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The rain could start any time. John has been watching dark clouds forming on the horizon and undoubtedly getting closer, and the sea is gray and choppy. They should go down from the cliffs before the storm can catch them, but Flint and Madi seem unconcerned. It's the first time in weeks - maybe the first time ever, actually - that the three of them have been alone together without the pressure to be making plans, and none of them are in a hurry to return to camp, where anyone could come to them with some new problem.
The idea to come up here had been Madi's. She insisted on watching John and Flint practice with the swords, and then made them train her as well for a while.
"Why do you need to know that?" John had asked with alarm, and she and Flint both rolled their eyes at him and said that in the dangerous days ahead it could never hurt to be prepared.
Eventually they had all grown tired, and now they're all resting in the grass, staring out at the ocean.
John can't remember when he got a good night of sleep. It's nice being able to just rest, even for an hour or two. He is just starting to drift off, listing over slightly onto Flint's shoulder, when he feels a gentle tugging at his temple. He blinks his eyes back open and realizes that Madi is braiding a section of his hair. She sees him watching her and smiles. "You don't mind, do you?"
"No, I guess not," he says.
Madi glances over his shoulder at Flint, who is watching them intently. "Do you know how to do this, Captain?"
John expects him to say no, or not really - tying knots on a ship is not entirely dissimilar, depending on the type of knot, but not really the same, and his hair used to be long but not really long enough to warrant braids - but to his surprise Flint says, "I do. It's been a long time, though."
"Miranda?" John asks once he processes that, and Flint nods. There's a hint of sorrow in his expression, but mostly it's just fondness. John finds his hand and squeezes it once, and Flint offers him a small smile in return.
"I would have liked to meet her," Madi says softly.
"You would have liked each other," says Flint. Then he glances at where her fingers are still moving in John's hair, and seems to come to a decision. His hands rise to hover by the other side of John's head, and he murmurs, "May I?"
For a moment John feels caught in his gaze, which is somehow both as intense as the approaching storm and as tender as a kiss.
"All right," he says hoarsely.
With a hesitance John has never seen from him, Flint touches his hair, easing his fingers through a few tangles and gently separating three strands. As he starts to braid, John glances back at Madi, whose fingers have stilled as she watched whatever has just passed between them. He meets her eyes, and she looks at him with an unreadable expression for a few seconds before smiling and resuming her work.
It should feel odd, being touched by both of them. Being touched by Flint. But he has never felt more anchored, more relaxed, more at home, than he does in this moment, the two of them close on either side of him with their capable hands carefully creating something symmetrical and beautiful for him.
He is lulled back to sleep within minutes, and wakes, his head in Madi's lap and his legs across Flint's, only when the sky finally breaks open above them, and Flint swears as they're instantly soaked.
They scramble up. Madi grabs the swords and Flint lets John brace himself on his shoulder, and they move as quickly as they can back to the camp. Somehow they all end up in Madi's room. They stand inside the doorway, dripping and gasping for air, and after a moment of staring at each other they all burst into laughter. It's a sound that none of them are very used to, and fades quickly into a somber silence. Suddenly the war feels much closer again, and the exhaustion returns with force. John flops onto the bed, wet clothes be damned, and Madi shakes her head disapprovingly but curls up next to him anyway.
Flint stays standing awkwardly by the door, until Madi sighs and says, "Do not just stand there, Captain."
"I should go back to my own cabin," he says hesitantly. "It's getting late."
"If that's what you want."
"I. What do you want?"
"Madi," John whispers. "What are you doing?"
"I do not doubt that there are, or will be, people who may think that one of the three of us could be used as leverage to divide the other two," she answers them both. "I believe that those people are wrong, but I would feel more confident in that if the three of us were more comfortable with each other. What we shared on the cliffs today was a start."
"And further progress would look like... what?"
"Captain Flint, please come lie down next to John."
John and Flint look at each other. Eventually John moves slightly so he's more in the center of the bed, and Flint huffs and comes over to lie beside him. They've never shared a bed before, only a cabin, and even though they have spent plenty of time in each other's personal space, he feels too close, and they both glance away quickly to stare up at the roof.
It's uncomfortable. The bed is really too small for three, and they're all a bit tense, and their wet clothes are heavy and cold. But after a while, listening to the steady hammering of the rain outside, they relax, and it's easier to appreciate the gift that Madi has given them: intimacy and human contact as they wait for an uncertain future. Flint tentatively takes his hand, and John interlocks their fingers. Slowly they turn their heads, and then their faces are so close that he could count Flint's freckles if he wanted, or drown in the vibrant green of his eyes.
For a moment, he thinks they might kiss.
There have been many moments when they might have kissed, if he's honest with himself. Many moments when they leaned in just close enough to be on the edge of something but not quite close enough to lose plausible deniability. Many moments when he wanted to kiss him, and moments he saw something flickering in Flint's eyes that made him think maybe it would be welcome.
But this is the first moment he truly thinks it might actually happen.
They sway in at the same moment, almost imperceptibly, but enough that their foreheads touch. Flint's eyes flutter closed and he stills, like he's making the decision of whether to press forward entirely John's. He wants to, wants him, and it's getting harder and harder to ignore the yearning within himself that's grown deeper than the sea. For a moment he forgets all the reasons he has invented for denying this, all the reasons he has to fear it. Madi's head is a solid weight on his chest, and Flint's hand in his is calloused and warm, and this all feels so real that for a moment he believes he can really have it.
A massive bolt of lightning lights up the sky, immediately followed by a terrible crash of thunder, and John jerks as if the lightning has struck him. Madi, mostly asleep, grumbles, and Flint opens his eyes. John has no idea what his face might be showing - if Flint can tell that a wave of incomprehensible panic has hit him out of nowhere - but whatever Flint sees makes him turn on his side and rest his other hand over John's heart. John can do nothing but try to breathe. Madi puts her hand over Flint's. Either because of or despite the two of them pressing down on him, his racing heartbeat slowly steadies, and sleep finally takes him.
Flint is the first to get up in the morning. John wakes to him sliding out of bed. When he stirs and looks up at him, Flint whispers, "I'm going to get some cleaner clothes. I'll see you at the meeting in a few hours."
John nods. Flint starts to turn to go, then pauses and reaches out to lightly touch one of the braids with a hint of a smile.
That small action makes John smile back, because whether Flint means it to be or not, it’s very revealing. It shows that last night meant something to him.
It gives John just enough courage to catch his hand as he pulls away and press his lips to it. Quick, barely a kiss, but undeniable in its meaning. He meets Flint’s eyes and sees a spark there, an acceptance of John’s unspoken declaration.
“I’ll see you at the meeting, Captain.”
“I look forward to it, Mr. Quartermaster.”
He releases his hand and watches him go, then waits for Madi to awaken so he can kiss her. In the meantime, he thinks about love, and possibilities, and the future, and how hard he’ll fight to be able to keep this.