Chapter Text
Jim has a knife in their hand before they open their eyes.
Call them dramatic, so what? Olu never leaves the bed before they’re awake. The last time he did, it was-well. It was a bad day.
Jim remembers the feeling of reaching out and finding cold sheets, months ago. They went back to sleep, ignoring the dark feeling in the pit of their stomach. At the same time, Olu was on the island, asking Ed (Blackbeard then), where Jim was.
Jim tries not to wallow, but sometimes they catch Olu staring at them from across the deck, and curse themselves for ever letting him go.
Anyway, they don’t wake up to an empty bed anymore. Ever.
So of course they whip their knife out, decide exit routes, and remember every crew member’s weakness before opening their eyes to Oluwande standing in the doorway, grinning.
“Was the plan to start swashbuckling before you put a shirt on, or is this your new fighting style?”
He crosses the room in two strides, and kneels by the bed, still grinning. He’s hiding something behind his back that Jim chooses not to mention before they chastise him. They push him lightly by the shoulders.
“You dickhead! I thought you left.”
“Well, I came back. And look,” He pulls out a box from behind his back, and puts it in Jim’s lap. He also hands them a shirt.
They wipe the sleep out of their eyes, and push the box away from them. Olu’s confused, until Jim throws their arms around his shoulders and kisses him. Hard. They pull back, blushing.
“Hello.”
“I missed you. Don’t do that shit again.”
“I won’t. Promise,” Olu pulls their hand from behind his neck, and presses a kiss to their wrist. He presses kisses up their arm, and Jim almost regrets putting a shirt back on, before he leans back and whispers against their lips.
“Open the box.”
Jim rolls their eyes with a smile, and scoots back to make room for Olu in the bed. He climbs in, looking like a kid on christmas, beaming in anticipation of Jim opening their present.
As they unwrap the expensive-looking ribbon, (Olu probably spent several salaries on this, just for them), Jim realizes that they don’t remember what special occasion would warrant this gift. It’s not the holiday season, and Jim should know. They’re the one who had to fetch the fresh water for Lucius’s heat stroke a week ago.
The dead of summer. Who’s birthday is it? Jim’s? How the fuck did they forget their own birthday?
“Jim. Your hands are shaking.”
Oh. Their hands are shaking. Fuck.
“What is this for? I’m sorry, I just-I don’t have anything for you.”
He stares into their eyes for a moment. It would be unnerving, if it wasn’t Oluwande.
He takes the half-opened box from their hands, and opens it the rest of the way. Calmly, slowly, patiently. He handles the box with the same gentleness he uses on Jim. Something they always loved about Olu, before they were even colleagues, was his kindness.
Working for Spanish Jackie, it was hard to find a hostage who was afraid of being interrogated by Olu. That isn’t to say he couldn’t get confessions out of them, he knew his shit. He would pull sensitive information out of the captured like an old friend would pull forgotten memories from you after years of not seeing each other.
Jim had watched him from their post for months, terrified and allured by how he used his charm as a weapon. When they were ready to start their killings of the Siete Gallo, he was the one they went to for partnership. When they got caught immediately after the first killing, he was the one they went to for escape. Jim had never been so happy as when they heard Olu agree to board The Revenge with them, not that they would ever tell anyone that. Maybe Ed, one day.
Olu never treats Jim like one of his interrogated, he treats them as someone important, that deserves his patience and attention.
The box is finally open. Jim pulls out a small, wood glazed jar.
“Did you get me marmalade? We have like, sixty of these on the ship.”
“You’re not done opening it.”
When they screw off the lid, and peer at its contents, Jim feels like they could cry. Scratch that, they’re crying right now, bursts of tears coming in sharp waves like the ones crashing into the side of the ship. Jim throws their arms around Olu’s neck for the second time this morning, and sobs into his chest.
Inside the jar lays a thick layer of pink paint. Made from flower petals. Jim doesn’t need to ask to know that they’re the ones from St. Augustine. Of course they are.
“Thank you,” they mumble into Olu’s chest.
“Happy Valentine's Day, Jim.”
Jim pulls back, sniffling. Oluwande swipes under their eyes with his thumb.
“It’s July 8th, what are you talking about?”
Jim sees Olu blush a shade darker underneath his beard.
“Well, that’s the problem. We were in, um, different places for Valentine’s Day this year. I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss out. ”
Jim smiles, raising their eyebrows. They love this man so much it hurts sometimes. All the time.
“You are such a sap.”
“Well, you make it easy to be a sap. Get dressed the rest of the way, Captain wants us.”
“Which one?”
“Ed, I think.”
“He can wait.”
Jim sets the paint on their bedside table, and the two don’t leave the room until 45 minutes later, immediately getting mocked by Lucius for how disheveled they both look.