Author's Note: This is entirely based on the show, so if you're looking for something more bookverse, this may not be what you're after. Thank you for reading!

A weekday night in the Barrel. Games of chance in dark corners, vendors selling everything a person could want, an endless stream of people in and out of the clubs and taverns—and the stench of the tannery floating over all of it.

Jesper Fahey wrinkled his nose. This was not his favorite part of the Barrel, by a long stretch. But Kaz had wanted to come down here, and apparently Jesper went where Kaz went.

Still, the evening wasn't a total loss. Jesper had reached his preferred state of drunkenness, a pleasant glow surrounding all the lanterns, an equally pleasant warmth spreading through his body, but not so far gone that it affected his walk or his speech. Most people wouldn't even be able to tell the difference between him sober and him in this state … although Kaz could have looked him in the eye and told him to the ounce how much he'd had. Jesper would never have wanted Kaz Brekker for an enemy. As a friend and business partner, he was often dangerous enough to be around.

But Kaz was busy, which left Jesper to his own devices, reveling in the havoc.

Ambling along, enjoying the freedom of the evening, Jesper wasn't watching when he turned a corner, and he barreled into another person coming the other direction.

Wylan Van—Hendricks, he reminded himself—Wylan Hendricks was in a rush to get back to his lab. The coin he'd been given for the new order would feed him for a month, if he was very careful with it. And there had been hints that a rush job might get a bonus.

He was already calculating the amount of phosphorus he'd need, measuring ingredients in his head, as he hurried down the street, so he wasn't paying attention as he turned a corner and slammed hard into another person.

Stopped short, he looked up into the face of possibly the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. Liquid brown eyes, golden brown skin, a tall, willowy body … Wylan tried to catch his breath in order to stammer an apology. "Oh! Oh, I'm—I'm sorry. I—I didn't mean—"

A long-fingered hand fell to his shoulder. "Not at all. My fault entirely." Even the man's voice was beautiful, smooth and rich and rolling over Wylan like honey. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm fine."

Jesper looked down into the face of the man he'd nearly run over and his hand involuntarily tightened on his shoulder. He was utterly beautiful, every feature as delicate as if it had been sculpted, his eyes wide and dark and fringed with deliciously long lashes.

Ridiculous as it was to be standing here on the corner with people pushing their way around them, Jesper couldn't seem to want to move. He'd rather just stand here and gaze at the work of art in front of him.

He shook himself enough to say, "I'm sorry, you were in a hurry to get somewhere."

"Oh, no. No, definitely not," the man assured him breathlessly, as if he was as reluctant to move on from this accidental meeting as Jesper was.

Wylan couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. He was mesmerized by the beautiful man's eyes on his. Phosphorus? What phosphorus? The only chemistry he was interested in right now was what he felt standing here. He licked his lips and was rewarded by a slow, sweet smile. Hastily, he looked around for something, anything, to keep this man here with him. The first thing he saw was a stroopwafel stand. "Are—are you hungry?"

That sweet smile widened into something edging into wicked. "Always."

Wylan gulped. He wasn't used to flirting. He wasn't really used to interacting with people at all. "Fancy a stroopwafel?"

Whatever the beautiful man had expected him to say, it wasn't that. His eyes widened and he turned slightly to see the stand. Then he nodded. "I could eat."

Much to the relief of passersby, they moved off the corner, walking together. Wylan paid for the stroopwafels without a murmur, even though it put more of a dent in the coin he'd been paid tonight than he'd normally have been comfortable with. Some things were worth it.

They walked with their stroopwafels. Wylan had drooled over them more than once, wishing he had the coin to buy one, but now he barely noticed the richness of the caramel or the crisp bite of the cookie, too distracted by the tall man at his side.

Jesper savored the stroopwafel, the contrast between the smooth caramel and the crisp cookie in every bite, meanwhile keeping up a running commentary on everything they passed. He liked this—it was so rare that he got to walk through the Barrel with someone else, pointing out all the things he found interesting around them. And the beautiful man at his side was an excellent audience, responsive and engaged. Jesper's favorite kind.

As they finished their last bites of the stroopwafels, Jesper was pleased to see that his ingrained knowledge of Barrel geography had brought them exactly where he'd intended—to the doorway of an inn with reasonable rates and surprisingly comfortable rooms. Any thought he'd had of waiting for Kaz had disappeared long ago. Kaz was more than capable of taking care of himself, anyway.

He paused, looking down. "So, um …"

"Right. I, uh …"

Jesper gave his best inviting look—slow smile, glance out from under his eyelashes, letting the suggestion show in his eyes. And it landed, as it nearly always did.

Wylan had never been the aggressor when it came to these things; shy by nature, uncertain of his place, always cautious and careful, taking the lead was too much of a risk. But there was no mistaking the invitation in that look. It was intoxicating, and almost before he knew it his hands had cupped the face of the beautiful man and they were kissing.

And it was amazing. Wylan could feel his knees weaken, and he was glad for those graceful hands holding him up.

When the kiss ended, the dark eyes looking down into his were even darker, and Wylan couldn't help but press himself closer, not wanting to let this man go.

"So … by some strange coincidence—or extremely good timing—we happen to be at an inn." The beautiful man raised his eyebrows. "Care to come upstairs with me?"

Yes. So much yes. Wylan's yes was so immediate it took him a moment to realize he hadn't said it out loud.

The beautiful man hung back while Jesper arranged for the room. Jesper found this amusing and somehow endearing. This kind of thing was clearly not his paramour's usual proceeding. Jesper didn't mind; he had enough confidence for the both of them. And then some.

Catching his own eye in the mirror in the lobby, Jesper winked at himself. He really cut such a dashing figure, it didn't surprise him that someone wanted to take him upstairs. He would have, too.

The worst part of a situation like this was always the stairs—where did you look, did you stop to kiss on the way up or wait until you got into the room, did you reach for the other person's hand or walk separately? So many decisions.

In contrast, the moment the door closed behind you, and it was just the two of you, alone, wasn't awkward at all.

The beautiful man opened the door and let Wylan in first, before closing it behind him and leaning back against it with that promising smile. Wylan didn't waste a moment before pressing up against him and kissing him.

And it was perfect. Lips moving together, hands exploring, removing Wylan's jacket and the beautiful man's layers of coat and waistcoat and vest and gunbelt, ragged breaths between kisses.

There was only one thing missing. Wylan managed to drag his mouth away long enough to gasp, "What's your name?"

Jesper smiled. It hadn't occurred to him to ask. "Jesper. Yours?" He trailed kisses down the beautiful man's neck, barely registering the whispered name. Willem? Wycroft? Something like that. It receded in importance next to the next kiss, the next item of clothing removed, the next step toward the bed.

They tumbled together onto the mattress, and neither one of them spoke again … but they managed to communicate quite well, nevertheless.