MaryK
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“What—” Silver balks, and he looks up to see Flint standing above him, almost entirely naked. There’s a lot of pale skin and freckles and Good Christ, Silver could have lived a long and happy—well maybe not happy, but at least a blissfully oblivious life without seeing the way Flint’s britches cling to his thighs.
“Er,” Silver says. It’s the best he can do.
Flint shoots him a turbulent look. “What?”
“What?”
“What?”
“What?”
Flint hangs his head to pinch the bridge of his nose.
Bookmarked by MaryK
26 May 2024
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4x09 flashback fic, made gayer
because flint looks like THAT while sparring, and silver is not actually Long John Silver. which is to say, he's only human.
Bookmarked by MaryK
26 May 2024
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Silver is out of his chair and across the room before he knows it. He has a grip on the barkeep's shirt before he knows it, and he's pulling him up, hauling him eye-level, only to head-butt him to the ground again. The barkeep's mouth is thrown open in a wail, but there's no sound, Silver thinks, no sound at all, save for the blood rushing in his ears as he looks at the other man on the ground, watches him roll to his side with a groan.
Flint, Silver thinks, and nothing else. It beats around the knife in his gut like a drum. Flint.
And then Flint is looking at him.
Bookmarked by MaryK
23 May 2024
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Silver wakes up each time to a different day in his past.
He thinks that if this is his purgatory, he can’t say he doesn't deserve it.
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Bookmarked by MaryK
23 May 2024
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They could have been described as delicate, once, Silver supposes. In another life Flint’s slender fingers could have been at home striking the keys of a harpsichord; could have authored profound, beautiful manuscripts; could have stayed soft, lived far from the sea; could have held things gently with no intention of breaking them.
Once, surely. But no longer.
Bookmarked by MaryK
22 May 2024