Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jesper Fahey couldn’t sleep.

This wasn’t a new thing, not really. Jesper could never sleep, even when he was a kid with two loving parents who tucked him into bed every night. Thinking back, he probably interrupted quite a few of his parents late night plans by running into their room at night, announcing that he wanted a story. So it was no surprise that his insomnia didn’t let up when he moved to the hustle and bustle of Ketterdam. Still, his jobs with Kaz often left him so exhausted that he would sometimes just collapse straight onto the bed, dead to the world for at least a few hours. The key word was sometimes.

So was he really surprised to find himself pacing the length of the guest room at the Van Eck mansion?

No he supposed not.

Jesper Fahey couldn’t sleep.

He felt so alive, despite the stillness of the night. His veins still thrummed with the remnants of adrenaline from earlier that day. His eyes gleamed, his hands twitched, his legs carried him in endless circles around the floor. He supposed if he doesn’t stop he might end up wearing another hole in Wylan's newly acclaimed mansion.

Wylan.

Just the memory of the ugly, purple bruises that had littered his merchling’s face was enough to make him want to rush down to the slat right now and drive Anika's head into the wall until she understood some semblance of the pain she inflicted on Wylan. He supposed, begrudgingly, that it wasn’t really her fault, but he couldn’t exactly beat up Kaz. He snorted involuntarily at the idea.

The floorboards beneath his feet creaked and Jesper froze, one foot lifted in the air, listening oot for any indication that someone was disturbed. Just silence. He breathed a sigh of relief and slowly lowered himself onto the bed. Wylan and Inej had been through enough, they didn’t need to be woken by his mindless pacing.

Still though, now that he lacked movement his body seemed to vibrate even more with unused energy. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched the soft -oh so soft- sheets in his fists. There was an itch beneath his skin that burned in its intensity, like a thousand ants crawling and trapped in the boundaries of his body and were trying to bite their way out. He bit his lips in an attempt to not cry out.

He tasted copper in his mouth and he could have cried.

The worst part was that Jesper knew what would help but he also knew he couldn’t go. The gambling dens called out to him, he could hear them singing his name in an eery but oh so tempting melody. He was reminded of the sirens in the stories his Ma used to tell him. He liked to imagine that a siren would take the form of a certain, red haired demolitions expert but the sad, brutally honest part of him knew this was his true temptation. The steady click of Makkers Wheel as it spun in a bright flash of colour, the clink of coins being thrown on a table, the shuffle of cards.

Just one game.. . Just one game and then he’d come home.

He knew he was lying to himself.

Jesper felt like he was being tortured.

He closed his eyes, seeking some form of peace in the darkness but all that came to him was butter, awful memories of that day.

The bloodied corpse of Matthias. Nina's mournful, grief stricken face as she sobbed into his chest. His father’s tired eyes, Wylan’s bruised face.

A blur of shu bodies, coated in metal, the vice like grip around his throat, the horrifying, sinking feeling of despair that he was about to die.

Jesper opened his eyes with a muffled shout, trapping the noise just barely by shoving his fist into his mouth. He trembled violently, tears slipping down his cheeks in swift, silent motions. You learned to cry silently when you were with the Dregs.

For a moment the vision stayed with him and he could almost swear the Kerguud was right there, in his room, hand extended, ready to either kill him or drag him off to suffer a fate worse then death. He sunk his teeth into his fist as the vision faded, relishing in the grounding pain that shot through his hand.

If it hurts, I’m alive.

He pushed himself up shakily and reached his revolvers that he had left on the dresser. He pressed a soft kiss to each barrel, taking a moment to appreciate the comforting weight in his hands. He ran a finger over the engraved designs on the pearl handles. But the comfort didn’t last long and he found himself vibrating again, the itch growing worse.

Oh saints, just one more round would make it all better! Just one, and then he'd come home, no one would even notice he had left. He eyed the window hungrily, despite the current lockdown he just knew there would be a hidden table set up in some dark alleyway, he knew all the secret meeting spots by now. But then he thought of his Da, of the tired, disappointment lining his face, he thought of the distrust in Kaz's expression.

This action will have no echo.

He let a bitter laugh escape from his throat.

Jesper stood again. He had to move. He briskly shut the curtains to the ever inviting window in the hope it might soothe his desire to scale the wall.

Another brief examination of the room brought him the same findings as the last 6 times he had explored it. The bookshelf in the corner, the walk in closet, the large double bed, the empty drawers, the desk shoved up by the window. Everything was bare, plain, empty.

Bit like myself.

He groaned, burying his face in his hands as he stood in the middle of the room. He was torn. He didn’t want to disturb anyone, Saints knew they were probably exhausted by the events of the day and deserved a night of relaxation. On a bed, nonetheless! But at the same time, Jesper was losing his battle with himself. It had been a long time since Jesper had been alone, truly alone, and he could feel it eating up inside him. Just like all the other things that were weighing down on him one by one until eventually he feared he might just collapse under the burden of his failures.

Jesper Fahey couldn’t sleep.

With any luck, maybe someone else was in the same predicament as himself.

He buckled his gun holster around his hips and swiftly holstered the guns. It was a testament to his dreary mood that he didn’t even twirl them around his finger first. He was just so tired.

Jesper slipped quietly out of the guest room Wylan has shown him and made his way softly down the corridor, trying to remember the one Wylan had said he planned on taking. He loved Inej, he truly did, but he wasn’t in the mood for tea and philosophical Suli proverbs. No, he needed something else.

Or someone else.

He rapped his knuckles softly against the door of the bedroom he hoped belonged to Wylan. Jesper may not be in the mood for Inej's quiet concern but he could certainly do without Alys' singing. He might just jump out the window if that happened, at least then no one could really blame him.

He heard a rustle of sheets and then a bang, followed by a muffled curse. Jesper bit back a smile, definatly Wylan's room.

The door opened with a creak and Wylan stuck his head out the gap, blinking blearily.  It had only been a day since Genya had restored his original face to him and Jesper just couldn’t get enough of it. While he may not have been able to complain, per say, about Kuwei's looks, there was something about the sweep of his red-gold curls, pale skin dotted by a starry expanse of freckles and those wide, Zemini sky eyes of his that made Jesper go slightly weak at the knees. Jesper didn’t swoon, that was a fact, but Wylan made him feel like the whole world was tilting off-axis. It was dizzying, weightless and oh so freeing.

The medik had been and gone while Jesper was whiling away the hours in his room and apart from the slight crook of his nose and a thin, pale scar along his jaw he looked just the same as he had done when he had stood in front of a hotel window, face lit up by fireworks. When he had told Jesper to breathe and then kissed him senseless. He honestly hadn't thought the merchling had it in him. Not that Jesper was complaining, not at all.

He had offered to stay with him while the medik tended to him but a flustered, red faced Wylan had shoved him firmly out of the room, mumbling something about wanting to be shirtless with him under much different circumstances. Jesper could barely contain the smile that spread across his face at the memory.

Wylan blinked up at him sleepily, “hello,” he murmured, opening the door wide and stepping back to let Jesper into his room. Jesper felt uncharacteristically awkward so he settled for leaning against the door frame, admiring the view in front of him. “Hi,” he replied softly.

Wylan's narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “are you okay? Are you hurt?” He shifted slightly, hands fiddling with the hem of his nightshirt.

Jesper's eyes followed their movements, “what makes you think something’s wrong?” his fingers drummed on whatever surface they could reach, his guns, his arms, the door. Wylan snorted, “Well I’ve just invited you into my room and you haven’t said a single innuendo for one,” he looked Jesper up and down, expression softening slightly, “and you look like crap, come in.” He stepped back further, waving a hand towards the end behind him. Jesper followed him into the room and slumped down on the edge of the mattress, his earlier restlessness was gone. Now he was just tired.

Wylan sat down next to him hesitantly, their hands brushing. Even that small touch seemed to make sparks explode from somewhere within him. “So?” He prompted, nudging Jesper with his shoulder, “what’s up?”

Jesper ignored him, “how are you feeling?” He asked instead, gesturing at the other boy’s ribs. Wylan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly but he shrugged, “loads better, they don’t hurt anymore but I’ve been told to go easy for another few days at least, just to be sure.”

“Does that mean no merchling downpayments?” Jesper teased, delighting in the the ruby red blush that burned Wylan's cheeks.

“Stop trying to distract me.” He muttured, trying and failing to sound indignant. Jesper sighed and looked down, “I can’t sleep.” He said finally.

“Okay?”

Jesper shrugged, a movement that felt too careless considering the torment of emotions threatening to tear him apart, “I can’t… settle. Everything feels so wrong and alive and,” he hesitated, “the urge to gamble away my worries is just so strong and I’m not sure how much longer I can resist it.” He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the earnest look in the other boy’s eyes.

Wylan knew so little about Jesper and he was terrified of what he would think if he truly knew what lay under the jokes and casual smiles.

I think your angry and scared.

Yeah, you and me both Matthias.

Oh Matthias…

Jesper pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, drawing a shuddering breathe. “So much happened today, Matthias, Nina, my father, the Kerghuud.” He felt more tears slipping out of his eyes, trailing down his cheeks in a treacherous show of emotion.

So much for not scaring him away.

He stiffened when he felt soft hands cupping his face, thin fingers gently wiping away his tears.

He lowered his hands from his eyes, staring directly into the endless blue of Wylan's. His eyes shimmered with his own unshed tears and Jesper felt a sudden rush of affection for the other boy.

“Yeah, you’re right, a lot did happen today.” He whispered, his thumbs swirling over Jesper's cheekbones, “so much happened today. Everything went exactly as planned, except for where it all went wrong. I miss Matthias, I really do.” Wylan’s eyes closed briefly and then he was shuffling forward, knees knocking against Jesper's.

We were all supposed to make it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever truly be able to accept the fact that he’s gone, but the reality of the situation is that he is, and that he died trying to save a lot of people’s lives, particularly ours.”

How very heroic of him, Jesper thought bitterly, but he didn’t say anything so Wylan continued.

“Nina will be okay. She’s strong. She’ll grieve for a long time I'm sure, maybe she’ll never truly stop grieving, but in the end she’ll be okay. She won’t stop fighting. For us, for Grisha, for Matthias. He would be proud of her. He was proud of her.”

Wylan hesitated then and Jesper knew what he was going to say next. He nodded encouragingly, he didn’t realise just how grounding Wylan’s voice could be but with each reassuring word that fell from his lips Jesper could feel himself relaxing, cooling down. He was still, apart from the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on Wylan’s thighs. He hadn’t even noticed he had moved his hand from the bed. He didn't think Wylan minded all that much.

“As for your father… you messed up Jes, a lot. But what matters is that you’re trying. He loves you, so much Jes, and I know you’ll fix things between you two. He hasn’t given up on you and I don’t think he ever will. He’s seen you for what you truly are now  but he’s still around. If you can both survive this, survive today and all the truths that have been revealed I'm sure you’ll survive anything else.”

Jesper was crying again, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. A soft sound left Wylan’s lips and he pulled Jesper towards him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Jesper buried his face into the crook of Wylan’s neck and cried, like he’d needed to for years but never had the chance. His fists gripped tightly onto the fabric of Wylan’s shirt, as if he would disappear into thin air if he so much as relaxed his hold. Vaguely he registered Wylan humming a Kaelish tune, his fingers tracing light patterns on his back, cheek pressed into his hair.

Once the sobs had subsided enough that he could think clearly again he pulled away, suddenly embarrassed by his show of weakness. Wylan however, seemed to think differently, holding him tightly by his shoulders, refusing to allow Jesper to put too much distance between them. He allowed one hand to relinquish his grip on Jesper, bringing it up to softly wipe away the newly collected tears. Their faces were so close now that Jesper could feel Wylan's breathe ghosting over his lips as he spoke.

“And as far as I’m concerned, I wouldn’t worry any more about the Kerghuud, their gone, the ones already here destroyed and Shu Han knows now not to try and send anymore otherwise we will ban all their trade lines. They won’t risk that for a few Grisha they could get elsewhere. Besides, if they couldn’t get you when you were unprotected and vulnerable in the barrel they won’t be able to get you now.” Wylan shot him a mischievous smile, “I won’t let them.”

Jesper didn't have the heart to tell him they nearly did get him, and would've if it hadn't been for sheer, dumb luck. All of his skills, both as a Fabrikator and a sharpshooter just weren’t good enough any more. He was also starting to wonder if he actually was a talented shooter or if his prowess on the battle field was soley due to his gifts. It felt wrong that the one thing he truly loved about himself was because of the one part of him that made him feel utterly sick.

So he forced a smile onto his face and said lightly, “oh really? And what, are you gonna beat them up yourself?”

Wylan’s face brightened, “yep!” he said cheerfully,  popping the p. He lifted his other hand from Jesper’s shoulder and flexed, showing off his non-existent muscles, “they wouldn't stand a chance against these!”

Jesper laughed at that, truly laughed, throwing his head back as his loud voice bounced off the walls. This was the second time that night that Wylan had made him laugh like that, in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He felt lighter, happier, his cheeks and stomach hurting from the force of it. It was a pain he was more then happy to experience again.

“Saints you are something Wylan, I’ll give you that,” he chuckled, shaking his head affectionately. Wylan beamed at that, looking faintly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected quite a reaction. He shuffled closer, the hand that had been on Jespers cheek having slipped down to his collarbone, giving it a light squeeze, “you called me Wylan,” he murmured, not needing to speak any louder due to how close they were. Jesper hummed non-commitedly, lightly tapping the end of Wylan’s -now slightly crooked- nose with his forefinger, “my mistake merchling, won’t happen again.” Wylan huffed in pretend frustration, betrayed by the soft smile that graced his lips. He leaned even closer, his lips just barely brushing Jesper's as he spoke, “I like it when you call me Wylan.”

Jesper shivered.

Well helll.

He tilted his face ever so slightly, as that was all he needed, pressing a light kiss to Wylan's lips, “whatever you want Wylan,” he murmured against his mouth, “Saints, anything you want, it’s yours.” I’m yours.

Wylan made a soft noise that had Jesper’s breathe catch in his throat and pressed himself closer to him, chests flush, reciprocating the kiss with ferocious enthusiasm.

And saints, if the first kiss was fireworks, this one was an explosion. One of Wylan’s, he managed to think, with violet flames and heat so intense he could have melted on the spot. Sparks flew from every inch of him that Wylan touched, his skin seemed to burn under Wylan’s fingers.

Wylan slowly moved his hands from where they were gripping Jesper's neck and slid them down to his chest, pushing firmly until Jesper got the hint and flopped back against the bed, pulling Wylan down with him until he was straddling his waist. Jesper opened his eyes when they broke apart for air, chests heaving in tandem.

“Saints" he breathed, eyes wide as he took in the sight before him. When he had first seen Wylan in the tannery he had thought he looked like a prince. But here, blue eyes bright with anticipation, a wide smile on his perfect lips, cheeks flushed a darker shade of red then his curls, well he looked like one of Inej's Saints. “Your fucking gorgeous Wy.”

Wylan’s cheeks flushed an even darker red, completely blotting out his delightful freckles, but he still leaned down, lips brushing Jesper's jaw, “what was that you said about a steep fee?” He murmured, pressing a deceivingly chaste kiss under his ear.

Oh hell.

Jesper's last coherent thought, as Wylan’s hand trailed down his side, was that he never wanted to be anywhere else, nowhere but here, in Wylan's arms.

Home.

He told him so, later that night when they were curled together under the blankets, Wylan’s face tucked into his chest, Jesper's buried in his thoroughly messed up curls. He didn’t think he heard him, until he felt him smile against the bare skin of his chest, humming contentedly.

Jesper Fahey couldn't sleep.

At least, normally he couldn’t, but here, wrapped in the arms of the most amazing boy he had ever met, Jesper slept more soundly then he ever had in his life.

Jesper Fahey couldn't sleep.

But that was before he met Wylan Van Eck.

Chapter Text

Jesper's first thought, as he gradually began to return to the world of the living was that he had forgotten to close the curtains. The sun had just about breached the horizon, long rays turning the world both inside and outside of the guest room into a hazy gold. It had reached just the right height for the full flaming white ball of nope to be just in Jesper’s line of vision, burning holes right into his brain. He squinted uselessly.

His second thought was that he was in a bed.

A soft, overstuffed bed with heavy blankets sitting on top of him and a silk pillow under his head. Jesper had found his way into a fair number of beds during his time in Ketterdam, but never one this luxurious.

For a moment he was confused, blinking blearily against the sun’s assaulting brightness. He wondered briefly if his Fabrikator powers would be enough to close the saints-forsaken curtains.

His third realisation of the morning was the wasn’t alone in the magnificent bed. A body was clinging to him from behind, arms wrapped around his waist and a face buried between his shoulder blades. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Jesper felt a smile work it’s way onto his face as he gradually recalled the events of last night. The moment sobbing in Wylan’s arms was less then ideal, he cringed as he remembered that particular detail, but the moments after was probably one of the best times of his life. Sure he'd been with plenty of people before, but this was Wylan. Wylan who had been with him at the Ice Court, who'd helped steal a saints-forsaken tank, had lied to his father on his behalf, had been interested in his powers and had let him, a mess of a gambling addict, into his life and home. Wylan who had felt like a spark from the moment he met him, a spark that grew and grew until it was a raging inferno that threatened to overwhelm him every time he so much as looked at the little genius. Jesper knew he didn’t deserve someone as brilliant as Wylan, but Jesper was a barrel rat through and through and since when did a barrel rat care about what they did or didn't deserve? It was selfish of him, he knew it, but Jesper never wanted to let Wylan go, he wanted him right here, in his arms and in his life.

There was movement from behind him and the arm around his waist tightened just a fraction. The smile on his face split into a wide grin and he turned his head as much as he could without moving the rest of him, “I know your awake Merchling,” he murmured, wishing he could see Wylan's face properly, if only to get a glimpse of the blush he knew would be blooming.

The arms tightened again, “how did you know?” Wylan complained, his voice muffled by Jesper's back.

Jesper bit his lip slightly, his grin widening even more, saints Wylan's raspy morning voice had no reason to sound that good. He cleared his throat before speaking, “your breathing changes when your awake.”

There was a pause, and then Wylan snuggled further into Jesper, “no it doesn't.” He mumbled, tangling his legs with Jesper's in an almost protective manner.

Jesper chuckled to himself and then shifted, turning over in Wylan's arms so that he could face the little merch. He slung his own arms over Wylan's shoulders and pressed a soft kiss to his mass of ruddy curls, “hi,” he murmured softly, not willing to properly break the silence. Wylan moved his head slightly, so that Jesper could see his face -and he had been correct, Wylan was blushing- and a soft smile wove it’s way onto his lips. “Hi,” he said back, amusement dancing in his blue eyes. Saints those eyes, Jesper would happily drown in the sea of Zemini sky looking up at him, and he almost felt like he would except then Wylan was reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into a kiss.

Jesper would never get tired of kissing Wylan. His lips were soft and warm and they moved over his own with an eagerness that made his heart flip. His hand on Jesper’s cheek burned like it was a scalding iron but Jesper didn’t care, all that mattered to him was the boy in front of him that had seen Jesper at some of his worst, most weakest moments and still deemed him worthy of this kind of affection.

At some point Jesper was smiling too much that the kiss was no longer really a kiss and Wylan pulled away, raising a perfect eyebrow, “someone's happy,” he remarked easily, his thumb brushing tiny circles on his cheek.

Jesper made a noise in agreement and hugged Wylan closer, the press of his warm body against his own made Jesper's own cheeks heat up slightly, not that he’d ever admit it.

Wylan squirmed against him, “I need coffee Jes.”

Jesper hugged him tighter.

“Jes,” Wylan wiggled, managing to loosen Jesper’s grip on him and sit up, “I really should get up.”

Jesper responded by shoving Wylan back down against the bed and plopped down on top of him, causing Wylan to let out a huff of air on impact, “Ghezen your heavier then you look,” he grumbled, giving futile nudges against his shoulders.

Jesper wrapped his arms around him tighter, “just means I’ve got you trapped here forever,” he grinned, pressing a light kiss to his chest.

Wylan let out an exaggerated sigh, “oh no, whatever should I do now,” he murmured, bringing a hand up to stroke Jesper's hair, “just a few more minutes, then we really do need to get up.”

Jesper nodded, already feeling his eyelids growing heavier. He let himself relax, feeling the rise and fall of Wylan's chest beneath him, the soft movements of his long fingers in his hair.

Home, he thought again, before the warm embrace of sleep pulled him down again.

~♧~

Wylan shot Jesper a deadpan stare over the top of his coffee, “we're not painting the entrance hall green" he said flatly, giving Jesper's lime green waistcoat a pointed look.

Jesper smoothed down the front of his waistcoat, almost self consciously, -it was a very nice waistcoat thank you very much merchling- “Okay, I don’t mean that kind of green, although it would look really cool, but maybe a darker green, like the leaves on that big tree over there, or Nina's eyes or that weird thing in the bowl,” (he later learned it was a cucumber)

Wylan raised an eyebrow, “did you seriously recommend Nina's eyes?”

“Their very nice eyes,” he defended.

“Should I be getting jealous that you want to paint the entrance hall the same colour as Nina's eyes?”

“Well we can’t paint it the colour as mine that would be boring.”

Wylan blinked, then looked from Jesper to the entrance hall in question, “that’s not a bad idea.” He said slowly, and Jesper could already see the start of a scheming face forming.

He groaned, “you can’t paint the entrance hall grey merchling! That’s such a dreary colour!”

Wylan looked back at him with narrowed eyes, “well pick a better colour then green or I will.”

Jesper stood up from his chair, coffee abandoned on the table, and approached the defiant little merch, “alright then,” he said, leaning against the table in front of Wylan, who shot him a suspicious look, “why don’t you paint it blue?”

Wylan wrinkled his nose, “blue? Why that colour? And what kind of blue? There’s hundreds of different shades of blue you can’t just say blue”

There goes the little artist, Jesper thought fondly. Personally he didn’t care what shade of blue, but he thought it best to indulge the merchling. And so what if it was cute seeing how passionate he got over colours?

“I have a shade of blue in mind,” he said slowly, giving Wylan a pointed look. Wylan looked down at the brown sweatervest he was wearing and back up at Jesper, “I’m not wearing any blue,” he said with a raised brow, as if was obvious. Jesper chuckled, “I’m not talking about clothes merchling,” Wylan furrowed his brows in thought -which was unbelievably endearing- until Jesper decided to take pity on him and reached a finger down to stroke under one of his beautiful eyes.

Wylan blinked, “oh.” Then he frowned again, “why is it you can paint the entrance hall the colour of my eyes but I can’t paint it the colour of yours?”

Jesper was certain he was going to split his cheeks from smiling so much.

He leaned over, ghosting a kiss over said enchanting eyes, “because dearest,” he murmured, “your eyes are...” everything. They were the Zemini sky at midday, the lake when the sun hit it at the right angle, the ocean on a warm summer’s day. They were the flash of a Blue Jay, flittering just out of sight, the glint of the sapphires (fake or otherwise) that his Ma braided into her hair.

“Your eyes remind me of home,” he settled on, pressing a kiss to his cheek before straightening, “and mine are just plain old grey.”

Wylan's eyes were still closed for a moment, and when they opened they were filled with an indescribable emotion, “alright,” he said softly, not once breaking the eye contact, “we'll paint it blue and grey, because I happen to like your eyes a lot.”

Jesper grinned down at him, it was an embarrassing thought to have, but he couldn’t help thinking, whatever was he doing before this? How could he have lived a life without Wylan in it and thought he was happy?

He leaned down again and tipped Wylan's face up with a hand on his chin, “whatever you want Wylan,” he whispered again, “anything you want, it’s yours.” He paused, and this time he said the thought that had bloomed in his head, “I’m yours.”

He didn’t need to see Wylan’s face to know he was smiling, he felt it against his own lips.

And wasn’t that enough?