your coat before sitting beside Kimberly. You've never been good at easing information out of her, so you cut directly to the point. "What were you and Xavier fighting about?"

Kimberly groans, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "It's Florence. She's insisting on setting a date for a cesarean."

You recoil a little. "Seriously? I thought she'd want to deliver the baby herself."

Kimberly makes a noise of disgust. "I don't want her between my legs!"

"Nadia, then."

"Nadia's my best friend," Kimberly groans. "That'd almost be worse than Florence."

You snort goodnaturedly, glancing toward the kitchen. Silas is cutting something - probably potatoes- and pretending he isn't listening.

He's always listening, though.

"She wants a set date," Kimberly continues, absently rubbing her stomach. "So she can be ready."

"Not really her job to be ready for your baby," you say as diplomatically as possible.

"That's what I said. But heaven forbid I tell her anything she doesn't want to hear. She's under the assumption I'm too small to deliver, so it'd be 'healthier on me and the baby'."

You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking. "What did the town doctor say?"

You watch your sister. She lets out a slow breath, her shoulders drooping. "He said Florence is right. That giving natural birth might be too hard on me. Unnecessarily risky."

"You should have a say in your own birth plan," you begin, tone gentle. "But if the doctor says cesarean is a better option... maybe it would be best."

"I know," she groans, kneading at her neck and shoulder. "It just pisses me off that Florence keeps getting so - so in my business. And I know it was part of the agreement; I know Xavier warned me this would happen, but I expected the nagging from Annika. Not Florence."

"She's excited to be a grandma," you muse. Kimberly snorts, shaking her head before wincing. "Is your neck bothering you?"

"My entire skeleton is bothering me," she exhales. "And every other part of me. And this baby is a sadist - nearly made me pee myself twice today, kicking my bladder like it owes the brat money."

You snicker, motioning for your sister to turn. She does, moving her hair off of her shoulders so you can rub the sore muscles.

Silas comes in shortly after, setting the stereo to play the group's dinnertime playlist. It mainly comprises Kimberly's favorites, but Silas has toned down the electric guitars with some of his indie darlings.

The familiarity settles Kimberly's nerves, which settles yours and Silas' in turn. It isn't long before you're all giggling and swapping quips while dinner cooks.

Friday night passes in a much calmer way than it started. Dinner -hasselback potatoes and riced vegetables- devoured, a card game played, and a movie watched leaves you sleepy and happy.

"I need to go to bed," Kimberly announces around midnight. Silas helps her to her feet, her round belly making it hard to get out of the couch. "Don't be too loud," she warns you both before retreating to her bedroom.

Silas collapses beside you on the couch, comfortably leaning against you. His eyes return to the television screen, but yours remain on him. This close, your heads pressed together at the crown, all you can see is the television light flickering on his golden skin. The dark curls on his forehead. The curve of his short lashes and the swell of his mouth.

While sitting like this is familiar, it's also very different. Usually, the two of you would have Kimberly squashed in the middle, a pillar for your heads to rest on. Xavier would be passed out, sprawled and snoring in the recliner.

But it's just the two of you bathed in the cool television glow.

The eye closest to you, the only one you can see, swivels your way. Silas catches you staring, but he doesn't pull back. He doesn't even speak.

Not at first.

After a few moments of eye contact, he whispers, "What is it?"

"I don't know," you murmur back.

You do know, but you don't know why it's happening right now. Why your feelings have decided that now is the time. That tonight was the catalyst. Was all it took Xavier being gone? Kimberly going to bed early?

"Are you sure?" he breathes, still not moving. Not even blinking.

You lick your lips - Silas' attention follows the motion, lingers, and then snaps back to you.

"I've been wondering..."

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever wondered..." your voice dies, throat dry.

"Have I wondered...?"

"What we would be like? If we were... together?"

Silas swallows - you can feel it with how close you two are.

"Yeah," he finally whispers, tilting his face - just a little, just enough, his lips centimeters from yours.

"Yeah?" you breathe.

"Yeah. All the time."

You feel your eyelids flutter in a very unlike-you way.

"You?" he asks.

"Yeah. All the time."

"And?" he asks. He angles himself a little more - you feel the ghost of his mouth against yours as he speaks.

"And I think we could be good," you say, your eyes closing.

"I think we could be great," he confirms -

And then his mouth presses into yours.