Work Text:
Quiet Mornings (Are His Treasured Time With Her)
Kaz has had half a semester of waking up to the sound of Inej in his flat and he can’t imagine living without it. He will never openly admit it, he will never dare to fully think such a treacherous thought. But it is a thought that he lingers on, allowing it to permeate the barest wisps of thought as he wakes up each morning in a familiar routine.
Each morning starts with pain.
The cramping in his leg from a bone that was not quite set correctly and never could be.
The aching in his back from pouring over a laptop keyboard for hours on end only to crash and wake up and do it again in a desperate attempt to make rent.
The soreness he’s grown accustomed to lingering in the back of his eyelids from staring into blue light for up to half his day.
The dryness in the back of his throat from his habit of not drinking anything before bed.
The sweet tune of a low alto warming up, speaking tongues in a language Kaz has not yet learned but is attempting.
The gentle rumble of a coffee pot that should have been replaced ages ago, but because it has not yet brewed its last batch Kaz has refused to throw it out yet.
The hiss of hot oil meeting something else.
And the near perfect silence as his Inej moves about the kitchen, her existence only betrayed by the hiss and clatter of the pan as she cooks, and the gentle click of ceramic on marble countertops as she sets down their usual morning mugs.
Listening to Inej was a guilty pleasure of his, and one he indulged in freely as he readjusted himself to another day of existence. It is only when he hears the cabinet that holds their plates open- and the one squeaky hinge neither of them have bothered to fix- squeals its protests, that he finally throws the covers off and swings his legs out of bed.
His leg offers an immediate protest, but he pushes the pain down into the back of his mind as he reaches for his cane. Once it's in his hands, he levers himself up and makes his way to his closet.
Deodorant is applied, and then he dresses quickly and quietly. All the while he listens to the backdrop of sounds in the kitchen.
Inej makes no noise, but even her mysterious power of silence cannot affect everything she interacts with. There is still a soft sizzle as she cooks. There is still the lack of it when she moves the contents of the pan to a plate. The rollers in their drawers still rumble softly as she pulls it open to get a fork. The grumbling of their coffee pot pauses for a moment when it runs out, and it clicks as she frees the pot from its grasp. The hum of the fridge when she opens it to get creamer for her coffee, and the soft whisk of air when it closes as she returns it.
He is finely attuned to the noises that Inej does, or rather doesn’t, make as she moves around their shared flat. He’s had plenty of time to get used to it, to indulge in the day to day pleasure of living and sharing his residence with one of his closest… friends.
Friend is both a tentatively ambition and underwhelming word for what he feels for Inej.
What he is scared to feel for Inej.
He checks his tie as he walks out of his bedroom, thumb running down the center as he makes sure it’s centered. His cane swings freely in the crook of his elbow, and he keeps his footsteps purposefully light as he makes his way down the hall.
Now that he is closer he can hear Inej’s voice, soft little hums to a tune that he has never quite deciphered. As he rounds the corner he catches her dancing quietly across the kitchen floor. Her feet clad in mismatched no-show socks, her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, and the dawn sunlight streaming through the open windows to backlight her.
“Good morning.” Kaz greets her, trying to ignore the rush of something in his gut as he sees the smile on her lips, and how the sunlight shines through her hair.
She looks stunning. Kaz worships no god, but Inej makes him wonder if Saints in the least exist.
She doesn’t startle, not even in the subtle Inej way, in which her hand twitches for one of her concealed knives. No, she just smiles again, humming and nodding her head towards a steaming mug of coffee that she left on the counter. He picks it up gratefully, leaning against the counter as he takes his first sip of caffeine.
He used to drink cheap instant coffee because it was cost effective and it worked. Inej threw it out a week after moving in, bought a glass container and filled it with her choice coffee brand. It wasn’t a brand he knew, and he never managed to glimpse the bag before she emptied it into the container and tossed it. It was a mystery, but one of the few he was willing to let lie.
He closes his eyes, taking another sip and trying to relax as he lets the scalding hot liquid burn down his throat and the caffeine soak into his barely awake system.
“I still don’t know how you drink it black.”
He exhales, taking a long breath before he joins her at the table.
Originally he didn’t have one. He ate at the counter before her, and before her his kitchen was mostly just a place to store leftovers and alcohol. Now there were actual ingredients and spices floating around his cabinets. He had a table with a leaf in it so it could expand to fit nearly all of their little group. He even had dishes for all of them, mismatched they may be. But he and Inej made it work, and the dishes matched in sets of two so it was good enough.
“Practice and practicality.” He sets his mug down again, leaning back in his chair and extending his bad leg.
Inej wordlessly kicks one of the other chairs over, and he lifts his leg up onto the chair cushion. He hangs his cane on the arm of his chair and leans back.
“Any jobs today?”
Kaz shakes his head slowly, turning his gaze from Inej to his coffee. He sips it, savoring the taste the same way he savors her company.
She reaches out, sliding a plate towards him. Pancakes. Three plain ones stacked neatly on a black plate with a fork laid across the rim. Kaz slides it the rest of the way over, grunting his thanks as he picks up the fork.
His plate matches hers.
It is an idle thought, but a thought nonetheless, mostly because he can’t figure out if it is an intentional coordination, or a convenient coincidence. He only has six plates, all bought in pairs at thrift stores or yard sales because he hasn’t had any reason to get a matching full set. It hadn’t been an issue.
Until all of their friends started pairing up, and making a point to match plates whenever they came over to Kaz and Inej’s shared flat. Nina and Matthias got the red pair, Jesper and Wylan the purple, and that left Kaz and Inej with the plate set.
The same black set that is sitting on his table, one on his side, one on hers.
“Scheming face.”
Kaz rolls his eyes as he cuts into one of his pancakes. “Thinking face.”
“Same difference.”
“Different purposes.”
She flicks her eyes from her breakfast to him. “And what are you thinking about Kaz Brekker?”
You.
“Have you heard Dean Nikolai’s latest idea?” Kaz replies, because if he doesn’t redirect this conversation quickly, he’s going to let something slip that neither of them are ready to talk about.
And he isn’t ready to tell her about those feelings floating around in his chest. Not yet.
Possibly not ever.
But most assuredly not when he is trying to enjoy the thrill and the quiet company he has come to cherish in the wee hours of the morning. When it is just them at the table, matching plates between them, and their world has not yet awoken enough to begin complicating their day with classes, jobs, friends and obligations.
“Something about auditing the professors?”
“Auditing their taxes. Apparently someone let him know that some of his employees have secondary incomes that may not be precisely legal.”
Inej’s eyes flash with fire. “Oh?”
“He’ll be going through each department one at a time, very in depth I imagine. A purging of sorts is coming. He’s already starting interviews for replacement teachers.”
Inej takes a bite of her pancakes, humming softly as she digests the information. “Heleen?”
“Oh I imagine that her books look quite messy.” Kaz cuts another bite off his own pancake. “Shame, I hear he’s starting with her Department.”