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In a truly remarkable display of self-control, Jesper was at the bar, nursing another drink rather than tossing his luck into the betting pool that was growing rowdier by the minute as the card game in the far corner drew more gamblers to its midst. It was a hurricane of raised voices and flashing coins and whispers of underhanded players. The entire room stunk of danger – the smell of human sweat, gunpowder and metal all mixed together that was overpowered only by the reek of liquor.
Jesper locked his eyes on the bottle in front of him. There was a thin bead of condensation trickling down the side, cold and sharp against the warmth of his hand. He took another drink and focussed his attention on the conversation between the bartender and a patron – anything other than the card game. His fingers itched with the urge to play. He drummed a hand against the bar and reminded himself that he had a point to prove – not just to Kaz, but to himself. He could go one night without joining a gamble.
The club was packed. It was the type of loud, palpable tension that underran the music – tempers seemed taut, as though the slightest wrong move could send the entire crowd into a riot – a tinderbox lit by a single spark. Or perhaps Jesper had grown too used to the Crows Club. Here, he didn’t know all the variables – the exits, the hidden weapons, who was watching from the rafters that he couldn’t see. He took another sip of his drink. Saints, he was beginning to think like Kaz.
He wasn’t here alone. Inej and Kaz had both declined, opting instead to remain behind at The Slat – probably to pine over one another in secret without ever admitting their feelings – seriously, it was painful to watch – Jesper had weekly gossip sessions with Nina about it. Even Matthias had joined in a few times. But tonight the rest of the Crows were scattered around hazardously, doubtlessly wreaking havoc wherever their feet carried them.
Another cry went up from the game. Jesper pressed a hand to the familiar curve of his revolvers, concealed under his coat. The urge to amble closer, take a sneak peek at the odds, slide a few coins across the table, was almost unbearable. He eyed the door as the bell rang, welcoming more customers, and considered whether he would be better off leaving altogether. Technically, he had only claimed that he could last a night without gambling in the bar. Nothing had been said about the streets - and the alleys were full of folks willing to make a bet and test the boundaries of sensibility in the name of adrenaline.
Nina appeared out of nowhere in a wave of artificial sweetness and vivid colours. Her dress glittered in the dull light. Her hand slid briefly down Jesper’s arm to squeeze his wrist before she was wrangling the space next to him from a scarred man with an obvious temper that would have terrified anyone else, but Nina was a Heartrender and therefore was perfectly capable of dropping him to his knees in less than a second. She lifted two fingers, gesturing for a shot, and turned her brilliant smile on Jesper, a sense of mischief in her gaze that invited both fear and intrigue.
“Well, aren’t you just the life of the party?”
Jesper tightened his grip on his bottle’s neck. “Shut up,” he muttered, without any real heat, glancing over his shoulder as an uproar cascaded across the room. The distinct jingle of coins scattered across the table. Those at the forefront were replaced by newcomers with freshly lined pockets and an eagerness to test the limits of their luck. He caught the bartender’s eye and motioned for a new bottle.
Nina examined him. “I’m impressed. You’ve actually lasted the entire evening.”
“So far. Don’t count on it staying that way.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Nina knocked their shoulders together teasingly. “If you were going to break you should have done so earlier. You can’t give in now – that would just be sad.” She tipped her head back, draining her glass. The light played across her skin, pooling in the curve of her collarbone. Matthias, skulking in the corner like a hired watchdog, looked entranced.
Jesper ran a finger through the spilt liquor on the bar. It was fast on its way to drying, and it was tacky against the pad of his thumb like old blood. He picked at his nail, repressing a shiver as the call for a new game summoned him. He shifted in his seat so that he could feel one of his revolvers digging into his hip, the dull ache anchoring him to reality, banishing the temptations so long as he maintained his focus.
Nina’s face softened with something akin to empathy but not quite so sympathetic. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and reached across, her movements open and obvious so that he could see her coming – a smart decision not to sneak up on the guy with a gun who was already on edge. Jesper knocked his forehead against the bar with a groan as she patted his back.
“It’s not all bad,” she encouraged him. “We can still have fun tonight, and we don’t even have to lose all our money in the process.”
“You can still have fun,” Jesper mumbled, remembering the spilt drink too late and feeling the stickiness across his skin. He swiped a hand down his face and tried not to catch Nina’s knowing eye.
There was no way he could explain to her the physical longing in his soul, the way the cards called to him, the itch in his veins as he fought the urge to chase that high of a win. Even losing brought the rush, a feeling of dancing with danger that was intoxicating and impossible to replicate at the hands of anything less than an open fight or the arms of the stranger. And that last one was off the table, given there was his unspoken thing with Wylan. He wasn’t entirely sure where they stood right now, but he wasn’t going to mess anything up just for the sake of a midnight fling.
Nina’s fingers hooked over the edge of his collar. Her nails were cool against his neck. “I’ve got something that might cheer you up.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jesper highly doubted that.
“Well.” Nina considered her previous statement, chewing her bottom lip in a manner that was both thoughtful and enticing – she was tilted back in her chair so that she was bathed in the glow of the overhead lamp, and Matthias couldn’t keep his eyes off her. “Alright,” she conceded, “I can’t guarantee it’ll cheer you up, but it’s definitely going to be entertaining.”
Jesper pushed his bottle away and swivelled to face her. “I’m listening.”
Nina positively beamed. “There’s the attitude I was looking for.” She leant in close, voice hushed, earning a suspicious eyebrow raise from a certain Fjerdan. “What exactly do you think I’ve been doing for the past hour?”
“Watching me suffer and laughing?”
“Yes, but I’ve also been coaxing our favourite little demolition expert out of his shell.”
Jesper was almost afraid to ask what she meant. Wylan had trailed after Nina like a lost puppy around forty minutes before, fully trusting and eager to follow her lead, and Jesper had let them go because he would freely admit that he wasn’t the best company currently - Wylan deserved to have a fun night without his unofficial boyfriend dragging down the mood. Jesper was suddenly very aware that Wylan was nowhere to be seen. He twisted in his chair, recognising with a sinking feeling that Matthias was also alone, which meant that Wylan was in a club in the Barrel unsupervised. Nothing good could come of it. There was a reason Kaz had told them to keep an eye on their youngest Crow – although admittedly Kaz had been concerned about Wylan being the one to cause chaos in the first place rather than becoming swept up in it.
Nina’s grin had become sharklike. She pressed a hand to Jesper’s cheek and turned his head to face the other direction. “Enjoy the show.”
Jesper had approximately five seconds to process this before arms were looping around his neck and he found himself with a lapful of a very drunk, surprisingly confident Wylan Van Eck. Usually having a very cute boy on his lap wouldn’t be an issue – it was something he would very much welcome in fact – but when the boy happened to be someone whom he genuinely liked, with all the icky feelings included… well. Jesper opened and closed his mouth a few times like a goldfish. His voice had run off to join the poor bastard crying in the corner as his gamble went south.
“Hi,” Wylan announced delightedly. He tapped Jesper on the nose. “You’re here.”
“Uh…” Jesper swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I’m here. I think. I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t a dream, but hey.”
Wylan tipped forwards to press his forehead against Jesper’s shoulder. “You seem sad. Why are you sad?”
“I’m not sad. I’m frustrated.”
“Oh.” Wylan’s eyes gleamed. “I could help with that.”
Jesper nearly choked. “Not that kind of frustration, Wy.”
Wylan gave a solemn nod. He leant back a little, somehow managing to balance precariously between Jesper’s lap and the bar. His cheeks were flushed, hair tangled and falling loose across his forehead, smile alight with a thousand promises. He was the brightest thing in the bar by a long shot and the most precious prize in the entirety of Ketterdam – Jesper would cash in everything, including his guns and his life, just for a chance to call Wylan his.
Which reminded him – they should really have that conversation to clarify what this thing between them was. As far as Jesper was concerned, he was ready to go all in, but he had no clue whether Wylan was on the same page. He wasn’t sure if Wylan had ever done this, or anything like it, before, but it was too messy now – too many feelings – for Jesper to allow himself to be just an experiment. Saints, he hoped Wylan was all in too.
“Guess what?” Wylan asked.
Jesper sucked in a breath. “What?”
“I love you.”
Suddenly, Jesper was very, very, excruciatingly sober. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he settled for some undignified spluttering instead. “How drunk are you right now?” He caught Nina’s eye. “How drunk is he right now?”
Nina lofted her shoulders in a brief shrug. “Not my problem.” She winked and slid off her perch to join Matthias who was inching towards the door. “Have fun.”
“What? No!” Jesper made a mad flail for her arm and missed. “Nina,” he hissed. “Get back here! Don’t leave me alone!”
“Rude,” Wylan mumbled into Jesper’s shirt. “I’m great company.” He frowned, features creasing with hurt. “Why don’t you want to be alone with me? Don’t you like me anymore?”
“Trust me,” Jesper sighed, “that is seriously not the problem.”
“Oh. Okay.” Wylan brightened again. “Good. Because I love you.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
“Because… why?”
“Just… because.”
Wylan wriggled free of the protective arm Jesper had wrapped around his waist and slid onto the floor. His shirt was unbuttoned lower than was publicly decent, and there were a couple of sleazy-looking folk taking a long hard stare. Jesper glowered at them and tried to resist the urge to send a bullet through their drinks in warning.
“Wylan, come back.” He gritted his teeth and strode after his runaway maybe-boyfriend. “Wylan! C’mon!”
Wylan elected to ignore him in favour of making a beeline for the cards table. He was practically sauntering over there and okay, that was not fair, how was Jesper supposed to remain on task?
“This looks fun,” Wylan whispered as if it were a great secret, examining the card game over the shoulder of a man who Jesper noted was about to lose. “We should play.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no, we need to walk away from the super fun game.” Jesper shuddered. “Ew. I feel responsible. How does Inej do this all the time?”
“Did I hear someone say they wanted to join?” One of the onlookers from earlier – who clearly hadn’t gotten the message from Jesper’s glare – sidled up, face sagging and twisted with a smirk, dirty fingers trailing across Wylan’s forearm, crude gold glittering in the dull light. “I’m sure we could make room at the table for a pretty thing like you…”
“Nope.” Jesper smacked the man’s hand away. “Not happening. Go bother someone else.”
Narrowed eyes raked him up and down. “Oh, I see. He’s yours.”
Jesper slid a hand down and found himself intwining his fingers with Wylan’s rather than reaching for the gun he had intended to grab. Maybe he’d had more to drink than he’d realised. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Right. How much for an evening?”
It took a moment to sink in. Jesper ran over the words again in his head, unable to believe his ears, because there was no way that the sleazy rat had just insinuated that… had he? From the rotten-tooted smirk the bastard offered, the answer was yes. Jesper’s revolver was in his hand in an instant, the cold barrel pressed against the sweaty flesh of the man’s forehead. The delight he felt at witnessing the slow-dawning terror was almost as great as the high of winning a game.
“Wait…” Wylan finally realised what was happening. His gaze darkened. Even drunk, his reflexes were off the charts. Jesper blinked. One second the dirtbag was standing there with a gun to his head and the next moment he was stumbling back, clutching his nose, blood gushing between his fingers to drench his clearly expensive shirt.
Wylan shot Jesper a brilliant smile. “See? I told you it looked fun over here.”
What didn’t look fun was the crowd of underlings slinking to the sleazebag’s defence. Jesper tucked his revolver back into its holster and grabbed Wylan’s arm.
“Time to go.”
Wylan chose this moment to trip over his own feet. He stared down at them blankly, then looked back up at Jesper and burst out laughing.
“Seriously, Wy?” Jesper heaved a dramatic sigh. “Okay. Remember, you caused this.”
“Caused what?” Wylan squeaked as he swooped into the air. Jesper tried not to focus on the fact that he was now bridal-carrying his definitely-not-but-maybe-soon-boyfriend, something that became increasingly difficult to ignore as he picked his way through the packed bar and fled into the darkening streets. He knew the Barrel like the back of his hand and there were only so many hidey-holes that were public knowledge.
There was a small space beneath one of the canal bridges – tiny, forged by rough weather crumbling the brickwork like cake crumbs, barely big enough for one man let alone two, but they managed to squeeze in, pressed so close together that Jesper couldn’t tell Wylan’s heartbeat from his own. He could feel Wylan’s breath against his neck where Wylan had tucked his face, muffling his amusement. One of his hands was flat against Jesper’s stomach, the other curled over Jesper’s hip.
“This is cosy,” he whispered through hiccupping laughter.
Jesper stifled a laugh. “Sorry. It was the first place I could think of.” He peered around the corner, examining the empty street, listening for the tell-tale crunch of boots against the stones. It was hard to hear anything above the blood roaring in his ears. He swallowed and tried to ignore Wylan’s hand against his hot skin where his shirt had ridden up. “We should make a run for it.”
“Do we have to?”
“Um…” Jesper wasn’t entirely sure what the right answer to this was. “Yes?”
Wylan shrugged. “Alright.”
Neither of them moved. After a moment, Wylan made a soft squeaking noise as he tried to conceal his laughter against Jesper’s chest.
“How many drinks did you have?”
“Not many. Only, like, two?”
“Oh my god,” Jesper breathed, equal parts delighted and horrified at this discovery. “You’re a total lightweight.”
“I am not.”
“…Wylan, you’ve claimed to be in love with me twice in one night.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“Stop!”
“It’s not my fault you’re… weird. With feelings.”
“We’re all weird with feelings, Wy, it’s like a requirement to become a Crow.”
Wylan fell silent. “What are we doing?” he asked after a moment, voice hushed with something unknown, almost nervous. “And I don’t mean this, right now. I know we’re hiding. I mean… us. There is an us, right?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you say it like a question?”
Jesper clawed a hand through his hair. He really hadn’t anticipated having this conversation when they were literally pressed together in a space designed for a single person, but hey ho, he’d take it.
“You know I like you,” he said quietly.
“You said you liked my stupid face.”
“It’s a very nice face.”
“Thanks. I like yours too.”
“…I love how drunk you are right now.”
Jesper wriggled free of the enclosed space and wandered down to sit on the ledge above the canal, skimming his shoes across the water. Wylan stood a little distance away, uncertainty warring with desire clear on his face for all to see in the moonlight.
“Jesper.” His voice was wavering. “I want this to be real. I want to be us. I want you… I just don’t know if you want me in return.”
“Saints, you’re dense.”
“…I still don’t know what you want.”
Jesper surged to his feet so quickly that Wylan took a step back. He crossed the distance between them and seized Wylan’s shirt, yanking him into a fierce kiss, burning and real and tasting of the alcohol on Wylan’s lips and the sugar on Jesper’s. Wylan was the greatest gamble that Jesper had ever taken, and he was the only gamble that Jesper would never regret, not even for a second.
“I want you,” he whispered. “I want to be us. Officially.”
Wylan’s smile was alive and wild and untameable. “Really?”
“Do I need to kiss you again to prove my point?”
“No, but you could kiss me anyway.”
“An excellent plan.”
“…hey, Jes? Is everything spinning for you too?”
“You know what? Let’s postpone that kiss. You’re way too drunk. I don’t want you falling in the canal.”
“I won’t!”
“Uh huh. Time to go home, c’mon.” Jesper inwardly groaned at the sight of Wylan’s mischievous grin. “What now?”
“I’ll go home… but only if you carry me again.”
Jesper shook his head, unable to keep the fond smile off his face. “I guess that could be arranged.”
Unsurprisingly, Wylan was out like a light almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was snoring away merrily by the time Jesper had tucked a blanket over him. He was going to be nursing the mother of all hangovers in the morning.
Inej was lurking in the dark hallway. “Did you have fun?” she asked, visibly struggling to hold back her amusement.
Jesper groaned. “Wylan is a light weight. A major light weight.”
“That is a surprise to no one other than you.”
“There were feelings involved, Inej!”
“Oh Saints,” Inej drawled. “How awful. However did you survive?”
“I know you’re making fun of me right now.”
“Whatever gave you that idea?” Inej’s gaze softened. “Did you have a nice evening?” she asked gently, brushing a hand across his shoulder as she stepped past him.
Jesper didn’t bother fighting his daft smile. “Hey, Inej? Guess what?”
“You finally made things official with Wylan?”
He gaped at her. “How do you do that? Do you just know everything?”
“You’re very obvious.” She patted his hand. “It’s not a bad thing.”
Jesper hissed at her and retreated back to his room where Wylan was still asleep, half-buried in pillows. Jesper flopped onto the bed next to him, prising his shoes off with the opposite foot and yanking his shirt over his head, not bothering with his trousers. He hadn’t realised he’d drifted off until the sun glaring through the window woke him just after midday.
“Wylan? You awake?”
A small growl rumbled from somewhere beneath the pillows. Jesper grinned.
“I’m going to get you some water.”
Wylan’s hand emerged from the nest and patted at Jesper’s cheek. “Thank you. Good boyfriend.”
“I’m the best boyfriend.”
“Water. Please. Or you won’t have a boyfriend at all because I’m about to die.”
Jesper sniggered. “So dramatic.”
“Jesper. If you value your life, you’ll get me that water.”
“Right-o!”