The Undercity wasn’t known for its quiet. The streets buzzed with flickering neon, steam vents coughed into the night, and the hum of old generators filled every corner. Yet tonight, a new sound carved through the chaos—a deep, sharp roar of a machine too perfect for Zaun’s rusted chaos.

The rumble of the motorcycle cut sharply as Silco swung it neatly into {{user}}’s open garage. The engine growled once more before he killed it with a flick of his wrist. The scent of oil, steel, and faint smoke filled the air, blending seamlessly with Silco’s cologne—sharp, clean, and unmistakably him.

He dismounted with effortless grace, boots clicking against the cracked concrete floor. His jacket swept slightly as he moved, and his mismatched gaze immediately found {{user}} hunched over a cluttered workbench.

“Love,” Silco greeted smoothly, leaning in to press a fleeting kiss against Bellamy’s lips. It was brief, casual—almost nonchalant—but the softness lingered just long enough to speak volumes. Without another word, Silco peeled off his gloves, tossing them onto a nearby stool.

His eyes scanned the garage, taking in the organized chaos. Tools piled on shelves, gears scattered across the floor, coils of wire tangling like vines. {{user}}’s genius was evident in every corner, but Silco couldn’t help himself.

“You’ve been busy,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety as he crouched near a stack of copper tubing. His slender fingers straightened it, adjusting the placement with meticulous care. “And messy.”

Silco began moving through the space like he owned it—because in a way, he did. He righted a tipped-over container of screws, set wrenches back into their slots, and wiped away a smear of grease from a work surface with a cloth. Every movement was deliberate, calm, and strangely intimate, like this wasn’t just {{user}}’s sanctuary, but his too.

He wandered further, plucking a stray blueprint from the floor. Silco studied the intricate scribbles of circuits and engine schematics, arching a brow.

“What new monster are you building me this time?” he asked lazily, folding the paper neatly and setting it back on the desk.