For roughworkdone

[greetfear]

Normally, she spends nights over at Wylan and Jesper's, basking in the warmth of their personalities and enjoying the softness of the bed they've decided is hers. She likes the general quiet of the house at night, how she can't hear anyone knocking around a floor down from her. Because even though Kaz had insulated the walls and replaced most of the flooring in the Slat, it was still the Slat. Noise echoed in that place and it seemingly never slept, Dregs always coming and going all the way into the wee hours of the morning.

Her time spent in the Slat had gotten her accustomed to the noise. And then months and months at sea had gotten her used to the exact opposite. The ocean was normally placid, the lapping of water a gentle backdrop sound.

Lately, though, she's found herself going back to stay in Kaz's bed, despite the firm mattress and how some of the noises still echoes up to the third floor. Last night she'd been too exhausted to leave, even though she'd been thoroughly satisfied. Though maybe that had been part of it; she hadn't wanted to pull herself away from him. Not when it filled her with warmth to watch Kaz drift off in the half light of the moon, his unusually long lashes sweeping along his cheeks. So she'd stayed.

And at some point, fell asleep curled against his back, face pressed between his shoulder blades.

Morning finds her in pretty much the same position, except she'd wormed one arm to curve over his waist, as though attempting to keep him as close as possible in the middle of the night. It's maybe slightly too warm with them pressed so close, but she's too comfortable otherwise to want to move. Nor does she want to wake him up, knowing he'll be in a constant state of motion once he's up.

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[roughworkdone]

He can't blame Inej for preferring Wylan's very comfortable home when she comes in from the sea. It's a proper house, and it's filled with luxury rather than the noise and cluttered bodies in the Slat. Even in the attic, Kaz is aware of what's happening a few floors down. He's gotten used to it, learned to sleep through it. He's not sure what he'd do with something more quiet.

When Inej falls asleep in his bed, though, Kaz sleeps like the dead with her warm body pressed against his back. He can feel her through his shirt, living and vibrant and breathing. He sleeps later than he usually would and he's a little groggy when he finally wakes.

Kaz takes a sharper breath, but then slowly relaxes again when he remembers it's Inej's arm around him, her body against his back.

[greetfear]

For a brief while, he's completely out. She can tell by how even his breathing is, the relaxed beat of his heart she can make out just enough from her ear pressed to his back.

During that while, she dozes right alongside, unwilling to get out of bed just yet. It's so rare to get him to stop moving, to sleep in like this. When she leaves, she knows he probably goes right back to keeping irregular hours, dealing with all sorts of demands that comes with running a gang. The least she can do is make sure he gets enough sleep while she's over.

And well, he's comfortable. A fact that surprised her, considering how many sharp angles he seems to have.

Eventually, the sleep wears off and she feels him tense, wakefulness settling over them both like a splash of water. Inej doesn't move, waits for his reaction and lets out a soft hum when he relaxes, pressing her forehead to his back affectionately.

"Kaz?"

[roughworkdone]

"Yeah?" His answer comes soft and raspy, voice still heavy with sleep. He feels groggy; he can't remember the last time he slept so hard. Maybe it was the last time Inej slept here. Kaz doesn't move again: he doesn't want to pull away from Inej or disrupt their comfortable cuddle.

He fell asleep before ever taking his gloves off. One hand reaches to cover Inej's and he lifts the other to his mouth so he can pull the glove off with his teeth. He lets it fall and tentatively replaces his gloved hand with the bare one, fingers sliding over Inej's.

[greetfear]

He sounds so sleepy and she smiles, the shape of it probably felt through the cloth of his shirt. Like this, he isn't Dirtyhands or the leader of a gang. Just Kaz Brekker, sleep mussed and hers alone.

When he puts his bare hand on hers, she sighs, turning her palm so she can thread their fingers together.

"How long do I have you?"