Work Text:
Being unable to touch other people directly makes it difficult to be in a relationship. Kaz knows this. He knows that Aleksander longs for more than hands held through gloves, a cautious brush of a hand over clothed shoulders and arms.
More than once, he’s caught the way Aleksander looks at him, glancing toward his lips. Aleksander never says anything, but Kaz knows.
That night, before they go to bed—separate beds, next to each other, with a nightstand in between—Kaz brings it up.
Moonlight streams in through the window, falling over Aleksander in a silver glow. It highlights his profile, the slope of his nose, his eyelashes, his hair. In the moonlight, he looks like something ethereal. Kaz longs to reach out and touch him, brush his hands over Aleksander’s cheeks and thread his fingers through his hair, to lean in and kiss him.
“I’m sorry,” Kaz murmurs, quiet, yet too loud in the silence of the dark room.
“For what?” Aleksander asks, his brow furrowed as he turns to face Kaz.
For a lot of specific things, really, but right now most of all– “That I can’t kiss you.”
“Oh.” Aleksander’s eyes soften. “You don’t need to apologize for that. Never. I understand.”
“I know,” Kaz replies with a sigh. “I’m just frustrated with myself because I want to, and I want you to, and I–”
Kaz clenches his hand into a fist, feels the way the leather of the glove stretches and pulls across his knuckles. If only he could remove this barrier, could ignore the fear racing through him every time he even thinks about it.
But he can’t.
Sighing, he relaxes his hand. “You’re patient. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, my love.” Aleksander’s voice is soft, and there’s a small smile on his lips.
At the endearment, Kaz rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the warmth in his cheeks. The grin that Aleksander gives him tells him he’s unsuccessful. “Go to sleep, Aleksander.”
“Anything for you,” Aleksander agrees with a dip of his head, and if he wasn’t too far away, Kaz would hit him in the ankle with his cane.
Aleksander’s comments work, though, because Kaz goes to sleep with a fondly annoyed smile, rather than focusing on the thoughts of what he regrets.
In the morning, Kaz wakes before Aleksander. He takes a moment to appreciate the way the sun falls on Aleksander’s face in the morning, the way his hair is mussed from sleep. Asleep, he looks calmer, younger. Less burdened by the weight of eternity.
But Kaz can’t spend the entire morning admiring his lover, so he gets changed and sits down at the desk in the corner to pen a letter to Inej, asking about the Crow Club and her wellbeing. He informs her that he’s planning on going back to Ketterdam soon, at least for a while.
He doesn’t tell her that Aleksander might be coming, though she knows of their relationship. He’s shown an interest in visiting Kaz’s home, but it’s difficult for him to find time to be away from his duties as a general, so it might not work out. Even if he can’t come with Kaz, though, Kaz knows that he’ll be waiting for him, patient as ever.
Behind Kaz, sheets rustle as Aleksander wakes up and gets out of bed to get dressed. Kaz doesn’t take his eyes off the letter, not even when Aleksander approaches him.
“Kaz?” Aleksander calls out, and Kaz finally turns to look at him. He’s in his usual outfit, but he’s wearing a pair of black gloves.
“Yes?”
With a smile, Aleksander leans closer and taps his gloved finger on Kaz’s lips.
Kaz blinks. “What was that?”
“A kiss,” Aleksander explains, then turns away and walks out of the room before Kaz can stop him.
As the words settle into Kaz’s mind and he understands the meaning of them, his cheeks grow warm and he covers his face with his hands. It’s such a simple gesture, yet so sweet, and Kaz doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s a quick, direct response to his worries from last night, and so painfully considerate of how he feels.
Inej, he writes, unfortunately, I think I might be in love with Aleksander.
It happens again and again over the next few days—a tap on his cheek, on his wrist, on his nose. Each time, Kaz’s heart flutters, and Aleksander smiles softly at him. Each time, Kaz wants to grab his wrist before he walks away and kiss him for real, but he can’t.
Instead, Kaz starts doing it back.
The first time, Aleksander is still in bed in the morning, practically glowing in the morning sunlight. Kaz walks to his bed, by the window, and calls out his name softly. When his eyes open, the sun catches on them and lights up the usually dark pools of void with honey and golden-bronze. He smiles up at Kaz, so adoring and affectionate, half-asleep, and Kaz presses a careful finger against his lips and murmurs, “a good morning kiss.”
If it’s possible, Aleksander looks even more adoring as the corners of his eyes crinkle and he beams up at Kaz, so bright as if trying to challenge the sun.
Kaz’s heart flutters, and he turns away.
The next time he does it, Aleksander is in the middle of a meeting in the war room. Kaz is there to advise, but he needs to leave soon to meet with an informant, so he pauses next to Aleksander on his way out, meeting his eyes as he taps him on the back of his hand. The response is immediate—he doesn’t smile, because he hates smiling in public (Kaz is the same; they both have an image to keep up, after all), but his eyes go soft and fill with warmth.
It continues, and soon it’s a habit between them. A tap with gloved fingers before they part ways for the day, before they go to bed, on the cheek, on the lips, on the hand. As Kaz is changing once, a tap on his bare shoulder.
One morning, one where they’ve both awakened at the same time, Kaz is leaning against the bed just in his underclothes because his leg started hurting in the middle of changing into his clothes for the day. Aleksander kneels in front of him and taps one finger gently on Kaz’s right leg, where the bone broke.
“I love you,” Kaz admits, before he can even think about it. Once he realizes what he said, he freezes, his eyes widening.
Aleksander’s eyes are wide too, but then he’s smiling. On his knees in front of Kaz, his eyes full of adoration and love, he looks worshipful.
“I love you too,” Aleksander murmurs, like a prayer. “With everything I have, I’m yours.”
“Come here,” Kaz whispers, and Aleksander complies, standing up and resting his hands on the bed on either side of him, careful not to touch. Kaz brings his gloved hands up and cups Aleksander’s face gently, smoothing his thumbs over his cheeks. He taps Aleksander’s lips with his thumb, and brushes the other over the space under his eye.
Although he can’t bring himself to press his lips to Aleksander’s just yet, maybe someday he will. But for now, this is enough. This tender moment, this simple gesture of love and affection, is enough.