Kaz Brekker (
everymonstrousthing) wrote2016-04-06 10:42 pm
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AU - Rat
In the days after she goes, he's Dirtyhands more often than not. He stalks Darrow, sharp enough to cut. So little soft left in him. It's worse, because he'd let himself soften. He'd let too much of Kaz Reitvald come back and now reminding himself how to be the man he was in Ketterdam is hard work. It hurts.
Still. There's rough work to be done. So here he is.
The air in the club is close with tobacco, the smell of bodies. Kaz's mouth makes a moue of distaste as he slips up to the bar and orders gin, neat. He leans his back against polished wood, looks up at the stage. He's in time to catch the tail end of the performance.
Still. There's rough work to be done. So here he is.
The air in the club is close with tobacco, the smell of bodies. Kaz's mouth makes a moue of distaste as he slips up to the bar and orders gin, neat. He leans his back against polished wood, looks up at the stage. He's in time to catch the tail end of the performance.
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"Something like that," he says, nodding. "Too close to be ignored." His eyes dart over Rat's face. He leans to put the wine down, but doesn't reach for him, yet. "I don't want to talk about it."
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"I don't want talking," says Kaz, shaking his head, taking another swallow of his wine. It's going down too quickly, and he knows it. "I don't think you want talking either. No matter what you want me to think."
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Rat is going to make every second of this hard work; Kaz can see that. He wouldn't expect anything different. Carefully, he leans forward and sets the glasses down. Deliberately, he peels off his gloves, tucking them into his pocket. And then he offers Rat one bare hand.
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Whatever the reason, it gives Rat cause to be careful as he reaches out and lays his fingertips against Kaz's. It's a feather light touch, easy to escape, but it is there.
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Rat's skin is warm and it's soft and he feels alive. Kaz focuses on that. He drags in a breath through his nose and slides his fingers against Rat's, carefully, slowly, gently. He swallows, focusing on their hands, on the point where they touch.
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"You are," says Kaz, nodding, turning so he's facing Rat more solidly, his fingers curling around his wrist to tug him in a little closer. "We're both doing better than we've got any right to."
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"I'm sure they do," says Kaz, shivering even at that light touch. Warm. He's so warm. "Given the opportunity. He frowns, eyes studying Rat's face, beautiful despite or because of the makeup that softens him slightly. "I don't...I haven't..." He shakes her head. "It's only been her."
His cheeks flush at the admission.
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"I have," he says, letting Kaz decide if he likes that or not.
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A little sigh, almost like relief, shivers through Kaz when Rat tells him that. Carefully, he shifts his hand, their fingers threading, sliding together. He nods.
"I'm sick," he says, quietly. "Of being on my own in the dark."
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He hesitates for just a moment, but he doesn't pull away. Their lips graze. Kaz's breath catches. His fingers tighten on Rat's. Warm. He's warm. Alive. He's alive.
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Kaz holds himself to the kiss, one hand still tucked into Rat's but his other hand skims along the other's side, cautiously feeling the shape of him against his bare Palm.
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"I've seen worse," Kaz assures him, but he does skim his fingers upwards instead, following the line of Rat's ribcage. It's a light, wandering sort of touch.
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"I was nine when I started wearing gloves," he says. It's a small admission, but it's his to give. He leans up, brushing his lips against Rat's again.
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Rat moves and Kaz finds himself following, leaning in to keep the kiss, hand pressed against Rat's side. He huffs a laugh against Rat's skin, thinks of the way the girls at Heleen's would look at him sometimes.
"I have no idea what I'm doing," he admits.
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With his other hand, Rat reaches out and cups Kaz's chin, making good on the touch he'd offered minutes before. The touch is delicate, careful, even as his lips part to deepen the kiss. He knows what he's doing. Knows how to make it good.
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