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“Ow, fuck, Inej,” Kaz groaned, then pulled his hand sharply away and let out another string of unsavory expletives.
“Well, stop fidgeting so much,” she ordered, sounding just a little too close to exasperated. “Do you want my help or not?”
“If I recall correctly, I said I’d take care of it,” he snapped, wincing as he unclenched his fist for what was probably the fifth-hundredth time that evening.
She scoffed. “Yes, because you’ve taken such good care of it so far. Give it here.”
Inej extended a hand with the kind of look Kaz suspected she reserved for the most delinquent of her recruits - not that he’d heard of many. From what he knew, they were mostly too intimidated by her reputation, or her knives, to make trouble. But, well, if one of them momentarily lost their senses and tried something on his girl, he assumed that glare was what awaited them.
Kaz sighed and gave back his hand.
He winced again when Inej took it firmly in hers, probably so he wouldn’t pull it away. She could be utterly merciless, and while he usually loved her for it, right now, with his bloodied knuckles literally in her hands, he wondered if it was completely wise of him to do so. Not that it would stop him anytime soon.
Kaz’s torment had begun five hours ago, when he’d made his way to the Silver Six only to be stopped by a group of stadwatch who’d refused to get out of his way, provoking him on his own turf. Or maybe he’d deliberately walked right into their path. He wasn’t sure what version was the truth anymore, being distracted as he was at the moment. Some words were exchanged about a deal gone wrong at the Exchange and his possible involvement in the whole ugly affair, and Kaz could not help rubbing it in their faces a little - it was a slow week.
But the short version of the story was that he’d arrived at his club with a bloodied hand, a ruined glove, and an even more thoroughly ruined mood. And because the universe or whatever the fuck was definitely not on his side, he couldn’t shut himself up in his office and nurse a strong drink until his hand turned numb. No, instead, he had to attend meetings, keep some younger dealers in line, and threaten a particularly cocky tourist before he might have the luxury of doing just that.
And then Inej walked in, and now here they were, in the staff bathroom of his club, trying to peel his Saints-forsaken glove off.
Usually, the act held some kind of allure Kaz could not completely ignore, even if it made him feel like a complete podge. He’d seen way more scandalous things in his life growing up in the Barrel than Inej’s slender fingers slowly wrapping around his wrist, easily undoing the single button hidden there with her thumb. Still, it would be lying to say his heart never sped up - or worse, fluttered - in his chest anymore whenever she did, and while Kaz was known to be a liar, he could not lie about this. It was ridiculous, truly; hell, he and Inej had done way more scandalous things to each other ever since sharing a bed had become a recurring occurrence in their lives. He absolutely enjoyed each and every one of them - at least, when he managed to keep his fucking wits about him and the waters of the harbour buried deep - but he couldn’t help the thrill that rose in him when she pulled off each leather finger one by one with that knowing glint in her eyes. Most times, he blamed it on his self-destructive tendencies, or maybe the vulnerability she’d somehow managed to pull out of him like teeth - or perhaps even a combination of the two.
Now, however, when Inej gently pulled on the fabric covering his pinky, Kaz had to swallow yet another curse, clenching his free hand around the porcelain sink behind him. He’d endured much worse in his twenty-three wretched years of life, but the skin of his hands was overly sensitive, sheltered as it was, and every delicate tug felt like it was ripping it right off. The blood had no doubt coagulated and stuck to his glove.
There was a stain on the otherwise pristine striped wallpaper over Inej’s head. The colours, two shades of blue so deep they were almost impossible to differentiate, matched with the checkered pattern of the tile floor. Kaz ground his teeth together, staring at that stain to distract himself with something to fix that wasn’t his stupid hand.
“I can’t believe you let that amount of blood completely dry under there for hours,” Inej muttered, just loud enough so he could hear her over the sounds of the club muffled through the door.
“I had other things to tend to first.”
She flicked her eyes upwards, dark and frustrated and not lingering on his face nearly long enough.
“Such as?”
Yes, you could only develop such an imperious tone while working with sailors in the middle of a storm, he decided.
“Such as running a fucking club, Inej,” Kaz said curtly between his teeth, jerking his head towards the door and the ruckus beyond. “In case you couldn’t tell, it’s a busy - ow!”
She’d pulled on the leather covering his ring finger without giving him any warning, and it stung like hell. Kaz took in a sharp inhale of air as her hold on his wrist turned into a vice, holding him in place. She raised both of her brows at him when he looked down at her with outrage, conveying without words what she thought of his sense of priorities and attitude.
“Don’t get smart with me, Brekker,” Inej warned, her voice unfairly even. “And hold. Still.”
“I thought you liked it when I got smart,” he managed through his teeth.
That earned him an eyeroll, and Kaz couldn’t hold back a small grin. It didn’t last. Inej touched his middle finger and the grin turned into something ugly, white spots flashing at the edges of his vision.
“I think this one might be sprained,” he informed her tightly.
Inej tsked, giving him that frown of hers that made such charming little lines appear between her brows.
“I don’t know how you’ve managed to survive for so long,” she huffed. “You can’t climb a mountain with broken hands, Kaz.”
“You can if you’re motivated enough,” he shot back.
She seemed to ignore him and sighed roughly instead, apparently giving up on the tedious task of pulling at his glove for at least an instant. Kaz wondered if she’d oblige him and simply rip it off in one go like he’d suggested earlier. She didn’t want to then - something about making the damage worse - but seeing as they were both annoyed, maybe she’d reevaluate her arguments. Then, he wondered if he’d really been that difficult when Inej reached into her left sleeve and pulled out a small knife.
“The mountain’s a metaphor,” she deadpanned, flicking it open. “Do you have another pair of these lying around here somewhere?”
“You know your Suli wisdom is lost on me, darling. Now what exactly do you intend to do with that?”
She put one hand on her hip, idly holding up the knife and staring at him. Kaz arched one brow at her and held her gaze, distinctly aware that he was slouching against the sink, his hair falling into his eyes, his chest rising up and down with the effort of not looking like a complete idiot in front of her. If only he hadn’t ripped off half of the skin on his hand, this could have turned into a very different, and far more pleasurable, situation - but then they wouldn’t be here. Inej sighed, adopting the air she usually did when he was being unreasonable. He did not think that was quite fair, considering the fact that he knew the size of a blade did not make it less dangerous in her small hands.
“I’m not getting anywhere with this,” she started, gesturing at his hand.
“I won’t contradict you on that.”
“So,” Inej kept on going, eyes flashing dangerously at his interruption, “I’m going to cut your glove off. Do you have another pair, or will I have to go and fetch another out in this cold?”
The offer mollified him, somehow. Or at least, it made it hard to keep on being a smart-ass when she implied she would get him another pair, despite him being said smart-ass.
“I have another one,” he sighed, offering her his hand. “Do what you must.”
She gave him a short nod, then carefully lifted the leather covering the back of his hand, sliding the blade between it and his skin. It was a tight fit, but she was used to those. Kaz stayed as still as he could as Inej worked carefully, cutting through the fabric one inch at a time.
“What happened, anyway?” she asked after a beat.
Her voice was softer, either from his compliance or her focus, he couldn’t quite tell.
“Stadwatch.”
She hummed, then stopped working on the glove when he hissed quietly between his teeth. He could feel blood running over his fingers again, warm and sticky. His middle finger in particular was pulsing painfully.
“I assume they were not pleased about the Van Ricker deal,” Inej provided mildly, resuming her work.
Kaz felt the tip of the knife kiss the edge of one mangled knuckle and forced himself to focus on the stain again. “Correct.”
“And you couldn’t resist running your mouth at them?”
He snorted. “Now who’s getting smart, Ghafa?”
There was the ghost of a smirk at the corner of her lips, there and then gone. He allowed his eyes to linger on that as Inej drew a careful line with her knife down every single one of his fingers, slitting the leather open like the fisherman at the piers gutting fish. Kaz did not know how she got the pressure just right, how she knew where the glove ended and his fingers began, but he did not question it. If there was one other person who knew every limit of his body better than he did, it would be her.
Inej worked on his middle finger last, silently asking his permission and awaiting his curt nod before running her knife over the length of it, slowly. He cleared his throat to conceal a small sound of protest when she went over his second knuckle, but he wasn’t completely sure she was fooled.
“Unclench that jaw for me,” Inej whispered without even looking up.
Kaz did, then forced himself to take in a deep breath to clear his head, blinking hard. She put her now bloodied knife on the side of the sink behind him before gently parting what remained of his glove. Dried blood stained her small hands, but she didn’t seem to mind. Inej peeled off the leather clinging to his palm and finally pulled the whole thing off, revealing raw, split skin and swollen, bluish knuckles. She dropped the ruined leather in the sink, turning the droplets of water gathered there a faint pink.
Then they both started down at his hand in silence, assessing the damage.
“Those were thick-skulled officers,” Inej observed, carefully taking his fingers in hers again.
“Aren’t they all,” Kaz mumbled under his breath while she prodded the heel of his hand.
She stole a look at him, then shook her head when she tried to make his middle finger bend and he swore under his breath.
“That’s no good.”
“I assure you, their faces are looking much worse.”
“And is that… glass?” she realized, pulling out a small shard stuck between two fingers.
“Hm. I do seem to recall one of them was wearing glasses.”
Inej winced.
“I’m going to need pliers. And this will swell more if we don’t put ice on it.”
“Yes, I was rather hoping keeping my glove on would help contain all of that,” Kaz half-joked.
She gave him yet another typically exasperated Inej look.
“Shevrati.”
He grinned.
“My darling,” he replied, as if in greeting.
She huffed, but he saw her cheeks turn just a little pink and counted it as a victory. It was a good distraction from the pain, at any rate - and from the fact that his middle finger was slowly but surely turning into a deep purple sausage.
“I’ll go fetch what we need,” Inej declared, then pointed an accusatory finger at his face. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Kaz scoffed, then deftly reached for her vest with his uninjured hand when she turned towards the door.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he admonished gently, pulling her in with a finger hooked in her straps. “Not so fast.”
“Kaz,” she protested in a groan. “You need ice!”
“I need this more,” he retorted in a murmur, watching her smile before capturing her mouth with his.
It was too soon when Inej took one small step back, then another, her palms smoothing down his chest to gently disentangle herself from his hold. He let her go slowly, following her to the door without breaking their kiss even if it meant bending his neck in half. She chuckled when their lips parted, then gave his unmarred hand a light squeeze before stepping out and closing the door in his face. Kaz grinned and let his forehead thump against the wood, the sweet rush of warmth in one hand overpowering the pain in the other.