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As the bottom of your foot collided gracefully with a piece from a broken bottle of rum, a flurry of words danced through your mind, as you tried to pick one to emphasise your pain.
‘…Shit.’ You hissed
The Caribbean sun, like most days, was sparing you no mercy as you limped your way to the nearest seat in the little hut of a tavern. The place smelled of salt and rum and sweat and the underlying smell of vomit. You wouldn’t expect anything less from the pirate town of Nassau.
Reaching into the pockets of your pants, you pulled out a rugged piece of cloth that you had occasionally tied around your head. Wrapping it around your foot, you briefly recalled it being a trophy from the uniform of an unlucky captain on a British merchant ship. Shame. Now it would be stained with blood. Goddamned pirates and their goddamned late night tavern brawls.
Speaking of pirates, the rather haughty gaze of a certain blonde-haired captain had witnessed your foot being sliced by the broken piece of glass. Sitting a table away, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
‘What did I tell you about wearing shoes?’
‘Shut your trap Kenway, my boots are soaked, and I recall you throwing up in my spare pair two nights ago’.
At that, his smirk slowly morphed into an apologetic smile. You rolled your eyes as he stood up and walked over to you, dragging another chair to prop up your leg.
‘Forgot they were your spare pair.’
‘Well you bloody owe me.’
‘I know.’ He replied, giving his chin a scratch. His eyes glanced over your foot and then at you.
‘Well, that wound ain’t closing any time soon lass’ he mumbled. You shrugged.
‘Don’t worry. Give it a couple of hours and it’ll be fine--’
‘Oi Kidd!’
A short wave of butterflies hit you, as you felt your face heat up. What? James Kidd was here?
‘Kenway, I swear, don’t you--’
The smug bastard didn’t even bother covering his smile as he called out for Kidd again, getting the young pirate’s attention. The same night he threw up in your shoe was the same night you had drunkenly confessed to him your thoughts on James Kidd. The man knew how to keep a secret but jaysus he loved messing around with it.
Your cheeks were burning when you saw James get up, rum in hand, as he sauntered over to you both.
‘You’re so loud, Edward,’ he drawled, as he looked over at you, running his eyes from your face, down to your propped up foot and bloodstained bandage. Murmuring your name, his hands grasped your leg as he lifted it up, only to sit down on the chair and prop your foot onto his lap.
Another wave of butterflies hit you, as you could practically hear the violent laughter bottled up in Kenway’s head.
‘Christ,’ James murmured, as he untied the knot to get a better look at your wound. ‘I know it’s Nassau, but if ya can, watch your step.’ He looked up at Edward.
‘Go ask for a glass of their best spiced-rum and a glass of rose water. See if they have a napkin too.’
Edward nodded, and when James was looking back at your foot, flashed you a devilish grin, before going to the bartender.
James gave a small sigh as his fingers ran along the rim of your pants. He then spared no hesitation as he ducked them under and started to roll your pants up. You raised an eyebrow.
‘Is it really that bad?’
‘Doesn’t seem to be,’ he replied ‘I’m just making sure these pants don’t get blood on them too.’
James’ hands soon clasped around your calf and you were surprised at the amount of willpower you needed to squash any kind of daydream that was running rampant in your head at that very moment. Sure, every pirate you had encountered, regardless of them being lanky or brawny or male or female had rough, calloused hands, and he was no exception. But something about James’ hands were a delightful mixture of gentle, yet firm. You felt more than comfortable around him. You didn’t have to keep you guard up in the same way that you did around other pirates, even Kenway for that matter.
The thud of Kenway placing the items James had asked for onto the table snapped you out of your thoughts.
‘There’s no rosewater. I got plain water, though.’
‘That’ll do.’ James murmured, as he handed you the spiced rum.
‘I thought rum heals wounds?’ you questioned, taking a sip and savouring the taste. James shook his head and met your gaze.
‘The rum’s for you.’ He winked.
Kenway was right when he said that James was ten times the demon his father was. You don’t recall meeting any other pirate who could make faces like that, as if it were nothing.
You winced as James lifted his cup and poured some of his rum onto your wound, letting it stay there for a minute or so, before washing it out with water. Afterwards, he took the napkin and firmly tied it around your foot.
‘There.’ He mumbled, giving your foot a small pat ‘That’ll make it close up faster. Best not to walk on it for a while. I’ll help you home once we finish up at the tavern.’
You nodded.
‘Thanks James.’ You smiled. He returned your smile with a smaller, albeit sincere one.
‘S’alright.’
Standing up, he gave you a quick clap on the back, before heading back to the table where he was earlier.
You took a swig of your rum and sighed.
Bloody pirates.