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Waking up is a slow process.
The last fragments of sleep slip from her, falling away like dust falls from an old book. Inej rolls and stretches, the sheets coarse against her limbs, before sinking back into the mattress, a heavy sigh escaping her parted lips. For a time, she just floats, half-awake and half-asleep, gently warmed by the blanket encasing her body.
When she does open her eyes, she doesn’t think about how long it’s been since she’s slept so soundly, nor does she remember what happened last time she slept in. Because she opens her eyes to weak and watery sunlight streaming through the window, and a sight so lovely she thinks for a moment she is still dreaming.
Kaz is curled up on his side, his little bed a twin to hers. His hand is curled loosely in front of him, his mouth half open. In the quiet of the morning, Inej can hear the quiet snores filling the room, and she almost laughs. The Bastard of the Barrel, the deadliest boy in all of Ketterdam, snores. And it’s the sweetest sound Inej has ever heard.
The twin beds were Kaz’s idea. They’d had to let out her room, he’d explained when she docked. They couldn’t justify keeping a room empty. So he moved an extra bed into his room.
“You don’t have to take it,” he’d told her, head bowed to disguise the red in his cheeks. “Jesper and Wylan have a room at the mansion. It’s probably nicer.”
Inej nodded and then dropped her bag ceremoniously on her bed. She turned around just in time to see Kaz smile.
In the present, Inej watches as Kaz in his sleep, the slow rise and fall of his chest, the subtle movement behind his eyelids. There’s a sort of relief in these moments, one that she wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone else. She hears his breathing, sees his small movements, and she’s reminded that he’s still here. They both are, and they’re fine.
Ka moves then, a twitch in his hand, a tremor in his face. His inhale is slow, deep, the sheets rustle as he turns. When he blinks, it's slow, his eyelids heavy, and accompanied by a smile spreading over his face. Dark hair falls haphazardly into his face, the locks criss-crossing over each other.
“Hello Inej,” he whispers, eyes clouded with sleep. He moves as if to get up, only to then fall back into the mattress, cheek pressed into the pillow. Murmuring something she can’t hear, he wraps the blanket stubbornly around his body, declaring his intention to remain in bed as long as possible. Inej laughs, and the sound verberates in her chest like a summer wind through the fields.
“Coffee?” she asks. Kaz nods, and mumbles something that sounds like a thanks. When Inej smiles, she feels it in every part of her body. After a quick brush against his knuckles, Inej pulls herself from her bed and feels the cold air on her skin; she grabs a shirt and slips it on over her vest before heading out.
(She doesn’t need to wonder. The black fabric is rough and warm, the Kaz-scent of coffee and ink lingers on the collar)
This early in the morning, the Slat is mostly quiet, everyone likely sleeping off the previous night’s hangover. The silence is welcome though, calming, soothing, so much so that Inej finds herself yawning as she pads down the hall. Really, the presence of Kaz’s shirt around her shoulders isn’t helping. It’s almost as good as Kaz himself, nuzzling her neck or curling his fingers carefully around her wrist.
Inej blinks heavily, and rubs the sleep from her eyes as she crosses the threshold to the kitchen. There, she grabs two mugs from the cupboard and lifts the still-warm coffee pot from the fire. She rubs her eyes, stretches her shoulders, grabs a spoon from the open drawer.
Behind her, something falls, the uneven tinkling of metal on metal. Inej is jerked into awareness and turns around, her cheeks already crimson.
Six or seven of the Dregs cluster around the rickety table. Half-finished meals of eggs and bacon sit on the faded plates, cutlery lays forgotten on the china. Anika, Dirix, and a few others whom she has known for years all gaze at her now with open mouths and bulging eyes. Silent words pass between them as they look at each other and then back to Inej. There’s nothing malicious in their gaze, there could never be, but a shiver runs up Inej’s spine all the same.
With twitching fingers, Inej pulls Kaz’s shirt tighter around her and-
Kaz’s shirt.
Oh. Oh.
Now she gets it. She’s walking around the Slat, in full view of the Dregs, wearing Kaz Brekker’s shirt. No wonder they’re all looking at her like that. Saints, the Ice Court heist was probably a more believable story than this.
Inej isn’t sure what she’s to do next; explain or joke or run, when another element is added. A cane thumps outside and in comes Kaz Brekker, messy bedhead and sleep-heavy eyes and all. With tender tiredness, Kaz taps her wrist and rubs his nose in her hair, a “good morning” rasped in her ear. If she were alone, this would make her toes curl and she would thank her Saints for this moment with him.
As it is, her face is positively scarlet, and she responds to Kaz’s caress with a sharp dig in his ribs that shocks him into wakefulness. For a moment, Kaz can only gape at the sight before him; the gaping Dregs, his shirt around her body, her hair still tickling his cheek.
It’s in that moment, pressed into his side, that she hears the hitch in his breath, sees his face change as he registers, then thinks, then reacts all in the span of a second.
“Don’t you all have places to be?” he barks. “Anika, Dirix, Fifth Harbour, there’s a shipment coming and I want eyes on it. The rest of you, find something to occupy your time.”
And he doesn’t need to say any more; they are already scrambling from the table and making a hasty exit down the hall, breakfasts discarded on the table. Kaz rolls his eyes and gathers the plates. Quiet, gossiping voices can still be heard outside, and Inej can only assume trouble is coming.
Kaz turns to her, a small grin on his face.
“Everything all right?” he asks. Inej shrugs and runs her hand over the fabric of his shirt.
“They know now,” she says. “Everyone’s going to know.”
Kaz nods and scrapes leftover eggs onto a clean plate. If she’s honest, Inej is a little surprised at how calm she is about this. Even more surprising is the giggle that emerges in her throat, fluttering like a butterfly against her windowsill.
“Not a bad thing though,” she says. “Right?”
Kaz’s eyes lift to meet hers, peeking out from his dark hair. They’re still a little tired, but what Inej really notices is the way they crinkle at the sides; the sparkle in them reminds her of the rising sun dancing on the waves.
“Not really,” he whispers. Then, he hands her a plate and adds, “Especially if it gets us free breakfast.”
Incredible. Inej looks at the plate, laden with eggs and bacon and half a smoked salmon, all pinched from the abandoned plates, and does her best to look disapproving.
“Bastard,” she tells him pointedly. Kaz only shrugs, and then there’s a sight so astonishing even she struggles to believe it.
He winks.
“Your bastard though,” he says, and well, Inej can’t deny it.