timewasting | OPEN POST 2020.

[ He does catch the flicker of hurt that crosses her face and the panic rises. Quite often, he's done similar things on purpose, tried to push her away.

But, he'd given up on doing that when she demanded it of him. So this was from a mistake, a bad one, and he feels like he's just ruined everything.

There's a correction sitting on the tip of his tongue but she silences him, fingers pressed to his lips. And there's a relief in having the question simplified, straightforward. ]

Yes, a thousand times yes. More than anything. [ More than he's ever been prepared for. When she leaves, it feels like there's a weight in the middle of his chest. There's a sense of hollowness at the same time, as if she's taken his heart with her, something to remember him by while she sails. ]

[ there's a silence as she watches him, and she opens her mouth to say something once he's finally spit it out, but the words fail her. there's a warmth that washes over her, at hearing it (or, well, hearing something, because he hasn't actually said it, but the bar has always been lower for kaz than most people). because truthfully, inej knows that he does. or, at least, she can figure it out by example.

no one else would do all of this for her if they didn't very deeply love her. but it's different to hear it, out loud. it almost feels permanent, spoken in that way. and it's terrifying, but also wonderful, and she wants to hear it again.

but there's still the matter of the fact that she's still annoyed with him for being such a moron. that has to be settled, first.

so she steps closer to take his face in her hands, dipping down to kiss him gently -- without much warning, which is probably a mistake, but she can't really find it in herself to care. ]

I love you more than anything, too.

[ it's said softly, running her thumbs over his cheeks . . . before she then removes her hands to (gently) swat him upside the head. ]

So do not hide something like that from me again.

[ her tone is a little less flat than it had been previously, but she adds something underneath her breath that sounds very close to moron in suli, adjusting the collar of his (ruined) shirt. ]

Go change so you can recover.

[ Her hands come up to his face—something he's gotten relatively used to—and she leans in for a kiss. Which he does sort of brace himself for. Thankfully, his mind still seems distracted by the panic a few moments ago. And now by the sheer relief that he doesn't have an adverse reaction when her lips brush his.

Instead, it's warmth blooming under the skin. A good day, he thinks. Aside from...well, everything else. He sighs into the kiss, leaning a bit into it before she pulls away.

Of course, he is startled when she swats him. Even if he deserves it. ]

Alright. [ That he can agree to, even if his knee jerk reaction is to keep her out of it. But she has sound judgment, much more than his on a daily basis, as she's proven time and again. If she feels like she can help, she will.

He pushes his chair back and grabs his cane, hobbling towards the bedroom. Cleaning off and changing takes a bit more time than usual, with so many stinging bruises, but he manages it and eventually takes a seat on the bed. ]

How was your visit?

[ the agreement does mollify some of the irritation, though she frowns as he gets up and limps to the bedroom, and she collects the first aid kit to follow after him, letting him change in silence. though her eyes do flicker toward him, as he sheds the shirt, and the bruises are revealed. her lips purse together as she turns to put away the first aid kit in a nearby drawer. ]

It was fine. Jesper and Wylan want to invite us to dinner tomorrow.

[ easily enough, without much detail, as she glances toward him once he's finished changing and he's sitting on the bed. and she shrugs out of her jacket, to hang on the hook on the wall before she moves to settle on the bed next to him, leaning her shoulder against his.

it takes a moment, but: ]

I worry about you, when I am not here.

[ it's said quietly, as she rests her head against his shoulder, the movement gentle and light. ]

I know that I am not here all the time, but I want to be at your back when I am.

Yeah? I can do that.

[ As far as he remembers, there isn't anything pressing tomorrow evening. His only real worry is whether his leg will be complaining too much when he wakes up in the morning.

That thought dissolves when she comes over to lean against his shoulder; he can feel himself relax at the bit of weight. She's been here for a couple days now, but it had been a few months and he missed this. They're still not super easy going with touching but they're getting there. ]

I worry about you too. When you're not here and when you are. [ Though the latter is significantly less intense. It's also maybe a little stupid. She can take care of herself, as she's shown time and again. ]

I know.

[ or, at least, she can hazard a guess. they've had plenty of arguments over it, at any rate, and she reaches up to brush his hair back with a slight frown. ]

I do not think we can get rid of the worry. [ that seems to be impossible, given their chosen professions, and the work that they do. ] That is always going to exist, but I feel better, when I know. Even if I can't change the outcome of whatever happens.

[ and she offers him a small smile, ducking her head a little so she can meet his eyes. ]

We are a team, right?

[ Getting rid of the worry entirely is basically an impossible feat. They would either have to be dead, invincible, or absolutely loathe each other to stop wondering if the other was doing ok. If they were still in one piece.

He doubts any of those options will be happening any time soon.

What she asks does make sense, too. Because even if something bad was to happen, at least she would be there. She would be there and have done anything to try and prevent it. Just as he would do the same for her—he ends up having to trust that her crew has her back, as he can't go with her as frequently as she comes back to port. ]

The best team. [ He gives her a small smile, reaching out for her hand and tracing her knuckles with his thumb. They were good together in that aspect, at least. Dirtyhands and the Wraith; no one was stupid enough to cross both.

Now if he could just stop pissing her off so much, they'd be a better team in more than one facet. ]

I'd probably have come back with marginally less injury, if you'd been there. [ At the very least, he would've stayed on his feet the whole time. ]

[ she cracks a smile, at the best team, though she rolls her eyes at his admission. ]

You would not have had to go at all, if you had told me.

[ though she does lean forward to press her lips against his cheek, the movement soft and light. physicality is still treacherous territory, but she likes to test, when she can. to try and make all of this feel more . . . normal. ]

The Razorgulls would not have shown up.

[ because the wraith would have politely reminded them of their place, and what happens when they threaten kaz brekker. and her hand shifts, to run a hand down his back gingerly, with a slight frown. ]

How did you wind up on the ground?

[ she's not an idiot; his injuries don't make much sense unless someone managed to pin him to the floor. ]

I still might've. They restructured since the last time you were here.

[ But it's also entirely possible their combined reputations would've kept the Razorgulls away from doing anything so ballsy. There's a good portion of the Barrel that has a healthy amount of fear specifically for the Wraith, as well. Considering how silent she could be, no one would see her coming until it was too late.

He instinctively sits up a bit when her hand ghosts down his back, everything a little sensitive even through the fabric of his shirt. ]

Got hemmed in and when I turned around, two of their new boys were there to knock me flat. Honestly, I was impressed they managed a decent strategy, though I suspect it was mostly an accident.

[ she frowns, at that, gently resting her hand against the small of his back. she knows that it’s just part of life, in the barrel, but it doesn’t mean she has to like it. and she rests her cheek against his shoulder, her fingers gently tracing a design along his back, careful to avoid the bruises she knows are there. ]

You are getting slow.

[ a little ruefully; she makes a mental note to ask roeder why he didn’t see the people who tackled kaz coming. ]

[ Despite the sensitivity, her touch feels nice on his back. Her palm is warm at the small of it, radiating a bit outwards. And the light traces take his mind off the ache under the skin. ]

Don't say that, I'm not even thirty.

[ He has a strange mental relationship with aging. On one hand, living above a certain age in the Barrel is something just shy of miraculous. Especially if one pisses off as many people as he does.

Though he has a hard time coming to terms with the inevitability. There are some things he just can't do, now, because of his injury. And he knows it will only gets worse with time.

Not the most thrilling thing to think of. ]

Then again, everyone's slow to you.

[ she makes a soft noise of agreement, at that, and she runs her hand up his spine before pulling away just enough to pat the bed between them. ]

You should lay down, then, old man.

[ she says, amused, before she stands to go to her bag of clothing, so she could find looser clothes. it was still early, but he should rest. she could duck out for dinner if he was hungry later. ]

You are going to regret your choices in the morning, I’m sure.

Old man?

[ How insulting. And yet, he's still grinning at the jab. He's always liked her sense of humor. Probably because she isn't afraid to be rude to his face.

It's a testament to just how much the fight is catching up to him because he doesn't even argue with the second part and lies down. Gingerly. On his side first and then after a few beats of shifting around like a fussy child, he ends up on his stomach. The cut on his chest pulls a little but the rest doesn't hurt nearly as much. ]

Perhaps. [ Undoubtedly he will. ] Are you going to nap?

[ Maybe he wants to cuddle. A little. ]

[ she’s getting out of her boots and tugging on a looser shirt, tossing him a slight look of concern as he shifts around to try and get comfortable. finally, he settles on his stomach, and inej undoes her holster and various belts to disarm and remove her knives before she makes her way to the bed.

now that he’s lying on his stomach, she tugs at his shirt just a little to get a better look at his back with a frown, letting the shirt fall without her fingers touching his skin. ]

I’ll lay down with you.

[ she agrees, careful to crawl in next to him without jostling him around too much, a hand gently rubbing his shoulder as she sits next to him. not quite laying down yet. ]

What am I going to do with you... [ she says in a sigh, fingers gently working out a knot in his shoulder, the pressure through the fabric of his shirt. ] Whoever kicked you when you were down clearly hated you.

Edited 2020-08-14 02:28 (UTC)

[ He can hear her moving around, just a little, the soft sounds of her setting her knives aside and taking her shoes off. It's a surprise when she lifts his shirt and he instinctively tenses, though she lets go of the fabric without touching him. The bed dips and he turns his head in that direction to look at her (as much as he can, anyway), this time less surprised when she reaches out to his shoulder. ]

At least half of the Barrel hates me; that isn't surprising. [ So much about him simply rubs people the wrong way. Though his proud nature (read: arrogance) certainly doesn't endear him to anyone.

He sighs quietly as she works a knot out of his shoulder, shifting a bit so he can carefully set his hand on her knee, thumb brushing along the curve. Sometimes, he just likes this, the casual contact. It's reassuring somehow. ]

[ she hums to herself, amused at his assertion of how many people hate him, which is . . . probably true. kaz has made few friends in his rise to the top, which suits inej just fine. the friends you make when climbing to the top tend to be horrible people. kaz has been lucky, in that regard.

once his shoulder feels a little more loose, she shifts her attention to his back, running her fingers along the shirt before she dips to kiss his temple. his hand on her knee causes her to smile a little; he must be feeling a little better, if he's seeking out contact. ]

You really should go take a hot shower.

[ though she knows that's going to be a losing battle, running her hand along his back gently. ]

[ It's true he's made few friends in the Barrel. Especially with his quick ascension—not only to being the boss of the Dregs, but prior to that in his rise to becoming a lieutenant. He's young and possibly the youngest to do both in such a short amount of time.

Frankly, having only a small amount of friends has worked out. He's not a very trusting person to begin with and having too many people vying for his attention sounds exhausting in that regard. There's also the matter of him not even considering people friends up until recently. Or rather, not wanting to admit it. Some days, he still struggles with it, though he's starting to make his peace with the fact that emotions are okay. ]

Yeah, but you aren't there.

[ Everything about his tone is reluctant, even if it's a good idea. Maybe he'll haul himself to the bathroom later, though. For now, he rolls onto his back—carefully—so he can actually look at her. The bruises protest, but he can ignore those for now. He gently takes her hand, momentarily threading their fingers together as he studies her face. ]

[ she's about to tell him that he doesn't need her to be there in order to take a shower when he rolls onto his back. and inej withdraws her hand, clearly hesitant as he rolls over, taking her hand and threading their fingers together. ]

You are going to be bedridden tomorrow if you do that.

[ a little chiding, though she lets him hold her hand, amused. and she tilts her head a little. ]

What is it?

Maybe. [ He'll make up for it later, when he actually goes to bed. By then, he thinks he'll be ready to follow her advice and take the hottest shower imaginable before sleeping.

That's for later, though. ]

I'm glad you're here. [ Has he said this yet, since she's gotten back? Even if he has, it bears repeating. He unthreads their fingers but lifts her hand up so he can kiss the back of it, some of the stifled affection from earlier starting to bubble to the surface.

Really, he's still reeling from being told she loves him. Mostly in that he feels the same, fiercely. Every time he thinks of her his pulse ticks up, a little flutter of joy. Just getting the words out is difficult at best. ]

[ he kisses the back of her hand and she smiles a little, lifting her free hand to brush his hair back. ]

I am glad I’m here, too.

[ she murmurs, tone warm, hand shifting to cup his face, running a thumb over his cheek. ]

Even though you grind my very last nerve.

[ She pets his hair back and he closes his eyes momentarily, enjoying the touch. It's one of the safer ones, since it's less skin touching.

He looks up at her again when her hand cups his cheek, giving her a small grin. ]

My special talent, clearly. [ Extremely special. His hand comes to settle over hers, stroking down to her wrist and forearm. He misses this, when she's gone. The little that they can do. ]

Come here and kiss me, maybe I'll feel better faster.

[ what a brat.

she arches her eyebrows at his request, and she shifts her weight a little so her hip is against his side, leaning over a little . . . almost as if she’s going to kiss him. and, maybe centimeters away from his lips, she murmurs: ]

You are going to have to try harder than that, Mr. Brekker.

[ and she shifts upwards to kiss his forehead gently. ]

Especially after grinding my last nerve.

[ Her eyebrows go up but she comes closer, though he gets the feeling he won't be getting exactly what he wants. His opinion is shifting as she leans closer.

And then she stops, close enough for him to bridge the gap. But she's rightfully making it more difficult—he has been aggravating. He huffs a bit of a laugh as she goes to kiss his forehead. Definitely deserved that one. ]

Inej, my darling, come kiss me please?

[ Look, he has manners sometimes. ]

[ she knows, by the tone of his voice when he says her name, that he’s gearing up for a second attempt. and it’s a fairly good one: he even says please.

so she leans over him, expression contemplative, as she gently runs her fingers along his cheek.

she does love and adore him, wholly and completely, even when he grinds her last nerve. she would do absolutely anything for him, including (but not limited to) give her life to make sure he is safe.

but, at the end of the day, he was an asshole. so: ]

You only call me “my darling” when you want something.

[ a bit wryly — and it’s mostly true, though lately his “requests” have been “come to bed” or “let’s have dinner,” so his wants really aren’t all that egregious or taxing. or even really a lot of effort, on her behalf, and she typically gets something out of it, too.

but she does lower herself for a soft brush of her lips against his, shifting to kiss his cheek, before she adds: ]

Though now I’m worried you have a concussion; you never say please. Best you take it easy.

[ At least this time around she seems to be contemplating whether she should or not. The judgmental arch of her brows has lowered. She hasn't walked away yet, though, and her fingers are gently stroking down his cheek. Which is a good sign, he thinks. It's a light enough touch that he has to suppress an involuntary shiver, feeling the urge to touch her spread like cream poured in coffee.

Especially as she just barely brushes her lips to his and then to his cheek. A tease. ]

You are my darling, though. [ And maybe he feels a twinge of knee-jerk embarrassment at saying it without his usual wry tone. It's just so...genuine. Something he's still adjusting to. ]

I have manners. [ Not often. And he isn't pushing himself too much. Though certainly, laying on his back is probably not the best position. At least his lack of movement means the aches have settled to a dull throb. In some aspects, it feels strangely good. ]

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