The music room was already Jesper's favorite room. It was the most fun. After Inej drifted off to bed that night, the boys stayed, Wylan showing that if he couldn't bring himself to sing the naughtier tunes, at least he could play them on the piano.

Jesper had spent the better part of half an hour beside Wylan on the piano bench. Wylan probably didn't realize he was leaning heavier against Jesper, and that jangling place inside him was quieter with someone to overwhelm his thoughts. Despite the fact it was one of the least appropriate places to sleep, Jesper considered staying here.

He could put his head down on the keyboard and sleep on the piano bench with Wylan's head pillowed on his lap. That seemed utterly reasonable.

Jesper gave Wylan's shoulder a small jostle. It was enough to startle him out from half-sleep.

"Sorry," Wylan said instinctively, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. He hadn't been drooling, but that was good information to store for later. He took an unsteady step off the bench.

"I was going to head up to bed—"

"Of course—"

"If you want to join me."

Apparently there was no polite response for that, because Wylan's answer was quiet surprise as his sleepy, mercher-trained brain looked for the right answer. Jesper almost could have been offended.

"I don't want to lie with you," Wylan blurted. His face was patchy as he continued, "I-I mean—I do want to lie with you," and now his entire face was red, "very m—um, not that I would presume to…"

I knew you were a virgin. That wasn't important right now, but Jesper liked knowing he had been right. There was no way Wylan had been caught in a sweaty romp with anyone.

"What I meant was… that…"

Entertaining as this was, if Wylan turned any redder he might pass out—which would solve their problem since Jesper had no doubt he could carry him up to bed, but wasn't the perfect solution.

Instead, he rested a hand on Wylan's cheek—he could actually feel the heat of that blush—tilted his face up, and kissed him. It was gentle. It didn't ask for more.

"I meant you, starlight. Nightshirts and everything. We won't lie together until you're ready." He had intentionally used Wylan's words, nothing rough from the Barrel or practical from the farm or casual from the entire rest of the world, but it still embarrassed him. So Jesper plunged ahead, "Even though I know you want to. I don't blame you, I'm not easy to resist. Come on," he said, slinging an arm around Wylan's shoulders, "I'll keep you safe and warm."

Wylan allowed himself to be led out of the music room as he asked, "Do you keep the revolvers on you when you sleep?"

"Thought about that, have you?"

"No," Wylan said.

Jesper didn't believe him.

"Did you picture any other clothes?"

"No. I mean, I've never pictured it. You."

He definitely had. Jesper stored that information for later.

Delightfully bashful as it made Wylan, Jesper truly hadn't been asking for nor offering anything more than company. Not that he would have minded—but, since Wylan didn't want to, Jesper put the thought aside. He kept his back turned when Wylan changed.

"I don't mind if you want to look," Jesper added. Judging from the catch in his breathing, Wylan at the very least took a quick peek.

Wylan's nightshirt didn't fit. Like the rest of his clothes, it had belonged to a well-fed son of a merchant house. Now it hung with the neckline askew and showing half his shoulder. Wylan tried folding the cuffs over, but the soft fabric kept falling to cover his hands.

"I looked through the desk today," Jesper began with a glance at Wylan's face to gauge how the words landed. He tensed a moment, but only a moment. A flinch held too long. "Why all the weather reports?"

"My father has—I… I have interests in textiles, spices, and grains. The weather reports indicate what to expect. One year there was a drought in Eames Chin. My father put aside funds and we went to Eames Chin to offer loans on farms after the bad harvest. And a year later, after another bad harvest, to call in debts."

"We?"

"I was only six. I didn't know what we were doing."

Jesper did. Jan Van Eck had known men would be desperate. So he went to squeeze them. Probably offered loans against the next year's crop, knowing if it succeeded he would make money and if it failed he would make more when the farmers couldn't pay and their livelihood, their children's inheritance, became part of the Van Eck empire. All the while his profits rose because he already controlled a good portion of the spice trade and prices surge during shortages.

Jesper didn't know what to say about a rich merchant who could afford the investment using his wealth to take those farmers' everything. Instead, he asked, "Which side of the bed do you want?"

It was easier not to think about that when he was under the covers with Wylan. There was quite a lot that stopped mattering under those circumstances. With their heads on their respective pillows, Jesper was able to look evenly at Wylan. As luck would have it, his eyes were just as blue from this angle. Lashes weren't as nice, but you couldn't have everything.

"Wy."

"Hm."

"What happened at Saint Hilde?"

Wylan blinked quickly. "She was—she didn't recognize me. They had her tied down."

This action will have no echo. What did the Suli say to tell someone you hurt because they hurt?

Jesper's eyes flickered to the fresh mark on Wylan's cheek.

"She didn't mean it. She's been in that place too long, she doesn't know what's what anymore. I wanted so badly to bring her home. I was going to bring her… I didn't know. Not where I lived in the Barrel, but—somewhere. Somewhere she could paint and sit at the piano. I thought…"

"It won't be forever. You could talk to Inej."

"I won't put her through remembering that."

Of course not. Inej might have some insight into Marya's experiences because she knew what it was like to have your home and freedoms taken, though her experiences had been so much worse. Even for his mother, Wylan wouldn't cause someone that level of pain of asking them to delve into such memories.

"Besides, she's already angry with me and for good reason. I didn't even consider what holding indentures meant for the Grisha. At least most of the servants know me; they barely know who I am. Will you help me find the papers tomorrow? Current contracts ought to be in his office somewhere."

"I'll help, but Inej was out of line to say that. It's only been a day, we both still have bruises from the Church of Barter." It was a little early to be saying Wylan didn't care and had fallen into his father's thinking patterns. Though if he held a Healer's indenture, they might be useful with the bruises.

"All I thought about was my mother. I didn't even consider the indentured Grisha. What if he was right? What if I can never grow to be a man? I thought like a son, not a merchant."

"He wasn't. No one would fault you for trying to take care of your family."

"I was wrong. I thought—I thought I would be enough."

Wylan's voice cracked on the last sentence, the thing he had been afraid of facing since he left the asylum that afternoon.

"Hey." Jesper reached for Wylan's hand. "You are enough."

Suddenly pink, Wylan whispered his reply: "I could watch you say those words for the rest of my life."

It was never the wrong time for that!

"You can." Please do. "You'll keep trying with your mama. Real life isn't like storybooks, it takes time and hard work."

Wylan nodded. "Thank you."

"You're already running a tab."

Wylan rolled his eyes. (All the Saints, those eyes…)

"Speaking of which… is that really what you call it? Lying with someone?"

"I also know anatomy," Wylan said, defensive. "I studied anatomy books. For figure drawing."

"But…"

"I didn't say I read the descriptions."

Jesper laughed. "So what else do you call the act itself, then?"

Wylan replied so softly Jesper almost couldn't make out the word "coupling".

"You would use math."

"Ghezen," Wylan swore. He pulled his pillow over his head.

"Wy…"

Jesper tugged at the pillow, but Wylan wasn't giving it up.

"So you wouldn't call it rutting?" Jesper teased.

Wylan groaned in protest.

"Mating? A tumble in the hay? Having a romp? Humping? I know you know that word." Wylan didn't reply, so Jesper clearly had no choice but to continue: "Wearing a green gown? Licking both sides of the waffle? Three-to-one and bound to lose? Shaking the sheets without music? Going bread and butter fashion? Boarding a land carrack?"

"Jesper!"

"Shooting between the wind and the water? Winding a ball of yarn? Laboring leather? Playing the blanket hornpipe? Piercing the hogshead? A ride below the crupper?"

By now the sound muffled by the pillow might have been laughter or sobs. Jesper lifted the pillow halfway off Wylan's head. His face was bright red and tears glistened in his eyes. Wylan couldn't stop laughing.

Jesper grinned and kissed him. Wylan kissed back. It was a ridiculous sort of kiss, all laughter and breathlessness. And it was perfect.

Jesper turned down the lamp. He scooted closer to Wylan and, since Wylan wasn't giving up his hiding spot, pulled the pillow over both their heads. Somehow this seemed… apt. How else would they share a bed for the first time but close and chaste with their heads under a pillow?

"This is going to be easy now that I know euphemisms are enough to make you smile. Just imagine how many I know for a man's—"

"Ghezen's coffers, Jesper!"

"Is that the strongest swear you know?"

"I know plenty of profanity words, but it doesn't add much to the conversation."

Profanity words.

A month ago he would have teased Wylan for saying that. Now, it may have been the most adorable thing Jesper had ever heard.

They were quiet for a few minutes before Wylan asked, softly like Jesper might have nodded off, "Jes?"

"Mm."

"Is that—um—waffle thing—do people really say that?"

"I made that one up."

"Did you make them all up?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"No," Wylan decided quickly, "no, thank you. Good night, Jesper."

"'night, Sunshine."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Shh. Go to sleep."

"Jesper?"

And people thought he never stopped talking! Jesper might have been teetering on potentially saying something sharp when he murmured instead, "Hm?"

"You're perfect."

Any desire to speak sharply evaporated. Jesper closed the last few fractions of an inch between them; Wylan shifted, slipping an arm around Jesper.

"If you were cold, you only had to say."