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The first time he met Kaz, Jesper had been sprawled over wet cold cobblestones, bruised and bleeding. Kaz had appeared out of nowhere, a shadow that had detached itself from the other shadows and swooped down on the guys who had jumped Jesper. Now, after his encounter with the Dregs, it was Kaz who was the broken, bleeding one. That was an odd sight that made Jesper feel slightly off-kilter.
"What is wrong with him?" Nina grumbled, casting Kaz a cranky look.
"Same thing that's always wrong with him," Jesper said. "He's Kaz Brekker."
Nina snorted inelegantly and rolled her eyes. Kaz was ignoring them, focused on the bandage he was trying to tear a piece from. He'd told them to leave, so as far as he was concerned they were already gone. And the others did leave the room after a few more glances at Kaz that held varying degrees of concern and annoyance, but Jesper found himself lingering. The door closed behind Nina and Jesper stood by it, watching Kaz. For a moment it looked like Kaz actually thought he was alone, because he leaned his hip against the sink, probably to take weight off his bad leg, and his shoulders slumped as if a bag of sand had been dropped on them. The moment didn't last, though, and when he saw that Jesper was still there he straightened again.
"You have better things to do than stare at me," he said.
Jesper wasn't quite sure what made him step forward rather than leave the room as Kaz clearly wanted him to. He wasn't known for his sense of self-preservation, but he generally followed Kaz's orders. It might have been the persistent tension from their earlier fight—since it had happened, they hadn't had a moment alone together, not that Jesper knew what he could say that he hadn't said already. Or maybe it was the weariness and pain painted all over Kaz's skin in red and purple, in the drooping angle of his body, barely able to keep itself upright. Jesper couldn't quell an almost childish desire to help, despite the fact that Kaz adamantly didn't want anyone's help.
Kaz turned away, dismissing Jesper. "Go with the others," he said.
People sometimes thought that Jesper had a death wish, but it was in fact the other way around. For him, taking risks had nothing to do with dying and everything to do with living. Still, throwing himself whole-heartedly into a gun fight was one thing, but poking a wounded Kaz was a whole different level of stupid. Jesper watched Kaz struggle with the bandage as he tried to wrap it around his ribcage for a moment before he had the foolish impulse to come closer.
"Let me—" he said, but his hand moved before he had the time to finish his sentence. He realized his mistake immediately—Saints, Jesper, why can't you think before you act?—but was still taken aback by Kaz's reaction. Jesper's fingers had barely brushed Kaz's skin that Kaz had whirled around, eyes wide, and shoved at him hard enough that Jesper almost lost balance. Then Kaz fell back against the sink, clutching his ribs with a low grunt of pain.
"Sorry," Jesper said, but he felt more uneasy than guilty.
Kaz had slapped him with the panicked haste of someone trying to get something horrible and disgusting off their skin. For a second, his eyes had flashed wildly. He'd been surprised by Jesper's touch, but it wasn't just startle reflex. Kaz had never been the snuggly type, but it wasn't mere discomfort either. It had been closer to fear—no, something deeper and more primal than fear. Jesper felt the cogs inside his mind turn slowly, and then something suddenly clicked and it was like he could finally make sense of a picture he'd always looked at from the wrong angle. The gloves Kaz always wore, even though, as Jesper could attest to now, his hands looked perfectly normal. How on edge he'd acted when he had to take them off at the Ice Court prison. And right now, his disproportionate reaction to Jesper touching his arm. For a reason that Jesper couldn't even begin to fathom, it looked like Kaz couldn't stand skin-to-skin touch.
The thoughts took maybe up to thirty seconds to be able to make their way around Jesper's mind, and the moment when the truth appeared to him must had been easy to read on his face. Kaz saw it, in any case, either because Jesper was too transparent or because Kaz was too perceptive. Kaz's face hardened, his expression terrible. Jesper had seen this look on his face before and it had never boded well for the one on the receiving end.
Jesper wasn't stupid, he knew the magnitude of what he'd just figured out. In the Barrel, you couldn't afford weakness. Kaz had needed to fight all the harder, act all the more vicious to make up for his limp, but touch repulsion was a vulnerability that could only be hidden. No one would ever take him seriously again if they knew and it would be frighteningly easy to use against him. Maybe Inej knew, but Kaz trusted Inej and he had made abundantly clear that he didn't trust Jesper anymore. If Jesper couldn't find a way to show Kaz that it didn't matter that he knew, that he would never hold this over his head or allow the secret to be uncovered by anyone else, then their relationship would definitely be ruined. Or worse.
"Kaz—"
Kaz limped toward Jesper, slowly and painfully. His hands were empty, but he'd never needed weapons to look deadly. A thousand words of reassurance crowded at Jesper's lips, but everything he might say would sound empty to Kaz's ears. When Kaz was within reach, Jesper's mind emptied of all of his feverish thoughts and he let his body lead the way: without thinking about it, he fell down to his knees. The tiled floor was hard, but he ignored the pain and bowed his head, leaving his neck vulnerable, like a man at the execution block waiting for the axe to fall.
He kept his eyes on the white tiles, his heart pounding, while he waited for Kaz to do something. Kaz's breathing was harsh and shallow, each breath taken sounding like it hurt.
"Get up," Kaz rasped. "This is ridiculous."
"Kaz, please, you have to know," Jesper said, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "I'm loyal to you, I would never—"
"Betray me? Imagine that."
Jesper clenched his fists. "I was careless. I won't ever be again. But you know I would never hurt—"
"Get up."
Jesper rose to his feet and risked a look at Kaz, who'd grabbed his cane at some point and used the tip to push Jesper until his back hit the wall. He kept Jesper pinned against the wall with the tip of his cane pressed at the center of Jesper's chest, as if trying to maintain a distance between them by force. The storm had receded from behind his eyes, but his face was now a mask and Jesper still didn't know what to expect. Was Kaz going to give him a beating?
If they were to fight now, Jesper would certainly have the upper hand. Inej had briefly explained to them how Kaz had faced all the Dregs on his own, effectively writing a new chapter in the legend of Dirtyhands. Jesper wished he could have seen it, especially the look on old Per Haskell's face, but the happy outcome didn't change the fact that the Dregs had really done a number on Kaz. Jesper's eyes followed the pattern of dark purple bruises that blotched Kaz's pale skin. Some had clearly been left by boots and Jesper felt a spark of anger at the idea of the Dregs, Kaz's people, his people, kicking Kaz while he was down. Then Jesper, quite naturally, started to look at Kaz's bare chest, not at the marks from his beating but at his lean, muscled built. The Dregs' cup and crow tattoo, as well as a black R that Jesper ignored the meaning of, stood out on the skin of his arm. It was the second time that Jesper had the occasion to see Kaz without a shirt and the circumstances hadn't been ideal last time either, but in the anticipation of Kaz's probably violent reaction Jesper's restless mind wandered, digging up thoughts and desires he'd always tried to keep buried. He could still remember the moment he'd known that he was in too deep when it came to Kaz.
It had been a few months after they'd met, and Jesper had already gone on a few jobs with him. They were walking through East Stave, on their way back to the Slat, and Jesper had been tired, dreaming of his nice dry bed. He'd also been concerned about Kaz, who probably shouldn't have gone out in the first place, because he looked more than a little under the weather. Jesper had never seen Kaz be sick before, or maybe he'd hidden it better, but tonight he was shivering as though he were cold, even as he wore a coat that was too thick for the stifling summer heat. It probably explained why, when they came across a couple of skivs from the Black Tips who were obviously looking to rip into some younger kids, Kaz didn't see the silvery flash of a blade before Jesper did.
It was Jesper's first knife wound; it was also the first time he'd gotten hurt by someone else rather than in a farm accident. No thought had gone through Jesper's mind as he jumped between Kaz and the knife, but the moment right before the blade bit into his flesh had felt like an eternity. He was a risk-taker by nature, but when he did stupid things he generally acted while riding an adrenaline rush, and the thought of pain or death didn't even enter his mind. That night he'd taken a knife for Kaz stone cold, had felt the agony shoot through his body and spared a thought for his father, who would never know that his moron of a son had gotten himself killed in a dark alley. When he'd woken up some time later Kaz had been sitting by his bed, looking at him strangely. At the time, Jesper had liked to think that the odd expression was concern.
In present time Kaz pressed his cane a little harder against Jesper's chest, enough that Jesper thought it would leave a bruise. "You say you're loyal to me," Kaz said. "What do you think you saw?"
Was it a trick question? Was Kaz going to punish him for saying it out loud? Was he testing him somehow?
"I know why you wear gloves," Jesper said. "But you won't hear me say it."
"You know." Kaz's face twisted into something ugly, violent and desperate at the same time. "You think you know."
Unexpectedly, Kaz leaned forward, and Jesper barely had the time to register the sudden closeness and to wonder what he was doing before Kaz took one of his revolvers from the belt at his hip. Was Kaz going to shoot him? Gun him down with his father and the others right next door? Kaz tucked the muzzle of the gun under Jesper's chin and Jesper stopped breathing, forcing himself to keep stiller than he'd ever done before. Kaz's eyes were two dark, bottomless pits that bore into Jesper as if trying to purge the information from his mind.
"If you can't trust me with that, then you better shoot," Jesper said very softly.
He didn't want to die, certainly didn't want to be shot with his father in the other room, but he was also tired of doing that dance with Kaz. He'd made a big mistake and he was owning to it, but if Kaz couldn't see that Jesper would wrench the heart right out of his chest for him, then what more could Jesper do? He'd never expected love or sex from Kaz, he wasn't that naïve, but he'd hoped at least to secure some of his trust and respect. It was stupid to feel anything for the most dangerous street rat from the Barrel; it had to be coming from the same part of Jesper that liked danger, violence, and gambling, the bad side of him that he should try to suppress. It was part of him nonetheless, same as the good. He liked Wylan a lot, and he truly hoped that he would get somewhere with him—at least, if he could manage not to screw up for longer than two minutes—but some corner of his soul would always belong to Kaz.
"What can I do to make you believe me, Kaz?"
"Shut up and let me think," Kaz snapped.
Kaz's hand shook and his finger grazed the trigger, making Jesper almost swallow his tongue. The air between them was charged with tension and Jesper's pulse roared in his ears. Kaz shifted his hold on the gun and the barrel brushed against the side of Jesper's neck, the metal feeling startlingly cold. A rush of adrenaline made Jesper's head spin. At some point, he'd stopped being scared—if Kaz had really wanted to kill him, he would have done it already—and now his body was vibrating with an excitement akin to what he felt in a gun fight. But sharper, somehow, more… pointed. Kaz's chest heaved with his labored breathing and his lips were split and swollen from the blows he'd taken, and yet Jesper felt an overwhelming urge to kiss him. A silly thought, especially now that he knew it was as likely to ever happen as traveling to the moon was. Oh, Saints, was he getting aroused?
Warmth flooded his cheeks. He sent a prayer to whoever was listening that Kaz wouldn't notice, but it was of course too much to hope. Kaz frowned slightly, then his gaze traveled down. Jesper bit his lip, feeling the heat from Kaz's eyes rake down his body like two pieces of burning coal. He didn't dare look, but he knew he must be half-hard. What was wrong with him?
Kaz lifted an eyebrow. "Really, Jes?" he said.
"Oh, shut up," Jesper said tightly. "Like you didn't know."
"I didn't—" Kaz said and trailed off, and it suddenly occurred to Jesper that maybe he hadn't known the specific nature of Jesper's feelings. It wasn't as if they'd ever talked about it. "I'm holding you at gun point."
"If I liked you cuddly, I wouldn't like you at all."
Some emotion fluttered across Kaz's face, but too fast for Jesper to make it out. His bruised, battered face was even harder to read than usual. Slowly, deliberately, he dragged the muzzle of the gun down the length of Jesper's torso. He paused right above his pelvis and glanced up, as if checking Jesper's reaction. Jesper swallowed hard; his heart was now racing so fast he might have been in danger of giving himself a heart attack. It was torture not to move, but he was afraid that if he did he would break whatever spell made Kaz act so madly. The torture had a delicious edge to it that he'd never experienced before.
He saw Kaz take a breath that stuttered when he let it out. The gun travelled lower, and then lower still, until it caressed the bulge of Jesper's erection. Jesper's head snapped back, hitting the wall behind him hard, and he closed his eyes for a second. He wanted to go down on his knees again, grab Kaz's hips, open his trousers and suck on his prick, but this was of course impossible. He opened his eyes and saw Kaz looking back at him, his eyes so dark they seemed almost black. The gun moved against Jesper's dick, solid and unyielding, the pressure a little too hard for comfort. Jesper looked down and was transfixed by the sight of Kaz's pale, elegant, naked hand wrapped around the pearl handle of his prized revolver. Jesper's whole body felt overheated, as if someone had cranked up the heat in the bathroom. Kaz was moving the barrel of the gun along his length in a rhythm now, so that the weapon was positively fondling him in an obscenely intimate way. To have Kaz's hand on his dick couldn't possibly feel better than that. What if Kaz accidentally fired the gun? This should have cooled him down, but the thought actually got him hotter. Kaz didn't make that sort of mistake, but the idea was a thrill and it sent a sizzling energy pumping through Jesper's veins. He'd rarely felt as wonderfully alive as he did now.
Jesper was panting now, unable to help himself. He kept his hands flat against the wall to stop himself from reaching for Kaz and ruining everything. Kaz looked at him for the seconds, minutes, hours this lasted, the expression on his face intense but foreign, almost hungry. Jesper's climax hit him like a bullet—for a split second he thought Kaz had actually shot—and his vision whitened briefly. Kaz stepped away and Jesper's legs buckled, feeling weak and rubbery. He sat in a heap on the cold floor, trying to catch his breath. When he looked up, he saw that Kaz was handing him his revolver back. There was color on Kaz's cheeks that had nothing to do with the bruises.
"Thanks," Jesper said, which was a ridiculous thing to say given the circumstances. He looked at his revolver dumbly, feeling like it ought to look different now.
"You should go, now," Kaz said. He had turned his back, leaning over the sink again, and Jesper couldn't see what emotion was on his face, if there was any.
"When I can stand up, I will," Jesper said. He looked again at his gun. "You got them back from the safe at the Cumulus."
Kaz shot him a look over his shoulder. "I told you: what use would you have been without guns?" he said.
"Yeah," Jesper said softly. "Yeah, you said that."
Kaz could have given him any other guns. Jesper was a good enough shot that it wouldn't have mattered much. He shook his head, laughing inwardly at himself. He would probably never get to the bottom of Kaz's mystery. He would never know what the meaning of what had just happened was, if it had meant anything at all.
After a minute he felt solid and composed enough to stand up and walk to the door. The inside of his underwear felt uncomfortably sticky, but he would need to find himself another bathroom. Kaz had continued tending to his injuries as though he wasn't there. His movements were sluggish and pained, but Jesper knew better than to help, now.
"I'll see you soon," he told Kaz, and gently closed the door behind him.