Chapter Text
The first time their eyes meet over Captain Crozier is at the end of a Command meeting in midwinter. As their Captain, it was not exactly unusual to be found looking at Crozier during these meetings, even when he wasn’t speaking. Certainly not for his First Lieutenant or steward. Edward has noticed Jopson looking at their Captain before, as he’s sure Jopson has noticed him looking. But this is different, because it’s as if each of them has caught the other in an illicit act. The illicit act of the lingering gaze.
Edward had watched Jopson hang on Crozier’s every word in the past, in more ways than would be expected from the average steward, and had found himself embarrassed to recognise their similarity in that regard. But this is a focused, hungry look, and to have it turned upon himself, even by proxy makes him feel warm at the collar. To know he was mirroring it back was as uncomfortable as it was pleasing.
Jopson is over by the doorway, hovering as he does habitually. His lips are parted slightly, cheeks flushed, but he barely has the time to look embarrassed before Crozier is calling his name. Edward reacts without meaning to, nearly knocking his chair over and having to push it noisily back under the table before him. When he looks back up it’s to see Jopson quickly avert his gaze, tuck his hair behind his ear, and scuttle towards the Captain.
Edward tries not to watch, but can’t help but see them in his periphery as he takes his time fiddling with the papers in front of him. He can hear Crozier speaking in muffled tones, the pair’s heads bowed together in privacy. He hopes it isn’t about whiskey provisions. (It’s almost definitely about whiskey provisions). Edward doesn’t want to feel it but a sharp jealousy shoots it’s way up his spine as he is reminded of the intimacy the two share that means they’re able to stand as close as they do and to converse as they do; an intimacy he doesn’t share with his Captain, or with anyone for that matter.
He finally moves to leave; collecting his papers, and manoeuvring around the table in an attempt not to make any more loud noises. Except Jopson moves only a moment or two after he does and so they reach the doorway at the same time. Because of the way Jopson hurries everywhere, Edward has to pull up sharp to stop them from colliding. It’s a beat before he looks up with that perfectly neutral smile of his, and a “Lieutenant”. He extends an arm gesturing for Edward to go first. Edward can’t do anything but give him a terse nod of thanks, and leave the room.
It’s not till he’s on watch that he allows his mind to wander back to Crozier and Jopson. Because when he thinks of Jopson’s hungry look paired with his and Crozier’s intimacy, he wonders if he had it all wrong before. What if he’d misinterpreted Jopson as being in the same position as him, looking from the outside in, when he was already on the inside? What if Jopson only looked at Crozier in that way because he’d already received attention in return?
They surely had plenty of chances, many more than anyone else on the ship. As his steward, Jopson was expected to clothe and tend to Crozier at his most intimate, and it would not be out of place for him to be found in the Captain’s berth late at night or in the early morning. It would not even be odd to find him with the Captain in a state of undress.
Edward screws his eyes up to clear that image away, pressing a hand there for a moment before returning his gaze to the endless black sky in front of him, broken only by the glow of light emitting from the ship itself.
He turns and paces the deck, catching sight of the mate on duty doing the same, before turning back again.
It’s a still, uneventful day, so Edward feels less bad about allowing his mind to wander.
He still finds it difficult to discern, even after these many months, what exactly it is he craves from Captain Crozier. Some days he convinces himself it’s just a need for approval, to be told he’s doing well; Crozier usually giving them so little. And yet, some days he can’t deny that deeper need. A physical desire. Not that his imaginings are ever very specific, but it tended to be Crozier that elicited them. His imagination didn’t supply crude images of Crozier, more so mundanities which elicited crude reactions in Edward. Being ordered about with a firm hand, and the like.
All the same it’s comforting to know that someone else aboard may share his… proclivities. Not only for men but for their Captain. Of course, this is the Navy and it’s unlikely that he’d be the only man of his persuasion, or the only man willing to lean that way when away from land for so long, but as a Lieutenant he’s in a difficult situation. He has his authority to maintain, as precarious as it sometimes feels. For him, intimacy will always be debasement whether he wants it to be or not. Edward also knows from experience that he isn’t simply one who can share an intimate moment with someone and pretend as if it changes nothing.
He wonders if Crozier and Jopson have ever laughed and mocked him together. Sniggered over Edward’s obvious desires, his embarrassing neediness. Or if it hadn’t been obvious before, it certainly was to Jopson now. He could be telling the Captain at this very moment. Not that the steward had ever come across as cruel or malicious before. But he knew these things seemed different when you had a confidant. An intimate. Well, he imagined that it seemed different anyway.
Edward shoves his hands further into his pockets and tries not to think about it.
It happens several more times after that. An odd tension any time the three of them are in the same space, which happens often on a ship when you both answer to the Captain and have nowhere else to go. But it’s a tension of which only Edward and Jopson seem to be aware. Thankfully Crozier appears mostly unaware of any of it, of any change, as he appears to be unaware of a good many things these days. It was no help in discerning where Crozier and Jopson stood, however.
In becoming more aware of Jopson’s attentions on Crozier he becomes more wary of his own in return. They both seem to become more cautious. Not wanting to be caught out by the other. In fact Edward starts to catch Jopson’s eyes on him instead, already one step ahead.
A few evenings later Edward returns to his berth, tired and aching from a long day. He sits to check some notes at his desk before readying for bed when there’s a soft knock at his door and a “Lieutenant Little?”
He shoots up out of his chair at what sounds like Jopson’s voice.
“Yes?” He hovers at the threshold without opening the door for a moment.
“I’m sorry to bother you at this hour.”
His curiosity peaked, Edward quickly adjusts his coat and slides the door open.
“How can I— er, help Jopson?”
The other man had been waiting closer to the door than he expected, bringing them face to face. Jopson smiles.
“I think I have something for you Sir, well something of yours to return.” He reaches for the pocket of his coat before retrieving a single gold button, like the ones that adorned the officer’s coats.
“I believe it fell from your coat at dinner this evening. I noticed it in the doorway after you left, and assumed it was yours. I kept hold of it till I could ensure it’s safe return. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do that until now.”
Jopson holds his palm out flat in front of him for Edward to inspect the button.
“Well that was very thoughtful of you Jopson, to be sure. But I don’t believe it’s mine.”
“No Lieutenant? But have you checked your coat?”
He knows Edward hasn’t, because his eyes haven’t even moved downwards. But Edward watches as the other man’s gaze drags down the line of his coat. He quickly takes a step back.
“I suppose I ought to,” He replies quickly, turning from the other man back into the room. And then, “Do come in Jopson,” he tries casually, before he can lose his nerve.
Jopson steps into the room, pulling the door partially closed but hovering in its opening.
Edward runs his fingers down one side of the coat, feeling buttons, feeling for a gap or some loose thread but it’s too awkward of an angle to look at them all.
“Excuse me,” He says turning his back to Jopson before reaching to tug the coat from one sleeve and then the other, pulling it all the way off and around so he can inspect it more closely. He examines the other side of the coat carefully, but can feel Jopson’s eyes on him.
He flips the coat over trying to remain calm, finding the buttons at the back of the waist also in tact, as are those on the sleeves.
“No I’m afraid it doesn’t appear to be mine. But I thank you again for your care, as usual.”
Edward looks back up to the other man expecting him to move to leave but he doesn’t.
“May I— I mean, I beg your pardon Lieutenant, but might I check for you?” Jopson reaches his hand out for the coat, taking another step into the room.
“If you insist.”
Edward passes his coat over, making the mistake of brushing over Jopson’s hand, fingers on fingers, as he deposits it. His whole body reacts to the touch like a shiver, and he quickly clasps his hands behind his back as he stands waiting for Jopson to repeat the same thing he’d just done.
Jopson handles the coat like a precious item, as he does with most things, as Edward has previously observed.
Edward is so busy not looking but definitely looking at the way Jopson’s hair falls across his forehead when his head leans forward, and at the length of his eyelashes, and the dexterity of his long fingers, that he actually takes a moment to react when Jopson looks back up at him.
“There it is, it came from here Lieutenant.” He gestures to a spot about three quarters of the way down the left side of the coat where there is a gap, although no loose thread.
“Ah! Yes. Very good.” Edward tries to say without fuss.
“It would be a difficult place to spot on yourself.”
“Apparently so.” Edward’s eyes linger on the way Jopson folds the coat delicately over his arm, stroking the wool. He holds out a hand to retrieve it again. “Thank you Jopson, I’ll er— give it to Gibson to mend in the morning.”
But Jopson doesn’t move. Instead he clears his throat. “If you’ll let me Sir, I can mend it for you tonight. Have it back by the morning. Or else you’ll be cold tomorrow. It won’t take me long.”
Let him?
“I don’t want to impose on your time Jopson, it’s quite all right. Gibson can do it.”
“Do you not approve of my work Sir?”
Edward feels himself flush. “No, of course I do. I didn’t mean to offend.” He pauses. “If you have the time, I would be very thankful of course.”
“It would be my pleasure, thank you for trusting me with it Lieutenant.”
And with that Jopson gives him a nod and turns to leave with his coat.
“Jopson?” Edward takes a step forward to call after him just as Jopson jolts backwards, nearly falling into him. Edward reaches out instinctually to catch him, hands finding his upper back as he mumbles a quick “Sorry.” Jopson rights himself, but Edward only drops one of his hands, allowing the other to slide around to Jopson's shoulder indulgently, squeezing it reassuringly as he turns back to him.
“Lieutenant?” Jopson looks at him inquiringly, and Edward finally goes to move the other hand, except Jopson’s hand shoots up to hold it in place with his own comforting squeeze.
“I was just going to ask if you could remind the Captain that we’ve pushed the morning meeting an hour earlier to account for Mr Blanky’s overnight ice report.” He feels as if his words hurry out of his mouth, one trying to escape over the other. His mind is on everything except what he’d been intending to say. “And I know you’re key to his timing in these matters. Felt more important you should know than he.” Jopson smiles warmly, patting his hand in understanding before releasing it. Edward releases his own grasp a moment after.
“Of course Sir, thank you.”
That night he finds himself lying awake, staring at the wall of his berth and thinking about, of all things: Jopson’s hands. Jopson’s hands on his coat, and Jopson’s hands serving tea, and Jopson’s hands on his own. He imagines Jopson’s hands on him, lovely dexterous things, roaming over his long-untouched body. That’s all this is, he thinks. He’s been desiring touch and intimacy, and Jopson is the first man in a long time to give him more than a passing graze. Even if it was by accident. They’re stuck, and it’s been months since he’s felt much more than a handshake, or a grasp of a shoulder. His fixations on Crozier, and now Jopson, are surely just side affects of that.
He’s trying not to imagine Jopson sat at his desk now, a single lamp lit as he squints to thread a needle. Of him taking the thread into his mouth after not doing it the first time. Sucking on the end to stop it from fraying. Of his hand finding the button’s place on the coat, Edward’s coat. Of the first push of the needle through the wool as it pulls the button taut. Of his other hand holding the coat in place, perhaps stroking delicate finger tips across the inner lining that usually encases Edward’s own body.
He’s trying particularly hard not to think of Jopson finishing up his nightly duties with Crozier. Where else those hands might be put to good use. He could see him now, removing a coat here, a boot there. Turning back the man’s bedclothes and helping him into his nightshirt. Sinking to his knees, hands braced on thighs, their Captain’s voice deep and encouraging…
His thoughts had definitely strayed here before in their pursuit of Crozier. If he wants Jopson’s hands to touch him is it because they’ve touched the Captain before him? Does he want Jopson to touch him in the same way so he can imagine what it's like? Does he imagine he is Jopson? No, something about this feels different.
He’s hard between his legs, despite his best efforts, and he runs the heel of his hand down to press over the swell. He was hoping to quash the sensation but if anything it makes it worse, and he lets out an involuntary gasp as an image flashes into his subconscious. It’s both Jopson’s hand in place of his own, and Jopson’s hands on Crozier, and every other deeply undignified combination of hands and pricks.
Edward rolls over, determined to sleep rather than indulge himself in this manner. He moves his hand up and away from where he’d been cupping himself; neither touching or not-touching. He desperately supplies his own brain with images of Jopson’s kindnesses, reprimanding himself for demeaning the man in this way.
He must have fallen asleep because before he knows what’s happening he’s waking to the sound of knocking.
He hears it again before opening his eyes, rubbing the sleep from them with a mumbled “You can come in, Gibson.”
But by the time he’s pulled himself into a sitting position his eyes roam over to the doorway only to find Jopson, again, frozen in place. It also takes this long to realise he’s awoken with his prick still hard.
“Oh, Jopson, Sorry— I’m not dressed—”
“Sorry Sir, I thought you knew it was me, I did say my name— I was just—” The man stepped forward before taking a step back again, hands stretched out in front with the coat neatly folded on top. His cheeks are pink. It’s not as if he’s nude but Edward feels a sudden urge to pull his bedclothes back up over his nightshirt-clad chest. Jopson looks as smart and neat as usual, bright coat and bright eyed. He feels like Jopson already knows the contents of the thoughts that sent him into a deliciously peaceful sleep last night. Like he can see his swollen prick beneath the bedclothes, and knows exactly what made it that way.
“Just leave it on the desk there.” He says quickly but it comes out sharper than he intended. Jopson hurries to put it down before backing up to the doorway.
“There was a snag in the lining at the bottom too so I just… fixed that up.”
“Thank you Jopson, sorry I— yes that’s perfect.”
Edward could hear a commotion outside the door and then Gibson was appearing beside Jopson in the doorway.
“Is everything well Lieutenant?”
“Yes.” Edward finds himself snapping, back into his position of authority. He feels as if he’s been caught at something wrong, and the same echoes back in the look on Jopson’s face. Well, at least it's chased the arousal away, he thinks, relieved. “Everything’s well Gibson. Jopson was just returning my coat, which he repaired for me last night.”
“Well I could have done that Sir.” He saw Gibson draw himself up to his full height. “Is there a problem with my work?”
“No, no. Jopson offered his help. It had nothing to do with your’s lacking. You can help me dress now.”
“Very good Sir.” Edward turns to climb from the bed and by the time he’s stood, Jopson has gone.
Once he’s dressed, Gibson reaches for his coat to help him into it. He thinks, embarrassed, of the way he’d been imagining Jopson helping Crozier in the same manner. Silly really, as these aren’t ever thoughts he’s had while Gibson has tended to him. They might pass conversation but both treat the situation clinically and why wouldn’t they? It’s just the man’s job. He’s certainly never been aroused by it. He shouldn’t have demeaned Jopson’s work in that way, even in his head. But then of course, he and Gibson weren’t often found standing close together, talking and laughing and sharing knowing glances.
He notices Gibson’s gaze lingering on the buttons, brushing a thumb over one before schooling his expression. Once it slides over his shoulders Edward eyes one of the top buttons himself. It gleams like new.
“Were you not pleased with how I was polishing the buttons before, Sir?”
“Of course I was, whatever you feel is best.”
“I can ask Jopson what he used to get them so shiny if you’d like.”
“Jopson was only tasked to sew a loose button, Gibson. Don’t worry yourself.” Edward finds his hand wandering down to find where the button should be and sure enough, it’s freshly attached to the coat as if it had never left.
When the steward finally leaves, Edward finds himself bringing a lapel to his nose. As he’d expected when he’d first put it on, the coat smells different. There’s the existing, familiar smell, but mixed with something new. Like a man possessed he brings more of the coat up to cover his whole face, closing his eyes and breathing in the smell.
It’s just a nice smell, he tells himself.
He smells it again when Jopson is serving them at breakfast. He leans over Edward to refill his teacup and it descends on him. It’s a clean, fresh scent, mixed with something of the body. Perhaps it’s something he also uses on his own clothes. Edward resists from even looking at the other man.
He feels like they must know. Surely it’s plain all over his face to both Jopson and Crozier and they are disgusted. Maybe they’ll discuss it later. Laugh about it. For the amount of time he’s spent in rooms with the Captain knowing he’d had inappropriate thoughts about him the night before, this is the first time that he feels truly ashamed. Paranoid to be in the same room.
When Jopson returns to the Captain, their eyes meet again over Crozier’s hand on his cup. Edward finds himself wondering if it’s only tea. Of course, Jopson would know.
Rather than lingering on Crozier as he eats, Edward finds his eyes wandering to the steward as he moves about at the end of the room. He watches his clever hands as they work and finds himself wanting to thank him again, or apologise for this morning. He knows it’s a bad idea.
He dawdles afterwards, making his way to the steward’s pantry as if possessed. Jopson almost drops the plates he’s carrying when he enters.
“Is there a problem Lieutenant?” He eyes him suspiciously before placing everything down on the countertop.
“I wanted to apologise. For this morning. If Gibson offended you…”
“No, of course not Sir. But thank you for saying it all the same. I shouldn’t have barged in there this morning before he’d dressed you.”
“It’s fine. I didn’t mind.” The way Jopson looks at him makes him realise what he’s said. He looks away, clearing his throat. “I’ve never had buttons shine so bright.”
“Well I thought, while I had it anyway…” There’s something like pride in the steward’s voice.
“Did you also apply a scent to it? A treatment on the wool perhaps?”
“No! No, I did not,” Edward turns back to find Jopson turning away, busying himself with something on the other side of the room. “Would you like me to?”
“No need, it just smelt… different, is all. Pleasant.”
Jopson makes a hum of understanding as he shut the drawer he’d been looking through.
There’s a lull and before he can stop himself he asks, “Jopson. Is the Captain… indulging at breakfast now?”
Jopson turns back to him with a furrowed brow. “With respect Lieutenant, that’s the Captain’s business. Between me and him.”
“Of course it is.”
“It’s my job to follow his orders, not yours.”
“Of course, but surely you can understand why I’d be concerned. And as his second—”
“—As his second shouldn’t you support him?”
“I’m merely worried he might be putting the mission, and himself, in danger.”
“The Captain is doing the best he can. And I see that he’s able to.”
“Right. Indeed.”
“Can I help you with anything else Sir?”
“No no.”
Jopson eyes him expectantly. Impatiently. A new guarded set to his mouth. Edward in comparison feels as if he’s been winded.
“I’ll be going then. Shan’t be getting in your way any longer.” Edward says, hurrying from the pantry. He feels like he’s left with three new (and yet familiar) problems as he heads aft to begin his morning duties.
First: The Captain was certainly indulging at breakfast now, which meant it had gotten even worse than he’d realised. Second: Jopson’s fierce protection of the Captain seemed to extend past what was expected or even proper for a steward which definitely implied further intimacy on their part. Third: Edward found that this bothered him deeply, and for different reasons than he might have expected mere days ago.
Edward sighs, and vows not to let silly daydreams distract him from his work or from the expedition's goal any further. He sighs again. He's never been one for keeping to his vows.