Work Text:
“Who are you spying on, young lady?” Kelsier’s warm timbre booms in Vin’s ears. She jumps and spins around in a manner that doesn’t absolve her of guilt in the slightest.
“Kelsier! I-I thought you were still asleep.” Vin hadn’t heard him come in, but she’d assumed he’d slipped back sometime during the night. It was an anomaly for him to be up so early, which is why the sound of movement from his room had piqued her curiosity, and drawn her into the hall.
He grins down at her in a knowing way, infuriating man. How long had he been standing there?
“Oh, I never went to sleep. In fact, I just got back from a successful raid on House Hasting. Jumping around, fighting guards and the like. Mistborn stuff, you know how it is.”
More footsteps creak overhead and both pairs of eyes glance to the ceiling in the direction of Kelsier's room.
“Ah," he says lightly. "That would be Dockson. He probably got tired of waiting around for me to come to bed. I should go let him know I’m not bleeding out in an alley somewhere.”
Triumph surges within her - she knew those were Dox's footsteps leaving Kelsier's room every morning. They were much too heavy and level-footed to belong to Kelsier himself. The blonde man had a swifter pattern to his movement, almost like the dancing she does at balls. He was easy to distinguish from the rest of the crew's activity.
“And Vin?”
“Yes?”
Kelsier's eyes twinkle. “Burn your tin next time. That way, you’ll be able to hear me sneaking up behind you.”
****
“And you call me crazy,” Kelsier says, casually leaned against the doorframe of his drafty attic room. Dockson knows that he thinks he looks fetching posed like that. Unfortunately, he happens to be right. An annoying habit, that. “Anyone who gets up at an hour like this has lost all their senses. That kid downstairs included.”
Dockson rolls his eyes. “Some of us don’t spend all night raiding noblemen’s keeps, Kell.”
“Looks like some of us wait up all night on those who do.” Kelsier gestures to the candle burning low on a desk by the window. Unlatched in case he deigns himself above the use of doors. As he does, on occasion.
In a fluid motion, Dockson crosses the room and presses a kiss to the corner of the taller man's mouth. It's the only way he can ever get him to stop talking. He watches, self-satisfied, as it lifts under his ministration.
“There’s work to be done for your outlandish schemes, and we both know you’re not going to do it. ”
Kelsier leans closer and laughs against Dockson's mouth. "Well, when you put it like that."