#kanej fluff

She didn't say anything. Her lips parted and she croaked something like, "Papa." Her father put a hand on her shoulder. He was looking down at Inej with a smile that made Kaz feel like an intruder, he didn't deserve to witness something so innocent. 

Only then did Inej turn back. Kaz suddenly felt like a spectacle. Should he have worn something else? Surely it was his clothing choices that made their eyes lock on him so intently. Kaz saw that Inej's mother's eyes were the same as Inej. Mr Ghafa had a sense of weight in his gaze that could only be bought with age. But his wife, well, the woman was possibly what the girls on West Stave had in mind when they whined about wanting to look young forever. She seemed ageless. Her eyes were the same pools of darkness as the girl who stood before him. Like she too had taken every dark thing around her and held them in her gaze until she was surrounded by an aura of light, as Inej had been doing for years. 

"Ma, Papa, this is Kaz." Her father extended his hand with the grace of a saviour, but Kaz did not need salvation, not if it came with a handshake. He was acutely aware of the sea breeze on his naked palms. The same sea had once wrinkled his fingers as they clung to Jordie, more afraid of drowning than whatever was in front of his eyes. 

"He helped me survive this city." Inej's voice was an anchor, keeping him grounded to reality. 

Her eyes were on him. He had held her own hand only moments before. Could he do the same for the man in front of him? If it gave her the same comfort? Could he cross the Barge once again, if he knew she would be standing on the shore? 

I would come for you. His bare hand left the metal crow's head of his cane and made contact with the skin of someone else. The waters rose. 

"Ma, could you make skillet bread for me tonight?" Inej spoke, but her eyes were on him. He shook her father's hand firmly; it was a chore to keep his hand from shaking as he returned it to the head of the cane. When he looked up, her smile was a halo of light around her. He fought not to squint against the sheer luminescence of her joy. 

"Of course I will, jaan, " her mother cooed, using the Suli word for 'lifeline'. Inej had mentioned it to him once, in one of her proverbs. "But first you must tell us, what happened ?"

He could feel the weight of the question, the burden of it hanging over Inej. He could only guess what Suli proverbs must be going on in her head to help her cope with the fear and keep her chin held high. 

"We will tell you everything you wish to know, Mrs Ghafa," Kaz spoke in her stead. How many times had she covered for him? He could repay her a thing or two before she started her journey to the sea. "But first shall we go somewhere more comfortable? I must confess, staying standing for long isn't very good for my leg."

• • •

"Veera told me of the slaver ship that was seen leaving the dock. When we didn't find you, we feared the worst," Inej's father said. 

They had come to Wylan's house and were seated on the dining table on which loaves of the skillet bread that Inej's mother had made cooled. Inej and Kaz on one side, her parents on the other. 

"The worst happened, Papa. And then it happened some more."

Kaz listened as Inej explained her days at the Menagerie. Then her meeting with Kaz. Her time with the dregs. She looked at him a few times, to see if he would like to add to the conversation. He would, but he would not speak. 

There came a time every once in a while when he had to look at all the numbers himself. Despite how accurate the reports of Anika and Pim were, he always found something that had slipped from their brain, that would have been unknown to him if he hadn't looked at the scores himself. You could trust somebody with your numbers, but there were some tallies you had to count on your own. This was her story to tell. He had no right to say anything, not when he knew there were wounds in her only she could recall. 

She had steered clear of any mention of the Ice Court heist. But she could only talk so much about the past. "I have a ship. I managed to do something huge, with the help of the right people. I have the resources too. I'm going to hunt slavers. I won't let anyone suffer what I've endured. But before I do that, I need your forgiveness. Papa, Mama, I need to know where… I need to know what I mean to you, before I go out into the world alone and fulfil my purpose in this world."

There were tears in her mother's eyes that were very different from the way she'd cried at the quay. Her eyes were still, determined, yet searching for something to say. She reminded Kaz of the night on Black Veil when Inej had turned back － He was going to break my legs , Kaz, she had said, eyes searching for answers－ and he breathed out a sigh, knowing there was nothing furious in her mother's gaze. If they were angry at Inej, Kaz doubted any of the Ghafas would like what he planned to do in that scenario. Including Inej. Especially Inej.

"You are still our daughter, Inej. You needn't ask for our forgiveness. You did what you had to do." Her father's voice was steady despite the tears. Her mother silently wiped her own. She suddenly got up and crossed the table to Inej, and coddled her face in her hands. She leaned down to press her lips on her daughter's forehead. 

"You did what the Saints asked of you, my child. If that is what you think your purpose is, then let me not be what stops you. You can…"

Their voices faded into the background as Kaz stepped into the backyard. He lowered himself onto the steps, feeling his leg throb with a twinge of pain. He did not want to intrude in what was supposed to be a memory none of them would forget. He wanted them to only remember each other as they too probably wanted to. 

He sensed her presence behind him. He glanced back and opened his mouth to tell her how she should go back to her family and that Kaz could talk to her later, but the words died on his lips. It wasn't Inej behind him, but her father. He turned his gaze back to the canal. The old man sat beside him, posture erect even when sitting down. 

"I'm aware that you are the reason Inej is safe today," he started. He must have left the mother and daughter to do some more weeping together. 

"There's no safe in Ketterdam, Mr Ghafa. I didn't give her safety, it doesn't exist in this city. She fended for herself."

"I suspect you have a hand behind that too."

Kaz stayed silent, feeling the temperature of his face rise as if he was a child that had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. But Mr Ghafa wasn't blaming, he was simply acknowledging facts. 

"I don't have much to say to you, just know that I thank you deeply for what you have done for her." 

He didn't know what to say to that. It was awfully quiet in these parts of the city. He could hear the water of the large canal lapping up against the shore. 

After a while, Inej's father stood up and dusted off his trousers. Only then did he sense Inej, the real Inej's presence behind him. So he'd known his daughter had come and left them alone. Kaz supposed he should be honoured, but he could only feel a pang of jealousy that he hadn't been able to sense Inej before her father. 

She sat beside him now, slipping into a comfortable silence. Neither of them wanted to speak. Every few moments, she would wipe her eyes. 

What had her parents said about him after he'd gone? What had she said about him? What would they say if they came here right now? 

Quietly, she reached for his now gloved hand. Kaz took a deep breath. There was her hand on his. A slight weight on his shoulder where she had leaned her head against it. Sunlight glistened on the murky waters of the canal. His mind was reeling. A jumble of thoughts, but none of them profound enough to be worth being spoken.

"They like you. Both of them."

Her heart skips as Kaz reaches out. His pinky links with hers, and he lets out a breath she hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Alright, Kaz?” she asks.

He clears his throat. “Alright. You?”

She nods, and dares to push her hand farther into his, and he doesn’t recoil, although she sees the idea flicker across his face. 

After the first time, it gets a little easier. There are still days where the water creeps up the shore, freezing Kaz in terror, bile climbing his throat, and affection is off the table until the waves recede. Inej has those days, too, where she can’t tell a loving touch from that of a client, indulging in a torturous transaction.

Hands are easier to get used to than lips, or anything beneath their clothes. They both hope they can build up to that, someday, but for now, they are content to intertwine fingers and knock their trouser-clad knees together beneath tables in the Crow Club, a little secret touch for them to share.

After a busy night, Kaz finds himself sitting at his desk, bad leg stretched out before him, the top buttons on his shirt undone and his gloves off to the side, while Inej perches on his desktop, braid loose and smiling.

He has never been good at verbalizing his desires, a fact that is stunningly shown by how long it took him to voice his affection for her. But even Barrel bosses get worn down, and Kaz has only ever turned to booze and violence to cope with that burnt-out feeling.

Maybe now, he’s found a more healthy alternative, in the way that her touch simultaneously soothes and excites him.

He lets out a little huff and extends his hand in her direction, ungloved palm facing the ceiling.

Inej raises a brow at him. “Is this your way of asking me to hold your hand?” she asks.

Kaz feels the tips of his ears burn. He can’t remember blushing more in his life than he has in her presence, and he can only hope that she doesn’t always notice. Deep down, he knows she does.

“Perhaps,” he replies.

When Inej just stares at him, awaiting a real answer, he sighs. “Inej, darling, will you please take my hand?”

Her face splits into a smile. “Of course I will.”

Rather than lacing their fingers together, Inej places her hand beneath his — her hand is so much smaller, her fingers can’t quite wrap around — and trails the tip of her thumb along the curved line on his palm, stretching from the heel of his hand to beneath his pointer finger.

A shudder rolls through Kaz, and his hand clenches in her grasp.

“Are you alright?” she asks, grip loosening.

“I’m fine,” he replies. “It just…I guess I’m not used to people touching me there. It was just…Different.”

Inej watches him carefully, like she’s trying to be sure he’s telling the truth. She must be convinced, because she gives his hand a gentle squeeze before resuming the action of tracing the little lines on his palm. His fingers give the occasional twitch, but Inej gives him the benefit of the doubt, that if he were truly growing upset with the sensation, he would pull away; she had made him promise on multiple occasions that he would not suffer in silence to try and appease her. She wants him without armor, yes, but she doesn’t expect it to all fall away at once.

When her touch strays lower again, towards his wrist, Kaz makes a soft noise in his throat that makes her look up again. “Seriously, Kaz, is there something wrong?”

Kaz averts his gaze from her face, flushed from the collar of his shirt to his ears, a dusty pink that sticks out on his pale skin, even in the dim light. “It tickles, alright?” he says, and his gravelly voice somehow sounds softer, younger.

Inej’s dark eyes widen in surprise before her face settles into the most fond, loving smile. When Kaz dares to look back at her, his heart nearly melts at the sight. He has spent so long convinced that he is unlovable, unwanted. He still hasn’t quite wrapped his head around the idea that Inej wants him, the same way he wants her. But when she looks at him like that, like he’s…Like he’s beautiful, he feels like he just might deserve her.

“Kaz Brekker, you never fail to amaze me,” she says, her tone light and teasing. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who was ticklish on their hands.”

He brings the hand that isn’t still clutched in her grasp up to his face, a lousy attempt to hide his flustered expression. “Shut up,” he says, but there’s not an ounce of venom behind it.

Inej laughs, his favorite sound, and uses the advantage of his covered eyes to scribble her nails against the center of his palm, making a surprised chuckle fall from his lips.

He finally pulls his hand back, rubbing away the tingly sensation on the leg of his pants.

“Too far?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “My ego is wounded, but otherwise, I’m alright.”

“Oh, please. Everyone is ticklish, Kaz.”

“Even you?” he asks, the hint of a smile tugging on his lips.

She’s gone in a flash, silently descending from the desk and out the window, an answer enough to his question. He chuckles again, to himself, and for once, the prospect of revenge is so utterly innocent, it makes some hidden, childish urge in him spring to life.