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Kaz woke first, but then again, he always woke first. Growing up in a hoard of fosters had meant that, if you didn’t want to go to school hungry, you had to be one of the first to get to the food – and Kaz had always known deep down that school would be his ticket out. He couldn’t afford to go hungry. So, he woke early now and probably forever – an old habit that wouldn’t die, a battle not worth fighting.
The apartment living room was still dark, lit by the faint glow of the powered down Xbox and the first graying glimmers of morning sky outside. He’d slept in the recliner again to spare his aching leg, a thick Ketterdam U throw blanket pulled up to his chin. It had been bad last night – so bad, in fact, Kaz had dropped into the chair the moment he’d gotten home from class and quickly realized he wouldn’t be getting back up any time soon. His messenger bag lay abandoned just inside the door.
Inej had texted a couple hours after that. Dinner plans? she’d asked.
Not tonight, sorry, he’d replied. Too busy becoming one with this chair.
Excellent news! I was rooting for you two crazy kids to get together <3, had been Inej’s reply. And even with his entire leg throbbing, Kaz couldn’t help but smirk.
Her understanding alone would have been more than enough, so he had been surprised when his phone vibrated minutes later and he’d pulled up her texts again.
Do you and the chair need dinner? I could bring you something.
He’d almost said no - his pride told him to. She doesn’t want to see you like this, it’d hissed.
But little by little, he was learning just how much his pride lied.
Ok. Yeah. That sounds nice, he’d said. Jesper wasn’t going to be home until late anyway, and he did need to eat. If Inej actually did want to see him like this, he was going to try and take her at her word.
She had arrived within the hour, bundled in fleece layers with her cheeks windblown and her long braid loose over her shoulder – and carrying bags of the sweet and sour noodles he liked best. She’d turned on Netflix and scooched Jesper’s recliner right up next to Kaz’s, sat there with her legs criss-crossed while she ate right along with him. She’d offered to get him tea, offered to get him a hot water bottle, and it took hours, but eventually Kaz came around to the idea – sure, she could bring him a few things.
Apparently that was all the permission Inej needed. She did bring him tea and heat, as well as pain killers and a pillow and a blanket. And then she made peanut butter brownies that honestly smelled so indulgent while they baked that Kaz could have wept. Instead, he’d eaten them in a reverent silence that thankfully she didn’t question while they blazed through episode after episode of Unsolved Mysteries, throwing around and arguing their own theories deep into the night.
At some point, his eyes had begun to droop, and he glanced over at the recliner next to his to see Inej had already fallen asleep, curled up beneath her own blanket in the reclined chair, her body turned towards him and his chair.
And, as tired as he’d been then, it caught him right in the chest. He drew in a quiet breath. This was new. This was the very definition of trust, and Kaz did not for a moment take that for granted. He leaned his head back, letting his eyes fall closed, allowing himself this one moment of perfect, settled peace – the full, satisfied feeling in his stomach, the warmth of the blanket, the girl he trusted trusting him right back. It didn’t even matter to him if she decided to leave before dawn. It wouldn’t undo the fact that she’d felt safe enough to fall asleep in the first place – that, despite all of their damage, they’d made it this far.
But now, in the dim light of the early morning, Kaz found himself smiling at the shadow next to him.
Inej hadn’t left. She was still there.
She had, on a couple occasions, stayed at the apartment through the night, but only ever unintentionally – they’d been eyeballs-deep in catfishing some unsuspecting frat boy with a history of harassing freshmen, and, at one point, the ruse had taken all night to maintain. This was different.
She’d stayed the whole night – for him.
Kaz wasn’t sure what to do with this realization at first, his smile fading away in the dark as the first moments of surprise gave way to the plague that was his memory. Even after all this time, accepting some new form of love was still a struggle at first. Each new relationship milestone came with a laundry list of fresh anxieties: Was this happening just because she felt sorry for him? What did she expect him to do next? Were his needs a burden? Was he a burden? Did she resent his baggage yet? Nazyalensky had said this was normal, given his upbringing, but it certainly didn’t feel that way.
So, he took a moment to get used to it, this waking up not alone. It wasn’t bad – just different. A kind of different that could be good, if he let it. For a quiet moment, he took in the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the utterly peaceful look on her sleeping face.
He was certainly going to try.
He yawned and stretched and scrubbed a hand over his face. What would it be like, Nazyalensky had asked him recently, to choose to believe Inej loves you without expectations or resentment?
It would be a fucking relief, that’s what he’d said. If he really believed it, he’d be able to breathe. He’d be able to just be. His mind wouldn’t be a constant whirl of what do I need to do to not lose this, and he wouldn’t be in knots over noodles and hot water bottles, that’s for sure.
And what would you do differently, she’d wanted to know, if you really believed that was true and you could just be?
Kaz asked himself this question again now, and huffed a sigh when he realized it. Goddamn Nazyalenksy. It was annoying enough to have her voice in his head, and worse when it seemed she was always right. What would you do differently – he’d hold her hand without thinking so hard about it, that’s what he’d do.
So do that.
Goddamn Nazyalensky. Her and her ideas.
With the sun beginning to crest the horizon, its orangey rays piercing the living room window, Kaz shifted his body and reached out a hand – then slid his fingers beneath where Inej’s rested on the arm of the chair. She stirred only a little, lifting her dark eyebrows a moment like that would help heave them open, then she seemed to give up and settle again, her breathing long and even in sleep.
And what would you do differently?
Kaz traced the bump of each of her knuckles while he thought it over. If he was going to trust that she didn’t find his weaknesses a burden, then he was going to choose to believe she’d stayed because she wanted to, instead of out of pity. In which case, he was going to let her stay and sleep as long as she liked. He wasn’t going to look for reassurances. He’d get up, test out his leg, and make himself some coffee, that’s what he’d do. So, that’s what he was going to do.
Slowly, cautiously, Kaz slid his hand from hers, careful not to wake her up.
He was a bit unsteady getting himself out of the chair and onto the support of his cane again, but, all in all, was pleasantly surprised to find that the rest and anti-inflammatories had helped quite a bit. The walk to the bathroom and back was fairly tolerable, though he took extra care to lean heavily onto his cane this morning, and it wasn’t entirely miserable to shuffle around the kitchen for coffee filters and a measuring scoop. And since Inej preferred tea, he filled the kettle, too, while he was at it.
Golden sunlight streamed from the living room through to the kitchen when the kettle sang and the coffeemaker clicked and burbled, its rich, warm aroma filling up every crevice of the apartment. Kaz was fishing out mugs from the cupboard when he heard Inej shift and yawn from the living room. With a cup of black tea in his free hand, he limped back out to the living room.
Inej still had the blanket pulled up to her chin when she gave him a heavy-eyed, drowsy smile. Her raven black hair was an adorable, disheveled mess, loose pieces framing the soft curve of her cheeks as she looked up at him through long, sleep-sticky eyelashes.
“Hi,” Kaz greeted, with a swell of tenderness that almost surprised him.
“Hi,” Inej croaked back, grinning as she stretched.
“You stayed.” Kaz felt his grip on the mug tighten. Tell me it wasn’t a mistake. Tell me you still want this.
“Oops.” Inej’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she shrugged, a feigned innocent gesture that clearly said none of this was a miscalculation. Kaz couldn’t hold back the full smile that split across his face then.
And because he was still fumbling for words, he handed her the cup of tea without a word. Inej cradled the mug in both hands like it was his heart he’d handed her instead. Honestly, it might as well have been.
“How’s your leg?” she asked, softly, and lifted the mug to soft blow across its curls of steam.
“Much improved,” Kaz replied. He wanted to run his fingers through her sleep-ruffled hair. He settled for resting his free hand on the back of the chair above her head, taking a little of the weight off his cane. “Thanks to you,” he added.
“Shh you’ll make the chair jealous,” Inej whispered with a grin, her drowsy blinking still slow and deliberate. Her brown eyes reflected nothing but adoration up at him from her curled up position in the chair. Kaz thought briefly his heart wouldn’t take it, that it hadn’t done the proper stretching and calisthenics to manage this much affection.
What would you do differently?
He wasn’t going to pull back, not this time. Her hair was mere centimeters from his hand – he could have dug his fingertips right into it, scraped his nails against her scalp. Kind of wanted to, actually. He wouldn’t.
But he did slip his index finger beneath a lock of hair near her eye. Let its silky strands slide between two of his fingers as he brushed it back, reveling for a moment in its softness. Inej’s eyelashes fluttered, once, twice – she said nothing.
“Are you hungry?” he asked her, lowly. “I can make something.”
Inej’s eyebrows raised as high as they’d go.
“You’re going to make me breakfast?” she asked, with the kind of eager disbelief that would have Kaz making breakfast any chance he’d get going forward. This girl really needed to raise her standards (just, like, not too fast – he was still catching up).
“Do you like pancakes?” he checked. Inej drew in a breath and clutched her tea mug close, the literal embodiment of a heart-eyes emoji.
“You’re going to make me pancakes?”
Well. That settled it, then.
Back in the kitchen, he helped himself to a cup of coffee before assembling what he needed. Kaz didn’t consider himself particularly adept in the kitchen, but pancakes – anybody could make pancakes. Pancakes could easily feed ten hungry foster kids, plus a good pancake-flipping spectacle could buy you at least a few precious minutes of awed silence in an otherwise cacophonous house.
He didn’t need the spectacle today, though, which was always a welcome relief. Here, he would never stop being grateful for the fact that he could flip on Jesper’s Bluetooth speaker and hear every smooth R&B lyric that reverberated from it and filled the kitchen. Even if he never recognized any of Jesper’s music, just the fact that the apartment was consistently quiet enough that music could be fully enjoyed at all meant that these days he found himself tuning in more and more. He switched it on again today, and then whisked up the baking mix in a mixing bowl while he waited for the skillet on the stove to warm up.
What would you do differently? This was this answer – he was going to tell Nazyalensky about all of this. Kaz was feeling a little proud of himself actually. Proud and distracted enough that he didn’t hear Inej creep up behind him.
He felt her warmth before he heard her, a steadying presence to his left before she reached out a hand, brushing it down his spine as she came to stand next to him. And then, when he didn’t object to her nearness, Inej slid her fingers over his, where he rested against his cane.
This he could get used to. The press of her body against his side while he made her breakfast, her cheek snug against his upper arm. A half-hug, appropriate for people managing hot skillets and batter. Kaz leaned into it as best he could – a silent plea to linger as long as she liked.
And she did.
“Smells good,” Inej hummed against his arm, giving his fingers a squeeze. The batter circles in the frying pan bubbled, waiting to be flipped.
“It’s nothing fancy,” Kaz felt the need to inform her. These were not award-winning pancakes – it was Bisquick. As with all things Kaz-related, she should set her expectations accordingly.
“It’s perfect,” Inej said anyway, her cheek still squished against his arm.
Then, without warning, she tugged on his arm at the same moment she lifted onto her toes. Pulled his body just slightly in her direction, just enough for her to gain access – and brushed a quick kiss to his cheek.
Christ. It had never been more evident how incredibly touch-starved he really was – one brush of her petal-soft lips against his skin, and his heart was about to jack-rabbit out of his chest. She’d kiss him. She’d kissed him without asking, without fretting, without reservation – she’d just kissed him. Right there in the kitchen, right in front of the pancakes. He must have looked utterly flabbergasted because once her feet were flat on the floor again, Inej hid her smile against his shoulder, a blush threatening her cheeks, before she made to step and turn away, as if the embarrassment would overtake her at any second.
What would you do differently? A thousand things – starting with this.
Slowly, deliberately, Kaz set down the spatula and leaned his cane against the counter. Then, with both hands free, he caught her by the arm before she could leave – and turned her to face him directly. Her eyes widened up at him, enormous pools of molten caramel framed in those gorgeous black lashes.
This was happening. He was doing this.
His heart hammered mercilessly, but Kaz didn’t dare stop now that he’d started, not now that his body was barreling forward into the unknown instead of mounting its usual retreat. He just needed to take it slow – needed her to hold still. With the crook of his forefinger, he gently lifted her chin. Inej’s lips parted slightly, a gasp drawn between them.
How many times had he seen this face and had wanted, had ached to do just this? He’d lost count. He’d run it through his mind so many times at this point, bending towards her was practically a choreographed dance. Had never imagined it happening to the smell of burning pancakes, though.
But none of it mattered the moment his lips met the slant of her mouth. Every thought eddied out of him as he felt her body relax against his, felt her fingers twist in the fabric of his t-shirt as she pulled him closer to her, and yes yes, she was kissing him back.
Inej bent with his kiss, almost unsteady on her otherwise impeccably balanced feet. Kaz slid his hand from her arm to the small of her back like his fingers had minds of their own, holding her up, pulling her in, suddenly desperate to get her closer like that would help her know everything he hoped his lips and this kiss would tell her.
Everything is different because of you. I am changed for the better because of you.
The breath he let out when he pulled back was a shaky one – there was really no way to disguise it. He felt flayed open entirely as he opened his eyes to see hers gazing up at him, her lashes fluttering open so close to his own. Her smile was a brilliant slash of teeth framed by glowing cheeks that he’d be cupping and kissing once a shred of reason returned to him. At this exact moment, however, he was too breathless to do much of anything at all.
Which was why he was so grateful when Inej lifted onto her toes to nudge the tip of his nose with hers. Grateful one minute – completely useless the next, because as she nuzzled him, she whispered there, her lips inches from his: “Worth the wait.”
He felt that right down to his toes. Worth the wait. Those words rendered him completely helpless to his body’s impulses. He swore then he’d never make her wait again. Now with both hands, he cupped her face, her cheeks so soft and warm against his fingers, and brought his mouth to hers again—with more confidence now. He felt the smile on her lips soften as she melted into this kiss, felt the breath leave her in a quiet sigh as she clung to him harder than before. His body was awash with desires too long hoarded, his mind a blur of images he’d once tried to force himself to forget: her hair an unbound curtain around them, her lips at his neck, his hands gripping her thighs—
“Oh, my God!”
They broke apart in an instant at the sound of Jesper’s shout and turned to find him with his arms raised above his head like he’d just won a race.
“Finally!” he cried in relief, his arms still aloft. “Finally!”
“All right, all right,” Kaz tried to shoo him off, his face burning. “Calm down.”
“The species will prevail!” Jesper’s enthusiasm had not wavered in the slightest. Inej was laughing with her hands over her face.
“No pancakes for you,” Kaz scowled at his roommate as he took up his cane and spatula again, determined to hide how pleased he was. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for that laugh.
“I’m texting everyone now.” Jesper already had his phone out and was turning away from the kitchen, calling back. “Please, by all means, continue!”
“These can be his pancakes,” Kaz muttered under his breath, scraping burnt cakes from the skillet, and Inej pressed a giggle against his shoulder. It warmed something low in his belly, and he tilted his head down towards hers, still trying to clean out the pan. Just letting her know he wasn’t going to object to more. Just a silent invitation to continue – only if she wanted to.
And – thank all of her Saints – she certainly did.