Chapter Text
The sea has laid witness to uncertain whispers of sailors in love for centuries. She’s heard every soft confession, every reluctant rejection, every tragic little twinge in the voices of lovers led astray. She still listens to every new story, every eerie, painful, little tale, and she takes each word in and stores it safe in her waves. She writes it in moonlight that touches seafoam, she scrawls it in wet pieces of discarded paper, and she collects it in hopeful messages tossed in hopeless bottles. She’s there, always, heart open and willing to listen to her people pour themselves out to the sea when they think no one is listening.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
And she is there to be a mediator when they wish not to look one another in the eye. When their attention remains glued to her, leaning over the railings of their man made ships. For if they looked at one another, if they acknowledged that they were talking to the love of their life, they would run.
“Rough day?”
“I suppose, it was a bit. And you? Are you all right?”
“You always ask that, why do you always ask that? I don’t know, you were the one to patch me up weren’t you?”
“...yes. But every paladin needs their feedback.”
“Huh. Sure.”
Awkward words hidden between awkward silences, quiet confessions tucked in between every letter. The sea watches. She watches personally now, for she knows that one of her own has been caught in the vicious web of love that has snagged so many before him. This one is kind, this one is loving, this one has pledged himself to her. She finds herself hoping, praying, if you will, that his story does not end in tragedy.
“...so? Do you feel alright?”
“Yeah. Yeah I feel fine. But do you think umm… do you think she was watching? When I killed that thing?”
“Who? She, who are you talking about, Jay?”
“No no, that cute girl, the one we rescued.”
“We didn’t rescue her. She rescued herself, we just happened to be there Chip.”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess. Well, do you?”
“Do I what?”
“God Gillion, you’re helpless, do you think she saw me be a badass or what?” Chip was looking at the sea, so he didn’t see Gillion flinch. But he was close enough to notice it, maybe something shifted, maybe the air breathed differently. But he noticed. “I didn’t mean that. I just wanted to know.”
“I suppose… she could have. I wasn’t really paying attention, you were injured terribly. I was more concerned for my co-captain than where the eyes of our new friend were wandering.” Gillion began to fidget with the straps of his armor, something stirred in him but he couldn’t quite place what it was.
“Gill, how the hell did you ever get any bitches.” Chip finally looked to his right, seeing Gillion bathed in moonlight fidgeting tensely was not quite what he expected. His breath caught in his chest, but he let it go just as quickly. He shook it off and redirected his gaze back to the waves, the sea sighed in disappointment.
Admire him. She whispered, too quiet for the ears of man, to admire him in the silver the moon has painted him with, that’s what it’s meant for. You are a coward of a man.
Chip scratched the back of his neck as a shiver went down his spine.
“Excuse me? Bitches? Whatever do you mean. I would never label a woman so.” Gillion’s eyes slid to the side to affix Chip with a hearty glare, or maybe it was just an excuse to look at him. Who’s to tell?
“Obviously you’ve had at least one girlfriend before, a fishfriend, or something.” Chip scoffed, he had more to say but he shifted his weight to his other foot uneasily instead. Waiting.
“I have? And how would you be so certain?”
“Well— umm, ahem. You’re— Gill you’re a great kisser. You’ve had practice, right big guy?” The words stumbled out of Chip’s mouth in the clumsiest way they possibly could’ve, and he knew it. He felt like it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if the sea just swallowed him whole right now, he could feel Gillion’s gaze on him, so he stayed staring into the depths. Hoping. Just a little bit of hoping he’d get eaten by the choppy waves.
I would never. This is just getting interesting. Still too quiet. Never loud enough to save them, never loud enough to even help just a bit.
“Oh. Practice. Yes.” Chip could almost feel the memories flooding back to Gillion, they didn't feel like good ones. He regretted bringing it up immediately. But a small part of him pushed further, for the sake of women liking him of course. For the sake of women liking him. “I’ve never had… a girlfriend though. I’m not sure exactly what that means, though I think I could confidently come up with a general concept considering all the context clues I’ve gathered.”
“Got any tips?” Chip tries to say it in the most casual way possible, and for the most part, it works. He does say it casually, his tone stays even, it sounds like locker room talk between two best friends. A part of him starts to burn though, quietly, away from where anyone else can see. Because although on the outside, he’s keeping it all under control, something inside of him… churns… at the idea of talking about kissing with Gillion.
“Tips? Well, it’s not a particularly easy thing to give ‘tips’ on Chip. It’s a very tactile activity in my opinion.” Gillion shifts a little further away from Chip, and he dreads his next question.
“Ahem. What... what does tactile mean?” He almost hopes Gill will laugh and change the subject to his objectively less-than-ideal education. In his eyes, this is an out for Gillion, a chance to make fun of him and leave him in the dark. In reality, he could probably use context clues in the same way Gill did to figure out what the word ‘girlfriend’ meant.
“Tactile! Designed to be perceived by touch, tangible, physical.” In his excitement to teach something new, Gillion forgets the implications and instead spews out the same definition of the word that he’d had to write down when he was young. The silence that followed gave him enough time to realize just what he’d insinuated.
Because there was quite a silence. Chip left a searing silence in their wake, one that burned and squirmed between them uncomfortably.
It hit him all at once, how much more excited he felt at the prospect of just being taught how to kiss by Gillion than he did to actually kiss a pretty girl that had… probably? Maybe? Been just a bit interested in him? It’s true, her liking him was a possibility. A possibility that made him feel a little warm in his chest. But the idea of kissing Gillion once more, entirely for educational purposes of course, brought about a different heat… this heat was lower, more personal. It gathered in his intestines and blazed through his chest, up his throat, it heated his cheeks and quickened his breath. It sent a shiver through his body and he gulped deeply as he leaned harder into the railing. An internal battle had begun. He wanted this so he could learn how to kiss women, he wanted this for the sake of his future girlfriend, Gillion was the best kiss he’d ever had and he brought this up so he could receive verbal tips from his best friend and co-captain, the kiss they shared before wasn’t even real! It was to save Jay! None of this is real.
None of this is real.
Still, he clenched his teeth, hoping his linen shirt wasn’t showing his sweat too prominently.
“I… apologize.” Gillion’s soft tone surprised Chip out of his innermost panicked thoughts and he finally looked over, making direct eye contact with him. He’s tall, taller than Chip, or maybe Chip is just hunched over, bent inward on himself as he thinks about …the implications. Of this reaction. Of this exchange. The implications of his inability to look away from Gillion, the implications of his infatuation with his appearance at the moment. Y’know, Gill’s eyes really are quite beautiful in this li— “I’ll give you some space, please… just act as if I said nothing.”
Gill’s anxious words interrupt Chip’s quiet contemplation. He finds himself burning up wishing it hadn’t, wishing that Gillion had made a move, wishing that he’d done something so that Chip wouldn’t have to face this. He wanted Gill to face it for him. He couldn’t acknowledge it any other way, it was too much.
The sea had been quiet, but as Gillion moves to walk behind Chip and make his way below deck, she speaks up with hope on her misty breath.
Amidst the gentle rocks of the boat, a sudden wave shoves roughly at the side of their vessel and sends Gillion off balance, Chip gasps as the full length of his co-captains side presses against his own and his hand reaches to steady him. Just to keep Chip from falling. Despite its practical purpose, Gill’s hand is still hot on Chip’s lower back, right there at the base of his spine, it makes him blush harder and he squeezes his eyes shut in pure pained embarrassment.
“Oh.. I’m sorry Chip.” Gillion speaks quietly, the apology is genuine, but Chip can feel something else beneath it. Perhaps reluctance as he pulls away and slinks below deck, tail between his legs.
Chip’s blood runs hot in the silence. The ghost of Gillion’s hand rests where he placed it on the small of his back, low, but still almost… claiming.
“Ugh…” the fact that he thought such a thing brought his head to his hands, shaking fingers running through his sweaty hair as he struggled to take deep breaths. He felt like he needed to sit down, to fan his face like some scandalized lady, it was humiliating. The thought of Gillion lingered in his mind as he blinked out over the sea. He could feel tingles all over his arms and legs, the hairs standing up one by one. All it took was the mere suggestion of… oh fuck. He couldn’t handle this. Chip can’t handle this. He wants to jump into the water, to rip the crazy from his brain, because he is crazy for this. He’s insane for feeling this way about his male co-captain Gillion Tidestrider. He can’t feel this way. He can’t.
Chip is just a cisgender heterosexual man who happens to be completely red, sweating, shaking, hyperventilating, and experiencing heart palpitations over the idea of kissing his male co-captain.
This is all fine. The feeling of desperately wanting to chew through his fingers and rip out his stomach so he can individually murder each butterfly is entirely normal.