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    Summary

    Oi! Jamie!” Jack grabs the hem of the captain’s coat, yanking hard to get the man’s attention. “Fuck’s sake, been callin’ your name for fuckin’ five minutes.”

    James looks down, jaw flexing. He hates Jack’s nickname for him. He’s not a fucking Jamie. “I have told you repeatedly, Rackham, that you can call me Captain. Or Flint, if you must be familiar.”

    “Uh-huh, sure Jamie,” Jack says, rolling his eyes. “Would ya stop standin’ up there like some kinda wolf watchin’ your kill and come help me with somethin’?”

    James sighs through gritted teeth. He can’t imagine what Jack needs. He’s surprised Jack is still among the men; he and Israel are usually the first to disappear after a battle. And he’s aware that Israel isn’t on the deck anymore. For some odd reason, James has become more aware of where Israel is at any given moment. He suspects it’s because he's begun to think of the man as prime omega, even though his ship doesn’t have a formal pack. Yet…

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