Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It takes a moment for incessant knocking on the door to draw Kaz’s focus away from the books. For a moment he considers ignoring it entirely, but Jesper’s voice sounds from the other side and it seems there is little choice but to let him. With one gloved hand sweeping his mussed hair back from his forehead, and the other tight around the head of his cane, Kaz hoists himself to his feet. It takes him longer to stagger across the creaking floorboard than it does to open the dozen locks installed on the door.

Jesper gives him a pearly white smile as soon as the door begins to open. He leans against the frame dripping fake nonchalance in his striped pants and purple waistcoat.

“What is it, Jesper?” Kaz bite out, resisting the urge to slam the door back in his face. “I can practically feel you vibrating from inside my office.

He doesn’t invite Jesper in, just limps back to his desk and trusts that he will follow in. Jesper does, of course. Kaz listens carefully to the locks being shut behind him: relief flooding his veins as each one clicks into place.

“Well, Inej and I have a bit of a surprise for you. She’s meeting us at the Van Eyck’s.”

Kaz looks up with a bitter stare. The bags under his eyes are even more prominent than usual and Jesper can’t help the brotherly pang of worry that rings through him. Inej had said he hadn’t been feeling well; though Jesper wasn’t sure if that was a mere inference or if the Bastard of the Barrel had actually admitted it. Though in the end, it hardly seemed to matter: the change was clear.

They weren’t eighteen anymore. The four years between them and the Ice Court Heist didn’t seem like much, and really it wasn’t. But so much had changed. Inej and her ship. Wylan and his council. Jesper and his powers. Kaz and his city. Still, it felt many days like the earth was crumbling beneath their feet. Kaz had foolishly hoped that his body would overcome what he put it through in Fjerda. It wasn’t often that he was wrong.

And yet, the ache linger in his bones deeper than it had before. He held his own, there really was no choice, but deep down Kaz found himself wondering each day if this would be the one where he sat down and couldn’t get himself back up. The day when his cane wouldn’t be enough. The day when Dirtyhands died.

This was all dramatic, of course. Even Kaz could assure himself of that. It was the dead of winter and things were always worse at this time. The bitter cold refused to let up as it froze the air in his lungs and the water in the canals. Come the spring his joints would thaw alongside the docks and it would be easier to push through it all as usual.

“I’m working.” He rasps, looking back to his ledger.

“I know, Boss.” Jesper leans against the dark wood of his desk, Zemini skin bleeding with the grain. “But, Inej should be there any minute. She docked, you know?”

Kaz did know. He had hauled himself past the docks on an errand this morning, lingering just long enough to spot her silhouette among the sails. Inej had let her hair down and each dark tendril had caught the wind like a kit on the cliffs of the Wandering Isle. The young runner he’d sent since then had reported that the ships were largely unpacked and the Captain had left.

“ Wouldn’t wanna keep her waiting. Besides, the cold is just gonna keep getting worst and Wylan’s got a bottle of that whiskey you like.”

He pretends to be motivated by that, rather than the thought of Inej’s dark lips against his cheek. Kaz hauls himself to his feet with less grace than he’d care to admit while Jesper grabs his hat from the rack in the corner. He hands it to him with a ridiculous bow.

“Your hat, good sir.” Jesper murmurs in a strange accent that Kaz can’t place and later realizes Jesper has made up entirely.

Kaz elects to keep his focus on threading his arms through his coat rather than Jesper’s antics. Even inside it is so damn cold that Kaz longs for thicker socks; Kaz slips his feet into his boots. The first is easy. The second takes a moment of leaning against the wall with a clenched jaw. But it gets done. He says nothing as Jesper crouches to do his laces the second Kaz takes the hat from his hands. The dark grey scarf he winds around his neck is a bit fluffy for his taste, but the cold is the greatest beast to conquer today.

“Why am I being dragged to your residence again?” Kaz grumbles as he navigates the steep stairs.

“Dinner. The company of your dearest friends and darling Inej. Fine alcohol. The promise of a roaring fire and decent insulation. Take your pick!”

“It better be the best damn whiskey in the whole of Ketterdam if I’m about to traipse through this weather.”

“Well, it certainly was expensive enough to be.” Jesper says with a wink, slamming the Slat door closed behind him.

With the wind ruffling his clothes Kaz can barely suppress the groan that threatens to slip through his teeth. The cold never does his leg any good; it keeps him up most nights even with a bit of kvas to appease it. But the friction against his scars in this kind of weather is like ice and fire crawling in tandem up his skin. Kaz sets his jaw and tucks his face into his scarf.

Jesper walks, carefree but chilly, and watches Kaz with curiosity. The vulnerable pink of his nose and cheeks partially buried under Ravkan wool seems out of character despite his pale skin. Kaz’s eyes are the color of strong tea in the harsh afternoon light; fixed sternly to the ground as he navigates the icy cobblestones.

The walk is mercifully short, all things considered. Jesper would be quicker on his own, without hsi pace slowed to match Kaz’s, but at least the snow has chased the tourists inside. It takes all of Jesper’s willpower to politely ignore Kaz as they make their way up the steps of the mansion. Each one is slick with ice despite the shoveling the servants have been meticulously keeping up with. It’s hard to miss the grimace on his face as Kaz half hops his way up the steps. The railing on the steps is more than necessary, but Kaz finds that even with that the stairs are a challenge. His stiff joints refused to bend; manhandling or dragging seemed the only way to make it up. Kaz quickly selects the latter: it was faster and easier to hide.

Heat is billowing from the open door by the time he reaches the landing. Kaz slips into the warmth without a second thought. The moment the door closes behind them, footsteps echo through the house. Wylan’s boots against the carpet; the barely present whisper of Inej’s soles; and an unfamiliar scuffle of something rough against the floor.

Kaz’s head rises instinctively at the sound. He doesn’t bother removing his boots, it will only mean enduring the shame of having someone else lace them up or the pain of doing it himself: he isn’t swollen enough to warrant the trouble yet. Abandoning his hat and coat to the rack, Kaz follows Jesper down the hall. He is muttering about candle tapers in a tangent that is so completely incoherent that Kaz had long given up understanding the words, let alone the relevance of the speech.

Then she is there. Kaz can tell before he has even lifted his eyes from the floor. Inej is before him in an instant. All tangled black hair and a fur collar. She stands on tip-toe reaching for a hug, but hesitates for a moment before touching him. Kaz nods immediately in approval and takes her into his arms. His cane clangs against the floor and he aches with the burden of his own weight, coupled with Inej leaning against him. He doesn’t plan on letting go: not so long as his body and mind endure it, and perhaps beyond those limits as well. Jesper disappears into the living room as Kaz buries his nose into Inej’s neck. It is the first touch he’s endured since she left. His freezing skin welcomes her warmth.

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. He chants to himself so long as her skin presses to him. Inej. Inej. Inej.

She smells of orange oil and spice, mingling with the salt of the sea air and the sweat of the day's labor. Kaz looks her in the eyes, begging for permission, before pressing his lips to the softness of her cheek. In turn, Inej presses her chapped lips to the corner of his mouth, dancing between pale cheek and tender pink.

Kaz thoughtlessly believes that he could stay in this moment forever. Until his leg begins to give beneath him and he is catching himself against the wall with a swear. Inej’s hand darts to his side and she is asking him something, but his head is underwater at the overwhelming touch and pain. The urge to put up a mask is there, but weaker than it has been in years with only Inej in the room: Kaz lets himself crumble.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” He offers weakly, surely talking over her but unable to comprehend her words. “Shit, I’m sorry. Give me a second. Just, I’m sorry”

Inej tucks his cane back into a gloved hand and leads him to the nearest bench in the endless hallway.

“No, no. Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

Kaz lets a breath hiss between his teeth as Inej helps him ease onto the cushioned seat. With an encouraging pat to the bench, Inej joins him. He leans his good thigh to press against hers; their fingers tangle together, though one set is gloved. For a moment Kaz gives into the frustration of it. He buries his head in one hand, unwilling to let go of Inej while she is within reach and willing herself, and leans his head between his knees.

It is there that he waits for the pain to subside as Inej's hand ghosts along his back. Kaz lets his mind drift; a mercy he rarely offers himself. In that floating space he finds peace; until a wet nose nudges the knee of his pants. Inej giggles and Kaz draws his gaze upward into the dark eyes of a dog.

Chapter Text

Kaz’s fingers move on autopilot from his knee to the velvet ears of the dog. He can feel the silky fur through the slits of his gloves. The soft wheeze of Inej’s laughter draws his focus back to the real world. She can feel him tense beneath her fingertips and quickly pulls away.

His tongue pokes between his teeth, dancing over chapped lips. Inej smiles at the furrow between his dark eyebrows. She wonders if he knows how he wears his confusion in that little line. If he knows how much she longs to kiss that very spot. If he knows how close he is. Kaz smells of leather and bitter coffee and cold; though Inej favors tea she wants to taste the bitterness of his mouth against hers. She hadn’t been sure she’d ever long for something like that again.

Wylan’s ruddy curls appear through down the hall and Jesper appears moments later. At the presence of others in the hallway, Kaz heaves himself to his feet and shoos the dog away. Whatever wall he’d let crumble with only Inej for company has quickly rebuilt itself. Kaz shrugs Inej’s arm off his and limps towards the living room.

“Does he like her?” Jesper questions in exaggerated lip movements and gestures.

Inej combs her fingers through windswept hair. She isn’t sure how to answer. They all follow the sud of Kaz’s cane into the warmth of the living room. Jesper can feel the chill finally being chased from his bones with the heat of the fire against his skin.

“So, when did you decide to get a guard dog?” Kaz rasps, settling into his favorite armchair.

The urge to laugh fills Jesper's chest as he takes his own place on the arm of the sofa.

“We didn’t.”

Kaz raises a curious brow. The dog slinks up beside him again, and this time he doesn’t tell it to go away. The gentle pant of her breath is oddly soothing. He allows a hand to wander the space between her ears.

“She’s yours.” Inej says softly, crouching by his feet and adding her hand to the dog’s soft fur.

He disappears into himself before he has a chance to stop it. The fresh breeze of Lij against his skin and the graces rustling against his bare legs. Jordie had named the dog; Kaz had been too little to care for anything more than the wagging tail and lapping tongue. It was only with the dog that Da had allowed them to roam the fields alone.

This dog is darker than the golden brown old thing they’d been gifted; her fur glistens like black ink in the firelight. The velvet texture beneath his hand is far from human skin and Kaz relishes the contact with another living being more than he cares to admit. It doesn’t make the waters rise at his feet. It doesn’t draw him back to the harbor. He can feel the warmth of this dog soothe the ache in his bones.

“Why?” He asked coldly. “What am I supposed to do with a dog?”

“I thought you’d like her. Jesper and I had talked about getting you a dog in the past. We thought it would be helpful and then there was a dog right before me. She was gifted to me by a man whose daughter I returned after reusing her from a slaver. He insisted.” Inej explains. “He trained guard dogs for estates. Nobody wanted her: she’s blind on one side. An accident when she was a puppy, he said.”

It is only then that Kaz notices her right eye. It is as dark as the other, but unmoving. While the left darts from side to side, tracking the movement of Inej’s hand, the right trails up in irngonance. Kaz hums under his breath in consideration. As much as he hates to admit it, he is always more convinced to take in young kids when he sees himself in them. Perhaps this principle is being extended to dogs as well.

Saints, Inej has made him soft.

“Why would a dog be of help to me? What use do I have for her? I have no estate to protect, not like you do.” Kaz gestured flippantly to Wylan and his expansive living room.

There is silence for a moment. Inej and Jesper make intense, but silent eye contact. Kaz massages a circle into his thigh with grit teeth. And Wylan observes: resisting the urge to butt in with an explanation or a hot water bottle. Instead, he kneels to the floor and allows the slobbering tongue against his neck. Her back is silky against his calloused hands.

“She trained.” Jesper starts again.

“You said.”

“To be more than just a guard dog.” Inej continues. “I had her trained further. We figured you couldn’t care less about her eye so long as she can do the job. The man who trained her said she was one of the best fighters he’d ever seen. I told him what I had in mind for her other tasks, and she picked it up fast.”

Kaz grinds his jaw tighter.

“And what are these ‘other tasks’?”

Inej sits on the ottoman of Kaz’s chair; her thigh ghosting against his bad leg is enough to make his breath hitch. She flinches in his stead. The dog wanders back over and buries its slobbering face in her lap.

“It’s been a rough year or so. You haven’t been the same since the Ice Court and in the winter, I just… I can see how much pain you are in.”

“We all can.” Jesper corrects, oddly timidly.

“Jesper and I made her a harness. It’s measured to your height and everything already.” Wylan butts in finally, hands itching to fetch the metal and leather contraception from the hall.

“She’s trained to brace you if you need some extra support, help you walk, pull you to your feet, and fetch things, or people, if needed.” Inej says simply, laying the facts before Kaz. “ She’ll be good in a fight of any kind; keep your hands clean if you feel like it. And even for me on the journey home, she’s great for dealing with the nightmares.”

“Then you keep her then.” Kaz rasps, voice breaking at the tail of his sentence.

“She won’t touch you if you tell her to stop.” Jesper adds. “And she even has a command to prop up your leg; she’ll use her body to prop it.”

Kaz can feel his heart racing in his chest. The weakness he’d melted down and molded into a strength with his bare hands was finally dragging him down. They could all see the cracks. The limp was no longer an intimidating story of old. The cane was no longer a weapon. The late nights were no longer a sign of determination. They could see him for all he was and nothing was more horrifying.

He shakes his head slowly, each movement calculated.

“I can’t.”

“We’ve already thought it through, Kaz.” Wylan encourages. “She is an attack dog after all. It will go with your image and would be helpful in a scuffle. You can only use her for, well, for other tasks when needed.”

The urge to get up and leave it cresting in Kaz’s chest. He considers it seriously for a moment, but even that makes sparks of pain migrate up his spine. His leg throbs with the beat of his heart; the all too quick beat of his heart that is slowly giving into the panic of closeness and vulnerability and Saints, everything was so much easier when he didn’t care.

A warm touch presses against his pulsing thigh. Kaz looks down to see the dog; the damned dog, with it’s warm eyes and pink tongue, rests its muzzle concerningly on his leg as if it can hear his brain vibrating in his skull. Even the slight heat from her body chases away a bit of the discomfort.

“Fine.”

“Really?” Inej says, rising to her feet with eyes wide.

Kaz nods stiffly. She can’t find it in herself to be disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm.

“Let us show you what she can do.”

He watches as Wylan and Jesper do the buckles on her harness. It is black leather and silver with that wind under her stomach and chest. On her back a rounded handle arches up; what looks to be the perfect height when he is standing, so far as Kaz can tell.

“Tugging once on her harness or telling her ‘up’ while holding it will let her know to pull forward.” Inej explains shyly. “This should help you get to your feet if needed.”

She demonstrates: sitting on the sofa and letting the dog hoist her up. It works better than Kaz had anticipated, though he has to take his additional height and weight into consideration.

“Wanna give it a go?”

Kaz accepts the cool harness into his gloved palm: the twin black leather squeal against one another. He shoves the ottoman aside; maneuvers his legs back to the floor. With a tug to the handle and a gruff up, Kaz finds himself being pulled with even greater force than anticipated. The sole of his boot grind against the floor and the sharpness of the movement whites out his vision; sending agony rolling through his marrow.

“Fuck.” He mutters, quickly releasing the lead and burying his head in his hands as he falls back to the soft cushion of the chair.

“Kaz?” Jesper tries, worried but resisting the urge to kneel beside him like a mother to a child with knees scraped on the pavement.

“Not prepared to actually stand up, huh?” Inej asks softly, suddenly understanding that it hadn’t been a spell of giving up. Rather, a disbelief that something might help at all.

“Not especially.” Kaz admits, waiting impatiently for the spots in his vision to clear.

The dog is immediately at Kaz’s side; expression confused and concerned until he buries his fingers back into her thick coat. He shimmies to the edge of his chair and takes his cane in one hand, taking hold of her harness again.

“Up.” He says roughly.

Kaz makes it to his feet this time: half by his own strength and half by the aid of the dog. He shifts his weight. There is much to account for with this new sense of balance. A shaky step forward tells Kaz that it may take some practice, but when his leg begins to buckle beneath him the dog stands firm with a warning whine in her throat. It is her support that gives him a moment to adjust his stance and keep on his feet.

He releases her harness for a moment to give her a satisfied pat on the ears. Kaz limps back to his chair with the dog on his heels. Jesper and Wylan stand in silence: still in awe at the sight of Dirtyhands himself and a dooling canine. Inej reaches to take his arm, and Kaz lets her. Easing into his chair, Kaz gives the closest thing to a smile that he is capable of, when directed towards anything besides Inej and a well paying job.

“Poya.” Kaz murmur, fingers at home in dark fur. “I’ll call her Poya.”

Chapter Text

Inej watches from the sofa in silence as Kaz tests out the various commands the dog was trained with. Poya obeys; taking well to her name and new owner. One look from a less-than-eager-to-be-watched Kaz sends Wylan and Jesper back to the kitchen to finish preparing the table for dinner.

Tracing her hand over fine textured of her handknit socks, Inej watches peacefully as Poya strides back and forwarth across the woven carpet. With dark hair in his eyes and a bead of sweat dripping down his collar, Kaz paces. He is a man of what some would call determination, others stubbornness, and the less kind, perhaps at times, stupidity. Inej can tell from the set of his jaw that he is past his limit, if he hadn't passed it before he’d even made it to the threshold of the Van Eyck mansion. Yet, she isn't inclined to stop him. Inej knows him well enough to know one thing: Kaz won’t even consider going outside with the dog until he is certain he has control of her. Otherwise she is a liability, a potential weakness to exploit, rather than a tool to him.

It isn’t a shock to either of them when his leg buckles beneath him. Kaz reaches on instinct for the mantel to steady himself, cane skidding against the floor for better hold. The warm press of the dog against his aching leg startles him at first. Kaz is all grateful all the same, in a strange, sheltered way, for the reminder of her presence. He catches his weight, he usually does, and has the common sense to take hold of the harness again. Inej can see it is just a bit too short for him. She makes a mental note to ask Wyan to adjust it; Kaz had already made the same note.

“It’ll take some getting used to.” She says softly. “The harness and everything.”

Kaz hums as he starts another lap around the room. His joints have begun to smart even when there isn’t weight on them. The uneven gait he’s been forced to adopt in the years since his injury has driven a near constant twinge into both his hips. Kaz’s good side has trained itself to bear weight that should be shouldered elsewhere, but not without cost.

“I think it must be like when I first learned to walk the high line.”

“How so?” He can’t imagine the similarity between him pacing the living room and balancing a wire dozens of feet above the hard earth.

Inej strokes a loose strand behind her ear thoughtfully.

“You know there is something to catch you: a net, a dog. And yet, the fear of falling doesn’t fade. Not for a while at least. I had to keep walking. Knowing the net was there and embracing my potential need for it. Everybody falls sometimes. It’s knowing how to land that counts.”

She thinks of the first fall. Her feet just slightly misplaced on the line and then she was flush with the rough material of the net before she even knew she was falling.

Kaz nods, testing the waters of Poya’s strength. He leans a bit on her with each step: alternating his hold to the ground from his cane to her paws with each step. Warm eyes, one unseeing, turn up to him and Kaz could swear the dog smiles at him. Moments later, finishing their lap, he can feel the unsteadiness crest again.

“Brace.” He grounds out, leather gloves squealing against Poya’s harness.

Inej watches as the dog widens her stance and bears the weight Kaz can’t manage on one leg. He doesn’t move for a few seconds. Head bowed, dark lashes fluttering over his cheekbones. Inej waits. After another moment of waiting and nothing more than Kaz’s tense breathing, her instinct is to go to him; to wrap an arm around his waist and get him settled on the couch. But she is no fool.

“Poya,” Inej calls, whistling to catch the dog's attention. “Lead.”

The dog turns her head for her owner's approval. Kaz has the sense left to nod; though he can’t hear Inej’s words over the pounding of blood in his ears, only the familiar timbre of her voice floating through the room. Poya takes a cautious step forward, towards Inej who whistles to her again. The movement guides Kaz out of the fog.

He tosses the hair of his eyes with the shake of his head and limps back. As much as he hates to admit it, having support on both sides lessens the pain.

“It wouldn’t be all the time.” Inej whispers, seemingly having read his mind.

“I need a free hand to fight.”

“Of course.”

Sitting on the couch, Kaz pets Poya absentmindedly. Inej is delighted when he strips off his gloves, staring at the pale white of his palm for a moment, before placing the vulnerable flesh against her fur.
“She’s well trained, Kaz. I was certain of that. There is no need for you to hold onto her when you don’t need to. She will follow at your side unless you command otherwise. On days when things are bad…”

There are unspoken words between them: like today. They are both thinking it. When days are bad like today it will be good to have extra help, even if it is just walking from bed to the washroom.
When days are bad like today there will be someone to fetch help if he passes out again or can’t get himself to his feet after stumbling or drops something to the floor and can’t bend his broken knee enough to reach it. When days are bad like today Jesper won’t have to watch you drag your aching bones up the steps. When days are bad like today, maybe you can manage it well enough that tomorrow will be better.

“I just thought she might be of help.” Inej says meekly. “But if you don’t want her we can find her another home.”

“No.” Kaz says, then looks away as blood rises to his cheeks. “I want her.”

“Really?”

He nods stiffly, searching for the strength to give her the vulnerability he promised. The words catch behind his lip and tumble out over the couch cushions between them. Even sitting down can’t calm the frantic state of his nervous system.

“It might help… having her around. Especially if she is good in a fight. I’m sorry; I just…”

“Bad day.” Inej offers.

There is silence between them and Inej can practically feel Kaz tearing the bricks of his walls down one by one for her. His mouth opens and closes twice before he finally manages to speak.

“They all are bad this time of the year.”

Poya rests her warm snout over his knee as if she knows where the pain radiates from. It's soothing, the touch. It’s odd to admit it, but it is. Inej’s touch is alright most of the time. Sometimes it’s even good. Jesper can graze him while passing the butter dish without the threat of violence. But the sleek fur against his skin doesn’t make his brain vibrate in his skull like skin.

“You need to move to a desert.” Inej says with a grin. “No humidity. No cold. Imagine how much better you’d feel.”

Kaz shrugs.

“My body has a way of always biting me in the ass. It would surely find a way to do that even in the dessert.”

“You’ll really keep her?”

Poya looks up into Kaz’s dark eyes as if she knows she is the topic of conversation. Letting his fingers trace over her velvet ears, he nods.

“We will have to keep practicing a bit before she goes out in public anywhere but… I’ll keep her.”

Inej smiles. It’s that wide lipped smile that flashes all of her teeth and crinkles her eyes at the corners. It’s that smile Kaz loves with whatever his heart has left in it after all these years of strife.

“Hey,” Wylan greets, poking his head in from the hall. “ I noticed the handle needs to be raised a bit so you don’t have to tilt over to put some weight on her. May I?”

Kaz looks from the metal tool in his hand to his own feet and nods. He slips his gloves back on, welcoming the bite of the leather against his scraped knuckles. Inej winces as he stands without the aid of his cane or Poya, but Kaz ignores it and he allows Wylan to measure the harness with him standing beside it.

By the time he is done, Jesper is bellowing something about the rolls getting cold from the other room. Wylan and Inej disappear down the hall arm in arm at the promise of bread. Right behind them, Kaz follows. At this time of year he always feels as if he is trailing behind. The heat from every fire in the city couldn’t chase the cold from his bones, though Wylan certainly seems to be trying with the temperature of the house. Inej’s cheeks are rosy from the warmth, and Jesper has shed a layer since they arrived. Kaz is still the slightest bit chilly.

Inej can’t hold in her smile as she glances at Kaz in her peripheral vision. His gait is still halting, but slightly less so. The thunk of his cane is slightly camouflaged by Poya’s happy panting noises. Kaz hates to admit it, but he finds her sounds more cute than bothersome.

He can tell things need some work when he finds himself nearly tripping over her back paws on a turn; stepping down with all his weight onto his bad leg in an attempt to regain his balance. Kaz manages not to fall but it brings tears to his eyes.

It isn’t perfect, but Poya’s nose is wet against his hand as she sits pressed beside him at the dinner table. Kaz can’t resist the urge to slip her some of his meat; it is one of the many times his sleight of hand comes in handy. She tucks herself under the table at his command. Kaz guides his bad leg with his hands to rest on her back and heaves a sigh of relief so audible that the conversation freezes in shock.

“Good girl.” Kaz whispers, stroking her ears and returning to the conversation at hand.

Chapter Text

He doesn’t go back to the Slat. When it occurs to Kaz that the twelfth bell had long ago rung, his usual marker for departure, he doesn't feel especially motivated to rise. Inej is warm by his side. The fire is crackling, embers burning bright with the fresh logs of pine that Wylan has fed it. She isn’t touching him, but the heat radiating off her body through layers of dark purple fabric is practically tangible. Inej is an ink blot against the yellow of the sofa, but then again so is Kaz. He might be even more so: black waistcoat and dark woolen trouser. The purple is visible in her skirts when the light catches it just so.

Jesper pours him another brandy. Kaz takes the glass in a gloved hand, swirling the liquid thoughtfully and sniffing at it with an intensity that makes his dark eyes water with the burn of alcohol.

“It feels as if winter will never end.” Wylan complains listlessly, curls pressed against the starched white of his collar. “Mother keeps asking to go for walks every single day, and I’m certain I’m going to start losing appendages to the cold at this rate.”

Inej laughs, that beautiful giggle that brings blood to his cheeks.

“I was afraid we weren’t going to make it back to Kerch with all the ice. And then I arrived, took one step into the city, and had the good mind to turn right back around and go to Novyi Zem until winter passes.”

“It’s not too late.” Kaz reasons with a smirk.

“No?”

She runs her hands thoughtfully over Poya’s ear, relishing the velvet touch against calloused fingertips.

“I suppose, I could bear it.” He says softly, looking down into his glass suddenly quiet. “If that is what you wanted, darling Inej…. If it is what you wanted I suppose I could bear just about anything.”

Inej’s hand lingers over his thighs for a moment, asking the questions he just invited.

Could you bear this? Could you bear my touch? Could you want it?

“Go ahead.” Kaz rasps, brows tight as if bracing himself for the touch.

“I don’t wanna be a burden to bear, Kaz Brekker.” Inej whispers, lips close enough to his ear that he can feel the heat of her breathe against sensitive skin. “I want you to want my touch.”

“I do.” He says all too quickly. “I do.”

And he does. Kaz wants her warm, brown hands against his. He wants to see the juxtaposition of warm and cool, of light and dark, right before his eyes. He wants to press a kiss to the back of her hand, the gesture of a Ravkan prince to visiting princesses. He wants to give her that love: Kaz wants to recieve it. Still, his hands shake.

Inej nods.

“I know you do.”

She sits closer, hand still hovering over his thigh. Kaz presses his own hand over hers: sandwiching it between the leg of his pants and his glove. With a loving pant, Poya plops her nose on top of the pile.

Kaz meets Inej’s eyes with a laugh that is barely contained. Inej gives herself some space; pulling back from Kaz’s touch but lingering just close enough to hear his breath.

“Poya seems to have made herself right at home.” Jesper remarks, hand dancing over Wylan’s hair as he dozes with the taller boy's lap as a pillow.

“Now if she would stop tugging when we walked, all would be right in the world.”

“Give her some time.” Inej scolds. “You've only been working with her for a few hours. I’m sure she will get the hang of it and so will you.”

“I take it she’s spending the night with us then?” Wylan murmurs, half awake in Jesper’s lap.

Kaz thinks on it for a moment, stroking his fingers through Poya’s smooth fur. He can’t risk going across the city with her until he is certain of her behavior. Until he has perfect control of the situation; as perfect as he can. Nodding absentmindedly in agreement with Wylan’s statement, Kaz moves to test the waters of his bad leg. Poya immediately whines deep in her throat when he moves without a hand on her harness, but he can’t test his ability to walk home without her if he gets to his feet with her aid.

“It’s okay.” He tells her, voice hoarse.

On his feet, Kaz is certain this is a mistake. It is too late now. He is on his feet and plans to at least pretend to consider the possibility of walking home. The arm of the sofa creaks under his weight. Pain shoots through his spine despite the alcohol flowing through his veins. Kaz forces his expression to remain flat, but he knows with great certainty that he is not walking home after a circle the couch, limp painfully noticeable.

“Stay.” Jesper says plainly.

“It’s warmer here anyway; stay until the cold front passes a bit.” Inej offers, as if the cold is an embarrassing problem rather than the fuel for the fire of his unrelenting pain.

Kaz pretends to consider it for a moment, leaning heavily against his cane. Then Poya has her teeth embedded in his pant leg. The instinct to kick her off or bat her aside with his cane is there, but Kaz pushes it down long enough to realize what she is doing. She tugs him gently, guiding him back to the couch a few steps with a soft bark and a whimpering noise. Kaz takes her harness and she releases the wool of his trousers and stands firm as Kaz takes halting steps back to Inej’s side.

“I told you she was smart.” Inej murmurs, nudging the coffee table closer for Kaz to prop his leg on. “Good girl, Poya!”

A treat appears between her fingers from the depths of her pockets and Poya obiently sits. She munches at her treat while Kaz manhandles his bad leg onto the table. The strange urge to apologize for the muddiness of his boots emerges.

“Don’t worry about your boots.” Wylan says before Kaz can part his lips. “But, if you are gonna stay the night you may as well take them off.”

It’s a fair point, and one Kaz considers for a moment. Now finished with her treat, Poya wedges her body under his knee to elevate it a bit. She rests her lovely, dark snout on the couch next to his thigh. Kaz scratches behind her ears as he reaches for his laces.

Jesper, much to his embarrassment, had laced them up for him earlier. His shredded muscles always protest that particular movement for whatever reason. Sitting or kneeling on the ground was manageable at times, but leaning forward to do his boots always made Kaz dizzy with discomfort. He’d practically passed out while lacing a dress shoe one day: Jesper had caught him and mercifully tied his shoes without question whenever possible.

Now, reaching toward his shoes the unnatural grind of broken bone stops Kaz in his tracks. He curses under he breath and resigns to keep his mud caked shoes on: Wylan’s table runner be damned. He will toss a handful of kruge on the front table on the way out for the trouble of dry cleaning.

Inej’s weight shifts beside him and then his feet are free. She can feel her skirts scrape the floor as she kneels on the other side of the table. Wylan and Jesper murmur quietly to one another, fingers tracing over rose cheeks and dark brows.

The boots are tied with triple knots that could only be the work of Jesper in a moment of intense devotion to a task. Her fingers are quick to undo them; deft on the worn leather. The first boot is nudged under the table. Inej makes fast work of the second lace but is more careful in taking it off. She carefully lifts his leg a bit to hook her fingers on the top of the boot and pull. Kaz says nothing about the help: sitting reclined with his eyes shut tightly. His brandy is drained but the glass is still in his wicked tight grasp. He’s in pain, that much she can tell. Poya chases his hand with her nose until he buries fingers into her fur, pulling his nails out of the delicate flesh of his own palm.

Inej freezes with a hand on his right ankle where she had been carefully holding his sock to ensure there was no contact with his skin.

“Your ankle,” She starts with furrowed brows. “It’s really- it’s really swollen, Kaz.”

He hums and shrugs apathetically. Not unusual. Not solvable. Not something to waste time worrying about.

“Does it hurt for me to touch?”

Inej’s fingers press into his tender flesh and he tightens his jaw. The touch had hurt before the pressure: no more was needed to test her theories.

“It always hurts, ‘Nej. It’s nothing to worry about; there is nothing to do for it. Just gotta wait it out.”

That does little to soothe her nerves.

“I know it always hurts, Kaz.” Inej whispers. “But, it isn’t always this swollen. Is it possible you sprained it? Or fractured something again?”

The answer is probably yes. It is quite possible that he has a newer fracture; in fact it is probable that he has more fractures than he left that day at the bank with. Kaz knows he must.

“It gets like this in the cold.”

“Can I take your sock off?”

Kaz nods with surprisingly little convincing and she slips the fabric from his skin. Another nod permits her to drag the pads of her fingers along the swollen skin. There isn’t any visible bruising: small mercies that Inej thanks her Saints for.

“Was it like this earlier?”

He peers down at his aching limb with false apathy and shrugs.

“‘Was swollen… but not that swollen.”

“You must have overdone it when practicing with Poya.”

Kaz keeps quiet, letting his head loll against the couch cushions.

“Can I get you some ice, darling?”

“No.” He bites out immediately, remembering regrettable days when he believed ice might help. It never did: the increase in the nerve and bone pain always won out against the slight reduction in swelling.

Inej flinches at the steel of his voice, lifting her hands off his pink skin. She can feel her eyes unfocus; lingering on nothing in particular.

“Inej.” He rasps, drawing her back to her body. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have- I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It just, it doesn’t help. Ice makes it worse.”

“I know.” She nods with enough force that locks of hair spring free from behind her ears and fan out to frame her face. “I just don’t know what else to do.”

“You don’t need to do anything, love. Just come sit down.”

But she can’t do nothing so she does what little she can. Inej finds a cushion to tuck underneath his foot, and another for his knee. Kaz barely manages to contain the cry of pain that catches behind his teeth at the movement.

When Inej finally returns to the sofa beside him, Kaz resists the urge to apologize again. She offers him a blanket and another glass of whiskey, both of which he accepts. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Jesper fast asleep with his mouth hanging open; it seems unnecessary to offer either of the sleeping boys a fresh drink, so she makes herself something and wanders back to the sofa with a vial of poppy syrup in hand.

“No.” Kaz tells her before she can even hold the vial up for him to see.

“If the pain is bad then-”

“The pain isn’t that bad; just a bit worse than usual.”

“Kaz, somehow I don’t find that very reassuring.”

“If I need it,” He swallows hard, forcing himself to believe these words aren’t a life. “I’ll let you know.”

“Seven?”

Kaz weighs the options and then nods.

“Six and a half”

“If it gets up to an eight or nine you need to take something. Deal?”

He offers a gloved hand and Inej shakes it with a smirk.

“The deal is the deal?”

“The deal is the deal.”

Inej finally curls up beside him, tucking a blanket around her shoulders and draping another over his legs. Poya accepts the invitation onto the sofa beside Kas. She rests her front paws against his bad leg for a moment: a weight that makes Kaz shudder. The message is quickly received and Poya nestles against his side, only resting her nose against his thigh.

“May I?” Kaz whispers, hand hovering over Inej’s braid.

With her nod, he pulls the ribbon loose and combs through her loose locks with careful fingers. Inej lets her cheek rest against his shoulder; feeling safe for the first time ever with the arm of a man around her shoulders. It is in that position that Jesper finds them fast asleep hours later.