Work Text:
Title: Tolerably Spry
Fandom: Master & Commander, Jack/Stephen.
Rating: Gen, PG-13
Summary: Stephen returns from Spanish shores and enjoys breakfast on the Sophie with Jack. Written for the following prompt:Ficlet, Master and Commander (book!canon), Jack/Stephen, gen or slash, any rating, any subject really, but here's some ideas: arguing, making up after an argument, mis-communication and/or talking at cross-purposes.
Disclaimer: Master & Commander is entirely the product of Patrick O'Brien's genius, no harm is intended nor profit anticipated.
A/N: if you are not familiar with the sea-going novels of Patrick O'Brien this will probably be no fun at all! Unbeta'd. There is a separate drabble at the end because it popped into my mind so included it!
Ficlet
Jack made his way between decks. He could hear mumbling and Stephen's voice, its customary sharp tones softened with patience and a slow clear pace for the loblolly.
He did not wish to eavesdrop on any conversation that Stephen did not know was shared, though he was aware that Stephen had at least acquired sufficient understanding of the peculiar society of one of His Majesty's sea-going vessels to comprehend that no conversation whilst aboard had a guarantee of privacy.
Jack had come personally to Stephen's cubby hole to invite him to partake of some of Killick's excellent toasted cheese and perhaps bring his instrument along to his cabin. Since Stephen's anxiously awaited return from ashore the previous day, those aboard the Sophie felt a greater ease, Stephen being regarded as a lucky mascot in many quarters. Indeed, at yesterday's breakfast Jack had been so buffered with cheer at the sight and presence of the physician after his unexpectedly prolonged absence that he had chafed at him in sport. Jack had spent a large part of his life establishing tolerable acquaintance with men of so many different sorts in close quarters within a short time, he had long found that a little light sport had often eased the way. But their acquaintance was still quite new and Stephen was not like other men. He winced at his recall of the incident and his careless words which had sparked eventual discomfort for both.
“I trust your time ashore was well spent and you enjoyed the refuge offered by your mission?”
Stephen regarded him whilst he chewed on a mouthful of bacon. “I beg your pardon, Jack. It was certainly beneficial in some ways which..."
Jack had swept his silverware about in signal to waive Stephen’s gentlemanly discretion.
“I can think of nothing finer at this point than the distraction of a smiling wench.”
Stephen squirmed. “Whatever do you mean sir?”
Jack “Come now, Stephen, we men have our desires and need our comforts...? I venture that she was a bright high sort of girl of old acquaintance or perhaps a new companion caught your eye? I hear that Spanish girls are hot-tempered and warm but I applaud you Stephen – you were devilish discreet about it.”
Stephen had lain down his cutlery, his bacon momentarily neglected. For a beat or two he was confounded by Jack's remarks but presently his confusion changed into a stab of loss for the bright Irish girl who had been his old acquaintance, the memory of whom now unexpectedly assailed him in this masculine setting where he thought himself safe from such recollection. He felt embarrassment flame his cheeks.“I assure you Captain that my sojourn was not based on such comforts, nor was their pursuit its purpose, I...”
“Of course not, Stephen, or course not. We shall say no more about it eh?” and with that Jack had tapped the side of his nose to indicate that he was drawing the greatest veil of secrecy over the whole matter.
Jack had then gone on to outline the news from aboard, oblivious to Stephen’s telling silence. After a few more moments, the uncomfortable exchange had ended with Stephen's exit. “You will excuse me sir. I am a little out of sorts from my travels.”
Jack stood up as Stephen left, bewildered and puzzled “Of course.”
Having pondered the situation whilst pacing the quarterdeck under the stars, Jack had realised his error and considered how to make things easy again between them. So here he was in Stephen's quarters amongst the knives and beetles and feathers.
He was somewhat uncertain of himself in this situation but such was the generosity of his heart toward all he called friend that Jack had come nonetheless, albeit still unsure of the right way to proceed, but trusting in his own goodwill and the patience of Stephen to overcome any awkwardness. That was one of the capital things about Stephen. His ability to decipher the actions and words of those around him and sift the essential message from the chaff of unnecessary details was bordering, in Jack's opinion, on the mystical. Jack had no idea how Stephen performed these miracles but it delighted him that he did. He could also be damned sour and contrary but every man had his peccadillos.
Recently Jack had spent some time pondering Stephen's varied gifts and their value aboard. Stephen would be the first to acknowledge his lack of physical presence- his unfashionable darkness, slenderness and rather mean stature did not single him out for advantage. He lacked wealth, significant social status and his Catalan and Irish parentage could be often a hindrance to advancement. Even his knowledge of the service and ability to shake a neat leg in coming aboard were widely agreed to be wanting, a thing unacceptable in other men, and yet every man and boy aship regarded Stephen with trust and respect. Even Killick kept his mumbled complaints imperceptible to other ears when Stephen joined Jack to dine. Jack knew Stephen had a headpiece and he felt warmth swell through him when he noted that same cognisance in others, whether Stephen displayed it in his surgeon's care, his naturalist labours, or by being a lubberly but good sort and crafty with it.
“Jack, do for all love, stop lingering there and come forward. What is it you need?”
A few mere months ago Jack would have blustered and took umbrage at any fellow directing such words at him but instead he suppressed an indulgent smile and nodded to the loblolly, who melted away. Jack could not stop the broad smile that split his face. With those two sentences Stephen had restored their footing to the comfortable friendship that Jack had started to feel was central to his well-being and yet had doubted was still extant.
“I would like to offer an invitation to play later Stephen if the notion appeals to you? I know that the invitation of a Captain is widely regarded as an order but in such things I would never compel you Stephen, particularly after the discomfort my unthinking comments caused you yesterday.”
“Jack I fear I owe you an apology. Yesterday...”
“No. No Stephen If anything it is I...”
“No, Jack I must insist. I was uncivil in the face of your good nature and care and that was not the behaviour of a friend and I wish you to always consider me a friend Jack. I ask your forgiveness.”
Jack beamed at his unique companion. “When we are alone Stephen the protocols of the drawing room scarce apply. I thank you but bless you, never strain at gnats of that kind.Let us shake hands and agree that we both apologise and are both forgiven.”
Stephen smiled at Jack and clasped his proferred hand in both of his, giving it a hearty shake. Jack laughed and shook hands in return, his face brightening with all the goodwill it could muster.
The End
Drabble
Stephen placed his bow in its case and snapped the locking mechanism with an unconscious precision borne of long familiarity and repetition. He did so without taking his eyes off Jack.
The piece they had just completed was a witty and satisfying minuet with turns and arabesque's which were delightful and often shared by the two in their occasional evening entertainment. Stephen was struck, not for the first or last time, by Jack. By the way he became illuminated by music and every fibre of his strong capable body moved in response to it: his knees jerked in counterpoint to the movement caused by the rise and dip of his arms, his head waggled in unabashed congruence with his delight and the beat of the music, and his eyes: they fluttered closed at delicate nuance and flashed with joy at pleasing patterns, each and every response drawing something so unexpected and heartfelt from Stephen that his breath caught in his chest and he drew in the simplicity and beauty of the moment like air into his lungs.
“Killick! Killick there? Bring two slices of that Bakewell tart if you please.” Jack grinned at Stephen, carefully stored his 'cello and stretched his back. “Life at sea, eh Stephen. Capital. Capital, is it not?”
Stephen felt the warmth sink into his chest and he smiled and his inner music erupted into a short laugh. “Indeed, Jack. Capital.”