Work Text:
It hadn’t actually been a stabbing. Christ, not even a bit of blood had been spilled. But sailors were as they were, and as much as the marines might have liked to act above all that rabble, gossip would race around the redcoats with just as much speed as it did before the mast. As Tozer was currently finding to his chagrin.
This was apparently his lot in life, now. It was difficult to scowl at Heather when he turned that wide, jovial grin towards a man, but Tozer did his best. “For the last time, it was only an accident and a bit of bad luck.”
“An accident but I still hear the lad got to you, sir.”
“Just my sleeve.”
“An assault on a royal marine,” said Heather solemnly, and Tozer rolled his eyes as those assembled in the mess laughed.
It had been Jopson’s fault. Tozer would cling to that fact until his dying day. Even having only shared a ship with the man for a few months, it was quite obvious that Jopson was someone who rarely made mistakes, and so the few that he did had to be leapt upon and hoarded carefully in case they were needed in future, maybe to win an argument or just to score points.
So he made that point clear. “He was handling cutlery in a dangerous way. He was coming down the walk with a tray, and I from the other direction-”
“And he recognised you as a threat, naturally. Jus’ unclear on you with a gun and him being a steward with a butter knife, and you’re the injured party, Sarge,” Daly piped up.
“I couldn’t well have shot him even if- that’s not the point! The point is that he brushed past me, and a knife on the tray caught my sleeve. He should have been more careful but that’s that.”
Heather looked doubtful. “Could a knife just cut through a uniform coat like that? Seems a bit soft.”
“Oh no, they tear awful easy,” disagreed Wilkes, who was notorious for being constantly under repair.
“You’re just saying that because you can’t go a day without catching yourself on something and begging thread off of anyone you can find. That’s nothing doing with the uniform, just your own clumsiness.”
This kicked off an argument about personal care and keeping, which spiralled into a defence of the uniform coat in general headed by Hedges, whose uncle owned several flocks of sheep and who seemed to take as a personal affront the suggestion that a butter knife could be a match for good English wool.
“It was a carving knife, not a butter knife,” objected Tozer plaintively, but no one heard him. No respect for their sergeant amongst these men, honestly.
Jopson had apologised afterwards. Not very profusely, and indeed he had seemed rather amused by the whole affair though he’d had the good grace to offer to mend Tozer’s sleeve. Tozer rubbed the neat line of stitches between forefinger and thumb now, feeling the straight march of them. He could have managed the repair himself- but Jopson had done a cleaner job of it.
It had been harmless, once Tozer had gotten over his initial irritation (either with Jopson for having been careless or with himself for having been so startled when the knife had caught on his sleeve and promptly clattered from the tray to the floor, he couldn’t quite parse). Just a strange occurrence amidst an otherwise unremarkable day. But nothing worth gabbing about until it became some sordid tale of Jopson nearly murdering him belowdecks. Rumours! No one could leave well alone.
When he left later to head above decks for some air, speak of the Devil- there was Jopson coming towards him again. In the mess as they were there was more than ample room for two people to pass, but Jopson still made an exaggerated movement to go around Tozer, and gave him a narrow smile. “Learned my lesson from the last time.”
Tozer blinked. He had observed Jopson do many things but teasing had not been among them. “Just watch that you don’t actually stab me next time, Mister Jopson.” But it was lightly said.
The narrow smile took on a knowing edge. “I should imagine if there was any stabbing to do you’d be the one going about it, sergeant. But I could always get lucky.”
Flirting had also not been an observed tool in Jopson’s kit. Tozer felt distinctly brought by the lee. “That almost sounded like a threat,” he managed, hopefully sounding less interested in the alternative implication than he was suddenly feeling.
The smile on Jopson’s face became decidedly something more than just amusement. “Well,” he said, “you could always find out if it was.”
He began to glide off and after a moment of floundering, Tozer followed. And if he followed at a hasty speed, well. There was something to be said after all about the benefits of chasing down a rumour.