Chapter Text
Frenchie squinted as he woke, lifting a hand to his aching forehead. It took him a few seconds to remember about the blanket fort, and he yawned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position. His mouth felt dry, but his stomach wasn’t queasy, so that was something.
It was dark in the blanket fort, but Frenchie didn’t think Lucius and Pete were in with him anymore. He could hear noises outside. What time was it? How late had he slept? Even as he felt a bit fidgety about sleeping in on his second day, he could admit to himself that he’d needed it.
He heard footsteps going through the stateroom, followed by Wee John’s voice, a welcome sound that made Frenchie smile. “Hey, morning, sleepy—whoa, fuck!”
“Excuse me!” This was Lucius’s affronted voice.
“Occupied!” And Pete’s.
“What’re you two doing in here?” Wee John asked. “Where’s Frenchie?”
“What does it look like we’re doing?” Pete retorted.
Okay, sounded like they’d taken Frenchie up on the offer of bed-sex then. To be fair, he’d just said “tomorrow morning”—he hadn’t specified when.
“Frenchie’s in the blanket fort,” Lucius told Wee John.
“Over here,” Frenchie called.
Feeling a bit groggy, Frenchie got onto his hands and knees, trying to get his bearings and find his way out, when Wee John opened a flap in the blanket fort and light came peeking in. “Morning, cap’n,” he said, smiling.
“Hey,” Frenchie replied. He gave a drowsy-yet-rested smile in return as he shuffled out.
Wee John offered Frenchie a hand up, then held out a cup of water. “Thought you could use this.”
“Mmm, cheers,” Frenchie said, taking the cup and gulping it down.
Slipping an arm round him, Wee John noted, “Looks like I missed quite the party in here.”
“Not really,” Frenchie answered. He rubbed the spot between his eyes and stifled another yawn. “I couldn’t sleep, so they gave me a hand.” Nodding to Lucius and Pete, who were mostly undressed in the bed nook with their arms round each other, he added, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Lucius drawled. “This bed is incredible, by the way!”
Frenchie chuckled. “Glad you like it.”
Wee John squeezed Frenchie’s shoulder. “Here—Roach made you breakfast.”
He led Frenchie over to the table, which was laid out with buttered toast, bacon, a selection of fruit, a pitcher of water, and a tea service. “He didn’t have to do all this,” Frenchie pointed out.
“No, but Roach likes doing that kinda stuff, doesn’t he?” Wee John replied. “I reckon he found his true calling when Stede hired him.”
“I mean, I’m not turning it down,” Frenchie clarified. He took a seat, saying, “Come on, guys—there’s plenty.”
Pete and Lucius got sort-of dressed, and they dismantled the blanket fort so they could all sit at the table with blankets wrapped comfortably round themselves. As they ate, Lucius asked, “So, have you given any thought to making this room feel more like yours?”
“Not yet,” Frenchie admitted through a mouthful of toast, pouring himself some more water. “My head’s still kinda fuzzy.”
“Well, you’ll definitely be needing your guitar,” Wee John noted.
“Mmm,” Lucius agreed. “Your sewing things too.”
“A proper sitting nook wouldn’t go amiss,” Wee John said, surveying the place.
Frenchie turned to look up at his friend, and he realized what he really wanted in the stateroom. “How ‘bout my roommate?” he suggested.
Wee John’s face broke into a sweet smile. “Wait, you mean it?” he asked.
Frenchie nodded and wiped his mouth. “Honestly, mate, I’d love that.”
With a laugh that sounded pleased, surprised, and touched all at once, Wee John pulled him into a warm hug. “Me too.”
“Ahhh, so cute—I love it!” Lucius gushed. “Perfect, no notes.” After a beat, he added, “Actually, one note: that bed is much too small for Wee John.” He shot Wee John a sympathetic glance. “Sorry.”
“Shit, he’s right,” Wee John said. He looked…Frenchie wasn’t quite sure. Disappointed, yeah, but maybe more than that too.
“We could fit in another bed, maybe,” Frenchie told him. His mind started to spin as he looked about the room, mentally shoving the table against the wall and pushing the sofa to one side. He might need to draw up some blueprints—in the hungover light of day, the stateroom didn’t seem so enormous.
“Just leave it, Frenchie,” Wee John urged. “You don’t need me lumbering in and messing up your nice quarters. We see each other plenty as it is.”
“It’s a shame,” Lucius mused. “How can space be at a fucking premium on a ship this lavish?”
Something about the way Wee John said lumbering snagged in Frenchie’s brain. It came with a slight wince, like it hurt Wee John to say it. Frenchie didn’t want to start his second day as captain with his mate saying things that hurt him.
“I don’t wanna leave it,” Frenchie insisted. “Give me a minute—let me think.” He shifted round so one of his feet was perched on his chair. As he brainstormed, both hands went into his hair, idly twisting his coils.
His own sort of captain, that’s what Lucius had said. His own sort of room. Frenchie could figure this out.
He wasn’t sure how long it’d been when he noticed Pete waving a hand in front of his face. “Huh?” Frenchie mumbled, looking up.
“Still with us?” Lucius asked.
“Yeah,” Frenchie replied. “I think I’ve got it.”
He’d overlooked the fact that he still had a blanket wrapped round himself, and he got tangled in it as he tried to stand, flinging himself spectacularly to the floor. Wee John, Pete, and Lucius all let out startled sympathetic “Ohhhs!!”
“I’m all right!” Frenchie announced, scrambling out of the blanket and hopping back up. He started for the door, then turned back, gathering up what was left of the breakfast and piling it onto two plates.
He was off and moving, the other three trailing behind him. They followed him to Jim, Olu, and Archie’s room, where Frenchie thumped on the door with his bare foot (he’d not thought to put his shoes on.)
Oluwande was the one who came to the door. “Frenchie?” he said, brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got a proposal for you lot,” Frenchie replied. He held up the plates. “And if it helps, I brought bacon.”
Olu raised his eyebrows now, and he took a step back from the door. “Come on in.”
As Frenchie came inside, the others peered in from the doorway. “And then there were four,” Lucius noted. “Hey, queen!” He waggled his fingers at Zheng, sitting in the corner opposite Jim and Archie.
Zheng gave him a slight self-conscious smile. “Hey.”
“Right,” Frenchie said, once he’d plied everyone with breakfast. “How’d you like to move into the jam room?”
“What?” Jim asked with a frown, nibbling on a piece of toast.
“What’s brought this on?” Olu wondered.
“This room’s a tight fit for you,” Frenchie told them, “especially if you’re gonna have four in here.”
“That’s not official yet,” Zheng put in.
“The jam room’s bigger, and we definitely don’t need it,” Frenchie continued. “All the old instruments are gone—it’s just the guitar now, and I’ve got that. Space being at a premium and all, there’s no point in having a jam room. So if you all moved in there, then Wee John and I can have this room.”
“Wait—what?” Jim said.
“What about the fucking stateroom?” Archie asked. “I know you’re captain now, mate, but you shouldn’t get two rooms.”
“I won’t,” Frenchie replied. He jerked his head toward Lucius and Pete. “They can sleep in there.”
“Yes sir, captain!” Pete enthused.
“Hold on, babe,” Lucius said, lightly touching his shoulder.
“You don’t have to do that, Frenchie,” Wee John insisted.
Frenchie frowned. “Why’re you all looking at me like that? It’s perfect!”
“Mate, you can’t just give your quarters away,” Oluwande told him.
“Not all of it,” Frenchie clarified. He turned to Pete and Lucius. “I like the sofa and the table and—and the shelves,” he said, deciding against telling anyone about the secret cupboard just now. “So I’ll use ‘em during the day, you know, for captain stuff, and then you two can have the bed at night.” To Lucius, he added, “You said you loved the bed.”
“I wasn’t angling to keep it!” Lucius argued.
“Quick note: if we’re doing swaps, how come we don’t get the stateroom?” Archie asked. She stuffed a piece of bacon in her mouth.
“The bed’s too small for three—or four,” Frenchie explained. “Besides, they’re newlyweds. Seems only polite. Call it a wedding gift or something.”
“Look,” Lucius said gently, “speaking as someone who’d literally commit murder to sleep in that bed every night—so comfortable, oh my god—maybe you shouldn’t be making this decision while you’re hungover.”
“Sleep on it,” Jim suggested.
“That’s actually part of the problem,” Lucius told them. “It’s like a whole thing with him.”
“Mmm, so that’s what this is about,” Jim observed.
Frenchie pinched the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t counted on meeting so much resistance to a win-win solution. He said to Lucius, “Listen, you said I ought to make the stateroom feel like mine.” As he looked about the room, a contented smile slid across his face. “But the thing is, this is my room. It’s the first room I ever had, and I know we weren’t in here long, but I loved it. And my room’s got Wee John in it.”
He met Wee John’s eyes and got a happy, sappy look in return. “I don’t want that bed,” Frenchie told Lucius and Pete. “So you have it.” He turned to Oluwande, Jim, Archie, and Zheng. “You take the jam room, where you’ll have more space.” He grinned at Wee John. “And we’ll be here.”
“But Frenchie, you guys had said you didn't want this room anymore,” Olu pointed out. “You thought it had bad juju, remember?”
“Babe, if I start worrying about that now, I won’t sleep anywhere on the ship,” Frenchie replied.
Olu looked as if he was going to respond, but then he glanced at Jim and Archie, and recognition filled his eyes. “Right,” he said softly. He and the others conferred silently, exchanging nods and looks. Finally he told Frenchie, “If you’re sure…”
“I am,” Frenchie said. He looked back at Wee John, Pete, and Lucius. “Everybody cool with that?”
“You know my answer,” Wee John replied.
“Question,” Lucius said. “Can we have people over?”
“At night, yeah,” Frenchie told him. “It’s your room then, so you can do what you like with it.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “Only, please don’t fuck on the softa or the table.”
“Just the bed and the floor—got it,” Lucius confirmed. “I think that’s acceptable?” He raised his eyebrows at Pete.
“I just feel like, if you’re sleeping in the captain’s quarters, that ought to make you the captain,” Pete mused.
“How ‘bout I call you ‘captain’ when we’re in bed together?” Lucius suggested.
Pete took a moment to consider it. “I can work with that,” he decided.
“Okay!” Frenchie exclaimed. “Settled, yeah? Then let’s get swapping!”
“Come get one of the nice extra blankets and pillows from the trunk, at least,” Lucius told him. “I’ll feel weird if you don’t even have that much.”
“All right,” Frenchie agreed. “Can Wee John get some too?”
“Sure,” Lucius replied.
“That’s a thought,” Frenchie remarked. “Starting on our next raid, good bedding is a priority. Loot some if we can find it, get cash to buy some if we can’t. I want everybody kitted out with comfy pillows and such, soon as we can manage it.”
Jim tossed him a bemused smile. “Sounds like a plan, captain,” they said. “Now come on, who’s gonna help us move our stuff?”
They spent the morning rearranging things, though there wasn’t a lot to carry back and forth—none of them had too much in the way of possessions. Soon enough, Frenchie and Wee John were back in their room, putting their new blankets and pillows on the beds.
“Any second thoughts?” Wee John asked.
Frenchie flopped down on his pillow and looked up at the ceiling as he reached for his guitar. Plucking out a few quiet chords, he said, “Not a one, roomie. I’m right where I want to be.”