Chapter Text
Kaz should have sent Inej. She would have been the sensible choice for a job like this. Her skills are much better suited for breaking into a mercher‘s mansion and stealing a priceless painting, Jesper thinks while skirting along the neatly trimmed rose bushes that line the imposing building on the Geldstraat as quietly as he can. His fingers dance along the handles of his revolvers subconciously, a habit he can‘t seem to shake on jobs or when he‘s nervous. Or both.
His entry point is supposed to be just off the back entrance on the ground floor, Kaz had laid it out for him in detail earlier at the briefing. In theory, Jesper’s objective was simple: get in, head down the corridor to his left, cut the painting from its frame and get out again without being seen. Jesper was secretly thrilled that Kaz had chosen him to do this job, even though he still believes Inej would have a much smaller risk of getting caught. When he had said as much, Kaz had just scoffed and dismissed him, mumbling something about Inej having better things to do. He could take a hint.
The large window to his left is lit only sporadically, Jesper can make out a few stray candles on a desk and nothing else. He fiddles with the lockpick Kaz had shoved in his hands earlier and gets to work. It doesn‘t take long until a soft click signals the lock springing open, and Jesper slowly slips inside.
The room seems to be lived in, neatly organized but several belongings strewn about. In the barely illuminated darkness, Jesper can make out sheet music on the desk with the candles, a worn leather coat that doesn’t really look like it would belong in a merchant’s closet hung on the wardrobe by the door, an array of what he assumes are medicinal bottles lined up on a shelf next to the large four-poster bed. Jesper catalogues all of this information in the back of his mind. He doesn‘t have much experience with the inside of houses like this, or their inhabitants for that matter, but this strange collection of belongings is definitely not what he had pictured.
He shuffles quietly to the door, presses his ear against it for a moment, and when he deems the coast clear, pushes down the cold brass handle and peaks into the corridor. It seems deserted, the wooden paneling coated in soft orange light from the oil lamps. Jesper steals into the hall and beelines to the left. There is one other door to his left that he has to get past. He stiffens when he sees the door cracked open just enough for a body to squeeze through, and fully halts when he hears voices from inside.
„You‘re a waste of space! How long do you think I can keep the council off my back until they become suspicoious why my son is not getting involved in the business, huh?“, an angry voice says in a sharp tone that makes Jesper cringe. Saints, some poor kid at the receiving end of this rant. Jesper creeps along the corridor towards the cracked door on silent feet, he can‘t afford to get distracted right now. Although he can practically hear Kaz‘s drawl in his head, urging him on to keep listening. To Kaz Brekker, information is the highest form of manipulation. Well, Jesper thinks, if he wanted the painting and an exclusive scoop on what was going on in this mansion, he should have sent Inej.
Jesper keeps his eyes fixed on the small gap allowing him to peek into the room, and ducks lower when he sees a person standing with their back to him. A head of dark red curls, narrow shoulders, hands wound tightly against the small of their back. So tightly that the knuckles of those delicate hands are white with tension. Delicate hands? Saints, Jesper, get it together. This must be the poor kid getting a verbal beating, Jesper concludes. He feels a wave of sympathy rise within his chest, but shakes it off quickly. He is not here for anything other than that stupid painitng.
He moves slowly past the gap and exhales in relief when he makes it past. The rageful monologue next door has gone into the next round, Jesper can hear snippets like You’re a disgrace to this family and If you really wanted this, you would try harder. He shakes his head in disagreement. Once in front of the door, he twists the handle and slips inside quickly.
This office is, thankfully, empty. Jesper immediately notices the painting depicting a ship in the waves of the sea above the massive desk in the middle of the room. Bingo.
He gets to work, carefully slicing the artwork from its frame in swift motions. He rolls the parchment up and slings it over his shoulder. All he needs to do now is go back and stay undetected.
When he squeezes back out into the corridor, he is relived to find it still empty. The previously cracked door is now closed as well. Good, Jesper thinks, and hopes the redhead with the pretty curls has gotten his leave for the night. He walks briskly back towards the room he‘d entered from and edges back inside. His back is to the room as he quietly pulls the door closed. That‘s when he realises the room looks different, much brighter. He slowly turns around and sure enough, the room is basked in soft light from the lamp on the bedside table. There is also a person standing next to the bedside table. Staring back at Jesper with wide, blue eyes in blank shock.
Jesper‘s hands move quicker than his brain can react and he draws one of his revolvers to point at the guy. Huh, it‘s the red head from the other room. His hair is dishelved like he has been running his hands through it furiously, those goregous blue eyes are swollen red to match his crimson nose. Jesper realizes he must have been crying. Understandable, by what he had overheard. He is dressed in a loose white dress shirt with lace fringes on the sleeves, delicately hanging over pale writs. He is beautiful, Jesper‘s mind supplies helpfully.
„Who the hell are you?“, the man asks shakily as he raises his hands in defense. His eyes frantically jump between the barrel of the gun pointed at him and Jesper.
„I should be asking you that, darling.“, Jesper drawls back.
The man gives an exasperated huff and Jesper notices his eyes shining with tears. He has the strange urge to wipe the tears spilling down those freckled cheeks away.
„Look, can you please… lower the gun? I assume you’re not actually here to kill me, but for that painting in your bag. I promise I won‘t scream or whatever.“, the man sniffs and Jesper feels another pang of sympathy for him. Saints, since when is he such a softie?
Hesitantly, he lowers his gun. He watches the other man‘s shoulders slump in relief.
„You didn‘t see anything, understood?“, Jesper says sternly, almost regretting his choice in tone when he sees the flinch it provokes. Mr. Blue Eyes nods and twists the skin on his wrist nervously as he watches Jesper stride across the room towards the still open window.
Jesper pushes the window open and hesitates. He knows he shouldn‘t get involved. He knows he should get out of this house, return to Kaz and spend a well-earned night at the tables after a job well done. He knows Kaz would hit him over the head with his cane if he knew that Jesper was even considering making sure this kid was okay. But Jesper was his mother‘s son, and in the end, he did like helping people.
So he turns around, finding those eyes still fixed on him with a blank expression. The man raises an eyebrow at him imploringly. Jesper feels the back of his neck prickle.
„Listen, I know this might be a bit… unconventional, given that I did just break into your house, but…“, he assesses the guy‘s reaction while he says this, ready to bolt if he has to, but he just stares back at Jesper. „Are you okay?“
Jesper realises this is probably a truly terrible moment to be asking a question like this, but he can‘t help himself. The beautiful stranger gapes back at him disbelievingly for a moment before visibly pulling himself together.
„Are you seriously asking me that right now? Shouldn‘t you be on your way with your stolen goods?“
Jesper just shrugs with a half smile. He’s adorable when he talks back.
The other man huffs and runs his hand through his hair, messing up those curls even more. The strands stick up in every direction now.
„Let‘s see, someone just broke into my house, tried to exit through my bedroom window but somehow won‘t leave, and to top it all off, my father essentially disowned me tonight. Does that answer your question?“, he crosses his arm and glares at Jesper.
„I can see how that might not be an ideal night… Wait. Your father? You‘re Van Eck‘s son?“, Jesper straigthens up where he‘s leaning against the window frame.
„Sure am. Or was. I don‘t really know how serious he was about the disowning. So who knows, maybe I‘m just Wylan now.“, he lets himself drop onto his bed and groans in frustration.
Jesper watches Wylan’s body sink into the mattress, and oh. He shakes his head to stop his mind from going there. Luckily, Wylan has mercy on him and pushes himself back up into a sitting position. Jesper considers him for a moment.
„Does he talk to you like that a lot?“, Jesper regrets the words as soon as he‘s said them, watching an angry frown twist Wylan‘s beautiful features into a scowl.
„Like what?“, he hisses. Jesper cringes again. What was he even still doing here?
„Uh… I might have overheard some of his rant in the other room…“
Wylan swipes a hand across his face and when he drops it back to his lap, he just looks tired. Jesper wants to reach out and brush a loose curl from his face.
„Great, so not only did you steal my father‘s artwork, you also listened in on him berating his son. I bet you‘ll have a field day with all that.“
„I‘m not… I really wouldn‘t…Wylan.“, Jesper urges, unsure of why he is trying to convince someone he doesn‘t know and likely won‘t ever see again of the goodness in his heart. He sighs.
„Look, I realise that these are less than ideal circumstances of….“ Wylan snorts. „I‘ll leave you to it. Just… your dad‘s a dick. You don‘t deserve what he said to you. No one does.“ He fixes Wylan with one last look, trying to convey that he really does mean it, before he finally slips back out the window into the cold night air of Ketterdam. Still, he thinks he hears Wylan mumble something that sounds an awful lot like But what if I do deserve it? before he pushed the glass shut again.
-
Jesper can‘t keep Wylan Van Eck out of his mind. He thought that after a few days, he‘d stop thinking about the delicate curve of his jaw, those eyes in a shade of blue that he would willingly drown himself in, the divot between his eyebrows when he frowns. Jesper had been intrigued before, but never like this, never after an encounter this short and well… awkward.
He‘d gotten back to the Crow Club late that night and dropped off the painting with a very pleased Kaz. Unlike his usual after work ritual, Jesper had crawled the streets of the Barrel until the early morning, his feet carrying his restless mind nowhere in particular. He‘d gotten lunch with Inej the next day, who had inquired about the job, but he didn‘t think it was a good idea to share any of the events at the Van Eck mansion with anyone, even her.
So Jesper set out to find out more about Wylan Van Eck. He already knew he was a merchant‘s son, and had an interest in music and chemicals from his room. Other than that, he came up short whenever he asked around. No one really knew anything about the Van Eck heir, he‘d not been in the public eye much. A week or two passed like this, before Jesper found himself back on the Geldstraat at night.
Rationally, he knew this was a bad idea, but he couldn’t ignore the itching under his finger nails any longer. He had to see Wylan again.
That‘s how he found himself back in the bushes outside the pompous house. It‘s raining and the night is Jesper‘s insurance to stay hidden. He creeps along the wall and around the corner to Wylan‘s window. Jesper‘s lips tremble when the window finally comes into view. The room is well lit this time, and even though thick red curtains are drawn to obscure most of the glass panel, he immediately spots a figure hunched over the desk in the room.
Wylan‘s hair is dishelved again, but perched on his head is a pair of goggles. His hands quickly work on a flask in front of him. Jesper watches in awe as Wylan handles several bottles of liquids and stirs the mixture with a long metal spoon. How come the son of a Merch is playing around with chemicals instead of reading up on Ravkan trade history or something equally boring?
Jesper hadn‘t realised he‘d drifted closer to the window until he suddenly sways and has to extend a hand to keep himself upright. His hand hitting the window gives a dull thud. He freezes. Shit. He blinks and finds Wylan whirled around in his chair, his brows scrunched up in confusion. He narrows his eyes and mouths You. Jesper gives an awkward smile and waves. Wow, real smooth, Fahey.
Against all odds, Wylan pushes up from his chair and comes closer. Jesper blinks again as Wylan slides open the window and looks down at him wryly.
„Are you trying to break in again?“, he asks, irritation lacing his silky voice.
„Uh…“, Jesper says, dumbstruck. He hadn‘t really thought that far. Usually, Jesper was notorious to be a massive flirt and he prided himself with his charm and eloquence. But right now, he was reduced to silence.
He lets his gaze roam over Wylan’s face, the freckles dusting his cheeks all the way down his neck, those unruly curls framing his face like a cloud. Jesper physically has to resist the urge to reach out and push his hand up into Wylan‘s hair.
„Well, if you‘re going to steal something again, I‘d suggest the vase in the library. I can point you to it.“, Wylan moves aside, almost as if to invite him in? That can‘t be right. Jesper blinks again.
„Sorry, what?“
Wylan rolls his eyes. „You‘re not a very good criminal, do you know that?“
At that, Jesper finally snaps out of his stupor. „I am a great criminal. Best sharpshooter in Kerch, actually.“ Wylan has already turned away, walking back over to his desk and capping the various bottles open on its surface. Jesper takes the opening and steps inside the room. What was he doing, saints. It was like Wylan had this pull to him that lured Jesper in like the catch of the day.
Jesper trails his gaze across the expanse of Wylan‘s back as the other man tidies up his desk. Wylan is lean, with narrow hips and long legs. He is a little bit shorter than Jesper, but not by much. If they stood toe to toe, Jesper would be able to place his lips on Wylan‘s forehead just by tipping towards him. Before he can think more on this very specific thought, Wylan spins around and leans back against the desk, regarding Jesper curiously.
„Do you make a habit of returning to your crime scenes…“, Wylan trails off at the end of his sentence.
„Jesper, and only the ones with cute red heads.“, he winks. He knows Kaz would throw him in the canals for revealing his name to someone, especially someone who had witnessed a crime, like this, but Jesper doesn‘t really care, especially when he sees the bright red blush creep onto Wylan‘s cheeks. Interesting.
Wylan averts his gaze, scratching his chin absentmindedly, and Jesper can‘t help but stare. Saints, why is he so affected by this man?
„So, what were you working on?“, he gestures to the desk, still covered in all sorts of bottles and tins. Wylan meets his gaze again, the barest hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips.
„I was working on refining my formular for combat acid. I… am pretty good with chemicals.“, he says, almost shyly. Jesper beams.
„What use does a merchling like you have for combat acid?“, he asks.
Wylan shurgs. „You don‘t know me, Jesper. Maybe I secretly run in the Barrel. Or sell to criminals like you.“ Very interesting.
Jesper eyes him for a moment. He‘s not sure what to make of him. His gaze falls back on the leather coat, that definitely looks like something worn around the Barrel by a member of the Dregs. Maybe there is more to Wylan than he initally thought.
He leisurely strolls into the room further, picking up a book from the chest by the window and coming to sit on the edge of the bed. Wylan watches him but remains silent for a moment.
„So, why are you here again?“, he eventually says, crossing his ankles. It‘s supposed to be a casual move, but Jesper can tell Wylan is wary. He blows a low whistle from between his lips.
„Honestly, I just wanted to check on you. You seemed… upset when I was here and like you needed a friendly face.“
„And that face is the friendly neighborhood thief who stole my dad‘s DeKappel the other week?“, Wylan chuckles, and if that‘s not the best noise Jesper has ever heard. He shrugs and grins at Wylan, who averts his gaze to hide his blush yet again.
-
They talk for hours, about nothing really. Wylan tells him about his experiments and how he got into chemistry as a child. His father hadn‘t wanted him to pursue it anymore, so he does it mostly in the safety of his own room. Jesper tells Wylan about Novyi Zem and his da‘s farm. Wylan moves to sit in the arm chair by the window at some point and tucks his feet up onto the cushion to rest his chin on his knees as he listens to him talk about the ups and downs of farm work.
Jesper fidgets with his hands in his lap. He really wants to ask Wylan about his father again. He also knows that bringing that up will likely break this comfortable limbo where they‘re both ignoring the impossibilty of each other‘s company. If he was intrigued before, he’s now infautated. He likes Wylan, he‘s interesting and fun and thoughtful, and not stuck up like Jesper used to believe all mercher were by default. Jesper admires the way Wylan tilts his head ever so slightly to the side when he listens to Jesper talk, his ability to sit fully still without thinking about it. The way the corner of his mouth pulls up slightly when he‘s amused. The faint blush coloring his cheeks when he thinks Jesper will judge him for something he‘s shared.
It is only when the sky outside starts turning from black to purple that they realize just how long they‘d been wrapped up in this conversation. Something had shifted between them in those early morning hours, an unadressed sizzling under the surface of their skins. Jesper finally pushes up from the floor where he‘d been sitting leaned back against the bed and stretches his limbs. He notices Wylan‘s gaze twitch down to where his shirt rides up to expose the dark skin of his hips as he pulls his arms above his head. He smirks, but when he sees Wylan‘s face turn crimson once more, decides to let him off easy this time. So this thing between them is not entirely one-sided. Interesting.
„I should… head back.“, Jesper says as Wylan rises from his perch by the window. He nods and draws his hand up quickly to stifle his yawn. Jesper‘s chest grows tight at the sight, a warm feeling spreading in his ribcage. If he looked closer at that, it would probably be something like fondness or affection. Jesper decidedly does not look any closer.
„I‘m sorry for keeping you awake all night. Will you be alright?“, he takes a step towards Wylan, who waves a hand at him dismissively.
„It‘s okay, I - It was really nice talking to you.“, he looks at Jesper from beneath his thick lashes with something like hesitance. Jesper wants to reach out and take his hand in his to rub soothing circles into his knuckles but thinks better of it.
„You‘re not so bad you know.“, Jesper winks at him. Wylan rolls his eyes at him.
„Go. Go to wherever it is you criminals sleep. And if - if you ever want to break into my father‘s house again, you know where my window is.“
Jesper huffs out a laugh as he makes his way to said window. Before he steps out into the night, he turns back, meeting those blue eyes again. They look at each other silently for a moment, before Jesper whispers „I‘ll see you around, Wy.“