Chapter Text
Part I
Setting: Immediately after Chapter 42 of CK. The night of the auction. Nina, Kuwei and Colm have departed on the sickboat with Rotty and Matthias’ body. The remaining crows linger for a time at the water’s edge.
~Jesper~
At some point, Jesper realised Kaz was gone.
“Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered.
“He doesn’t say goodbye, Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.”
The three of them stood like that for a while longer, each lost in silent contemplation. Jesper wasn’t sure what the others were feeling, but the events of the day had been solemn enough to dampen even his usual frenetic energy. He spotted the champagne bottle he had grabbed earlier with such hope in his heart, still lying where he had abandoned it the moment he had spotted Nina, and realised that Matthias –
Jesper felt a familiar restlessness creep through him, and his fingers twitched by his sides. Wylan, damn him, glanced swiftly his way. How did he know?
“Let’s go inside and get ourselves warmed up. I’ll see if I can get some hot drinks sorted for us.”
Bless the little merchling and his impeccable manners. Even now, he was playing the good host.
“Lead the way, oh Lord of the Manor!”
Wylan bowed obligingly, startling a laugh from Jesper. Jesper ambled up the garden path behind him, while Inej trailed them in her silent way.
It was only a short distance, yet Jesper found his thoughts leaping ahead. The kid was sweet to offer a mug of tea or a pot of coffee, but it would take something stronger to settle his nerves before bed. Jesper snorted to himself at the idea of Wylan’s pious father storing hard liquor in his house. A gaping hole in any host’s collection – one the merchling would have to patch up, starting tomorrow. What was the point of sharing a great big house with your friends if you couldn’t even get drunk with them at the end of a long day?
And speaking of sharing houses and the ends of long days... Jesper pulled up short on the threshold, causing Inej to grumble as she gracefully side-stepped past him into the house.
Just what exactly were their sleeping arrangements going to be?
It was all very well for Jesper to accept Wylan’s offer to live with him, and for them to joke about steep fees and down-payments. But this... thing... between them was still so new. Would Wylan expect him to share his bed? For all his flirtation and bravado, the thought suddenly sent a nervous chill up Jesper’s spine. But no – surely Wylan would want his own space. Particularly with Inej around, not to mention Alys and a house full of servants.
Feeling comforted by the thought, though also strangely disappointed, Jesper snapped himself out of the trance he had frozen into on the doorstep and felt his body lurch back into motion. He spotted Wylan poking his head around a corner, looking back at him quizzically. He must have realised Jesper had fallen behind.
“Kettle’s on,” was all he said, a raised eyebrow the only indication that something was amiss, before turning back into the kitchen.
Bless that little merchling.
Jesper broke into a wry grin and went to follow him. There was no point stressing out over something as silly as sleeping arrangements. They had survived the Ice Court, after all. Figuring out how to share a beautiful big house with two of his closest friends should be a piece of cake. Besides – it wasn’t for him to worry about. Wylan was the one playing host.
His grin now transformed into a definite smirk, Jesper entered the kitchen with an easy swagger, very much looking forward to his mug of tea.
~Wylan~
Wylan was in his element as he pottered around the kitchen, fiddling with the kettle and the coffee machine. Despite his uncertainty about returning to his father’s house – his house, now, he reminded himself – the kitchen was one of the few parts of the manor without bad memories associated with it. Jan Van Eck would never have deigned to lower himself by entering a room he saw as the servants’ domain – and as a result, his son had spent many blissful hours, safe in the knowledge that his father would not look for him there.
So there was a kind of tranquil familiarity about being back in that room, searching for the old waffle iron and digging out the pancake mix. Wylan had not been idle during those long escapes, and had thrown himself into learning about cooking from his father’s servants with much the same intensity as he had with chemistry or music from his tutors. Although he could not read a recipe, he could certainly memorise one, and he found that he had a natural affinity for calculating portions of ingredients or appropriate cook times. It was just another kind of equation, really.
Now, he was looking forward to sharing his skills with his friends.
Wylan felt a hint of a blush tinge his cheeks at just the thought of a certain sharp-shooter’s reaction. Baking? Really, merchling? He could almost hear his voice in his head, could see the smirk on his beautiful, dark face.
Wylan did his best to pull himself together. Maybe that beating he had taken earlier that day had knocked his head about, as well as breaking his ribs. He could see Inej, perched on a stool at the end of the island bench, looking at him curiously, but he didn’t have a chance to do more than return her look with a smile before the subject of his thoughts finally graced them with his presence. He wasn’t sure what had delayed him, but as the lanky-limbed Zemeni strolled into the room, Wylan jolted a little to realise that the very smirk he had imagined was, in fact, plastered all over his face.
Great. Wylan might not be able to read, but he was confident that look could only spell trouble. Most likely for him.
Tearing his gaze away from Jesper’s mouth long enough to realise he had been staring at it and Inej was now openly fighting back her amusement, Wylan cleared his throat, even as he felt his earlier blush return with full force. It was time for him to remember who he was, where he was. It was time to play host.
The hour that followed was a blur of coffee and tea orders, pots and pans clanging as waffles were cooked and pancakes were fried. He pulled out a punnet of strawberries and even managed to dig up some ice cream and chocolate sauce, so by the time he was done, a true last-night feast lay before them. Inej had paused to look at him with a kind of disbelief and the adoration she normally reserved for Nina, before laying into the food with ravenous intent. Jesper had just tracked his movements around the kitchen, saying nothing but with a bemused look upon his face, before helping himself to a generous portion of pancakes. The sound of pleasure that escaped him at the first bite seemed to take even Jesper by surprise, and left Wylan feeling very pleased with himself indeed – even if he could probably have fried another batch of pancakes on his cheeks.
“It seems you’ve been holding out on us, merchling!”
“Just another of my marketable skills.” Wylan tried to inject a bit of confidence and a smirk of his own into his retort.
“Well, I’m never moving out if these are the kind of comforts I can expect here, Wylan.” Inej was waving her fork at him in what was clearly meant to be a threatening manner, but the chocolate sauce smeared across her face and the twinkle in her eyes softened the overall effect.
“You’re both welcome to stay for as long as you want, of course,” Wylan said with a bow, back to playing the perfect host.
Inej stretched and yawned, just as Jesper belched loudly. The Wraith shot the Zemeni a disapproving glare, before turning back to Wylan.
“So, just where exactly will we be staying? It’s been a very long day, and at this point my belly is so full I could just fall asleep right on top of this island bench.”
Wylan smiled. Naturally, as host, he had foreseen this question.
“I had the servants prepare guest rooms for each of us earlier.”
He thought he caught a flash of – something – in Jesper’s eyes. Relief? Disappointment? It was there and then gone again too swiftly for him to make sense of it.
Wylan put the thought to one side as he led the way upstairs, pointing out the bathrooms before showing Inej to her room, the corner room on the end. She would get a beautiful view of the dawn through her north- and east-facing windows. Wylan could tell this hadn’t escaped her notice during the quick once-over she gave the space, as the hint of a smile spread over her features. The short girl managed to put grace even into her yawns, as she bid each of them goodnight and closed the door behind her.
Alone now with the person whose presence both thrilled and terrified him, Wylan managed to maintain his host’s visage as he led Jesper to the far end of the hall – about as far from Inej’s quarters as it was possible to get. It was a big house, and his own room was right next door, but he had thought that the Suli girl would prefer some privacy.
Or, if he was being honest with himself, maybe it was he who was hoping for the privacy.
They paused in the space between their rooms. Jesper looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding back. Almost without meaning to, they locked eyes, and the air between them seemed to come alive. Wylan finally dropped all pretence of being a calm and composed host. He wasn’t fooling anyone but himself.
If he was going to be a bit more honest with himself, he had both hoped for and dreaded this moment all afternoon. Would Jesper expect him to follow through on his bold promises of a ‘down-payment’ from earlier? A nervous thrill passed through Wylan.
For better or worse, the medik had not yet come to the house. Although Wylan had managed to forget his injuries in the face of Nina’s sorrow, and then the distraction of preparing food for the others, the tension of this moment with Jesper suddenly brought his situation into sharp focus. He had been the subject of a serious beating just a few hours earlier. His ribs were still likely broken, not to mention his multitude of other bruises and scrapes.
He was in no state to be kissing anyone, let alone... anything else.
Turning abruptly away from Jesper, Wylan stared deliberately at the floor as he began silently walking towards the room he had claimed. The door was halfway closed behind him before Jesper finally spoke, his tone unexpectedly gentle.
“Sleep well, merchling.”
~Inej~
It had been a long day. She was tired, she was rich, she was free of her indenture and free of the Dregs too, if she wanted to be.
But she was still the Wraith, and Kaz Brekker’s number one collector of secrets.
And if this was not the best use of her talents, and technically none of her business... well, neither were any of the other things she learned.
In a way, she reasoned with herself as she perched in the shadows of the staircase banister, staring at the space where Jesper and Wylan stood, this situation was more her business to know than any of the other people she had ever spied upon.
After all, these were her friends!
After her elaborate yawning display, Inej had wasted little time in slipping back down the hall to follow after them. She was certain that Wylan’s talk of separate bedrooms had been a ruse to preserve his modesty – or perhaps her own. Inej thought her Saints would bless the boy’s attempts to spare a former pleasurehouse worker’s blushes. What she couldn’t understand was why her two friends were just standing there in silence, staring at each other without saying a word, or kissing each other, or doing anything interesting.
When Wylan turned suddenly and stormed to his own room without a word, Inej’s jaw dropped. She had been so sure that he and Jesper had been carrying on a secret affair behind their backs for weeks now. Was it possible she had been wrong?
Jesper’s soft words carried down the hall to her hiding place.
“Sleep well, merchling.”
The fondness – no, the adoration dripping from those few syllables.
Inej smirked to herself. No, she had not been wrong at all. She was still the Wraith, and the Wraith did not make these kinds of mistakes. Perhaps she had just figured it out before the players themselves had caught up.
On silent steps, Inej snuck back to her bedroom, content now to sleep at last. She left Jesper standing out in the hallway, still staring longingly at Wylan’s closed door.
~Jesper~
Despite his exhaustion, Jesper lay awake long into that night, unable to sleep. His mind kept playing over his every interaction with Wylan over the past days.
That electric first kiss.
The defiant pride in the little merchling’s face when he faced down his father, covered in bruises that Van Eck had procured.
His offer, and Jesper’s subsequent acceptance, to stay together in this house and run the family business... together.
The bounce of those adorable curls as Wylan had scrambled around the kitchen, clearly in his element as he prepared a late-night feast for them all. Jesper did not treat his food with quite the same sensual passion as Nina did, but he had still thought he might explode with pleasure when he tasted that first bite of pancake.
So what had happened outside their rooms? And why did they have separate rooms? That same electricity had sparked between them again as they stared each other down in silence, and Jesper could feel his body humming with that same restless energy even as he lay in his bed now.
What had gone wrong? Of course Wylan was still injured, and Jesper would never have tried to push him into something he was uncomfortable with. He was sure that the little merchling was blessedly innocent in most matters of the heart. But surely a harmless kiss goodnight had been called for? Not to mention – he would have liked nothing more than to spend this night lying next to the younger boy. Perhaps embracing him, or just with the comforting touch of their backs pressed against each other.
Maybe then Jesper wouldn’t be stuck lying here, still awake, thoughts chasing each other around his mind as Matthias’ face became his father’s, and suddenly he was sure that something terrible had happened. The sickboat had overturned, or had been discovered. Maybe Colm was even now suffering in a Ketterdam jail, or worse, being towed out to the Reaper’s Barge.
Jesper knew he was being silly, tried to tell himself that his father was safely aboard the Ravkan vessel, along with Nina and Kuwei. But all he could see was Matthias’s face, his body still blood-stained, and he couldn’t help but think that if such a thing could happen to the big Fjerdan, a trained soldier... what hope could the rest of them possibly have?
The sun was peaking through the curtains of his bedroom before Jesper finally sank into a fitful sleep, his dreams echoing the tenor of his thoughts.