It was getting long again. When Kaz brushed his hair out of his eyes for about the 10th time that day, Inej gave him a knowing look. He tried to ignore her at first, dropping his gaze down to the ledgers on his desk, but he could feel her eyes on him - her silent, steady presence. Kaz released a breath.
“Fine,” he huffed.
Inej budged up behind him in his desk chair, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“I’ll go get the shears,” she crooned into his ear.
Since Jordie died, Kaz had cut his own hair. He couldn’t stand to go to a barber shop - to sit still for that long, letting a stranger touch his skin and hold a razor to his neck.
When he was young, he’d ignored the problem at first. He let his hair grow almost to his shoulders, tied it back with scraps of twine when it got into his way. But the first time one of the other new Dregs made a snide remark, Kaz had taken a dull knife and hacked off his hair at the root, leaving crude, uneven patches in its place. It looked ridiculous - but at least it was out of his face.
Over time, he grew more adept with the scissors, but only just. He kept it easy for himself: long at the top, buzzed at the sides, no vanity, no fuss. Sometimes Inej perched on the sink and watched him do it. Once, she’d offered to help, and Kaz had, reluctantly, agreed.
She’d been cutting his hair for him ever since.
Kaz dragged a chair into the bathroom, lowering himself into it heavily. He cast a side-long glance at his cane, which he'd left on the desk in his bedroom. It was cold outside and his bad leg ached horribly. He stretched it out in front of him as Inej appeared in the mirror behind him, a razor and shears in hand.
She stood over him for a while, letting her fingers card through the long dark strands atop his head.
“Stop pouting,” she scolded lightly. “I know you secretly like it when I do this.”
Kaz said nothing - unwilling to confirm or deny the accusation.
“Where do we start?” He asked instead. Inej let her hands travel down Kaz’s face, stroking his cheek where it had grown rough with a long day’s stubble.
“Your face,” she said. “You’ll feel better with a clean shave.” Then she leaned down, planted a kiss on his jaw. “And I prefer it, too.”
Kaz felt warmth rising in his stomach. As Inej retreated back behind the chair, he was tempted to pull her back - to explore the feeling more. But he didn’t. Instead, he watched as she dipped the razor in the basin.
Kaz lifted his chin, the place where her lips had touch still tingling, and held still as she raised the blade to his neck.
Inej handled the razor like she handled her knives, with remarkable precision and delicate strokes. Her nimble fingers deftly traced the hills and valleys of his face - from the smooth ridge of his cheek bone to the harsh line of his jaw.
Kaz let his eyes fall shut, feeling the metal slide painlessly against him. The room was nearly silent, save for the soft shink of the blade, and the dull slosh of water as Inej plunged the razor into the basin again and again.
“You know you’re the only one I’d let get this close to me with a sharp object,” Kaz said quietly. His eyes were still closed as Inej made another long stroke down his neck.
“You tell me that every time we do this,” she replied, playfully flicking a little water at him.
“I know,” he said, “I just need to make sure you know.”
Inej finished her final stroke, set the blade down on the counter. Kaz’s eyes fluttered opened at the sound. She handed him a soft towel to dry his face, then pressed another kiss to his temple, letting her lips linger a moment longer than was strictly necessary.
“I know,” she assured him. “You’re my exception too.” The corners of Kaz’s mouth twitched.
He patted his face dry and ran an ungloved hand over his now-smooth cheek as Inej got busy with his hair. She had a comb in one hand, the shears in the other, but for now appeared to just be sizing him up, mapping out the best plan of attack.
Kaz tracked her movements in the mirror, slow and deliberate, the drawing of the comb through his hair. She raised the shears and made the first cut. The trimmings fell to the floor at their feet.
Kaz’s eyes followed the pieces in the mirror as they floated down, down, but he got distracted along the way. Inej’s arms were raised as she worked, tugging her shirt upward and exposing the bronze skin of her midriff. Kaz’s mind drifted to a memory of another bathroom, much fancier than this one, where he’d first allowed himself to imagine his hand fitted there, to the lithe curve of her waist. It was much more than imagination now. He’d touched her waist, and areas much more tender, many times since then. But no matter how comfortable they’d become, each touch would always be a victory - each time neither of them pulled away.
Their first true attempts at intimacy had been nothing short of disastrous. The first time Kaz held Inej’s face in his trembling hands, caught up in the moment, Inej had turned and kissed the inside of his wrist. The dam had burst, the waters rushing in, filling his lungs. Kaz’s face drained of color and he promptly vomited on their shoes. He hadn’t been able to tolerate touch of any kind for weeks afterward - the shame of it was too much to bear.
He forced himself to remember that now, the grueling work it had taken to get here. These days, the waters did not rise. All Inej's gentle touches, every last graze of her skin - the things that once would have driven him mad - now made him hungry for more.
When Kaz lifted his eyes again, he found Inej had finished with the top of his hair, and had moved to the shorter regions on the sides. She did not look at him, but there was a knowing, almost devious smile on her lips. Kaz felt his cheeks heat. Perhaps the lust in his gaze had been less discrete than he imagined.
The next part went faster, the guarded razor gliding effortlessly over the back and sides of Kaz’s head. Inej made quick work of cleaning up the edges, crafting neat lines that mirrored the sharpness of his features. Then at last, she stepped back. She set the tools down on the counter, brushed the stray clippings off his shoulders. Her warm arms snaked once again around his neck.
Kaz reached up and ran his fingers through his hair. Inej appeared to be appraising her own work when he caught her eye in the mirror.
“What do you think?” She asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“I think it looks good. You always do good.” Kaz answered easily. “What do you think?”
Inej circled the chair, coming to sit sideways on his lap, her legs dangling over the edge. Her eyes flitted from his hair, to his jaw; his eyes, then his lips.
“Handsome,” she replied. Her arms had wound their way around him, her hands clasped tightly at the base of his neck. Kaz felt the points of contact like static electricity - her bare forearms on his shoulders, her ribs against his chest, her ass at the crux of his legs.
The warmth he’d felt earlier rushed through his stomach again. He placed his hands on Inej’s waist, letting his fingers sneak under the fabric of her top, then surged up to meet her, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss.
Inej sighed into his mouth and something roared to life inside of him, hot and wild and desperate with want. He swept one arm under Inej’s legs and the other around her back, then pushed up from the chair, the dull pain in his leg a distant echo, barely audible over the blood rushing in his ears.
Inej let out a startled laugh, gazing up at her boy in amazement as he kicked the chair aside.
Kaz bridle-carried his Wraith from the bathroom to his bed, slamming the door behind him with his foot. Somewhere in the dark washroom, the shears laid abandoned on the sink, the clippings of his laid forgotten on the floor.
