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After weeks of danger and never being quite sure if they were going to survive, let alone succeed in any of their plans, it was surreal to finally stop and stay in one place--with real beds, too. None of it felt real yet. Not the money, not his mother, not Matthias’ death. Even walking down the hallway of the childhood home he’d hated wasn’t really enough to convince Wylan the last five days were real. He’d kissed the boy he had fallen so quickly for, gotten his real face back, and his father arrested. And tomorrow, he would bring his mother home where she belonged.
A hand on his shoulder startled him and he jumped, his hand flying to his side as pain shot through his ribs. He had to fight to keep the groan silent, but his whole body was stiff while he waited for the pain to fade away.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you, you were staring at the door. How’s your ribs?” Jesper asked, his hand sliding off Wylan’s shoulder and into his own pocket.
“They’re fine, you didn’t scare me,” Wylan insisted, “I was just about to go inside.”
Jesper didn’t look like he believed him, but didn’t question it. “Don’t let me stop you.”
Wylan turned back to the door but didn’t reach for the knob. Somehow, in all the talk about ruining his father’s life, it hadn’t actually occurred to him that he’d be back in this house, especially not this soon. Not until Radmakker said he would send the paperwork Wylan needed to the house he’d never really felt welcome in.
“Wylan?”
“I just need a minute.” Would it look the same? Or had his father thrown everything out? He wasn’t sure which was worse-- that Jan Van Eck would toss everything quickly as though Wylan had never been there, or that it might not have even occurred to him to think of his failure of a son ever again.
Jesper touched the back of his shoulder but Wylan still didn’t move.
“This your room?”
“Yeah.”
“You know you don’t have to go in there, there’s got to be guest rooms or something in this place, right?”
“One for you and one for Inej.”
“So stay in mine.”
Now Wylan looked up at him, face already a little red. The sharpshooter had that grin on his face that said he was trying to get a reaction from him, but Wylan couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
“Like with you?” Dumb question, Van Eck.
“No, with Inej. Yes with me. Unless you didn’t mean what you said about that down payment.” Jesper raised an eyebrow at him. His hand felt impossibly warm on Wylan’s back, much like Wylan’s cheeks. But to his credit, he didn’t look away.
“No, I meant it,” he responded softly.
“Good, because I don’t like being teased.” Wylan held his breath as Jesper stepped closer. Feeling nervous at this point was silly, right? He knew that Jesper liked him, he brought it up at basically every opportunity. They’d kissed only a few days ago, and Jesper had promised to help run his father’s business. What was there to feel nervous about?
He didn’t know what to do with his arms as the Zemeni took his face in one of his hands and leaned down to kiss him, and he almost didn’t care that the kiss made the cuts on his lips sting. Yet, the taller boy pulled away almost immediately, a troubled expression on his face.
“I’m hurting you aren’t I?”
“No?” He balled his hands into fists in the other boy’s shirt to keep him close, injuries be damned.
“You’re still a terrible liar, merchling.”
“I promise it’s not that bad. I’ve had worse.” Jan Van Eck himself had done worse than this.
“Well too bad because it’s not that easy to get in my pants, Van Eck. You’ll have to do better than pretty blue eyes and flirting.”
Wylan found himself flushing again-- one of these days he’d stop being quite so embarrassed, he knew it-- and looked down at his hands still clenched in Jesper’s shirt.
“You think I have pretty eyes?”
“I think you have pretty everything, merchling, but that’s not the point.” Despite what he was saying, Jesper moved his hands to Wylan’s hips and pulled him closer. “It’s hands-off until that healer gets here and fixes you up.” He kissed Wylan on the cheek and stepped out of his reach, in a move strangely more intimate than a kiss on the lips and left him wanting more. That was the moment Wylan Van Eck knew he was in trouble.
He was also pretty sure that, after everything that had happened, he should not have been disappointed, but he was. He wished the healer would just show up already.
“Am I going to have to guess which is ours or are you going to do the polite thing and show me?”
“Oh right. Uhm. That one, probably. The other one is bigger, but I thought Inej would appreciate the balcony more.”
“Smaller sounds cozy.” Jesper was already looking around the smaller bedroom before Wylan discovered the flaw in this whole sharing plan.
“We didn’t bring any of our clothes from the Slat.”
“So we’ll go get our stuff tomorrow,” Jesper shrugged.
Wylan stalled in the doorway and looked down at himself. He really wanted a bath, but he was also exhausted, and he was distinctly uncomfortable with being less than fully clothed in front of Jesper-- or anyone, really.
“Our clothes are dirty”.
Jesper turned back to him, that broad grin back on his face, ready to flirt until he saw the look on Wylan’s face. “That’s why we-- Wylan, we’ve been in close quarters for the last month with almost no privacy. We got processed in a Fjerdian prison together. I’ve seen you naked before.”
Though true, the statement made the Kerch boy’s face redden yet again and he looked down at his dirty fingernails, his arms held close to his chest.
“You were watching Kaz the whole time,” he said, a little bitterness seeping into his tone.
“You were watching me?”
“I’m always watching you.” Wylan could feel even more heat in his cheeks, almost convinced the blush was going to stain his face.
Jesper came to stand next to him. “If it makes you that uncomfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I don’t want you to have to sleep on the floor, Jes.”
The sharpshooter put his hand on his cheek and made him look up at him. Wylan expected this would be the point where Jesper decided it was time to leave, but that wasn’t what happened.
“Then I guess you’ll have to decide which horrible choice is least horrible.”
The next morning, a knock came at the door. When it received no response, the knock and call came again, more urgently. “Master Van Eck, the University healer is here to see you.”
Wylan felt himself pulled toward consciousness and tried to reject it. His body felt stiff and sore--and hadn’t he just gone to sleep? He turned to bury himself inside the blankets. Pain ripped through his middle and Wylan gasped, instantly awake, as he pushed through the bedding so he could sit up--not that it helped.
“Master Van Eck, the U-”
“I’m coming,” Wylan gasped out automatically. He heard footsteps retreat from the other side of the door but quickly forgot about them. For a moment, he was disoriented, not immediately remembering what had happened recently. He recognized the guest room in his father’s house, but did not know why he was there instead of the Slat, or why everything--but especially his sides--hurt like fire. A shift in the bed with him caught his attention, but as soon as he saw Jesper, he remembered everything.
They were in his father’s house because their plan to ruin him had succeeded, and in the guest room because Wylan hadn’t been able to face his old room yet. Jesper was supposed to have stayed on the other side of the bed, turned toward the window, but as Wylan watched him sleep, the Zemeni was lying very close to him, facing him with his arm out. It had been draped over him, he knew that now.
Blushing furiously, but definitely not angry with how they’d ended up, Wylan stood carefully and slowly, and made his way to the closet to get the robe he knew would be hanging there.
“Jes?”
The boy in the bed didn’t stir. Oh well, he probably needed the sleep. They all did.
“Jesper, the healer is here so I’ll be downstairs.” Again nothing, so Wylan left to finally get his ribs set to right.
By the time Jesper finally descended the stairs, the healer had left and there was breakfast on the table.
“I knew I smelled waffles,” he said as he flopped down next to Wylan at the table and immediately began reaching for every plate he could get his hands on.
“I asked the cook to make them for you. And Inej,” Wylan responded around a piece of toast, recovering very convincingly, though he needn’t have bothered-- the other boy was too busy shoving bacon and forkfuls of waffles in his mouth to tease him.
When his mouth was a bit more clear, Jesper asked, “Healer come yet?”
“Yes, she left about 15 minutes ago.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’d have held your hand if it hurt.”
“I tried, but I figured you needed the sleep.”
“Do I smell waffles?” Wylan looked up to find Inej suddenly in the dining room with them. Jesper barely glanced at her; Wylan didn’t know how he wasn’t yet used to the way she snuck up on everyone, but there he was, yet again surprised.
“Yeah, Jesper hasn't managed to eat them all yet.”
“Gimme two minutes and they’ll be gone.”
“Is today the day you planned to die, Jesper?”
“Nah, I haven’t even gotten past the docks with this one yet.” Wylan choked on his bacon as both Jesper and Inej laughed, his eyes set determinedly on his plate. Inej mirrored Jesper, pulling plates of food toward her so she could load up her plate. Jesper looked like he wanted to argue and keep more for himself, but the Suli girl casually set one of her knives on the table beside her plate and he kept quiet.
“The cook can make more, you know,” Wylan offered gently, trying not to draw too much attention to himself.
“Oh Ghezen I keep forgetting we’re rich now.”
“Not quite yet,” Inej reminded them. “Remember Kaz said it would take a few days for the money to get to the accounts.”
“Will we be okay here until then?” This was directed at Wylan, who met Jesper’s eyes and shrugged.
“Should be. I don’t know enough about my father’s finances to know how much Kaz took, but even if it was everything, four million kruge is enough to get his business restarted. Probably.”
Honestly, he wouldn’t really know until he got all the paperwork and had a chance to go over it with Jesper. But even if they never got it back off the ground, if the Van Eck name was now ruined beyond repair, Wylan was pretty sure he wouldn’t care as long as he still had his mother and the boy next to him. They could go back to living in the Barrel and all he would worry about would be Marya’s safety. Or maybe they’d go back to Novy Zem with Jesper, or to Ravka to find a Grisha to teach the Zemeni to control his abilities. Maybe they would just travel a while. As long as they were together--assuming Jesper wanted to stick around that long--Wylan didn’t really care what happened to them.
“Hey, can I see you in the kitchen a second?” the boy in question said suddenly, breaking Wylan from his thoughts.
“Oh, sure, I was about to clean up the table anyway. You can bring those empty plates there.” He stood and began gathering empty dishes.
“Isn’t that why fancy people such as ourselves have people work in the house?”
Wylan raised his eyebrows, but it was Inej who said, “Suddenly you’re too good to clean up after yourself?”
“Course not, that’s not what I meant, it was just a joke,” he backpeddled, standing and gathering the rest of the empty plates. Wylan wasn’t convinced; Jesper joked about so many things as a defense mechanism that it was hard to tell what was a joke and what was just supposed to sound like one.
The kitchen was empty when they entered--the cook gone to the market and the housekeeper out doing the washing. Wylan moved to the sink to set the dishes inside.
“What did y--”
Jesper interrupted him with a sudden kiss, his body crowding Wylan against the counter, dark hands on the sash around his waist. The intensity made him lightheaded.
“What was that for?” he asked as he fought to catch his breath.
“No reason,” Jesper responded smoothly. Naturally, he didn’t seem at all affected by the kiss, which Wylan didn’t think was fair at all. “Just been wanting to do that since the other day. Seemed appropriate since you’re cute again.”
The taller boy ran a long finger over Wylan’s cheek where a dark bruise had been the day before. The words were callous, but his tone wasn’t. This was another one of those times when he thought humor made a situation easier. Wylan didn’t think there was anything that needed to be easier about it. He’d take the beating again without question if he knew it would lead to his father’s downfall.
“You know there’s no other way we could have won, right?”
“No, I’m sure there was. Kaz would’ve thought of something.”
“No, the Council needed to see my father for the monster he is. It had to be this way. Besides, I’m all healed, aren’t I?” What was a few broken ribs and bruises in the grand scheme of things anyway?
“Are you going to get your mom?”
The subject change was not entirely welcome, but Wylan could recognize that Jesper needed something else to focus on.
“Yes. I thought we could go back and see if I can sign her out of that place. She deserves to be home, not locked away like a sick dog.”
Jesper must have read the tension in his body because he pulled him close and wrapped his arms around his body. “I know. I want to go get her, too.”
“We should look for another Fabrikator today.”
This time, it was Jesper’s turn to go still, and he took a moment to respond.
“I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“You’d feel better if you learned to use your abilities,” Wylan reminded him gently. That was what had led to the restlessness that fueled the gambling addiction, after all.
“I know that.”
“I don’t mean to push, I just--”
“Then don’t push.”
“Jes…”
Jesper pulled back. “Look, let’s just tackle one thing at a time. We’ll go see your mom, then I’ll help you with that paperwork when it comes, and then maybe we’ll see if there are any Fabrikators left in Ketterdamn, okay? Until then, let’s just forget it, okay? We’ve got more important stuff going on.”
Wylan begged to differ; he considered very little to be more important than Jesper’s welfare, but he still kept his mouth shut and nodded, even if hesitantly.
“Alright, now let’s go save Mrs. Van Eck from the crazy wranglers.”