[ whatever it was he thought nikolai might say or do, it’s not this encouraging and earnest thing. saints, he wants to look away. maybe also to pitch himself overboard. but he can’t free himself from nikolai’s gaze, instead staring down the barrel of his eyes, startled and lost in the swirl of starry flecks, until their hands entwine. as ever, touch pulls his focus. oh. nikolai’s observations also articulate something known to him but never before clarified. it’s always. yes, he supposes so, death and rot licking at nikolai’s boots whenever he fills kaz's gaze; jordie’s voice in his head, haunting him endlessly. calling his efforts a miracle jolts him back to himself. he scoffs softly and looks away, a hint of colour warming his cheeks. ]
[ lightly, ] You should know better than to let me anywhere near the palace. [ thief, remember? he hazards a glance back at nikolai, features arranged into neutrality, apart from his unguarded eyes. nikolai asks him for mundane things that no one else would dare request: a peaceful swim, a few days rest in the city he loves. can you even give him that? they seem like simple things done for the sake of doing them (for the company), and kaz hasn’t rested for longer than a night in years. even after besting rollins, he hadn’t known how to stop, hollow in all the ways he was at the start — except where his six closest companions filled him up. you could try. nikolai hasn’t spoken hopefully of the future in some time, so it seems vital to encourage him now. kaz squeezes his fingers, thumb swiping over the back of his hand.
he can tell it was the right decision when nikolai tears himself away. kaz curls his fingers again and watches his every jagged movement. dominik. the name alone is enough because anything more should be given freely — and nikolai does just that. he comes back, hands drowning and anchoring kaz all over again. his chest aches, straining with the feeling that wells up when all you can do for someone is listen, seeing the hurt carved into them long ago dragged into the light. grip too tight, words grasping at the twin impossibilities of love and loss. his own halting speech wouldn’t serve him here, so he simply nods when nikolai finally catches his eye again.
as nikolai tips into his lap, he lifts his hands, unsure where they’re meant to go now that their resting spot is occupied. never had someone this close, for this long. he finds himself grateful for the bottle, so he has the excuse of swigging it first. kaz then tips it against the v of his hip and turns a sour look down at nikolai’s hopeful, handsome face. ]
You kissed me first. [ all kaz had done was hold his hand. and look and look and look. he rolls his eyes. ] I’m aware of the concept. [ of platonic touching. he tugs off his still-gloved hand with bare fingers. ] I had an older brother. I have —
[ jesper, whose clothed arm he hadn’t shrugged off his shoulders the last time they spoke and who had been smart enough to say nothing of it. one hand cards back through nikolai’s hair, familiar territory. the tell-tale stutter of his breath and heart both come despite his steeled composure. had he mentioned that jordie was older before? he imagines that he doesn’t seem like a younger sibling, not the way nikolai does.
as the topic shifts to inej, his frown tightens. ]
[ stiffly, ] Captain Ghafa decides who boards her ship. [ and kaz would never dream of influencing it. it’s the site of her freedom. his other hand settles back on nikolai’s throat, an unmistakable threat, though he smooths it higher soon enough, cupping his jaw — and then letting go. he threads their fingers together instead, just to be contrary to nikolai’s instructions. the hand in his hair keeps raking through it, diligent and careful.
admittedly, the idea of inej and nikolai meeting makes kaz want to squirm, although he knows inej would offer little information. nikolai will talk. he's always talking. and inej will ask nikolai about zenik, too, so he won’t have to show his hand. you still haven’t answered the question. he had liked imogen, wanted her since she started laughing at the terrible things he said, doubly so when he saw what she did to the men she didn’t like, but inej... he swallows a breath, adam’s apple bobbing. his gaze tilts up, tracing patterns in the faraway wall. ]
Inej is the best of us. [ purposefully copying nikolai’s words once more, so he understands the meaning without having to say it his own way. kaz thinks about her slight silhouette in his window, her shadow watching over him, the coil of her braid and the warmth of her laugh. ] Ketterdam will never deserve her.
[ and neither will kaz brekker, but she doesn’t need someone deserving. a wholly good man couldn’t have bought her contract, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to do every terrible thing required to help rout out her targets. ]
But she knows where to find me. [ could have stopped that sentence earlier, and it’d still have been true. she knows. everything. him. kaz looks down at nikolai, mouth faintly quirked. ] People are the one thing you can’t steal, Lantsov. You can take them, own them — but they’ll never be yours. [ the dregs haven’t taken on any indentures since he seized control, and they never will again. ] They have to want to come back. [ a beat. ] And you have to let them in when they do.
[ philosopher crook. better to let that sit rather than ask another question. it might just be good advice. ]
no subject
[ lightly, ] You should know better than to let me anywhere near the palace. [ thief, remember? he hazards a glance back at nikolai, features arranged into neutrality, apart from his unguarded eyes. nikolai asks him for mundane things that no one else would dare request: a peaceful swim, a few days rest in the city he loves. can you even give him that? they seem like simple things done for the sake of doing them (for the company), and kaz hasn’t rested for longer than a night in years. even after besting rollins, he hadn’t known how to stop, hollow in all the ways he was at the start — except where his six closest companions filled him up. you could try. nikolai hasn’t spoken hopefully of the future in some time, so it seems vital to encourage him now. kaz squeezes his fingers, thumb swiping over the back of his hand.
he can tell it was the right decision when nikolai tears himself away. kaz curls his fingers again and watches his every jagged movement. dominik. the name alone is enough because anything more should be given freely — and nikolai does just that. he comes back, hands drowning and anchoring kaz all over again. his chest aches, straining with the feeling that wells up when all you can do for someone is listen, seeing the hurt carved into them long ago dragged into the light. grip too tight, words grasping at the twin impossibilities of love and loss. his own halting speech wouldn’t serve him here, so he simply nods when nikolai finally catches his eye again.
as nikolai tips into his lap, he lifts his hands, unsure where they’re meant to go now that their resting spot is occupied. never had someone this close, for this long. he finds himself grateful for the bottle, so he has the excuse of swigging it first. kaz then tips it against the v of his hip and turns a sour look down at nikolai’s hopeful, handsome face. ]
You kissed me first. [ all kaz had done was hold his hand. and look and look and look. he rolls his eyes. ] I’m aware of the concept. [ of platonic touching. he tugs off his still-gloved hand with bare fingers. ] I had an older brother. I have —
[ jesper, whose clothed arm he hadn’t shrugged off his shoulders the last time they spoke and who had been smart enough to say nothing of it. one hand cards back through nikolai’s hair, familiar territory. the tell-tale stutter of his breath and heart both come despite his steeled composure. had he mentioned that jordie was older before? he imagines that he doesn’t seem like a younger sibling, not the way nikolai does.
as the topic shifts to inej, his frown tightens. ]
[ stiffly, ] Captain Ghafa decides who boards her ship. [ and kaz would never dream of influencing it. it’s the site of her freedom. his other hand settles back on nikolai’s throat, an unmistakable threat, though he smooths it higher soon enough, cupping his jaw — and then letting go. he threads their fingers together instead, just to be contrary to nikolai’s instructions. the hand in his hair keeps raking through it, diligent and careful.
admittedly, the idea of inej and nikolai meeting makes kaz want to squirm, although he knows inej would offer little information. nikolai will talk. he's always talking. and inej will ask nikolai about zenik, too, so he won’t have to show his hand. you still haven’t answered the question. he had liked imogen, wanted her since she started laughing at the terrible things he said, doubly so when he saw what she did to the men she didn’t like, but inej... he swallows a breath, adam’s apple bobbing. his gaze tilts up, tracing patterns in the faraway wall. ]
Inej is the best of us. [ purposefully copying nikolai’s words once more, so he understands the meaning without having to say it his own way. kaz thinks about her slight silhouette in his window, her shadow watching over him, the coil of her braid and the warmth of her laugh. ] Ketterdam will never deserve her.
[ and neither will kaz brekker, but she doesn’t need someone deserving. a wholly good man couldn’t have bought her contract, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to do every terrible thing required to help rout out her targets. ]
But she knows where to find me. [ could have stopped that sentence earlier, and it’d still have been true. she knows. everything. him. kaz looks down at nikolai, mouth faintly quirked. ] People are the one thing you can’t steal, Lantsov. You can take them, own them — but they’ll never be yours. [ the dregs haven’t taken on any indentures since he seized control, and they never will again. ] They have to want to come back. [ a beat. ] And you have to let them in when they do.
[ philosopher crook. better to let that sit rather than ask another question. it might just be good advice. ]