Work Text:
Kaz was looking forward to seeing Inej again. He always was. He’d gotten better at writing that out to her, too, over the years. While she was at sea they’d exchange missives as frequently as they plausibly could. Dirtyhands would never admit it, but he kept every letter, every word she had ever written to him in her curving script, in his safe. They were more valuable to him than the numerous paintings he’d stolen over the years.
She’d ended her last letter with a small postscript, saying that she’d have a surprise for Jesper when she came back, and not to tell him anything. Kaz was far too busy to even think about contacting Jesper and Wylan for reasons that weren’t Dregs-related, trying to ensure he’d done enough of his backlog of work to justify spending some time with Inej. He’d mostly ignored the message when he’d gotten it several days ago, but as he ambled up to the docks, clutching his cane, it came to mind once again.
What could Inej be surprising Jesper with? For the life of him, he couldn’t think of anything. Certainly nothing Inej could have brought back with her from Ravka. Perhaps something Grisha-related? It would have to be that.
He’d timed his appearance at the docks to the minute. As he stood feet away from the harbor, he could see The Wraith appear in the ocean’s mist. Kaz stayed unflippant as it approached. He wondered how Inej would welcome him this visit. They hadn’t seen each other in a year, this time. It had been the longest trip she had ever taken. But the letters had arrived every week—delayed, a bit, but there.
The boat docked, pushed into Fifth Harbor by the tides and perhaps something greater. Kaz didn’t let his facial expression change as he tracked his eyes all over the boat’s exterior, trying to find someone who wasn’t quite there. Then he lifted his cane and pushed it back.
“Really?” Inej asked, a lilt of laughter in her voice. Kaz pushed down the corners of his mouth as he turned around and saw a knife poised at his throat.
“Really,” he said. “Right on time as always, Inej.” He pressed his cane back to the ground and let his face relax the tiniest bit as he took her in, all of her. The shine in her eyes, the braid down her back, her captain’s gear. Inej was back.
Kaz had wondered what he’d do when he saw her again. He did nothing. He stood still and soaked in the moment, drinking in her, and let Inej grab his hand. He was wearing gloves today—he still didn’t feel the greatest about having his hands unclothed in public. But he twisted his lithe fingers through hers, and let her tug him towards her ship.
“Good to have you back,” he said, tightening his grip around her. He could feel her smirk. He could always feel her.
“Good to see you again, Kaz,” Inej laughed, as though she knew everything he was trying to say. He was grateful that she could tell he’d be better in private. “Want to see my surprise?”
“For Jesper?” he asked. “Did you get him an amplifier or something?”
“What?” she turned around at him and snickered as he stepped down on the deck, carefully. Inej’s crew was full of women and men of the world, and they gave him side-eyes as she tugged him down below deck. “You think—oh, no.”
“What did you get him, then?” Kaz asked, but he didn’t need to. Inej led him down a ladder—she waited for him as he faltered, his leg throbbing in the cold—and down a small hall to quarters he knew were hers. There was a small animal in the corner.
“See!” Inej exclaimed. “It’s Milo!”
For once in his life, Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, bastard of the Barrel, and slave to Inej Ghafa’s whims, was speechless.
Inej’s things were brought to the Van Eck house. Kaz couldn’t blame her for not wanting to stay at the Slat—officially, at least. She’d slide in through his window at night, like always. He’d intended to go there with her when she arrived, however, to spend dinner with Jesper and Wylan before talking through the night.
Dinner parties, Kaz cringed as he saw his girl hold Milo in her arms as they leisurely walked around the Stave together. Ghezen, I’m starting to seem domesticated. And he was walking through Ketterdam next to a goat. The fucking goat.
A large part of him had wished that thing had died in the time after their escapade in Ravka, all those years ago. He had no idea that goats could even live for more than eight years. Unlike Jesper, he wasn’t at all emotionally attached to it, and unlike Inej, he couldn’t even garner any sympathy for what he’d put it through. It was a fucking goat. It was a goat that was bleating at every building they crossed on the way to Wylan’s mansion and taking up all of Inej’s attention. Not that Kaz needed Inej’s attention, just that—
They hadn’t seen each other in a year. She’d been on a boat with the fucking goat for months. She kept talking to the goat.
“Are you sure it’s the right goat?” he asked coldly. “All of them essentially look the same.”
Inej rolled her eyes at him and picked up the goat. “It’s him. He looks the exact same.”
“He does?” Kaz asked again, genuinely this time. “Can goats live for eight years?”
“Yes,” Inej said. “They can. And besides, he came in with the string Jesper gave him all those years ago. It’s definitely Milo.”
“I wasn’t under the impression that you liked the goat.”
“I wanted to do something kind for Jesper. And you know he still talks about Milo—”
“I sincerely do not think Jesper needs a goat.”
She jostled against his shoulder. “You know he’ll love it. Now come on, tell me of the Slat. Letters can only say so much.”
Their letters were brief, usually, unless something particularly important came up. When Nina had gotten married, Inej had written him a novel’s worth of description about the festivities. Kaz had written out his newest club acquisitions to her in detail. Nothing that would be too incriminating if one of his enemies discovered it, but he’d learned to write between the lines. “The Slat is the same,” he said quietly. “I’m far more interested in your adventures. Tell me of the suspicious amount of Fjerdan slavers sent to Hellgate two months ago.”
Milo bleated, and Inej set him down and started speaking animatedly with her hands. Kaz’s face was stoic, as it always was on the streets, but he stared at her intensely, drinking in every word she said. By the time they’d reached the Van Eck’s—the Hendricks’—he felt light.
That was until the fucking goat pissed on him.
All of a sudden, Kaz was certain this was the goat Jesper had named Milo. That thing had it out for him all those years ago and had it out for him now as well. The guard at the gates let him in without calling for Wylan or Jesper, Inej trailing him. Her luggage would come by later—Kaz gotten a few of the Dregs to drag it over.
He stalked into the entrance ready to thrust the damn goat into Jesper’s arms and be done with it—but the house was dark. Inej followed him with a frown. “Are they not home?”
“Perhaps they’re at the Exchange,” Kaz leaned back outside and addressed the guard. “Where’s Mr. Fahey?”
“Mr. Hendricks and Mr. Fahey are not here today, Mr. Brekker,” he was told. “They’re in Belendt for the next few days, business.”
Inej’s brow crinkled. “When was the last time you saw them?”
“Two weeks ago,” Kaz locked the door behind him without answering the guard and turned on the lights. Inej dropped into the sitting room and set the goat onto the floor. “I wasn’t aware they were gone. Did you tell them you were coming?”
“I thought I’d be a surprise,” she draped herself across Jan Van Eck’s expensive couches, kicking off her boots. “It’s fine. I’m here for a month, anyway. Perhaps they left because of an emergency.”
“Or a romantic vacation,” Kaz sat on the opposite end of the couch as her, setting down his cane and unbuttoning his vest. He let the slightest hint of a smile cross his face as he saw Inej’s braid at her shoulder.
“Not if they took Marya with them,” Inej laughed. His breath caught.
“Marya’s gone?”
“The house is completely empty,” Inej pointed out.
“Right,” Kaz said. There was silence and it wasn’t awkward. The gate rung and Inej stepped up. “That’ll be Salim with my chest. I’ll get changed. Watch the goat.”
Watch the goat?
Kaz’s mouth opened and then flexed close again as Inej ran out the door. The goat had settled under the glass table at the center of the room and was no longer moving.
He wished it was dead.
Actually, he didn’t, because that would probably enrage Inej. But he gave its body a death stare as he got up and headed towards Wylan’s office. He attempted to read through all of Wylan and Jesper’s important correspondences whenever he could—Jesper was intelligent, but there was some Barrel business only Kaz could really read under the lines of.
He settled into a loveseat in the office and bent over Wylan’s desk, taking out a pencil and leaning over to unlock the safe right under it with a lockpick he swept out from underneath his glove. After a moment it was loose, and he started reading, underlining what he wanted to come back to.
Something slammed upstairs. Inej had probably started a bath. Kaz attempted to not think about how terribly domestic this whole situation was as he kept reading. He was analyzing a list of numbers from the Exchange when something bumped against his leg.
He ignored it. It kept going. After a moment Kaz knew he wasn’t imaging the feeling and pushed himself back—
The fucking goat had somehow snuck up on him and was now nudging against his fully clothed shin. It was utterly silent as it rubbed up against Kaz’s trousers—these were his nice trousers, he’d wanted to impress Inej—and then . . .
Snuggled against him.
Kaz wanted to throw up, but not in the old way—not in a way which reminded him of Jordie. He wanted to throw up and murder the fucking goat who had pissed on his fucking shoes and was now attempting to cuddle with him as though he was innocent.
“Fuck you,” he said. The goat looked up at him with large, innocent, deceiving black eyes. “Don’t think I don’t know what you did.”
The goat bleated. He and Kaz entered a staring contest. It lasted a decent while, but Kaz was only human. He wanted to scream. He kicked the goat. It started to goat-scream—
Bleat? Screech? Kaz didn’t fucking care. He wondered if now would be a good time to slide up the knife hidden in his sleeve and just end—
Inej showed up at the door. “Why’s he making that sound?”
“I don’t know,” Kaz grunted. Inej walked next to him and held out her arms to the goat. It crept up into her arms and pushed itself into her.
A small part of Kaz wished that he could touch her. They’d gotten to hugging the last time, and he truly thought he could push a little further this time. They had a month. He’d almost wished she’d fallen into his arms at the dock—not that that would work for appearances, but—
Ghezen, Kaz was jealous of the goat. “You must be hungry,” he said. “We can go to the kitchens, I’m sure there’s someone still there to watch the house—”
“Relax,” Inej smiled, petting the fucking goat gently. Kaz wanted to hiss, but he didn’t. “We can go to the parlor first. And just talk."
Talk. Talking. They could do that. “Yes,” Kaz swallowed.
It was utterly comical, a lot of the time, how Dirtyhands was reduced to nothing in front of the Wraith. He’d used to be able to keep up his walls perfectly around her, but they’d fallen lately. It was as though the older he got the less he was able to keep every part of him guarded. With her, at least.
Kaz wasn’t sure if it was progress or if it would be his downfall.
Kaz got up. Inej left with the goat and he was thankful that it was absent from her hands when he went into the left parlor. He slid off his gloves at the door and dropped them on the table. Then he sat next to her, their knees inches apart.
“Hello,” he looked into her eyes.
Inej grinned. “Hello,” she said, as though she was teasing him the tiniest bit. And then she launched herself into his arms. It took Kaz a minute to recalibrate himself to her arms around him, but he caught himself and awkwardly pushed his own arms around her, his skin to the cotton fabric of her casual-wear. He could feel the heat of her skin through their clothing, and he felt fine. He could see her ink-black hair falling about her shoulders, loose—he liked it in braids, and he liked it like this too. I like you.
“I . . . missed you,” he said as they pushed back from each other. Inej held up a hand and waited for his permission; when he granted it, she pressed her fingers lightly to the left side of his face. Kaz took in a deep breath. Alive. Inej was here, and alive, and on the ground and inside and she was here for a month.
He let something like hope cloud his mind. He could do this. “Tell me about Nadja and Ajam,” he said, his face flexing as his mouth opened. “Tell me about how you’ve been. Tell me all of it.”
“You’re that interested?” she laughed. “I’ve told you most of it.”
“I want to hear you say it,” he said. “Is your family alright?”
“Of course,” Inej said. “They’re wondering if they’ll ever get to meet you. Would you come?” she stared at him searchingly. “Would you ever go back to Ravka?”
“Maybe,” he said, truthfully. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever have the time to, not while trying to rule Ketterdam. Perhaps someday. He still kept up a correspondence with Sturmhond, so he’d see. “Inej . . .”
“I missed you too.”
They were simple confessions. But the last time, they hadn’t been able to make them at the start. Progress, Kaz knew, was good.
He tentatively raised his ungloved hand, almost wanting to place it in the one of hers that wasn’t on his face, but a loud sound suddenly filled the room. Bleating.
The fucking goat.
Inej let go of Kaz and turned to it as it wandered through the door. “Come on Milo,” she said. “We’ll take care of you until Jesper comes back. Won’t we?”
Kaz still felt her hand on his face. “Won’t we?” he choked out.
“Of course we will,” she almost cooed at it, then winked. “Don’t listen to Mr. Dirtyhands. I’m sure you remember him. He’s fine.”
Kaz suddenly had a craving for goat stew.
Inej lifted the goat close to her and let it lick her cheek. Kaz winced, but he hid it as she smiled radiantly at him. “We’ll have a fun time, won’t we?”
She looked at him expectedly. Kaz swallowed. “Fun is overrated.” Inej glared at him. “What? I don’t need to put on a performance for a goat.”
“Kaz,” Inej said, “tell the goat we’ll have a fun time.”
Kaz told the goat they’d have a fun time.
Kaz didn’t have a fun time with the fucking goat. The spawn had it out for him. When he woke up the next morning, his room smelled slightly acidic. He opened his closet to find that all his shoes—expensive shoes—were soaking wet in piss.
He had no idea how the goat had snuck up on him without him knowing—even Inej couldn’t do that—but he was sure it had done it. There was no other explanation. When he came down for breakfast Inej was already there, the goat next to her.
“It pissed on my shoes,” Kaz said tightly.
“What?”
“My shoes are all destroyed.”
“I’m sure he didn’t do it, Kaz. He was downstairs all night. Did you check for leaks?”
“Inej,” he said, spearing an egg, “the goat pissed on my shoes.”
“The goat has a name.”
“Inej—”
“I’m sure it didn’t mean to.”
“What am I supposed to wear?”
“Just get a new pair ordered. I’m sure you can terrorize someone into making you more in a few hours. Just ring for the guard.”
“It pissed on my shoes.”
“Its name is Milo. And you’re just looking to villainize it.”
Kaz knew it was a losing battle. He ate his eggs.
They walked through the gardens a few hours later, in the afternoon. Kaz had been planning on going back to the Slat, but he couldn’t without shoes, and he and Inej had discussed slave trade patterns for a few hours. He couldn’t tire of her that fast—not after missing her for so long.
Inej had found a leash from nowhere and attached it to the fucking goat as they wandered through the extensive gardens. Not much grew in Ketterdam, but Marya Hendricks had invested into what did. The blue flowers that dusted the large hard were gorgeous.
Kaz led them towards a patch of vivid geraniums in the corner. It was halfway there that the goat decided he was hungry, ran up in front of the both of them, and started digging through the grass in the corner.
Kaz wouldn’t have minded if the goat hadn’t done it in a way that landed dirt all over his trousers—the nice trousers he kept at the mansion—and the slightly tight shoes he’d grabbed from Wylan’s closet. He jumped away and held out his hands—he didn’t want to dirty his hands by brushing mud from his pants.
The goat took that moment to launch more dirt into the air. The projectiles landed all over Kaz’s shirt, luckily avoiding the skin of his face.
“Fuck,” he let escape him. He shook himself and saw clumps of dirt fall off him. “Do you see—”
To his left, Inej giggled. He turned at her and glared. “Do you see this? Why—stop it!”
“It’s a bit funny.”
“What’s funny?”
“Dirtyhands—”
“That thing has it out for me!”
“To be fair,” Inej snickered into her hands, “I wouldn’t blame it if it did.”
“Can’t you just . . .” Kaz wrung out his hands, “put it in a cage or something? Or kill it?”
The goat stopped its annihilation of Marya’s grass to turn on Kaz and bleat loudly.
“That certainly helped your case,” Inej snorted as Kaz turned back to the house.
He needed to get into the shower. And then plan a murder.
The last straw was dinner. Kaz had asked the kitchens to make them a bit of a fancier dinner, a Kerch one. They’d sat down for a five-course meal after spending some time sitting in the library together.
Kaz had changed once again and was now wearing Jesper’s shoes. They were a bit big on him, but the fucking goat was here because of Jesper, and the piss could go there too. Unfortunately, the goat seemed to sense Kaz’s ploy and had not pissed on these shoes.
They both had soup together. Kaz didn’t care much for food, but he knew Nina had rubbed off a bit on Inej, and it felt intuitive that Inej might have missed Ketterdam’s food during all her time at sea—the fancy fare at the mansion, of course, and not the stew Kaz choked down every night in the Stave.
The goat wandered in as they started salad. Kaz wanted it to leave. Inej did not want the goat to leave. The goat stayed.
The goat climbed up into the seat next to Kaz. Kaz wanted to kick it off. Inej stared at Kaz. The goat stayed.
Then the goat bleated, leaned into Kaz, and ate one of his carrots.
Then it turned around in its seat, faced Inej, chewed, and farted into Kaz’s face.
Kaz closed his eyes and sat still for a very long time. Then he stood up, coughed, and grabbed the gun at his side. “I’m killing it.”
Inej had the goat in her arms once again. “You are not killing Milo.”
“I’m killing it. Move.”
He was serious. Inej pinched her dark brow together and held the goat close to her. He couldn’t shoot without risking hitting her. “It was an honest mistake!”
“Like the piss and the dirt?”
“Goats have to release air. It’s healthy for them.”
“Then it could have done it outside. Fuck that thing—”
“Kaz—”
“I’m in a terrible mood because of the fucking goat, Inej,” he said blatantly. “Are you really putting that thing above . . .”
“Above what?” Inej challenged, suddenly. “Us? Is there an ‘us’ now?”
“Isn’t there always?”
“You’ve been in a terrible mood all day!”
“Because of the goat!”
“Why are you so emotionally constipated because of a goat? Don't make excuses for yourself."
“I want to spend time with you. I missed you. It’s ruined everything. And,” he fanned the air near him, “I need to shower again.”
He turned around to leave, food forgotten. He could feel Inej smart behind him. “We’re talking about this, Kaz Brekker.”
“Fine,” Kaz said. “But leave the fucking goat.”
“What do you say?” Inej asked when he came down once more, dressed in a cotton shirt. The goat was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m sorry,” Kaz said firmly, “that you didn’t approve of my actions.”
“That’s not an apology.”
He leaned into her and stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry for any harm I may have caused you. I never mean to.”
He’d grown better at apologizing. He could do it. For her.
“You need to apologize to Milo.”
“It let gas out onto my face—”
“He can’t control himself. He’s a goat, and now he’s terrified, because—oh, remember? You shoved a gun into his face.”
“Inej—” Kaz lurched forward. Inej turned away from him. “Fine, alright.”
He could only pray to Ghezen that nobody would ever hear of this. “You’ll apologize to the goat?”
“I’ll apologize to the goat.”
Inej exited and came back inside with the goat in her arms. It did look a bit in shock if Kaz was to be honest. But it was also an animal. He stared at it.
“Apologize to the goat.”
“I’m apologizing to the goat.” He’d nodded at it.
“Use your words.”
“Do goats speak Kerch?” He sighed. “I’m sorry, goat.”
“Milo,” Inej said, “you’re sorry you threatened to murder Milo.”
“I’m sorry I threatened to murder you, Milo,” Kaz choked out. He was genuinely feeling a bit violent. When his shoes came tomorrow perhaps he’d visit a few of the straggling Dime Lions. He needed to deal with them and he could channel this kind of vengeance.
“Thank you,” Inej said primly. Then she held out her arms. The goat bleated.
Kaz waited for a moment before he realized what she wanted. He was at his final straw, but pushed a bit harder. The goat fell into his arms and licked his sleeve.
“Isn’t he soft?”
“Sure,” Kaz said. He wondered why the goat had forgiven him so easily after the murder attempt just an hour prior. Perhaps goats couldn’t truly tell—
Warm liquid flooded Kaz’s black pants. He shifted uncomfortably but said nothing, just grasped the goat tighter. Its eyes taunted him.
“Isn’t he just so sweet?” Inej said.
Milo cooed.
Kaz needed to murder someone tonight.