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Had Charles Vane known that becoming ally/friends with James Flint would involve helping him, his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s wife (his girlfriend?) move into their new house, he might have just gone ahead, taken the warship and let Peter Ashe hang Flint and be done with. Not really, but… maybe?
He honestly isn’t even really sure how he got roped into this. It was a couple of weeks ago when he, Jack, Anne, Max, Flint, Thomas, and Miranda were all sitting at a table upstairs in the brothel having dinner. Billy was out showing Abigail around Nassau and Mr.s Gates and De Groot were just trying to get a moment’s peace at some smaller tavern at the other end of town. Silver and Madi were out having some sort of alone dinner thing (Jack had called it a “date” and then called Charles a “heathen with no sense of romance”), and this all left the motley crew to sit around with whatever the brothel’s cook had dreamed up and a metric ton of ale to wash it down.
Charles didn’t fully understand the situation Flint had with the Hamiltons, but whatever it was clearly made Flint happier than Charles had ever seen him. He was all smiles and laughter and joy. It warmed Charles’s heart (just a bit) to see his friend so happy, because they certainly had become friends. He mentally joked about leaving Flint to hang, but to be honest it would be difficult to imagine his life without the people sitting around the table with him now. At least, it would be difficult to imagine something resembling a happy life.
They’d stopped to refuel in Savannah after Charlestown and somehow or another word got to Flint about a plantation full of the disgraced sons of London’s elite that were now more or less enslaved in the prison colony. If there was one thing Charles was always down to do (and there were many things he was always down to do), it was hunt down a slave master and free people from bondage. They’d split when they got to the plantation- Charles after the master of the house and James off to find Thomas. Finding Mr. Smith hadn’t been difficult and dispatching him was even easier. Once that was finished, Charles made his way outside to find Flint in the arms of another, taller man and both of them appeared to be weeping. He felt like an intruder watching them, so he busied himself with checking the plantation for anyone else who may need to be released. When they made it back to the ship, Miranda leapt on the man who Charles realized must be Thomas, and after a minute of holding on to him she grabbed Flint into their embrace.
In time all of the introductions were made, and suddenly the Charles/Anne/Jack crew expanded to the Charles/Anne/Max/Jack crew and the Charles/James friendship expanded to include Charles/James/Thomas/Miranda. They also intercepted Abigail Ashe on the way, and James and the Hamiltons promptly adopted her on the spot. She and Charles had some reacquainting to do outside of Eleanor Guthrie’s influence, but he at least thought they were making progress. She didn’t seem nearly as terrified as she’d been of him when she followed Eleanor through the gate, so that was something.
Fast forward a few weeks and here they all were finishing their chicken and ale when Jack began asking about where the Flint/Hamilton/Ashe family intended to live. Miranda’s house was too small now that they had Abigail, and Billy had attached himself to Abigail as an older brother figure so usually where one of them was, the both of them were. Of course with Billy came Mr. Gates as his surrogate father, and while they’d made it work for the last couple of months, everyone was feeling a bit cramped.
Jack and Max volunteered to host them at the brothel, but they politely declined. Charles half considered offering to let them stay at the fort, but figured that may not be the best idea considering they also had Abigail to consider. Not that he couldn’t keep his men under control, but he also knew that she had memories of that fort that she may not want to be surrounded by all the time. He certainly knew that was the case for him, and yet he stayed… for some reason. Maybe he should take Jack up on the offer to move into the brothel…
Thomas mentioned that they’d been asking around and found a house a bit more inland from Miranda’s that had been abandoned for the last several years. It would take a bit of fixing up, but they planned to go ahead and move in and then work on it as they lived there. Before Charles fully knew what was happening, Jack had volunteered Charles, Anne, himself, and Max to all help them move with the added bonus that he and Max would help with the decorating if Miranda so desired their assistance. Max enthusiastically agreed and elbowed Anne in the side prompting her to shrug a shoulder in agreement. Jack looked at Charles with those wide puppy-dog eyes and before Charles even knew what he was saying he’d agreed to help. The look on the Flint/Hamilton’s faces almost made it worth it.
At the time.
That was then.
Now it’s moving day. What on earth had they gotten themselves into?
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When Charles and company arrived at Miranda’s house early the next day, one cart was packed and Thomas, Billy, and James were in the process of loading another one. It was decided that they would stay behind and the Ranger crew plus Max would go with Miranda and Abigail and get things unloaded. Mr. Gates was out helping Mr. De Groot careen the ship again since the last time was a bit of a disaster.
The moving crew pulled up to a slightly rundown looking two story house with columns on the porch and an overgrown garden to the side. Miranda smiled and squeezed Abigail around the shoulders before jumping off the cart to start unloading. Abigail took the key to the front door and unlocked it, but had a little trouble pushing it open since the summer heat made the wood swell in the jamb. Jack went to help her push it open while Charles and the others started getting things off the cart.
“Just put everything in the front for now, we’ll get it sorted later,” Miranda instructed as she pulled a crate of books from the back. She passed it to Charles who noticed the copy of Reflections by Marcus Aurelius on the top. He recognized it from a conversation he’d had with Flint on the way to the plantation. That was his and Thomas’s book, the one object that kept them tethered together to all this time. Flint’s book with Miranda was Don Quixote, which he also noticed on top of the stack. It’s not that Charles couldn’t read (Teach made sure he could), it had just never been particularly useful to him. You don’t have to know how to read to split logs, haul rope, navigate the stars, or fight the English Navy. Besides, he’d never really had the time to sit down and rest long enough to read. Maybe he should change that. He set the books down to the left of the open door and went back out for more stuff.
Max and Anne pulled down a trunk of clothes and carried it into the house together. Charles volunteered to switch with them, but he was told in no uncertain terms that they could handle it themselves thank you very much, so he left them to it. He passed Miranda and Abigail carrying small crates of what appeared to be dishes. Porcelain. Hadn’t he and Flint had that conversation just a few days ago? About how fragile porcelain and books were, and how fragile a civilized life was, and how it all came down to capitulation and letting society numb you into obedience? Now he was willingly helping Flint settle into that obedience. Is that something a real friend should do? Charles wasn’t sure, so he jumped into the back of the cart, pushed a trunk to the edge, and hauled it out of the back of the cart to take inside.
Miranda stood in the foyer with her hands on her hips trying to put together what each room should be when the furniture arrived. Charles motioned to the trunks on the floor and at Jack who was just standing there in slack jawed awe.
“Would you like us to move these upstairs?”
Miranda turned and smiled up at him. “Sure, thank you, Charles.”
“Jack, let’s go.” Charles barked and jerked his head toward the trunks.
“You can’t honestly expect me to be able to help you carry that upstairs.” Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at Charles like he’d lost his mind. Charles scowled and opened his mouth to reply when suddenly-
“Good thing we got here in time then,” Flint’s voice sounded amused coming from behind him, and he turned just in time to see Billy and Thomas carrying in a table. Miranda’s smile widened as she directed them to the right and Flint walked over to Charles to help with the trunk.
“My hero,” Jack cooed jokingly at Flint before catching Charles’s eye and backing away. “Yes, yes, I know. Fuck you, Jack. I’ll let you save your breath.” Jack raised his hands and walked away to follow Miranda and see if he could start setting the table or something.
Charles just rolled his eyes and grabbed his end of the trunk.
“On 3?” James asked. Charles nodded. “1, 2, 3,” James counted off and they both lifted at the same time. It was heavy, even for the two of them.
“The fuck’s in this thing?” Charles grunted as he started backwards up the stairs.
“I think these are Abigail’s… From what I understand, women’s clothes are far more complex than ours,” James laughed.
“Not here, they aren’t…” Charles thought back to Eleanor’s outfits, but also realized that Abigail and Miranda were nothing like Eleanor, therefore they would likely be dressed more like Max, in which case it made sense. Thank God they weren’t like Eleanor. Nassau couldn’t handle another one.
“So, if you can’t understand why a man would want domesticity, why are you helping four of them move into a house?” James looked amused, and Charles honestly wasn’t even sure he had an answer.
“I still don’t understand it. To the left,” Charles moved to get his back to the doorway and James moved with him. “However,” they set the trunk down inside the room and straightened. “I think I am starting to understand wanting peace.” He sighed. “And I don’t know, maybe I do understand it. I tried to tell Eleanor that we could take part of the gold and settle down, have a life, a couple of kids… but she would never have that. I told myself that wasn’t me wanting domesticity, that was wanting someone else to depend on me, but…” he took a deep breath and walked out onto the landing where he could see Jack and Anne below him. James wordlessly followed. “Maybe I’ve had other people depending on me for a long time. Actually, I know I have. It’s why Jack wouldn’t come with me when I left with Teach- he didn’t want to have to depend on me when he’d built something of his own here. I didn’t expect that to hurt as much as it did.”
“But it did,” James whispered beside him.
“It did. I guess because I was hoping that our friendship would be enough for him to come with me, but in the end his need for independence won out. I can’t blame him, especially after all the shit I put him through with Eleanor-”
“Excuse you, you both put us all through that,” James smirked and bumped Charles’s shoulder. He earned a grunt in response. James just chuckled and noted the small grin gracing Charles’s face out of the corner of his eye. James knew at one point that comment would likely have resulted at him having a knife in his face. He was thankful they’d progressed past that.
“Anyway,” Charles emphasized the word, “seeing you with Miranda and Thomas, and even adopting Abigail. It seems peaceful. Maybe that’s part of domesticity, maybe it isn’t, but either way, it looks nice. It’s not something I can have in that fort probably, but…” he trailed off.
James waited a beat before asking, “what?”
“I am happy that it’s working out this way for you,” Charles whispered. “If anyone deserves all of this, you do. You all do,” he ignored the water welling up in his eyes as he put a hand over Flint’s over the railing.
Flint didn’t even bother ignoring his tears. He just let them go as he watched his family make their home together for the first time in a way that included all of them from the very beginning. He whispered, “thank you. So do you, you know?”
Charles chuckled humorlessly and swiped a hand across his face.
“I’m serious,” James looked at Charles who turned his head in response. “They are my family, but you are now, too. You don’t show up to save my life from the man who ruined my life, help me blow a port city to hell, kill its governor, and then stop me from murdering Jack Rackham for taking the Urca gold I’d been after for years without earning the title of brother. Even if you did steal my ship first.” James smirked and bumped Charles’s shoulder again.
“Yeah… I’m not sorry about that.” Charles shook his head and laughed.
“Wouldn’t expect you to be,” James chuckled, “brother.”
Charles looked at his family and back at James. “Brother.”