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Kaz didn’t like being vulnerable. He didn’t like how insistent his crows were on making him vulnerable. Inej especially had a painful fascination with tearing down Kaz’s walls, with getting him to open up to her, and it tore him up inside.
“It must be exhausting,” She said to him, and he already knew he wasn’t going to like where this was going. “Being that on guard all the time.”
“You have to be on guard, too,” Kaz answered stiffly.
“Exactly. And I’m worn out, so I can only imagine how deeply you’re running yourself into the ground.”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes, Kaz,” Inej said. There it was. Kaz sighed.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t,” Inej said with a roll of her eyes. “Did you ever? Was there a time when you could let your guard down around others?”
“Yes,” Kaz said simply. Inej looked at him sadly, and he wondered if saying no would have been any better.
“Do you miss it?”
“Being vulnerable? Being an easy mark? Not at all.”
“Do you miss anything that came with it?” Inej asked softly. “The connections? Maybe a bit of happiness, if you’re capable of it?”
Kaz was quiet for a moment. He did miss the connections, sometimes. His family, mostly. They were all he had, but whether he built his walls up or not didn’t matter. They were all long dead now. He had nothing to regret there. Sometimes, though, he did think-
“Part of me misses being held,” He whispered, and the admission made him want to vomit. Inej looked at him, a hint of surprise mixing with the sadness in her eyes.
“How long has it been?”
He was quiet for a moment too long for if he was just running the numbers in his head before he spoke.
“Nine years,” He rasped bitterly. The last time he’d been held was beneath a bridge, coughing his lungs out, and he was in his brother’s arms- or was his brother in his arms? He couldn’t remember anymore. Maybe it didn’t matter.
“Of course you miss it,” Inej said with a sad smile like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re touch-starved, Kaz.”
“Touch-starved,” He mused, running the words over in his mind. “Pathetic.”
“It’s not,” Inej insisted gently. “It’s human nature to want to be touched, Kaz, even when it’s scary. Even when you hate it.”
“I don’t want to be touched,” Kaz hissed. Inej drew back slightly.
“I know,” She said. “I know you don’t. I just want you to know that it’s okay to miss it, and it’s okay for there to be a part of you that craves it, even though I know most of you doesn’t want any kind of touch.”
Kaz sighed. “I hate it,” He said. “Not being able to touch people. Not even being able to take my damn gloves off in front of anyone.”
“I have trouble with touch sometimes, too,” Inej said. “Some days, I can’t even let Jes hug me or let Nina kiss my cheek because it’s just too much. It’s frustrating. Most of the time I like it, and when I don’t, it makes me angry. With myself, mostly, for not being able to handle the things that I want. ”
“It’s not your fault,” Kaz said. “You didn’t ask for any of that. You can’t blame yourself for your reactions.”
Inej smiled. “Listen to yourself, Kaz,” She said. “It’s not your fault, either, it’s just a trauma response. You can’t help it. You shouldn’t blame yourself for your issues any more than you blame me for mine.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
Because you still try, he wanted to say. Because you’re healing. You’re working on yourself, you’re getting better. You fight back. You push yourself and hug them anyway- even when it’s hard- because your love for them and yourself is stronger than your fear. Your fear makes you stronger, Inej. Mine makes me weak.
Instead, Kaz said nothing. He turned his head to the side, and Inej just sighed in disappointment. Her disappointment was a poison to him, and one he knew well. It made him sick. It made him hate himself, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop finding it, couldn’t seem to stop drinking it. He’d disappoint her as long as he lived.
“Do you want to get better, Kaz?” Inej asked. “Would it make you happy if you could overcome your touch aversion?”
“I am never happy, my darling Inej.”
“I know,” Inej said with a humorous smile, but Kaz saw sadness buried deep behind her eyes. He tried not to think about it.
“I do want to,” Kaz admitted. Inej looked at him, and if Kaz didn’t know better, he might think the look in her eyes had shifted to something akin to fondness. Ghezen, maybe he’d had too much to drink.
“Are you willing to put in the work?” Inej asked. Kaz felt a deep sense of disgust creep up on him. He pushed it away and swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Yes,” He rasped. His voice sounded weirdly choked.
“It’s going to be hard,” Inej murmured. “And it’s going to take a really, really long time. You won’t be able to get over this quickly, Kaz. It takes a long time to work through this kind of thing.”
“And you’re a trauma expert since when?”
Inej rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to help you here, can’t you be a little appreciative?”
“I’m afraid not,” Kaz said with a slight smirk. Inej sighed.
“I want to be here for you,” She said. “Every step of the way. If you feel safe and comfortable with that.”
Yes, his mind nearly shouted. Yes, I feel safe with you, Inej. You, and only you. Be here with me. Stay with me.
Instead, Kaz tensely nodded in silence. Inej smiled.
***
That was how Kaz found himself here, sitting on the wooden floor of his own office, his bad leg stretched out to his side. Inej was sitting behind him on his chair. Her delicate hands were weaving through his hair, untangling the little knots that had worked their way in despite how short it was. She ran a fine-toothed comb through his hair with her other hand, and he had to suppress a soft sigh at the feeling.
They’d worked out pretty early on that touches to his hair didn’t make him freak out nearly as much. Even bare-handed, she could run her fingers through his soft locks, and at most he’d tremble slightly, draw in a shaky breath, and ask her to talk to him for just a moment before she could continue. It was a good place to start.
“Your hair is really soft,” She murmured quietly. He hummed almost inaudibly.
“I haven’t heard that before.”
“You haven’t let anyone touch you before.”
Inej gently twirled a lock of his hair in her fingers. He relaxed into the feeling, but both of them noticed the tension still very present in his shoulders and back.
“Are you alright?” Inej asked.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s okay if you’re not. Needing a break or to stop or anything is fine, you know. You don’t need to force yourself.”
“I’m fine, Inej. You said it yourself; none of this is going to be easy. It won’t be easier if we come back later.”
“Alright. But let me know if you need to stop, okay?”
“Of course.”
Inej went back to gently combing Kaz’s hair. Her touches were gentle with both her hands and the comb. Half of Kaz wanted to throw up. The other, far more frightening half of him wanted to lean into her every touch. He didn’t know what to do with that side of himself.
Kaz closed his eyes. He shifted slightly, trying to get the muscles in his back to relax. They didn’t, and he sighed softly in irritation. He wanted to be calm, he wanted to feel safe, he wanted to like this. He was supposed to like this. Her touches were so soft, so lovely, and he should be enjoying this. He should want more. He shouldn’t be fighting nausea each time she twirled a lock of his hair, every time she ran her fingers through it, every time her hand brushed his scalp, every time she-
“Stop,” He gasped, and she did. Her hands immediately retracted from his hair and she slid the chair back so her knees weren’t so close to his back. He realized he was sweating bullets and panting like a dog. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, willing his heart to slow.
“Are you okay?” Inej asked softly. Kaz was silent for a moment, gasping for air, willing the waters in his mind to settle.
“Yes,” He breathed. One look at Inej’s face told him she didn’t believe it for a second. “I am, ” Kaz insisted, more firmly. “I just- I need a moment.”
“Do you want to be done for today?”
“No, I-” Kaz had to stop to breathe. Inej gave him a look. “Just a moment.”
“Are you sure? If you want to stop-”
“No, I like-” Kaz stopped short. “I like this. This is… good. Just. I need a moment.”
“Alright,” Inej said gently. The two fell into a brief, comfortable silence as Kaz gathered himself. He caught his breath and slowly felt his heart rate slow.
“Okay,” He whispered. “I’m okay. You can…” He didn’t know how to ask her to start again. He didn’t know how to ask her for much of anything.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m okay now.”
Slowly, Inej’s hands found Kaz’s hair once more. Initially, Inej was careful not to let her hands touch his head, just his hair. Slowly, she worked her way up to occasionally brushing her little finger against his scalp, and each time she did, he’d shiver slightly, but he wouldn’t react otherwise. He was calm. He was okay.
Kaz felt as Inej began to weave small braids into his short hair. Her hands moved precisely, tugging ever so slightly as she worked his dark locks into a pleat. Kaz felt almost repulsed with himself with how relaxing he found the sensation, and if he melted slightly into her touch, he’d never admit it.
Kaz breathed slowly and evenly as he allowed Inej to run her hands through his hair. She’d gather a lock, run her comb through it a few times, then begin twisting it into a braid. She didn’t tie them off at the ends, and they both knew he’d take them out before he left the room. The braids were for him and her and nobody else. Nobody else got to see him this way.
The tug of the comb against his hair soothed Kaz’s mind each time the sensation of skin on his body threatened to drown him once more. Slowly, Kaz felt the tension gripping his shoulders lessen. The angry, stiff muscles in his back slowly released their iron grip around his spine, and Kaz sighed softly. He knew Inej could tell. He also knew he didn’t care. He was safe with her.
“Is this good?” Inej asked quietly, voice barely a murmur. Kaz nodded as much as he could without disrupting her work on the next braid.
“It’s good,” He rasped.
“Good as in not panic-inducing, or good as in actually pleasant?”
“Both,” Kaz said, and he knew Inej was smiling behind him.
“Good,” Inej whispered slowly, scratching her nails gently against the base of Kaz’s head. Kaz tried and failed to suppress a shiver, and he was sure Inej caught it. She hummed softly, tracing her fingertips through his hair, letting her nails gently trail along his scalp.
Inej turned her attention back to weaving tiny braids throughout Kaz’s dark hair. He exhaled softly as she moved her nails away from his skin, but neither of them said anything. For that, Kaz was almost grateful.
Kaz let Inej work in silence for a good, long while. The remaining tension in his muscles loosened and fell away like yet another part of his armor being pulled off of him. Somehow, the notion didn’t terrify him as much as he thought it should have. Maybe because he knew that at least now, at least in this one small moment, he was safe. Maybe it was because for this small window of time, Inej was his, and he was hers. Maybe it was because he knew that as long as he was hers, as long as this moment lasted, she’d never let anything happen to him. Maybe it was because Kaz knew, deep down, that he trusted Inej. Not just with his life, or with her life, or with the rest of his crew’s lives, but with something much harder to trust anyone with. He trusted her with his heart, with his mind, with everything he was and everything he could ever give her. He trusted her in every way a man like him could trust anyone, in a way he thought he never would, and somehow, in some way, he was okay with that. He felt safe with that. He felt safe with her , and Ghezen, what a beautiful and foreign and painful thing that was to feel.
Kaz felt hot air on the back of his neck, bringing him out of his head. The ghosts of breath were hovering just above his skin. He could feel Inej’s breath gently ruffling the hair she hadn’t tucked away into neat little braids nestled among the rest of his well-combed locks. Kaz realized, with a stutter of the heart he’d never acknowledge, that her lips were so close they were nearly touching him. A small movement of the head from either of them would bring her lips to the back of his head. Kaz sucked in a slow, shaky breath.
“Go on,” He whispered, echoing what she’d said to him in that hotel bathroom so very long ago. Finish the story.
Slowly, gently, Kaz felt Inej’s lips press against the back of his head. Her skin was separated from his by the thin veil of dark hair running down to the top of his neck. Kaz exhaled shakily, but unlike that time in the hotel bathroom, the harbor didn’t rise around him. Hands didn’t come to drag him down to his watery grave. He was here, in his own office, on the hard, solid floor, with Inej. With Inej. He was safe here, he was dry. He was okay.
Inej slowly withdrew, leaning back into her chair- his chair- with a soft sigh. Kaz wondered if she was smiling. He leaned back slowly, allowing his fully clothed back to press against Inej’s shins. Maybe one day he would be able to allow her to hold him. Maybe one day he’d press his whole body- perhaps even clothed in less than three full layers of fabric like he was today- into hers. Maybe one day he would let himself melt into her completely like he got the slightest taste of today. Maybe one day he would be able to allow himself to be fully and truly hers like he so desperately wished he could convince himself he was now. If that day would come, Kaz knew it wouldn’t be today. It probably wouldn’t even be soon, but Kaz was nothing if not a man of patience and stubbornness. He’d pull himself together and allow himself to be here with her if it killed him.
Kaz felt Inej begin to card her hands through his partially braided hair once more. He relaxed into it again and decided that for now, for today, this was enough for him. It wasn’t a hug. He wasn’t being held, but it was so much more than he’d gotten in years and even this was almost too much- almost too good for him to handle. This would be enough for him, for now. This was enough, this was good. Inej’s hands on him, her lips touching him, the sweet, beautiful braids she wove into his hair, treating him with a delicate softness he hadn’t been shown in years- it was almost too much. It really was.
Inej pushed a strand of hair from Kaz’s face, swiping a hand through his hair, moving the loose strands and the braids together.
“Beautiful,” Inej whispered. Kaz wondered if she meant him or her own handiwork. Maybe both. Maybe, in a way, they were one and the same. “Look, Kaz.”
Inej held up the small mirror she’d had lying on the desk. Kaz into it, seeing his own dark, tired eyes peering back at him. He turned his attention to his hair. From a glance, it could almost look the same as it always did, but upon closer inspection, small braids were scattered throughout his short hair. Kaz gently reached up and touched them with a gloved hand, not unraveling them, not adjusting them, just feeling.
“Do you like them?” Inej asked.
“Yes,” Kaz said easily. Maybe in the past, it would have been a more difficult thing to say. Maybe in the past, he wouldn’t have wanted to like something like this; something so soft, so domestic, but appreciating a hairstyle was far from the hardest thing Kaz had to do today, and the words fell easily from his lips.
“They look good on you,” Inej said almost reverently.
Kaz frowned and turned his gaze back to his face in the mirror. He was paler than usual, his face still shiny with sweat. Scars littered his face from the pox, and he was far too bony, far too angular, and- well, it was difficult to believe he and Inej were looking at the same person. The braids were lovely, almost as lovely as the girl who put them there, but they were wasted on him.
“How kind,” Kaz said, refusing to give voice to any of his thoughts.
“I mean it, Kaz,” Inej said. “Beautiful.” The way she spoke was half words, half breaths, and it nearly took Kaz’s away. Kaz wrenched his gaze away from the mirror, stubbornly staring at the hardwood floor instead. He didn’t want to look at himself.
Kaz didn’t respond to Inej. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to or because he didn’t know how to. Maybe it was both. Inej hummed softly.
“Are you alright, Kaz?” She asked, setting the mirror back down on the desk. Kaz nodded.
“Yes,” He answered truthfully.
“You didn’t push yourself too hard?”
“No.”
“It was all okay? Good?”
“Yes,” Kaz said steadily. “It was… good. I liked it.”
“Okay. Do you want to do something like this again?”
“I… yes. I would… I would like to.”
Inej returned her hand to Kaz’s hair. He leaned into her touch gently, and Inej had the sense to not say anything about it. He’d deny it even now if she did.
“Then we will,” Inej said, and she made it sound like the simplest, easiest thing in the world. Kaz could hear the soft smile in her voice. “I doubt it means much to you- or is what you want to hear- but, for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, Kaz.”
Kaz pulled away from Inej. The movement was small, but sudden, like he’d been burned. Inej let her hands fall from his hair easily. She didn’t seem startled by him at all.
Some small part of Kaz almost wanted to stiffly thank her, but they both knew he didn’t have any manners, so he said nothing at all.
Inej sighed softly, sadly. “I hope one day you can let yourself be loved.”
Kaz stayed quiet. He knew both he and Inej were fixated on the implications of her words. Let yourself be loved. Let me love you. Let me love you, Kaz.
The thought sent Kaz’s mind reeling. He cursed his pale skin as he felt his face heat up and he just knew he was turning a mortifying shade of pink. Thank Ghezen his back was facing her. Kaz ran a hand through his hair, feeling his gloved hand catch on the braids.
“I don’t know how,” Kaz admitted after a while. He felt sick.
“I know,” Inej whispered, and it was somehow the best and worst thing she could say to him. “But you’re learning.”
“Am I?”
“I think so,” Inej said softly. “I think overcoming your fear of touch and learning to accept love can go together.”
“I’m not afraid of-”
“You are,” Inej said firmly. “And that’s fine. Everyone’s afraid of something, Kaz. But we’re going to work through it. You’re already making progress.”
Kaz bit his lip. He hated this. He hated all of this. Still, he let himself relax slightly. He let himself lean back towards Inej, allowing his back to rest against her once more. He felt himself stiffen at the contact, despite the three layers of fabric on his body alone separating them. Kaz forced himself to relax, to settle the tension returning to his shoulders, and he exhaled shakily. Inej’s hand returned to his hair.
Soon, Kaz would stand up with his cane in hand. He’d run a gloved hand through his hair and work all of the little braids Inej had meticulously weaved out of his hair. He’d walk out of his office, maybe with her following, maybe with her exiting through the window, and he’d get back to work. He’d check out the day’s happenings at the Crow Club and make his rounds through the Barrel. He’d go right back to being Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel, the man who haunts the nightmares of children throughout Ketterdam, but for right now, for just this moment, he was just Kaz. He was just Kaz, with little braids in his hair that he treasured like gold. He was just Kaz, with Inej’s hand gently rubbing his head through his hair. He was just Kaz, sitting comfortably on his own floor, allowing himself to be taken care of for the first time in nine long years.
It wouldn’t last long. It was only a moment, just this one fleeting moment between the two of them, but Kaz would greedily snatch it up like the thief he was, holding it close to his heart. He’d treasure this small moment, this small taste of isolation from the hungry eyes of Ketterdam, to just be here with her. Kaz vowed to himself that this wouldn’t be the end of it. That he’d keep working on himself, keep letting her help him work on himself. He would hug her one day. He would let her hold him close. One day, he would do it. Not today. Possibly not even months from today, but he would do it. Even if it took the next decade to work up to it, he would do it. He would take his armor off, for her, for him. This would become his new devotion, his new ambition.
He would tear his own armor down, piece by piece.