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The first night it happened, he didn’t hear her come in.
He never did with Inej. She was silent, the inverse of him when it came to her presence. The click of his cane and heavy boot steps made it impossible for him to sneak up on anyone, but Inej was a shadow in a dark corridor.
He was in bed, the lights off. His cane rested against the nightstand within easy reach. This was the only place he could truly be bare– free of his gloves and heavy clothes, clothed just in a dark shirt and pants. His sheets are rough from multiple washes, but they’re safe. He likes the roughness of them– it’s grounding, and he knows the moment he wakes exactly where he is when he feels them with his hands.
Inej’s presence was only realized when he felt the dip of the bed behind him. He rolled, cane in hand, ready to strike the intruder, but Inej’s dark eyes met him in the dim light, and he stopped.
“Hello, Inej,” he said. What was she doing here? He felt the impulsive need to cover up; he set the cane down and grabbed his gloves, pulling them on.
Her hair was down. It rarely was, nor was seeing her without her sleek jacket. She still had her knives, the holy relics of a saint, but she was wearing a loose shirt and high-waisted pants. Her brows were furrowed slightly as she looked at him.
She didn’t say anything. She moved one of the pillows with the tips of her long fingers so it rested between them on the bed, then curled up with her back to him.
Kaz watched her. She had the delicate floral smell of the Menagerie clinging to her; he assumed that was where she’d come from. He worked his jaw back and forth slowly before he laid down again with his back to her.
When he woke, she was gone. But the pillow remained next to him on the bed, and the faint smell of perfume. It was the only thing that made him sure it wasn’t a dream.
It became a routine. It wasn’t every night, but he would feel the bed dip behind him, and he would feel her place the pillow between them before she curled up and fell asleep. She was always gone before he woke up; they didn’t talk about it. But he felt her gaze on him linger like smoke after a fire is put out.
He learned her patterns. She always slept curled up in a ball. She never left a knife on the nightstand; they remained with her, even in sleep. Her hair was always freshly washed, like she was trying to hide the smell of the perfume of the Menagerie. She made no noises when she slept, but she would fidget. He wondered sometimes what she dreamed about. He never asked.
He started putting the pillow in the middle of the bed, even on nights when she didn’t come in. If Inej noticed, she said nothing, just curled up on top of the threadbare blankets and went to sleep like she always did.
𓄿 𓄿 𓄿
There wasn’t anything different about this time. They’d done a job, it had gone well, and Kaz had stopped in the Crow Club to get a drink. Jesper was across the club from him, enjoying a drink and laughing with a red-haired man who was looking at Jesper in a way that made it clear he was going to be the conquest of the night. Kaz watched Jesper put his arm around the man, leaning over to whisper something in his ear.
The closeness between them looked so easy. Kaz took a sip from his cup. Jealousy curled deep in his chest. He would never have that in his life. It had been an accepted fact in his life for so long, and he’d been fine with that. But watching Jesper now conjured unbidden thoughts in his mind of being able to have that kind of intimacy with someone– not the kind of bold affection he’d always known Jesper for, but the simple feeling of a warm hand in his. Inej’s hand, he knew. He pursed his lips and left his drink unfinished at the bar before retreating upstairs.
It wasn’t even about sex, he thought as he stripped out of his day clothes. If Kaz was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he was even interested in sex. But he wanted closeness. He wanted to be laid bare in front of someone, free of his armor. No gloves, no pillows between them. Just the silent intimacy of safety with someone who knew him well enough to love him with all his flaws on display.
He washed thoroughly and put on his clean clothes before walking back into his bedroom. He made his bed with fresh sheets, like he did every night, and paused when he was putting the pillows back on the bed. He looked down at the pillow in his hand that he usually placed between himself and Inej. Was it her armor or his, though? He hesitated before he put it down in the middle of the bed, then slid under the blankets.
It was late when Inej climbed onto the bed. Kaz considered saying nothing, doing nothing, before he rolled over. “Inej.”
Inej hesitated before she rolled over to look at him. Her brows furrowed slightly with concern. Did she think he was going to ask her to leave? He hesitated for a long moment, just holding her gaze, before he touched the pillow between them.
“Can I move this?” he whispered.
Inej looked at the pillow before she looked up at him. “Yes,” she breathed.
He moved slowly, afraid he’d break the spell and ease between them as he lifted the pillow and set it at the foot of the bed. He laid back, facing Inej and meeting her gaze again. She looked at him warily for a long time, unsure what he was going to do next.
“Goodnight, Inej,” Kaz finally said. He rolled over so his back was facing her again. Silence fell over them, and Kaz thought Inej might’ve fallen asleep. He listened to the sound of her breathing. When she answered, he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not.
“Goodnight, Kaz.”
He’d never slept more peacefully.
𓄿 𓄿 𓄿
It became part of the routine after that. Inej would come into the room and curl up on the bed. They’d say goodnight to each other, and that would be it. She would still be gone in the morning before he woke, and they’d still sleep without anything between them. Inej slept on top of the blankets, and Kaz under them, but she never complained. She never said anything about it except goodnight, Kaz.
He woke up one night to an unexpected noise, which immediately set him on edge. Inej was as silent in sleep as she was in all things, but her breathing was staccato and harsh now, her delicate brows furrowed and her jaw clenched. Kaz pushed himself up into a sitting position.
“Inej,” he said, but she did not wake. “Inej,” he repeated, a little louder. But still, she didn’t wake. She made the sound again, and Kaz realized she was crying.
He thought about reaching out to shake her awake, but the line between them on the bed was not one he would dare cross. Their safety relied on it, the easy trust they’d built up was founded on that untouched space on the bed. Panic lurched unpleasantly in his chest– he doesn’t know how to help her.
He did the next thing he could think of, which was hit his hand against the mattress to jostle her a bit.
He’d expected her to be surprised, startled awake. He expected fear, but that’s not what he got. He got the Wraith instead, Inej’s eyes wide and a knife in her hand like it had flown there. Her breath was ragged as she tried to register where she was. Kaz’s gaze remained on her face. “Inej.”
Inej watched him for a minute before she slowly lowered her knife. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She dropped her gaze. “Did I wake you up?” she whispered.
Kaz shook his head. “No.” It was an easy lie to tell, and even if Inej knew it was one, she didn’t question it. Inej put her knife away, and kept her gaze averted. Kaz watched her hands as she wiped her face. He worked his jaw back and forth. “I get them too.”
“I know,” Inej said quietly. “The way you breathe changes.”
Kaz felt a tug of guilt. Had he woken her up before? Or had she woken from the hell of her own mind to find him trapped in one of his own?
“Do you want me to wake you up if you’re having a nightmare?” Inej asked, breaking him from his own thoughts. She met Kaz’s gaze this time when he looked at her. She wasn’t scared, or worried– it was honest, pure curiosity, and Kaz was struck by how easy she made it look to care. How had she woken up from a nightmare, and how to save him from his own bad dreams was a thought at the forefront of her mind?
“Yes,” he said after a hesitant pause. Inej nodded.
“Can I touch you to wake you up?”
Kaz shook his head. “No.” If anything, he thought that might actually make it worse. He couldn’t move from a nightmare into having the delicate safety of their routine broken. He was surprised when his next breath shuddered in his chest. “Just say my name.”
She could wake him from death with the way she said his name. Soft and gentle and full of love, and saints, he would do anything for her when she said his name.
Inej nodded again. “Okay.” She paused, then curled up with her back to him again. “Goodnight, Kaz.”
“Goodnight, Inej.”
𓄿 𓄿 𓄿
Kaz found himself looking forward to nights more and more after that, because it meant that Inej would be there. She would come earlier now and then, and be there when Kaz came out of the bathroom. He stood in the doorway once, watching Inej hang up her jacket on the back of one of his chairs and remove her shoes. She pretended not to notice him, and Kaz decided to leave that little falsehood in place, and pretended he hadn’t seen her.
“Kaz?” she said one night, breaking the silence between them. Kaz rolled over to look at her, and found Inej laying on her back. “Can I touch your hand?”
“Yes.” The answer was instant, which surprised him. He hated being touched, but he wanted to know what her hands felt like. He loved her hands, loved watching them when she held her knives, loved watching her fingers drum against the table when they’re talking over food. Loved watching them brush through her hair.
Inej rolled onto her side and put her hand out. It was the first time either of them had crossed the invisible line in the middle of the bed. Slowly, he reached out and touched his fingertips to hers.
It felt like the most intimate experience he’d ever had. He looked at their fingertips touching before Inej slowly intertwined their fingers. Her hand was warm, skin rough and calloused. It reminded Kaz of his blankets, and how grounding he found their texture when he woke from a nightmare. He exhaled shakily before he looked up at Inej.
She was looking at their hands with her brows slightly furrowed, like she was contemplating how she felt about it. Kaz brushed his thumb gently against the back of her hand. He’d never felt so close to someone as he did when she looked up and met his gaze.
“Is this okay?” she whispered. Kaz nodded his head. Inej’s lips twitched in a small smile before she rested her head against her pillow again. “Goodnight, Kaz.”
She didn’t take her hand away, but gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance. He kept brushing his thumb against the back of her hand as he settled again. “Goodnight, Inej.”
𓄿 𓄿 𓄿
He couldn’t look away from Inej’s hands after that. They had breakfast with Jesper in the morning, and Kaz watched Inej stir her tea with her spoon, then lift the cup to her lips. Kaz drank his coffee in silence, a pensive look on his face. He didn’t even notice when their food was brought out.
“Kaz? Hello?” Jesper snapped his fingers in front of his face, and Kaz looked at him. “You alright?”
“I’m fine.” Kaz cleared his throat and registered that their food had arrived at the table. “Keep your schedules clear; there might be a job for us soon.”
He didn’t even have anything potentially lined up. He thought he’d managed to save it anyway until after they’d parted ways, and Jesper stopped him once Inej had left.
“Are you alright?” he asked. “You spent the whole breakfast glaring at Inej. Did something happen? Don’t tell me you’re fighting again. You need to stop calling her an investment, Kaz, it makes you sound like an assh–”
“We’re not fighting,” Kaz said. Jesper’s brows went up, and he grinned slowly. “Not that either. Inej isn’t like that.”
“What about you?” Jesper asked. “You’re not hideous, Kaz. You could have a good time if you can find someone that’s willing to look past your horrible personality.” Kaz rolled his eyes. “Hey. I’m kidding. I’m just saying. There’s no harm in asking.”
No harm in asking. The words rolled in Kaz’s mind for the rest of the day. Of course there was harm in asking. He wasn’t even sure what he’d be asking Inej. If she cared for him like he cared for her? Kaz wasn’t even sure he wanted to have sex, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t want to have that closeness with someone. No, not someone– he wanted it with Inej . Both of them stripped of their armor, but safe in the other’s company. He trusted Inej with his life. Why was it so hard to trust her with the rest of him?
He kept thinking about it until he was in bed with Inej beside him that night. Her hand was warm and reassuring in his, and part of him was glad that she was always gone in the morning, because it meant he’d never know what it felt like for her to pull away from him.
“Jesper asked if we were together,” Inej said in the darkness. “If we’d…”
“He asked me too.” Kaz worked his jaw back and forth. “I told him we hadn’t.”
There’s no harm in asking. There’s no harm in asking. Kaz looked up at the ceiling, as if it could somehow distract him from Jesper’s voice on repeat in his head. There’s no harm in asking…
“Do you ever think about me like that?” Inej whispered.
Kaz kept his gaze on the ceiling. Don’t, the rational part of his brain told him. She might decide not to come back. “Yes,” he breathed, voice strained. Inej didn’t say anything. Kaz closed his eyes. Shame burned through his chest. What was wrong with him? Inej’s body was her own, it was sacred; what right did he have to think about her like that? She had so much more value than just that. “Inej….”
“I think about you like that too.” The admission came out in one breath. Kaz turned his head to look at her. She stared resolutely at the ceiling.
Kaz exhaled shakily. “I would never ask you to…” he began uncertainly. They had been sharing a bed for months, maybe she thought…
“I know.” Inej kept her gaze on the ceiling. She let out a long breath. “Maybe…” She rolled to look at him. “Can I kiss you?”
The boldness of the request startled Kaz. A moment ago, he’d been terrified to lose her. Now she was looking at him like this, with something that must be love in her gaze, because no one had ever looked at him like that. More than that, though– she looked at him with trust. Full and complete trust that she was safe to make such a request. In the darkness, Kaz nodded.
Inej hesitated before she leaned in, closing the gap between them so she could press her lips to his.
Kissing Inej Ghafa wasn’t like anything he’d ever imagined. In those quiet moments of pleasant dreams, when he’d thought about how it might be, this wasn’t it. This was soft, and gentle, and a miracle all its own. A gift from a saint, and fuck , he’d never worship anyone the way he worshipped Inej. There was no altar he’d rather lay himself bare at than the curve of her lips against his.
He wasn’t sure how long it lasted. It could’ve been a few seconds, it could’ve been an hour. All Kaz knew was that she took his breath with her when she pulled back. He looked at her, dazed. “Is this okay?” he whispered.
Inej nodded. “Yes.” Their fingers were still intertwined, but she reached her free hand up and gently touched his face. No one had ever touched him like that; he thought it would make his skin crawl, but this was Inej. He was safe with her. He found himself leaning into her touch. He tilted his head and pressed a kiss to her hand– to her fingers, deadly when curled around the hilt of a dagger, but salvation when they touched him. Inej’s breath caught in her chest.
“Can I kiss you again?” Inej nodded, but Kaz didn’t lean in. “Tell me out loud.”
“Yes.” Only then did he lean in and kiss her again.
All they did was kiss that night. Inej’s hand remained on his cheek, and Kaz discovered that he could quite happily stay like this forever. Closeness wasn’t fear with Inej. Closeness was gentleness, and safety, and a purity Kaz didn’t think he’d ever know. It just was , and Kaz felt absurdly that part of his life would always be marked by this moment, split by before he kissed Inej and after. He held her hand as they kissed, and she continued to hold his even after they finally stopped. She smiled softly at him, and he found himself returning the expression.
“Goodnight, Kaz,” she whispered.
“Goodnight, Inej.”