everymonstrousthing | (no subject)

With money, yes. With his own reputation, yes. But with another living, breathing, warm human being?

He shakes his head. Takes a sip of his sweet drink.

"Never."

"Figured," Jesper says and it doesn't matter if it's true or not because it's at least the answer he expects. "It's probably safer for you that way." Safer for all of them.

He tries not to think of Wylan.

He tilts his head, studying Jesper for a moment.

"What do you mean, safer?"

Jesper frowns and tries to push aside the thought of Kaz's reaction again, of the last time he lost Inej. "The less you love, the safer you are. Always seemed like your chief concern."

"My chief concern was staying one step ahead," he says. "And making money. And look where that got us." He drains his drink and then stands, walking into the kitchen, setting it down on the counter at Jesper's elbow. "Ask me another."

"Ask you another or pour you another?" Already, he's picking up a bottle by the neck, giving it a dramatic twirl through his fingers before pouring .

"Is there anyone you will touch?"

His hand still remembers that brief pass of Kaz's fingers.

He's distracted, for a moment, by the movement of the bottle, the swift deftness of his long, slim fingers. When the drink's poured, he picks it up and takes a sip. The bourbon burns.

"Just her," he says. "Since I was nine years old."

Not perfectly dextrous; Jesper realizes he's gotten a few drops of bourbon on his palm and licks it because there's no reason to waste good alcohol.

"And what happened when you were nine?" He can't believe he's asking and distracts himself by getting the last bit of bourbon from a fingertip.

"That's the same question you asked before by another route," says Kaz, and he actually smiles against the rim of his glass, just barely. He shakes his head. "Not yet."

Jesper shrugs and pours tequila and grenadine together, two tall glasses. It's a mistake; alcohol in Darrow is stronger than the liquors of Ketterdam and he knows he's well on his way to drunk.

But tonight seems to be the night for it.

Kaz smiles and Jesper finds he doesn't know what the hell to do with it.

"When was Kaz Brekker born, then?" Jesper tries. He's nudging on the same question but trying yet another route.

"A few years later than Kaz Reitvald," he says, and it's the closest that he's ever come to being completely honest with Jesper and it shakes something, deep inside of him. He knocks back the rest of his bourbon in one go. "Kaz Brekker crawled out of the harbour, like all of the best Barrel boys."

Reitvald. It's not a name he's ever heard but then Jesper thinks of the R tattooed on Kaz's bicep. There's that answer.

"And Kaz Reitvald?"

"Was nine years old when he came to Ketterdam." It's a big truth. He doesn't look at Jesper when he says it. He pushes one hand back through his hair, focusing on the feeling of short shaved hair against his palm as he smooths the longer strands back into place.

"And Dirtyhands came along." It's not a question. Jesper's a shit scholar but even he can add two and two. Whatever happened to make Kaz Reitvald into Brekker also kept him from touching anyone else except in violence.

"When there was rough work to be done," says Kaz, shrugging. "Ketterdam wasn't a good place for a kid like Kaz Reitvald as it turns out." He looks up. "You know what coming to Ketterdam is like."

Jesper turns his glass in its place and nods, looking up at Kaz and voicing, for the first time, the suspicion that he and Inej shared about the first time they met. "You made sure I found out," he says, reaching out and tapping the back of Kaz's hand, just to see what happens.

He doesn't flinch, but he does go still for a moment, and he has to remind himself that corpses aren't warm. That dead thing's skin doesn't give like that.

"Made sure you found out what?" he asks, his breath shivering in his chest.

"Did you send those boys to rough me up, when you found me?" Jesper asks. There's something in Kaz's eyes that makes him think he'll actually be honest, breath still and pupils dilated.

"When I saved you, Jes," he says, and his smile is almost fond for a moment. "Yes, I hired them. Because I thought you'd be useful."

He would smile at that, pleased with himself. It almost softens the blow of being called useful.

"Never leave anything to chance, do you?"

"I try not to," says Kaz, maintaining eye contact. "Leaving things to chance makes you easier to trip up."

Funny then, that he keeps Jesper around when all he does is play with chance. Jesper wishes he could be angry. It would be smart but he just can't leave behind a bad hand when he should.

He pours himself another shot and drinks it at once without saying anything.

Kaz watches him, eyes dark and unreadable for a moment. He's drunker than he meant to be. He doesn't want to stop drinking. He holds out his glass for another.

On 5 September 2016 at 19:40, materialnik - DW Comment < dw_null@dreamwidth.org> wrote:

They're rambling toward something very dangerous and Jesper knows it but he takes the glass from Kaz and this time there's no mistaking the way he lets his fingers fold over Kaz's. His skin is softer than he'd expect from a boy named Dirtyhands.

Then he pulls away and pours Kaz another shot and then holds the bottle up so that Kaz can see there's hardly anything left. Nothing but the dregs.

And gods, he is shaken by that touch. Warm. Jesper is very, very warm. That's what Kaz focuses on. He gets the joke, the message in the bottle, and huffs a laugh.

"Now what are we going to do?"