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If someone would’ve told her this would happen in advance, Inej Ghafa would’ve laughed in their face.
“If I fell asleep on Kaz Brekker’s couch, he would wake me up with an airhorn and usher me out the front door before I had time to get my shoes on," she would’ve said. “There would be no courtesy involved. He’s no demon, but that doesn’t mean he’s tender.”
But this was exactly where she’d found herself waking rather peacefully: Kaz Brekker’s sofa, some blanket she’d never seen before carefully arranged to cover her entire body, and with the sound of someone walking around in the kitchen.
This was alarming in a number of ways.
For one, she could not remember the last time she’d fallen asleep someplace other than her own bed. Normally, she was too on-edge at night to even get tired. When she did grow tired enough to begin falling asleep, though, she’d always be hit with a sudden moment of panic at some point, knowing she was about to lose control and awareness of everything happening around her.
This realization of her lack of fear was not to say she was afraid she somehow hadn’t actually fallen asleep, or that there were even any doubts in her mind about the integrity of the situation -- rather, she would consider this worse.
She had fallen asleep inside of Kaz Brekker’s apartment, with him -- someone who was still very much a man, regardless of the level of her trust in him -- sitting a mere ten feet away from her, and she had not had a single thought about getting up and leaving before anything like this could happen. For her safety or otherwise.
It was so strange, this feeling; foreign. As a child, she had fallen asleep at inopportune times, but she’d done this with family by her side, watching over her, acting as protectors from harm.
What did this say about Kaz, now? Should she have feared this, him, the night before? Or was he acting as her protector, too?
Regardless, it was so strange to wake up in a familiar place that wasn’t her own. Many things had changed, since she’d fallen asleep here last night; though, she imagined she’d be particularly hung up on the blanket he’d laid over her for quite a long time.
As well as this, he’d moved the half empty bowl of popcorn from the coffee table, and the television in front of her was muted. He had switched the screen from the documentary they’d been watching to some sitcom on cable, which was startling in and of itself. Did Kaz Brekker watch lighthearted television in his spare time? How else would he know which channel to turn to?
Too close to the forefront of her mind, she wondered what he’d done the previous night. Had he gone to sleep? Had he stayed up and started working? When had he gotten up and began changing things? How long had the blanket been there, and which hidden cabinet had he pulled it from?
Blearily, she rubbed her eyes and sat up. The blanket was not tucked over her shoulders, and the entire half covering her upper body fell and pooled in her lap.
With a glance over at the arm chair he’d previously occupied, she found a partial answer to one of her questions.
There was a blanket there, folded neatly over the armrest. He’d sat out here for at least a brief amount of time after she’d fallen asleep, then. To be fair and realistic, it may not have been for too long; however, this revealed that he’d planned on sitting for a while, at least.
What did it matter to her, though, whether or not he’d stayed? The doors were locked, the windows were shut. The whole apartment was safe as could be, whether they were together or apart.
“Did you sleep alright?” a voice called from the kitchen, a sudden call back to reality.
She turned her head and looked over in his direction. He was by the stove, his back turned to her.
“I think so,” she said, keeping her unfocused eyes trained somewhere in his general direction.
She tried to think back on the events of the night before, to trace some sort of connection between being awake and watching the movie and when she’d woken up moments ago, but there was truly nothing there. No memory of falling asleep, no dreams, no waking up for any reason.
No nightmares.
Everything she was able to bring forth about this night was getting stranger. She felt truly terrible about wondering when things were going to take their turn for the worse, like they were in some sort of hand-constructed horror movie. It only made sense that they would; anything else was too good to be true.
Another part of her was jumping for joy, knowing this certainly wasn’t something he’d allow with just anyone. They had already made their feelings about each other very clear, but it was relieving to know that those feelings meant something to him, and that their presence could actually influence the way he treated her, on occasion.
“You fell asleep with twenty minutes left on the film,” he started, leaning against the counter. “I got the blanket out after it ended--”
“--blankets,” she corrected, stressing the last syllable with a grin.
He shut his eyes, sighing much louder than she believed was required to get his annoyance across. “If you’d like for me to start taking care of myself, as you’re so adamant about, I would appreciate if you wouldn’t point out every small thing which makes it look like I’ve abandoned order altogether,” he grumbled, turning and walking back over to the stove.
There was another moment before he began speaking once more. She was fairly certain he was mocking her, grumbling silently and pulling faces as he walked.
“But yes, blankets,” he said slowly. He picked something up and brought it over the pan, causing the sound coming from the stove to grow louder. “I watched a couple of things from the list you made, after you fell asleep. I got up around thirty minutes ago,” he explained, as if he’d heard every one of those questions in her mind. “We’re having pancakes for breakfast. There are strawberries and whipped cream in the fridge, if you want them. They’ll be done in a few minutes.”
She wasn’t sure which part of this run-down version of the past twelve hours was more startling: the mere thought of being allowed to stay the night; him apparently having stayed with her; or watching as he cooked something meant to be enjoyed, rather than just to make his stomach stop growling.
After his request to not point things out, she thought about not asking. But, seeing as this was an example of not necessarily taking care of himself, but rather taking care of her, she figured it was alright.
“Did you sleep out here?” she asked, forcing her voice to betray no true emotion on the matter.
Another loud sigh, pulling the cabinet above the stove open and picking out two plates from the right side. “I did no sleeping last night, Inej.”
“But you stayed out here for the whole night,” she inquired, spoken as a statement rather than a question. She could argue, and he seemed to forget how stubborn she was each time they started. It was funny, almost.
He set the plates down on the counter with a click, moving awfully quiet for the task at hand.
“I would’ve stayed awake the whole night, anyway,” he admitted, now working beside the stove rather than over it. “But yes, I stayed out here in case you woke up. I didn’t…” he trailed off.
His movements betrayed him. This was a common thing, she’d learned; if anything was going to reveal his thoughts involuntarily, it was going to be the rhythm at which he moved. Today, he froze, his shoulders stiffening as though he’d been caught. With what, she was still unsure.
He was probably worn down, after having expressed as much -- as little -- as he had. She was pushing her luck, she knew. But for her sake, and for his sake with her, she needed him to finish speaking.
“You didn’t what?” she asked softly, standing and tugging the throw around her shoulders.
Kaz stopped moving around, for the most part. He shifted to stand still with both of his hands resting on the edge of the counter, leaning into it. From his posture alone, she could tell he was hesitant to speak. It seemed he was nervous, but not angry. Not even truly unwilling to speak. Just nervous; afraid.
“I didn’t want to leave you alone,” he said, voice just barely loud enough for even her to hear. He swallowed hard between his statements, like the truth was building pain in his throat. “In case you woke up and got confused about where you were,”
They both stood where they were for a moment, neither of them daring to move too soon after this confession (though, for two very different reasons, she was sure).
He’d stayed the night out here for her, not even attempting to sleep, just to make sure she wouldn’t wake up alone. Even after the night had ended, once the sun had risen and the day had begun for the rest of the world, he had stayed here simply because he didn’t want her to be afraid. And on top of that, rather than simply going back to working, he had made breakfast.
All of this was special treatment, and it was very clear how intentional it was, now. She’d bet money that this was his first time handling a situation in this way, with this amount of care -- in which case, he was doing a phenomenal job.
Now, weeks later, she thought back to the night on the rooftop. The night she’d told him of her plans to eventually leave Ketterdam, to travel as far as necessary to help as many people as she could. The night he’d asked her to stay with him, thereby revealing something. The night she’d issued her final ultimatum, an impending deal.
“Without armor, or not at all.”
“I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
How far they’d come, in just one single morning. How hard he was trying to take better care of himself, to let go of whatever was holding him back from being known. To finally begin to reveal the reasons he’d always acted upon, but had carried without voicing.
Eventually, his hand curled into a fist against the counter.
From where she stood on the opposite side of the counter and across the kitchen, she could see he was shaking; though, just barely enough to be noticeable from this far away.
She understood, given the circumstances. He wasn’t any more used to him sharing his feelings than she was, not even in ways much less expressive than this. She was proud of him, and if he were anyone else, she would’ve given into the urge to tell him so. He wasn’t, and therefore, she kept her mouth shut.
After a long moment, he cleared his throat and reached out for the plate he’d already set. There were three pancakes stacked on top of each other, a fork resting in the dead center on the top of the pile.
One day, if this happened again, she’d have to show him how to properly put silverware on a full plate. Though this, she imagined, was not the byproduct of years worth of neglecting his own physical health, but the result of growing up under the care of two other boys.
“Also, I didn’t think it would be a smart move to leave my quietest spy alone in my living room through the night,” he said, a wavering smile on his lips as he turned to face her, crossing the kitchen while his hand gripped the plate. His bare knuckles turned white against the head of his cane. “I never know what you’ll get into, given a lack of supervision. Couldn’t give you the chance to find out all of my secrets, Wraith.”
Rather than setting the plate down like he usually would, he held it out to pass it to her.
Their fingers brushing during the exchange was no accident, she could tell.
He turned around rather quickly, walking back to the stove area and putting his own meal on a plate. He left the other few pancakes in a small stack, waiting left over inside of the pan he’d used.
“You can take anything you want from the fridge,” he called over, not even sparing a glance in her direction as she walked to the table, setting her plate down. “Just check the dates on everything. Jesper brought some of it from his house and never took it back home.”
She laughed, because it was simply unbelievably true to Jesper to drop nice things off for Kaz, no matter whether doing so required some extra lying or not. She could never tell Kaz that this was likely what Jesper was doing, lest she risk causing their next argument, herself.
She walked back into the kitchen and began looking through the fridge, pulling out the things she thought she may use.
Moments later, she found herself standing at the kitchen counter, cutting strawberries into fourths. She laughed while Kaz attempted to soften butter in the microwave, cursing with words she’d never heard before as it melted into something more liquid than usable.
If this was what he was like without that wall, this was the version of him she wanted to know.