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“That’s perfect! We can call it a, uh--” Frenchie trailed off for a moment, grasping the sides of his face with both hands in his excitement.
“A-- sitting nook!”
“And we could have a bowl of mints, in case we like-- have people over,” Wee John said.
“Hang on, why would people come over?” Frenchie asked, sounding dubious.
“Um, I think that’s just part of it. When you’re room people, people come over.”
Frenchie looked at Wee John, and then they both looked over at the sitting nook.
“Well, not to be rude about it, but uh… I think I’d rather our sitting nook be for just us. What d’you think?”
“I think that’s brilliant,” John agreed with a grin.
“We can still have that bowl of mints too, soon as we find some mints. And a bowl,” Frenchie said, starting to draw that in the blueprints.
John couldn’t think of a time when he’d been happier than this. He had his own room, and a roommate, and they were going to have a sitting nook! Frenchie was sitting right next to him now, to the point that their thighs were touching, and Frenchie didn’t seem to mind that one bit.
It was wonderful.
Stimming absently with the toy doll in his hands, John was in such a good mood that he said, “You know, you’re real handsome when you get excited about something.”
“H-Handsome?” Frenchie stuttered, at an uncharacteristic loss for words.
It was so adorable that John couldn’t help continuing.
“Yeah, just-- your eyes light up and your whole face looks well, rather radiant.”
Frenchie still wasn’t replying though, and had stopped drawing. Was he upset? When Wee John spoke again his voice was much quieter.
“But I um, I won’t bring it up again if it makes you uncomfortable to say. Sorry.”
“No, no, it doesn’t, I-- I’m really bad at this,” Frenchie started, but John just shrugged.
“So’m I mate. Haven’t even been with someone proper well-- ever.”
“Ever?” Frenchie couldn’t help gasping in an almost comical shock, and Wee John’s eyes flickered as he looked down at the floorboards.
“Yeah, ‘m not pretty and good at singing like you are. Bet half the crew’s after you,” John mumbled.
“If they are, I’m the last to know of it,” Frenchie said, then seemed worried as he added “They aren’t, are they?”
That got John to laugh. “I dunno mate, just figured on account of you being so pretty and such a good bard and all.”
“Oh, stop, I’m just as good as any other bard,” Frenchie said, but Wee John shook his head.
“Nah mate, I’ve heard a lot of bards. You’re one of the best there is, definitely. Love your lyrics too.”
“Really?”
In the soft golden light coming down into the wooden room, John thought he saw Frenchie’s cheeks flush a bit… but maybe it was just a trick of the warm glow.
“Yeah. ‘Specially the ones about death, those are the best.”
“I just, ahm.” Frenchie swallowed, and John couldn’t help watching his throat work as he did.
“Just write what moves me. Glad you like it.”
“I’m glad we’re roommates now,” John blurted out, knowing he was being a bit forward but not wanting to waste an opportunity to try his hand with this beautiful man.
Because he wasn’t laying it on thick just to get his rocks off, far from it. The reason John had tripped the Swede and called roommate status was because he’d seen-- and quickly acted on-- an opportunity to be alone with Frenchie, who’d stolen his heart the first day they’d been on the ship together.
John had been too shy to openly flirt out on deck like some of the other more brazen crew members, assuming that one of them would butter Frenchie up right away. But here they were together now… and the way Frenchie was looking at him, John thought maybe there was a chance.
A chance that the feelings were reciprocated.
“I’m glad for that too,” Frenchie whispered, and John was suddenly aware of how close their faces had gotten.
It was now or never.
“Can-- I kiss you?” John ventured, heart in his throat.
Instead of answering, Frenchie kissed him, and John’s eyes slid closed as he reveled in the luxurious soft heat of lips pressing lips. The doll in his hand fell forgotten to the floor.
Then a lewd moan escaped him as he felt Frenchie’s palm sliding up his leg, circling around his hip to his lower back, grasping a handful of him in a firm hold underneath his shirt-- it was such a simple yet intimate gesture, and John wanted to make Frenchie cum so hard that the man saw stars.
But before he could even think of vocalizing that, there was a sharp knocking.
“Frenchie! Are you in there? I heard you’ve won this room! Congrats!” Stede called through the door in his cheerful tenor.
“Anywho. Your bard services are requested in my quarters, as soon as you are able please! Lucius has transcribed some song lyrics for me that I wish to test out with your musical prowess.”
John sighed, pushing down thoughts of wanting to murder Captain Bonnet for his incredibly bad timing as he sat back to lean against the ship wall.
“Y-Yes Cap’n, just give me a few minutes and I’ll be there,” Frenchie called in reply, his voice cracking more than once.
“Splendid! See you in fifteen sharp!”
Stede’s loud footsteps retreated, and John was surprised that neither one of them had heard the Captain’s approach while wrapped up in each other a few moments ago.
“Well. Duty calls,” he said, and Frenchie pouted so marvelously that John wanted to kiss it away.
“This isn’t ruined, is it?” Frenchie asked. “Just a-- to be continued sort of situation, right?”
The man's tone was full of such genuine concern that John wanted to reassure him, so he took one of Frenchie’s hands in his and gave it a tender squeeze before speaking.
“Right. To be continued. Maybe tonight, when everyone’s going to bed? No interruptions then, I’d hope.”
“Of course. Tonight then,” Frenchie said, looking almost as excited now as he had about their sitting nook.
It was a gorgeous look on him, and John vowed to make Frenchie's face light up like that as often as possible.
–-Later that night, after some Horrible Events--
“Have f-- have fun in the nook,” Oluwande said sadly as Frenchie called back, “Sorry, can you keep it down out there?”
He didn’t even hear Wande's “Sorry” in response, because he was already singing, a song that he hadn’t sung for anyone yet.
It was something he’d been working on since joining The Revenge crew: heartfelt and more positive than his usual repertoire, while still containing his signature macabre style. And after the fucked-up evening they’d endured with Calico Jack, all he wanted to do was sing his heart out for someone who’d appreciate it.
Go, lonely pirates that the world has turned away:
Stab enemies through their skulls! Seize your perfect day!
Hoist, hoist the flags, pull the rope til skin burns raw,
Show them terror, show them fear, show them reverence and awe!
For we’re a band of brigands with aces up our sleeves,
Able to disguise with fuckery, to disarm and to deceive.
Yet all of us are capable, not running from a fight,
Standing tall and landing true in what we know is right.
So sharpen swords and knives, mates! Clean them with great care!
Breathe deep and taste the salty grit of sea-blood on the air.
Button coats; lace those boots up! Peer down into the gloom.
Then make peace with your maker, ere we face down certain doom.
If we survive, our celebration after will be swell.
And if we die, our tale will be another bard’s to tell.
And if we die, our tale will be another bard’s to tell.
When he was finished, John wiped what looked like a tear from his eye before speaking.
“That was-- stunning. Just beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Did you write that about-- us? The crew?”
“Yeah. Thanks mate, you're the first to hear that one." Frenchie exhaled in relief as he sat down next to John, feeling comforted at once by the man’s warmth.
“Can I-- lean on you? Kinda chilly,” he lamented.
John’s arm came around his shoulders, protective but still gentle, and Frenchie melted.
“I was so excited about this earlier, you have no idea,” he said, sighing in frustration at how the evening had spiraled out of control.
Now that Frenchie wasn't singing, Buttons’s angry sobs could be heard even from down here-- no one was getting any good sleep on this ship tonight.
“I know. Me too.” John patted Frenchie’s back. “Not your fault mate.”
“Besides, you sharin' that song with me was way more special than sex. Seeing as how I’ve nothing to compare it to.”
“Well if I have any say in it, you’ll have something to compare to it sooner than later,” Frenchie murmured, nuzzling into John’s shoulder and loving how soft the man was.
“I’ll hold you to that,” John said, sounding pleased.
Frenchie sighed and let himself drift, comforted by John's chest rising and falling. Like being rocked in the sea itself, but warm and dry.
“You think we were too hard on Oluwande, not letting him have the nook tonight?” John asked after a few minutes.
“Gonna be a shit night for all of us, but he’s missing Jim too.”
Frenchie sighed, knowing John was right. “Yeah. I’ll apologize to him in the morning. Invite him to the nook tomorrow night, maybe?”
“Look at you, turning over a new leaf,” Wee John said, his voice lightly teasing. “What about the nook bein’ just for us?”
“Well. I’m glad it’s just us tonight,” Frenchie murmured into John’s shoulder, and he felt John hold him a bit tighter in response.
They stayed that way for a long time.