Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The warm glow of lanterns bathes the tavern in light, matching the cheerful mood around him. Groups of friends, couples, and the like take up most of the tables, each talking away happily without a care in the world. Chip, however, is alone at the bar, hunched over his mug by himself– but he feels at peace, finding serenity even in this crowded tavern. 

Chip sips casually from the tankard, smiling at the sweet taste of alcohol on his tongue and the satisfying burn it leaves on the roof of his mouth. The idle chatter around him lowers to a mere hum, and he finds the words in the air around him cut through by a single note on a violin somewhere out of view. 

He glances up, a jolt of shock and fear running through him as he realizes that all of the other tavern-goers have disappeared, leaving him by his lonesome in the now empty building. The lights of the lanterns have paused their flickering, as if the very flames are holding their breath. Chip places his tankard down on the bartop, but the sound is muted, as though he is underwater. He stands and the sound of his footfalls echo around him. He drops a hand to his hip to draw his sword from its scabbard, but his palms close around emptiness, the hilt nowhere to be found. He grits his teeth, scanning the area as a bead of sweat drips down his cheek. The pirate blinks, and a man appears suddenly, standing in front of him. Chip’s shoulders slump with relief as he meets the newcomer’s gaze.

Gillion smiles at him genuinely, his blue skin accented by the orange glow, and he reaches out a hand to Chip.

“May I have this dance?” His voice is confident, unwavering like he knows just where he’s meant to be in this world; the exact opposite of Chip.

Chip swallows nervously, tugging at his collar to bring in some air. It now feels overwhelmingly hot in the tavern. 

Gillion just looks at him expectantly, palm facing up, ready to take his.

With an unexpected burst of confidence, Chip reaches out and slides his hand into Gillion’s grasp, timidly stepping forward. Gillion grins, teeth and all, and tugs him away from the bar, away from his safe haven, and onto the dance floor. 

The music resumes, quickly picking up speed as Gillion plants two hands on Chip’s hips; violins, cellos, flutes, and other instruments that Chip couldn’t recognize by his ears alone weave together into one song, chaotic and elegant and cheerful all at the same time. As the paladin spins him around, feet moving quickly to match the rhythm, Chip clutches his shoulders for dear life. But as Gillion chuckles an apology softly, he feels the melody take control of his brain.

Spinning, twisting, shuffling around the room, the two are perfect in their dance, each step perfectly synchronised and planned, measured to the exact point like they have prepared for this all their lives. Hell, Chip can’t remember the last time he had danced with someone like this, if at all– but revels in the feeling regardless. As the sound around them crescendos into one final note, Chip feels himself trip over a loose floorboard. Gillion catches him quickly, with one hand on the small of his back and the other clutching Chip’s wrist, leaning him into a dramatic dip, and the music stops abruptly. 

Their chests heave, breathing in tandem as they stare into each other’s eyes. Chip’s gaze drops to the man’s lips as he draws closer. Normally, his response would be to panic, but Chip merely closes his eyes, raising a hand to cup his dance partner’s cheek, feeling Gillion puff a hot breath onto his mouth before their lips connect and—

-

Chip shot up, nearly falling out of his hammock in the process, breathing heavily and clutching at his chest. His heart pounded wildly beneath his shirt and his hair stuck to the back of his neck with sweat. It had felt so utterly real that Chip could almost still hear the lively tavern music that had played as they danced, but now all was quiet on the ship, save for the creaking of the Millenium Chipper as the gentle night sea caressed its hull, lulling its crew back to sleep.

Gillion snored softly inside the barrel full of seawater to Chip’s right. He frowned, squinting at it as if trying to make out the details of the wood within the dark cabin. “What the fuck was that?” he mumbled, rubbing a hand down his tired face and tousling his brown curls. A quick look out of the porthole told him the sun was far from rising. “‘S too early for this.” he lay back down, tucking his arms behind his head. The music had long since cut its rousing melody, but Chip could still feel the notes behind his eyelids, urging him to return to the dance, to resume the merriment. Chip nestled deeper into his hammock, groaning. The complexities of his dream would have to await until the morning to be unraveled.

-

Waiting until morning seemed like a good idea. Now that he was (mostly) fully rested, he could assess what he dreamed about with a clear mind, unburdened by exhaustion. Chip sat in the crow’s nest and allowed his legs to dangle over the platform as he tore chunks from a stale piece of bread, stuffing them in his mouth and chucking a few to the curious seagulls every now and then.

Below him on the deck, Ollie ran around, ducking under sails and slipping through barrels while Jay chased him, a few other members of the crew watching in mild amusement. Gillion laughed at something Jay yelled at the boy, leaning his back against the railing. 

The light breeze blew his long, green curls around, framing his face delightfully and, oh, right. Gillion. Chip groaned, thumping his forehead against the railing of the crow’s nest. It was a beautiful, sunny day with warm weather and fluffy white clouds, but Chip still felt nauseous. He recalled the memory– rather, the dream– from the night prior, turning it over in his head like a marble in his hand.

It had felt off-puttingly real, not unlike his nightmares from just a few months ago in the matter of its eerie authenticity, but it wasn’t exactly unpleasant . Surprising, sure, but not particularly unwelcome. And that was what Chip was struggling with.

It was common knowledge that Gillion was a handsome dude; with nice hair, a great smile, impeccable abs, yadda yadda. All around a great guy. Chip had seen the appraising looks Gillion got from people on the street regularly, and he found himself agreeing with them. But that didn’t mean anything! Shit, Chip thought a lot of people, mostly girls, were pretty! Objectively, Jay was pretty, strong, and funny, loathe though he was to admit. But it wasn’t the same. And Chip sure as hell didn’t get the same weird fluttering in his chest when he thought about Jay as he did with Gillion.

Chip pulled his arm back to hurl one last piece of stale bread to the sea birds, cringing as the rock-hard crust made contact with the animal’s head and sending it spiraling down onto the deck below, dead.

“Look, Miss Jay! Lunch!” Ollie exclaimed in excitement, picking up the seagull by its legs.

“Ew, Ollie, no! We don’t need to eat seagulls, we have food on the ship!” Jay said exasperatedly, crossing her arms with a disapproving look until he dropped it. 

“You can eat those?” Gillion marveled.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should . Ollie, stop poking the poor thing and throw it overboard.”

“Yes, Miss Jay!”

Chip clambered down from the crow’s nest, brushing dust off his pants as he returned to solid ground. “Speaking of lunch, who’s hungry? I heard Earl cooking something in the kitchen earlier.” he ruffled Ollie’s hair, pointedly trying to keep his gaze away from Gillion. “Let’s go bother him.”

Ollie cheered and ran off to the kitchen to harass the old man.

“Wash your hands first!” Jay called after him, following behind in long strides.

“I’ve never eaten a bird before,” Gillion spoke up, rubbing his chin like he was deep in thought. “What do they taste like?”

Chip shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Eh, most of ‘em taste like chicken.”

Gillion gave him a confused look.

“Oh, right. You don’t know what those are, either.”

After a brief explanation of what chickens were to an increasingly horrified Gillion ( “THAT’S where eggs come from?!” ), the crew sat around the table, tucking into their lunch. Chip frowned in disappointment, glaring holes into the forkful of salad before him.

“I don’t wanna hear any of you complaining. It’s been so long since we’ve made a stop at a port, I don’t have any meat to cook with.” Earl jabbed a wooden spoon into Chip’s nose.

Jay nodded, ducking quickly to avoid the utensils Chip began hurling at Earl over the table. “We’re not too far from the next one. I’ll tell Gryffon to set a course.” 

Gillion leaned into Chip’s side, eyes glimmering. “While we’re there, I’d like to try this so-called chicken. It sounds fascinating.” Chip felt his heart rate speed up, eyes darting over Gillion’s face like they couldn’t decide where to land.

“Uh– uh, yeah. I could totally do that. I mean, we could totally do that. Mhm,” Chip nodded frantically. “Well, those were some great leaves, but man, am I pooped!” he stretched his arms above his head, faking a yawn. “I’m gonna take a nap! Wake me up when we get there, yeah?”

The rest of his crew watched with expressions of bewilderment and amusement as he speed-walked out of the kitchen, slamming the door closed behind him.

“...Gill, are you gonna eat the rest of that?”

Chip sat down on his hammock, hunched over and rubbing wildly at his eyes.

“Fucking hell, what’s wrong with me?” he grumbled, tossing a leg over as he lay down. He was probably just tired. After all, he had woken up in the middle of the night. He was just tired, and surely a quick nap would clear the fog over his thoughts. He was just tired.

-

The bed is soft, the pillows cushioning Chip’s sore limbs with the promise of rest. On the wall opposite him is a window, its thin drapes allowing a few rays of light to pour in, welcoming the distant sound of morning bird song into the small room as the world wakes up around him. Chip ignores the call and shuffles under the blanket, kicking the comforter over his feet.

The air smells of lavender and vanilla and he can hear children laughing down the hall, the old floorboards of the inn creaking as they chase each other. Downstairs, the clinking of pots and pans suggests that the inn’s cook is making breakfast. Chip inhales the fragrant air and arms reach to circle his torso, pulling him tight against someone’s chest.

Craning his neck, Chip huffs affectionately at the sight of the triton beside him. Despite being partially restrained, none of Chip’s usual alarm bells are going off in his head. He feels at peace as he nestles back into the comfort of Gillion’s arms, sighing a bit. Gillion tightens his grip, pressing his cold nose into the crook of Chip’s shoulder, practically nuzzling him. Gillion’s hair tickles at the nape of Chip’s neck a bit, making him shiver pleasantly, cupping his hands over Gillion’s and rubbing his thumbs over his knuckles, smoothing over the tiny nicks and imperfections in the skin as if trying to commit them all to memory. The two breathe softly, peacefully, holding the entire world at bay with their gentle exhales.

Gillion slips his fingers under the hem of Chip’s shirt, drifting over the bottom of his ribs with the tips of his claws, riding the fabric up his torso to run his palms down his sides soothingly. Chip hums agreeably, closing his eyes once more to relish in the other man’s presence. Sea salt, lavender, and vanilla is a rather nice combination, he discovers. 

The stress drains from his body like sand in an hourglass, yesterday’s injuries and mishaps all but forgotten in this bubble he rests in now, all of his thoughts forming halfway before dissipating in the sleepy morning breeze.

Their legs are tangled together, Chip’s back flush against Gillion’s stomach like they can’t get close enough to the other. The brunette can’t help but feel like he wants to spend the rest of his life here, cuddled up with his co-captain in a bed– pirating be damned, this is good enough for him. 

Gillion’s lips ghost across Chip’s cheek, so lightly Chip thinks he might have imagined it. He yearns to return the affection, though he can’t bring himself to turn around in Gillion’s arms, his limbs too heavy with sleep to move, and hopes that another appreciative hum will convey his meaning, words serving as a mere afterthought in the silent air. His heart squeezes painfully, dreading the idea of getting up and returning to the ship, with its chaos and noise and responsibilities. But, right here, he allows himself a moment of calm in Gillion’s arms.

-

“Wake up!” a shrill voice startled him out of his dream, the cozy inn bed disappearing in favor of a precariously hung hammock that rocked back and forth with the ship’s movement. Chip groaned, rolling onto his side and swatting Ollie away.

“Guh, five more minutes…” 

“You told us to wake you when we got to the seaport!” 

“Mmmh. Changed my mind.”

A beat of silence, like Ollie was thinking. “Miss Jay says that if you don’t wake up, she’s gonna throw your swords into the ocean.”

That got Chip up. Bolting upwards and hopping out of his hammock, he sprinted for the door, nearly bowling Ollie over in the process.

“Jay, I swear if you touch my shit–”

“Ah, Chip! Nice to see you awake,” Gillion greeted, beaming at him from his post next to the exit. Chip bit the inside of his cheek– why did Gillion always smile like he had just won the lottery? There was a time and place for big goofy grins like that. “I sent Ollie down to tell you that we’ve arrived. I hope you slept well.”

Chip flushed, wrinkling his nose as the scent of lavender and vanilla came flowing back to his mind, the phantom feeling of someone holding him close still unfortunately present. He spared a glance at Gillion’s arms and wow, was he always that ripped? Chip must have never paid attention to his friend’s build because damn, how had he missed that?

Chip slapped himself, earning a surprised look from the triton. 

“Yep, slept like a baby,” Chip affirmed, scratching the back of his neck. He wasn’t lying; despite the rather embarrassing dream, that short nap had been the best he’d ever had. Before Gillion could respond, Jay shouted down at them from atop the crow’s nest, waving her arms.

“Morning, sleepy head! We’re here!”

Chip cupped his hands around his mouth to respond. “Uh, yeah , I kinda gathered that!”

A quick look to the front of the ship revealed an island, a bit on the smaller side, but clearly bustling with activity as ships entered and exited the docks. Gryffon guided the ship cautiously to the end of the small dock, its size dwarfing the sloops and merchant boats below it. Chains unraveled as the anchor was dropped, nestling into the sea floor below, and the crew rushed about to lower the sails. After tightening the ship’s mooring lines and muttering a quick “That’s not going anywhere”, Chip jumped down onto the dock, losing his footing for a moment before Gillion caught him by the collar, straightening him up.

“Thanks, Gill.”

The seaport was incredibly lively despite the size, the wooden docks parting to a paved stone path, leading down to a crowded market square. Merchants occupied booths with colorful awnings, each waving their goods and shouting their advertisements to potential customers. Buildings of all different shapes and sizes lined the streets, each competing for whatever real estate was remaining, their windows open to enjoy the sea breeze, boxes of flowers sitting on every windowsill. 

Chip twisted to the side as a gaggle of children ran past him, squeezing between a booth offering numerous fruits he had never seen before and a vendor showing off jewelry looped around her forearms. Despite the chaos, he could feel the happiness radiating off the people here.

“It’s nice to visit a place that isn’t in mortal peril, huh?” Jay quipped, resting an arm on Chip’s shoulder as she tried making sense of the crumpled grocery list Earl had given her. “Not a monster or creepy dictator in sight.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Chip cuffed her over the head and squinted at the paper in her hand. Earl’s chicken scratch was almost indecipherable. 

“I, for one, would not mind liberating another island.” Gillion spoke up, his neck swiveling to and fro as he took in the sights of the market square, his tail tucked in close so as to not trip any other market-goers.

“Yep, yep, maybe next time, buddy,” Chip smiled. “For now, let’s just liberate these groceries.”

Gillion, remarkably, was able to read the list, and valiantly guided them toward the fruit stand, parting the crowd as he went. The merchant, a dwarvish woman with a rather impressive beard, happily waved them over. “Adventurers, I’ll bet? I have jus’ the thing fer you.” She reached over and grabbed something that looked like an oblong orange from a basket in front of her. “Just five silver apiece. An excellent source of vitamin C and a right delicious snack, if I do say so me’self.”

“What are they?” Jay asked, taking the fruit from the woman and sniffing it.

“Kumquats, miss!” the fruit vendor responded.

Chip snickered. 

Jay hip checked him and slid a handful of silver onto the counter. “We’ll take six.”

“Thank you much. Enjoy yer stay on Kalo, yeah?” The woman dropped the fruit into a small paper bag and handed it off to them, waving.

“I mean, they’re basically oranges. Earl won’t mind, right?” Chip swiped a kumquat from the bag and examined it. 

“He has to have gotten sick of oranges by now. Maybe he’ll actually welcome a new juicing opportunity?” Jay said and kicked his ankle, causing him to stumble and toss the fruit. She snatched it cleanly from the air and dropped it back inside.

“If that is true, I’d like to try this new juice. Let us make haste! Where to next, Jay?” Gillion asked, raising his voice to speak over the clamorous market ambience. Jay motioned to a dirt path on the edge of the market square. Despite being unpaved, it seemed to be a popular path, with numerous sets of footprints traveling down it. A wooden sign with the words ‘TAVERN’ and ‘TARVEN’ (the latter being scratched out) poorly engraved into it pointed in the same direction.

“Gryffon wanted us to pick up some more alcohol. Figured this place is as good as any.”

“What kind does he want?” Chip asked.

Jay shrugged. “He didn’t say.”

“...So, the cheapest option?”

“Yep.”

They walked down the uneven path, kicking up dirt along the way. Gillion trailed behind the two, muttering to himself.

“I wonder if they serve squirties?”

The Dragon’s Cup, as the tavern was named, was one of the larger buildings on the island, and certainly the busiest. People of all different races lined the walls, sat at tables and on stools, chatting amongst themselves and taking large swigs from their tankards. The whole building was rather dimly lit, with just a single rustic chandelier up on the ceiling highlighting the outline of the three captains and the strangers around them. A large tapestry of a red dragon stretching its wings in preparation to take flight hung above a raised platform where a band of halflings strummed a merry tune. On the adjacent wall was a large bar with two bartenders, rushing about to deliver drinks to thirsty customers. A giant shelf full of various colorful bottles towered behind them, occasionally clattering together as the rowdy customers stomped in time to the music.

“Ah, shit,” Jay muttered, barely heard over the clamor. Chip managed to crane his neck to look at her curiously.

“What’s up?”

“I forgot to grab something from a shop. Are you two gonna be okay here without me?”

“Jay, we’re not kids. We’ll be fine.”

She gave him a reproachful look, but nodded. “Alright. I’ll meet you guys back here in a bit. Try not to get too wasted, yeah?” With that, Jay squeezed back through the crowd toward the exit, swallowed by the fray of moving bodies.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now, Chip! Shall we get something to drink?”

“Eh, a couple shots never hurt anyone. C’mon.” Chip took Gillion’s arm and guided him toward the bar, sitting down on a stool and waving a bartender over. After ordering a shot of something called ‘dragon’s piss’ for each of them, he turned back to Gillion and opened his mouth to spark a conversation, only to see that he had disappeared.

Mildly alarmed at having lost his companion in this crowded tavern, he began scanning the crowd. Surely a bright blue man wouldn’t be that difficult to spot? For a moment, he saw a striped tail with fins on the end, but it too slipped back into the mass of people. Jay was gonna kill him.

Just as he stood from his stool for a better vantage point, the violinist played a sharp and sudden note, the rest of the band joining in soon after as their song picked up speed– no longer a casual backing track for the tavern’s conversations, but a bonafide dance. The crowd murmured in excitement, no doubt noticing the change in tone, shuffling as some moved to find partners. With a strike of a drum, they began spinning and swirling, stumbling and jumping. There wasn’t a hint of synchronization to be found in the crowd, and most of the drunk folk could barely even keep their balance, but they all laughed uproariously. Chip blinked and Gillion stepped out of the crowd, walking toward him with a great big smile.

“Chip! Enjoying the music, I take it?” he asked, sliding up next to him. 

Chip shrugged.

“I guess.” 

Gillion tilted his head, his grin softening into something almost shyer. “Would you…like to join me for a dance?”

“Huh?” he asked, flabbergasted, his cheeks rapidly heating up. This was rather familiar.

“I’m not as accustomed to tavern dancing as you. Down in the Undersea, I was only taught traditional triton ball dancing. Perhaps you could offer a few tips?”

Chip looked back out into the crowd, biting his lip. Dancing with Gillion, just like in his dream. Moving together with the beat, oblivious to the world around them, lost in each other’s eyes. It was tempting. An outreached hand. An upturned palm, waiting for him to take it. A siren’s voice calling him into the depths below.

Chip shook his head. “Sorry, bud. I think I’ll just stay here until Jay gets back.”

Gillion looked crestfallen. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Go on, dude. I can tell you want to. Go have fun without me, okay?” 

The triton opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to think better and closed it. He smiled at Chip again, clearly disappointed, and returned to the dance floor, leaving Chip by himself. 

Chip sighed, resting his forehead on the bar top, allowing the cool wood to clear his thoughts. The shots he had ordered were placed in front of him. He downed one, wrinkling his nose at the vile taste. He turned his head at the sound of Gillion’s laughter, only to see the man holding the hips of a tiefling woman, leading her in a clumsy dance. She giggled as she put her hands on his broad shoulders, eyes sparkling as she followed his steps. She was enthralled, and Chip didn’t blame her. Gillion spun her underneath his arm and led her into a dip, hands circled around her thin waist, tense against the silvery fabric of her dress.

Chip turned around and downed the second shot. It tasted like vinegar coating his throat. He ordered a third, and didn’t look back at Gillion until it was time to go.

They forgot to buy Gryffon’s beer.

-

By the time Jay returned and the three captains began the trek back to the dock, the sky had darkened significantly, the clouds grey and foreboding. The market square had mostly cleared as civilians headed inside, seeking asylum from the oncoming storm. Chip cringed as a raindrop splashed against his nose and picked up the pace.

Dinner was served late, though the crew had deemed it worth the wait; it wasn’t often they had anything but dried rations. Jay had proudly presented the chicken breast she had purchased from the butcher’s shop to Earl. He seemed happy about both the poultry and the kumquats, even patting her on the shoulder (an incredibly rare show of affection from the old man). Soon, the crew sat down at the table, digging into bowls of chicken soup, the heat a welcome distraction from the heavy rain thundering against the wooden deck.

Chip rolled a golden coin over his knuckles idly, his stomach warm and contented, listening to the casual chatter of his crew. The door to the kitchen quarters creaked open and Gryffon crouched below the frame, stepping in and dripping water onto the floorboards.

“It’s like I thought, captains. Winds are too harsh for us to sail.”

“Haven’t we sailed through literal cursed storms before? What’s a bit of wind gonna do?” Chip remarked, flicking the coin into the air.

Jay hummed, tapping her chin in thought. “Kalo is pretty small, but it’s surrounded by a bunch of other islands, remember? It was already a pretty tight squeeze to get in here, so trying to get out would be even harder with all the waves. Worst case scenario, the Albatross would crash against one of the beaches.” she reached into her pocket and retrieved her spyglass, standing up and peering through it into the clouded sky behind Gryffon. She muttered something to herself and bit her lip at the response she received.

“The storm’s pretty bad. Sounds like it’s not going to clear up for another four days.” Jay turned back around, smiling sheepishly. “Hope none of you had any pressing matters to attend to.”

The crew all groaned unanimously. For a pirate, it was easy to grow restless while docked.

“It’s alright, la!” Queen chimed in, trying to console the others. “We have a whole island to explore. We’ll have plenty to do while we wait.” the crew mumbled in reluctant agreement. 

Chip fumbled the coin and it clattered onto the table. Gillion grabbed it before Chip could react. 

“Gill, don’t.” he sighed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Chip.” Gillion smiled widely at him, the distinct and familiar look of ‘I’m going to hurl this money into the sea’ appearing on his face.

“Gillion. Don’t.”

Gillion did.

-

The ship rocked back and forth perilously, the night winds sending waves crashing against the belly of the boat. The anchor, thankfully, wasn’t able to be dislodged by the rough currents, but it wasn’t just the boat that was affected by the weather. 

Chip tossed and turned in his hammock, trying and failing to find a comfortable position. Sleep evaded his grasp, like usual. He sighed and slid off the hammock, tugging on his boots and slipping out of the sleeping quarters onto the deck. Chip immediately regretted it as the rain poured down over him, instantly drenching him. He grit his teeth.

“Why did I think that was a good idea?” he asked himself, holding his arms away from his waist and made to turn back.

But, curiously, the rain stopped. He glanced up, looking around in confusion. Wasn’t the weather meant to last for another four days? 

“Chip?” Gillion stood from where he was posted at the other side of the ship. Pale blue magic glowed around his fingertips, controlling the water to form a small pocket of dryness over Chip’s head.

“Gillion? Why are you still up?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

Chip shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I take it you have the same problem?”

Gillion nodded solemnly, bringing one hand to brush over his chest, where the claw marks had marred his skin underneath his shirt.

“The nightmares make it rather hard to stay asleep, if I can manage it in the first place.”

Chip frowned, feeling a pang of guilt in his twin scars. “I cannot remember it yet, thankfully,” Gillion reassured him. It did little to ease his concern, but he nodded. “Jay thought of something to help, actually. She says that when she and her sister were little girls, her mother would sing lullabies to soothe them. So she bought me something while we were waiting for her today.” Gillion slid a small disc out of his pocket, dark in color and incredibly smooth, though it looked rather unassuming. Noticing Chip’s confusion, Gillion explained further. “It’s imbued with magic, similar to what Jay can do. It’s enchanted to play a lullaby if you ask it.”

Looking closer, and now with additional context, Chip could sense the faintest bit of magic swirling around the disc, hardly noticeable as such a minor spell.

“That’s pretty clever,” Chip mumbled, half to himself, cursing himself for not thinking of the same thing sooner. Come to think of it, Jay had also gotten the chicken for Gillion before he did! She was beating him and she didn’t even know it.

“But can I ask you something as well, Chip?” Gillion folded his fingers back over the disc. 

“Yeah, man. Of course.” Chip leaned against the ship’s banister, admiring the way the rain was cut in an arc around his feet.

“You’ve been acting rather strange since the tavern. I was wondering if I may have done something wrong by asking you to dance.”

Chip’s back turned rigid in alarm, quickly waving his hands in a strange attempt of reassurance. “No, no, that’s not it!”

“So it was not something I did?”

“I mean, technically? But– but I wasn’t upset with you . More with myself.”

Gillion cocked his head. “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Chip sighed, fiddling his thumbs as he searched for the words and, more importantly, the confidence to speak them aloud. “I think I was more upset that I refused your offer.”

Gillion only looked more confused. “So you did want to dance?”

“No. I mean, yes, but– argh, I don’t know! I think so?”

“May I ask why you did not take my hand, then?”

“I guess I was just nervous.” Chip tugged at the hem of his shirt, avoiding eye contact. “All the people, y’know?”

It was a lie. Chip didn’t get stage fright, least of all when dancing, but how was he supposed to tell him the real reason?

“Oh,” Gillion hummed thoughtfully. He leaned his head out, scanning the deck as though looking for any eavesdroppers or prying eyes. Sure enough, the only company besides the two pirates themselves was the soft patter of rain around them. After confirming the lack of any unwanted visitors, he looked back at him. “Well, I do not see all the people anymore.”

Caught off guard, Chip let out a startled chuckle as he realized what the triton was implying. He felt the tips of his ears warm rapidly despite the weather. “W-we don’t even have music!” he exclaimed, which prompted Gillion to reveal the musical disc again.

He tapped it gently with one finger, still glowing as he magically shielded the human from the rain, and it began to float in place, teetering from side to side as if trying to maintain balance. The smooth surface began to shimmer and began to play, the notes of a music box lightly ringing out like their own separate raindrops.

“It’s not exactly dancing music,” Gillion confessed and dropped his hands back to his sides, allowing the disc to float on its own, “But I’m afraid it’s the best I have at the moment.”

Chip laughed again. It was nervous at first, but then it evolved into something genuine, something that made Chip practically giggle , clutching at his sides.

“You know what? Why not.” He looked back up into Gillion’s blue, blue eyes and wiped an amused tear from his own. “May I have this dance?”

The man smiled in lieu of response.

This time, when Gillion offered his hand, Chip took it without hesitation.

It was messy. Chip wasn’t a bad dancer by any means, but the rainwater made every step risky and unsure. The music didn’t fit in the slightest as they picked up speed, stomping and rocking back and forth, dragging each other around the slippery deck, hardly a dance at all anymore. Gillion accidentally dropped the spell forming the invisible umbrella over Chip during his attempt at a particularly intricate sequence of steps, leaving the human positively drenched before he realized his mistake and cast the spell once more. Chip fell on his ass more times than he’d like to admit, stumbling over his own feet like a newborn taking its first steps or some kind of drunken moron. It was a disaster. Chip’s fingers were numb despite the protective magic, chilled right through his clothes and skin and down to the bone, and his head hurt from the pounding of the rain and he could already feel the fatigue setting in.

He tried to lead Gillion into a dip, but the rain had slicked his hands and loosened his grip, proving the paladin’s weight too much and sending them both to the floor in an undignified heap.

It wasn’t romantic in the slightest. It was nothing like the perfect synchronised steps the two had followed in Chip’s dream, nor anything like the playful dance that Gillion had shared with the tiefling stranger back in The Dragon’s Cup. It was ridiculous. But as Chip groaned in pain, rubbing the back of his neck, he realized that it was so, so much better than the dream. He realized, with the popping of his sore muscles and his bruised shins, the splashing of raindrops against his mouth making him splutter as Gillion yet again forgot about the spell, that it felt real. It felt cold, sure, and painful most definitely, he had almost certainly just sprained an ankle (maybe both), but gods, it was real. Gillion laughed raucously next to him, tucking a dripping strand of hair behind one of his fins, and Chip was sure he could stay out here for the rest of the night at risk of hypothermia.

Thunder cracked somewhere in the distance, jolting them back into reality. Chip stood, helping his companion up after him.

“Well, I think I’m tired out enough to try sleeping again.”

“I as well.” Gillion removed the disc from the air, tapping it once to halt the song.

Chip had almost forgotten there was even music underneath the beating of his heart in his ears. 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Gillion drew the water out of Chip’s clothes and hurled it like a baseball back outside, shutting the door behind him. Chip let out a little sigh of relief at his now dry clothes, grateful for the lowered chance of catching a cold.

“Thank you, Chip.”

“Huh? What for? I didn’t do anything.”

Gillion met his eyes. His smile was small, much smaller than the usual radiant grins, but it was soft, genuine. His eyes crinkled around the corners. “You were there.”

Chip’s heart stuttered in his throat. He itched to hug the triton man, to reassure him that he’d do it a thousand times over, throw his arms around his broad shoulders and promise him that it was never a problem, he was never, ever a burden, but instead, he let a single hand rest on Gillion’s shoulder.

He had already been far too selfish today.

“‘Course, dude. I’ve got your back.”

“And I, yours, Chip.” Gillion responded valiantly.

“Night, Gill.”

“...Goodnight, Chip.”

As Gillion walked off to his barrel for the night, Chip wiped his hand on his pants and climbed back into his hammock. The seawater left a handprint on his pant leg, burning like a cattle brand into his skin in the best way possible. It was loud outside, and still took far too long to find a comfortable resting position, and cold. And yet, Chip had never felt warmer in his life.

Chapter Text

The waters are blissfully still– at least compared to the storms Chip and his crew have become so accustomed to over the past few perilous days. The sun beats down upon the ship’s deck, making him squint his eyes and his shirt to stick to his skin, slick with sweat. Glancing around, Chip takes note of his crew’s shared disdain for the heat. Queen lays parallel across a barrel, feet sticking straight out like a wooden plank, letting out the occasional strained note. 

Ollie is up in the crow’s nest drinking what Chip hopes is juice from a tankard, his legs swinging casually. Jay sits beside him, tinkering with her grappling hook and dozing off every few moments, head nodding before snapping up in alarm. She looks side to side, embarrassed, as if afraid someone would notice how drowsy the hot air made her. Finn, Earl, and Drey sit within the shade cast by a stack of wooden crates, chatting idly. Gryffon is nowhere to be seen; most likely below deck, the overwhelming heat no doubt even worse for someone with fur. And Gillion…

Gillion stands at the bow of the ship, gazing down into the sparkling waters below, his tail flicking idly behind him as he takes advantage of the cool sea spray on his cerulean skin. His hair moves in the wind, green curly waves like his very own ocean, braids decorated with various beads and pearls catching the sunlight, and Chip is drowning. Perhaps never setting sail on the high seas again wouldn’t be so bad, as long as he had the son of the sea by his side.

Gillion turns as the boards creak underneath Chip, shifting slightly to offer him a spot at the bow. “Hello, Chip. What do you make of this heat?” he begins. Chip chuckles a bit. Small talk doesn’t suit the man.

“It’s fuckin’ hot out here!” Chip exclaims, practically whining, but he grins widely nonetheless. “Indeed. This weather is rather unpleasant for my skin, but I’d much rather be out here with you than cooped away inside my barrel.”

“That’s sweet of you, man. Do you have any ideas on how humans could cool off, though? I don’t think there’s enough room in your barrel for the both of us.”

Gillion puts a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment, before lighting up.

“As a matter of fact, I do!” he reaches for Chip’s hips for a moment before hesitating. “Ah, right. May I pick you up, Chip?”

Chip raises a brow at the odd request, but nods, allowing Gillion to place his hands on either side of his torso and lift him off of his feet, pressing their chests together as Chip clings to him like a koala.

“Woah! Whatcha… uh, whatcha doing there, bud?” Chip laughs nervously, steadying himself by holding onto Gillion’s shoulders. The lack of a response from Gillion does little to reassure the pirate. With a few steps back, still holding tight to Chip, Gillion takes a running leap over the railing, off the side of the ship, and into the ocean below.

The water crashes around them, pale froth gathering where they drop beneath the wake. A beat later, the two surface. Chip coughs and splutters, hair damp and tight against his skull, his white shirt becoming mildly transparent with the seawater.

“Blah! Give a guy a warning next time, Gill!” Chip laughs after recovering, drawing the air back into his lungs. Gillion cocks his head.

“I thought you wanted to ‘cool off’.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d chuck me into the ocean!”

“Really? I thought that was pretty clear. I mean, it seemed to be the natural progression of things.”

Chip shoves at his shoulders, earning him a mouthful of saltwater as Gillion splashes him back. Jay’s voice atop the ship distracts them momentarily from their playful banter.

“You guys alright down there?” she calls, frizzy red hair hanging down around her face as she leans over the railing to look at them.

“Do not worry, Jay! All is fine, we are simply ‘cooling-off’, as Chip puts it!” Gillion shouts back, waving up at her. Chip takes this moment of distraction to grab him by the back of his head and dunk it under the water for a split second, cackling wildly when the triton resurfaces, blinking in confusion.

“Come on man, you should know not to let your guard down during a battle!” Chip gives him one of his signature rakish grins. “What happened to being the champion?”

Gillion swipes his tail, sending a wave of water directly into Chip’s face. “And what happened to being built differently, Chip? You should know to dodge!”

The two continue shoving at each other, each trying to dunk the other underneath the surface or splash them, the water churning around them as they roughhouse. They pause for a moment to catch their breaths, panting heavily from exertion, staring at each other and waiting for the next attack. Chip grabs Gillion’s shoulders the same time the other grabs his, and they both plunge back down under the water simultaneously. 

Underneath the water, Chip cracks open an eye, his cheeks puffing up with what air he managed to catch before being dunked. Gillion is incredibly close, enough so that even the disturbed water can’t blur his vision, which Chip finds himself remarkably grateful for. Gillion’s emerald green hair floats above his head like it yearns to breach the surface again, reaching for the sunlight leaking through the water above them. His gills flare on either side of his neck, and his eyes– holy shit, his eyes.

Chip has seen Gillion’s eyes many times above the surface; how could he not, when he was so close to him all the time? Even up there, the triton’s eyes are gorgeous, calling to mind the ocean in all its unpredictability; light and peaceful one moment, dark and stormy the next. But here, below the water in his natural habitat, Chip can only describe them as stunning.

Gillion’s hands raise to cup Chip’s face, both gentle and firm. He swims closer, tail gently swishing behind him to provide just enough propulsion to press their lips together, and suddenly breathing doesn’t seem all too important. He tastes like salt. The water, warmed by the sunlight above, laps at Chip’s collar as Gillion traces circles on his collarbone, his claws ghosting over the skin, the suggestion of force, contained in favor of gentleness. Chip’s head swims, tangling his fingers in Gillion’s hair, unable to get a firm grip on the man, but as Gillion tilts his chin, there is no fear of drifting away. 

Chip is drowning, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

-

“Up and at ‘em, Chibo!” came the voice of Jay as she grabbed the corners of Chip’s blanket, flinging it off of him. He squawked in protest, clutching at his arms as his body was exposed to the chilly air. Not water, he noted.

“Jay! Are you physically incapable of waking me up like a normal person?!” he swiped at her with a wayward, sluggish fist. She dodged it easily, stepping to the side and jabbing at Chip’s ribs. She cackled as Chip tried to squirm out of the way, only to tumble out of the hammock and onto the floor.

“Are you physically incapable of waking up like a normal person? C’mon, we’ve got stuff to do today.” she reached out a hand to help him up. Chip stared at it for a long moment, mouth agape as he recalled the night prior, turquoise skin proposing a waltz. He blinked and allowed Jay to pull him to his feet.

“What for? I thought we already did our grocery run.” Chip tugged on his coat and followed Jay out onto the deck. If Chip didn’t have Jay beside him to tell him otherwise, he would have thought it was still night. Dark clouds covered the sky, concealing the sun from view. Bolts of lightning reached through the sky off in the distance, accompanied by a torrential downpour. Chip frowned. It was a miserable sight to see so soon after waking.

Jay’s sudden movement pulled him back to the present as she narrowly dodged out of the way of a rogue barrel rolling past them.

“Sorry, captains! La!” Queen shouted an apology from the other side of the boat, her arms shaking with the weight of a second barrel as she struggled to transport it. 

“All good!” Jay cupped a hand over her mouth to yell her reassurance. She turned back to Chip. “We figured as part of our chore day that we might as well try to do some repairs while we’re here. The hull could do with a couple of touch-ups.”

Another barrel rolled by, but Chip was not as dexterous as Jay this time, and was knocked to the ground.

“Sorry!! La!”

Chip winced as he landed on his back, his shirt scraping painfully against an old scar set deep between his shoulder blades. “We have to stop letting Queen handle cargo.”

“But then how will they get stronger?” a triumphant sounding man grabbed Chip by the back of his collar, hauling him back onto his feet like he weighed nothing.

“Morning, Gill.”

“Good morning, Chip! Nice of you to join us.” Gillion lifted the runaway barrel over his shoulder, the first being retrieved by Jay.

“Yeah, yeah. I stayed up late last night, you can’t blame me.”

Gillion frowned, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, Chip. I should not have kept you up last night.”

“No, no, you’re fine. I just–”

Jay dropped the barrel beside them with a loud thunk. “You’d better go grab something to eat. You’re gonna help me buy some lumber.”

“Way to make the guy that just woke up do all the work! Why can’t you take Gillion?” Chip complained.

Jay clicked her tongue at him. “I want you to barter for me. Plus, Gillion is already helping out here on the ship.” Gillion grinned cheekily. Chip scowled. Unfair.

-

A stale bagel would be Chip’s only compensation for the rude awakening as he walked the streets with Jay, shielding themselves from rain with a coat held over their heads. The market square was far emptier than their first visit, aside from a couple children in raincoats splashing about and giggling. One of them tripped over their feet and landed face-first into a puddle. Chip snickered.

“So. What was that about staying up late with Gill?” Jay asked. Her tone was casual, but her expression was anything but; her face betraying her smug curiosity. Chip nearly dropped his breakfast.

“Uh?!” he exclaimed, embarrassment flooding his senses. “Nothing?” his voice cracked. This did not inspire much confidence in his defense.

“How are you such a bad liar when it comes to Gill? C’mon, tell me.” she prodded him further. Chip avoided her gaze. “Nothing– nothing happened, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Did you want something to happen?” Jay bumped their shoulders together, lowering her voice. Chip, for once in his life, wasn’t sure what to say. He looked away, squinting at the hands that had clumsily spun Gillion around the deck just the night prior. He bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Jay, sensing his hesitation, spoke up.

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t know what’s up with you, but it’s none of my business if you don’t want it to be.”

Chip looked back up, brows furrowed. “Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been having some weird dreams lately,” he confessed. Jay wrinkled her nose, drawing away from him.

“Alright, ew. Too much information.”

“Wh– not like that, dumbass! Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“Hey, no judgement here! To each their own, or whate–”

Chip clamped his open hand over Jay’s mouth, effectively shutting her up. She licked his palm.

“Eugh!” he withdrew it in disgust, wiping it on his pants. “You’re so– ugh, see if I ever tell you anything ever again!” he shoved Jay's shoulder. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Just tell me about the dreams!” she shoved him back, then gave him a concerned look. “You’re not having nightmares again, are you?”

“No, no. Kind of the opposite, actually.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Chip thumbed at the edge of the coat he held over their heads.

“They’re about Gillion.” 

Jay’s eyes widened and she quickly pulled him underneath a shop awning out of the rain, dropping their makeshift umbrella.

“Tell me everything.”

“Aw, shit. Right, okay, so.” Chip cleared his throat awkwardly. “So the first one we were, like, dancing? And then he dipped me and we… k-kissed.” his voice petered out on the word ‘kissed’. Jay gave him an unimpressed look. “Shut up! I’m not finished!”

She held up her hands placatingly. “I’m not saying anything.”

“The second one we were sleeping at an inn, I think.”

“You think?”

“Stop interrupting and let me tell the story!”

“Then get better at telling the story!”

He ignored her and continued. “Gillion was there with me. In the bed. We were, like, hugging, and shit.”

“‘And shit’?” she parroted, amused.

“I’m going to kill you. The third one was us swimming together. And then–”

“You kissed?”

“How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess. That’s all of them, then?”

He nodded. “So far, yeah.”

Jay flicked his forehead, making him exclaim with pain and clap a hand to the spot. “I ask again. What’s the problem? They’re not nightmares, they aren’t weird, they’re not hurting anyone. They’re just dreams.” 

“Yeah, but don’t you think they’re a little weird? Like, I’m having dreams about kissing one of my co-captains! That’s weird! ” Chip defended, still disoriented. 

“I’m gonna ask you something, alright? And you have to answer it seriously. No avoiding it, no jokes, whatever.” she planted both her hands on his shoulders, face determined. “Do you want to stop having these dreams?”

Chip looked into his best friend’s eyes and felt his mouth go dry. Every word he might have responded with left his brain as he processed the question. He blinked.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes or no question, Chibo.”

He pushed her away. “I don’t know, okay? This is– this is the first time I’ve felt something like this! This is the first time I’ve had people like you two! And it’s… shit, Jay, it’s fucking scary!” he crouched down, leaning his back against the cobblestone wall of the shop’s exterior. Jay dropped down beside him, resting her chin on her knees. 

“What are you scared of?” she asked, her voice merely a whisper now. She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. He squeezed back as he formed the words.

“I’m scared of what Gillion would think if he found out.”

“Do you wanna know what I think?” Jay leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as she listened to the rain around them. He nodded slowly. “I think he wouldn’t care. Gill isn’t that kind of person.”

“Are you sure?”

“Even if he did find it weird– which he wouldn’t, I promise,” she quickly added, “he wouldn’t let it affect your friendship. You’re stuck with us, remember? We’re family.” she patted his arm. Chip sighed and leaned into the contact, closing his eyes as well. For a brief moment, the world was silent. It was just him and Jay under that little shop awning, holding each other’s hands to the soft song of the rain.

“Thanks, Jay.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Chip.”

-

It was a good thing Jay had dragged Chip along, as the grouchy-looking carpenter immediately tried overcharging them for the lumber they dropped onto the counter.

“Seventy gold for the lot,” he declared, his thick brows raising as if he were challenging the two pirates.

“Seventy gold? Are you serious?” Jay scoffed. “We could buy it anywhere else for half as much!”

“Storms are bad for business, kid. I gotta make money somehow,” the carpenter shrugged. “Besides, you’re adventurers, right? I’m sure you make plenty of gold along the journey.”

Chip squinted at the man, his brain ticking as he formulated a plan. “You realize there’s no other ships down at the dock, right?” he hopped up onto the counter and raised a questioning brow. The man grumbled and moved his pile of blueprints from where Chip had perched. “And I noticed a little something on the way here.” he stroked his chin thoughtfully, almost in exaggeration. “Jay, remind me what most of the buildings here are made of?”

“Uh, stone?”

“Exactly. And how long until the skies clear up?”

“Not for a long while, I think.” Jay’s eyes glinted, that way they always did when she started to catch on to one of Chip’s plans. 

“Oh, wow!” Chip gasped over-dramatically. “That’s not good. You know, it sounds to me that you won’t be getting any customers until that big ol’ storm outside stops and the ocean’s safe to sail again! And I don’t think many of your neighbors will come down for repairs, either. No, I think they’re probably going to…” he winked at Jay. “That stonemason down the street.”

That definitely struck a nerve. The carpenter clenched his fist on the countertop, muttering to himself. “That damned stonemason… ever since she opened up shop, I’ve lost all my customers!” He began citing various curses in a language Chip didn’t recognize. “Stones this, rocks this, what happened to good old wood? There’s so many different kinds! Pine, cherry, oak, rose, sage! What kinds of stones are there?! Grey, grey, and more grey! Bah! I’m sick of it!”

Chip patted his back consolingly. “I know, I know. Let it out, buddy.”

“No respect for the wood these days, I tell ya!”

“Hey, I have an idea that’ll make you feel better! Why don’t you sell us your favorite kind of wood? We’ll use it to repair our ship.”

Jay stepped in. “Yeah! And then people will be all, ‘Wow, where did you get that super cool wood on your boat?’ And we’ll say, ‘Oh, just at that super cool carpenter’s shop over on Kalo!’ How does that sound?”

The carpenter man looked up, his eyes glossy with tears. “R-really? You’d say that?”

“Yeah!” the two answered in unison.

The man sniffled and wiped at his tears. “Okay! Wait here, I’ve got just the thing!” he hobbled off into the back room of the shop.

Chip and Jay shared a glance. Both were barely holding it together. The carpenter came out a moment later with a hefty bundle of cedar wood planks and dropped it onto the counter, sweeping the other planks onto the floor into a cloud of sawdust.

“Thirty-five gold for the lot!” he declared, a new light in his eyes.

“How about twenty?” Chip challenged.

“Twenty-five!”

Chip stuck out his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, my friend!” The carpenter grabbed his hand, shaking it firmly. A single passionate tear rolled down his cheek.

“Pleasure doing business with you!”

-

“Shit, that’s heavy! This is why we should’ve brought Gillion along!” Chip wheezed as he carried one side of the bundle, his arms shaking under its weight.

“Maybe you’re right. But we’re almost back to the ship!” Jay responded, holding the other side. With their hands full they had to forgo the coat umbrella, leaving them fully exposed to the elements. It certainly didn’t help them transport the heavy cargo. “Hey, Chip?”

Chip paused to catch his breath. “What’s up?”

“Before we get back onto the boat, I just wanted you to know…” she inhaled and exhaled, face almost red from exertion and almost certainly matching Chip’s own. “You can talk to me about anything. I’m always here if you need me. For Gillion stuff or just whatever. Okay?”

Chip, despite feeling his arms slowly turn to pudding, smiled. “Okay.”

“Great. Now,” Jay lowered the bundle to the ground and stuck her fingers in her mouth, whistling loudly. “GILLION!”

Right on cue, Gillion came sprinting over and dove off the side of the ship, quickly surfacing and jogging over to them. “You called?”

“Yeah. Can you help us carry this thing up?” she wiped the sweat and the rain from her forehead.

“Of course!” Gillion picked up the bundle of wood. Both Chip and Jay gaped at the sheer ease he lifted it with. “Where would you like me to put it?”

“Uh… just next to one of the masts, I guess.” Jay answered dumbfoundedly.

“As you wish, Jay!” Gillion clambered back up onto the ship, still holding the wood.

Chip groaned and flopped onto the ground. “This is so unfair.”

Back up on the Albatross, a large barrel sat filled with soapy water. Queen sat on a stool in front of it with their long white hair in a tight ponytail, plunging their hands into the barrel and scrubbing furiously at one of Chip’s blood-stained shirts. They hummed a soothing tune, though it quickly morphed into a more violent one as they fought with the stubborn crimson stain. Gryffon sat at his own barrel, his mechanical arm nowhere in sight, making visibly slower progress as he struggled to figure out how to do laundry with only one hand.

Ollie, powered by his magical belt, was running around the deck hauling large crates nearly twice his size to and fro, setting them down in front of Earl before sprinting back over for his next load. Earl, sitting underneath an overhang in front of the kitchen door, jotted something down on a notepad with each new piece of cargo. Drey leaned over his shoulder, making a snide comment every once in a while, most likely about Earl’s handwriting.

“Looks like you guys are making good progress!” Jay remarked approvingly, surveying the crew. 

“Does that mean we don’t have to help?” Chip sidled up next to her. Jay kicked him.

“Lazy. Go take a break, alright? You’re coming back out as soon as you’re done, though! Nobody gets a pass from chore day.” she turned and shouted over at Gillion. “You too, Gill! You’ve been up since dawn!” Jay turned back around and gave Chip a thumbs up. “Good luck.”

“Wh– you– HEY!” Chip spluttered as Jay walked away to trade places with Gillion.

“Hello again, Chip! I hope the rain was not too much of a bother for you. Jay tells me you’re not a fan.” Gillion greeted, pushing a rebellious lock of hair out of his face. 

“It was fine. Uh, I wouldn’t mind a break from it, though.” 

“Would you like to speak inside, then?” he pushed open the door to the captain’s quarters, beckoning Chip inside. After Chip entered, Gillion sat down on a bench bolted to the cabin wall.

“Right. Yeah, okay. Sure. Whatever. Cool. Yeah.” Chip stumbled over his words. He bit his tongue, hoping it would stop any more ridiculous babbling, and sat next to Gillion. “So, what’s up, dude? Anything on your mind?”

Gillion nodded, almost absentmindedly, flicking some water off of his tail fins. “It’s sort of about last night.” Chip went shock still, mentally preparing himself for whatever the triton said next. Was it that he regretted it? Maybe Chip was such a bad dancer, he never wanted to do it again. Maybe he noticed how Chip looked at him with a bit more affection than a co-captain should. Maybe– “My nightmare. I remembered a bit of it.”

Oh. Chip exhaled, half in relief, half in guilt. Of course it wasn’t that. Not everything is about you, he reminded himself.

“Are you sure? I know it can be hard. Heh, speaking from experience.” he scratched the back of his neck. Gillion, perhaps unknowingly, pressed their ankles together. Chip flushed, then scolded himself. What was he, a chaste Victorian maiden?

“I believe so. Caspian says that it helps to speak about your emotions.” Gillion closed his eyes, tilting his head up. The lantern hanging from the ceiling reflected across his skin, a fake beam of sunlight just for him. Chip swallowed. “To put your feelings to words is to remove their power. Besides, I feel as if I owe it to you; especially because the nightmare was about you.”

Chip exhaled through his nose, drumming his fingers on his knees, and waited for Gillion to continue. “It’s all still rather foggy, so some of the details may be inaccurate. But I remember standing on the deck. I was alone, but at the same time I could feel eyes watching my every move. I was surrounded by walls of ice, like the arena I had made, but far taller and grander than I could ever make myself. It was like a maze. I walked through the labyrinth for what felt like hours, searching for something.”

“What were you searching for?” Chip murmured.

Gillion shook his head. “I can’t remember. But then, when I saw something, it didn’t matter anymore.”

“What did you see?”

Gillion did not open his eyes. “I saw you. You stood there, with your back to me. And as I approached, you turned around and you– you smiled at me. You asked me if I knew the way out.” Gillion’s breathing grew heavier, more strained as he relived the dream. He clenched his fists tightly, enough that Chip worried he might draw blood as he dug his nails into his palms. “But rather than answering, I… I drew my sword, and…” his eyes shot open, electric blue and manic, framed with terror.

“Woah, woah, Gill, it’s okay! Calm down.” Chip began. Gillion’s hands flew to his head, clasping at the bases of his coral crown, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“No, Chip! It’s not okay! I– I stabbed you, Chip! I watched the light drain from your eyes! I betrayed you! ”

“Gill, it was just a dream!”

“But it wasn’t entirely a dream, wasn’t it?! It happened! In that arena, after the casino, we fought, and I struck you with my blade, and you fell, and I kept going !” Gillion looked back at Chip with pure anguish. “I know it still hurts. The scar on your back. It still bleeds, too. I see you cleaning it. I saw you in pain this morning, when you fell on it. Time may have passed, but the hurt hasn’t. I see it every time I look at you.”

Chip just stared at him.

“I hurt you, Chip. I hurt you even though I was supposed to protect you. This dream is just my subconscious reminding me of the sin I have committed.”

“Gods, Gill, I don’t… I didn’t know that was how you felt. Look, I’m alive! It was just a dream, I’m okay! We’re okay.” Chip held out his arms like he was showing him his heart; proof that he was alive, still breathing, still here. Gillion did not look at him.

“You don’t understand! I– I watched you bleed out by my blade. And I know it was a dream, I know, but now I cannot look at you without feeling guilty for what I have done to you.”

Chip opened his mouth to respond, only for his words to disappear as the door creaked open. Jay poked her head through. 

“Hey, break’s over.”

Next to him, Gillion’s face flattened out, the look of grief smoothing to his usual valiant expression. His shoulders unstiffened, his hands unclenched, and his smile returned. There was barely a sign of the breakdown he had just had. Chip watched in horror as Gillion stood up.

“Duty calls! I promise you this, Jay– the deck shall have nary a stain left upon it when I am finished!”

Jay and Gillion exited the cabin, leaving Chip on the bench. He buried his face in his hands. Had Gillion always been able to do that? To wash his emotions from his face as quickly as the tides came in? And, worse yet, had Chip always been able to believe it?

-

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. With a collaborative effort from the whole crew, Jay was able to replace some worn patches of wood on the hull of the ship with the new cedar they had bought. The dark color contrasted with the lighter ship base, sticking out like a sore thumb. Together with the other differently colored wood they had used for repairs in the past, the belly of the ship looked like a patchwork quilt. Chip liked it. Jay thought it was ugly.

“Maybe tomorrow we should go buy some paint.” she thought aloud over her dinner of leftover soup.

“No way! I think it adds character. Y’know, a little piece from all the places we’ve been to.” Chip butted in, slurping his soup loudly.

“What do you think, Gillion?” Jay pointed her spoon at the triton. He glanced up, alarmed, as if he hadn’t been paying attention. He shrugged and turned back to his soup, poking around at the contents of his bowl. Every now and then his eyes would dart to Destiny’s Blade, which leaned against the doorframe, softly glowing blue. Each creak of the ship and shuffle of movement made him twitch. Jay cocked her head at the man’s strange reaction, or rather the lack thereof, meeting Chip’s eyes and pointing her chin at him in a questioning manner. Chip sighed and shook his head. It wasn’t his place to spill Gillion’s secrets. He’d be a hypocrite to do so, anyways– he had many of his own. He brought two fingers to his lips, tracing the shape of his cupid’s bow like he could draw the imaginary taste of his co-captain out.

He couldn’t decide if he would savor it or hurl it into the ocean like a ball of fire.

Gillion pushed the bowl across the table, signaling that he had eaten his fill. The legs of his stool screeched as he pushed out and stood, his head bowed as he thanked Earl for dinner before leaving the room, grabbing the sword on the way out.

Chip looked at the dish. It was still half-full. Gillion never had leftovers– he was like the ship’s very own garbage disposal. The man practically had a bottomless stomach; maybe even literally. Chip didn’t know much about triton anatomy. Jay didn’t seem to notice this peculiarity, however, merely shrugging and sliding the bowl over to her side to finish it. Chip’s leg bounced under the table, slowly picking up speed as he shoveled the rest of his dinner into his mouth, only sparing a quick burp before he was out the door. 

Gillion stood in a fighting stance in his usual training spot, his blade gleaming in the moonlight as he slashed it, cutting clean through the starry night sky. His shoulders heaved with effort, each strike more exhausting than the last. A bead of sweat slid down his neck among the rain, his hair tied up and out of his face. He didn’t notice Chip at first as he continued to dodge and evade his invisible foe. It wasn’t until Chip cleared his throat to announce his presence that he finally ceased the one-man sparring. Gillion, shoulders still rigid, looked alarmed. His eyes were duller than their usual bright hue, as if he weren’t entirely there. 

“Chip,” his voice had a mild tremor to it. “Is something the matter? I thought you were eating dinner with the others.” he lowered his sword, but kept it in his grasp, hackles raised.

“I finished eating already. Just wanted to check up on you.” Chip responded, rocking back and forth on his heels. Gillion’s expression was unreadable.

“Well, thank you, but as you can see, I am perfectly fine.” 

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to try harder than that. What’s going on, man?” Chip tapped him with the back of his hand. Gillion flinched violently at the contact, his auricular fins pinned tight against his skull. Chip withdrew his hand apologetically. 

“As I said, Chip, I am alright. You should go back to the others– don’t worry about me.” Gillion’s pupils contracted into slits, though his shaking hands betrayed how his fear outweighed his anger.

“Is this about earlier? With the nightmare? I already told y–”

A firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder, squeezing almost too tightly. Gillion did not meet his gaze, but his voice alone conveyed more than enough.

“Chip. Drop it. I do not want to talk to you right now.”

“Gil–”

“Go. Away. Please.”

Gillion released him. Chip hesitated. He desperately searched for some comforting words, but nothing came up; Jay had always been better at this kind of thing. The aforementioned woman, as if knowing that she was needed, jogged to meet them. Passing Chip on the way, she gave him a worried look.

“What’s going on?”

“I think it’s better if you ask him.” he slipped past Jay. She turned back to Gillion, offering her hand to him. Chip couldn’t hear what they were saying as he walked back into the kitchen, but he saw the way Gillion’s lip trembled before he pulled Jay into a hug, burying his face in her frizzy orange hair. Jay rubbed his back, muttering soothing words as she guided them to the ground. Chip bit his tongue and finally managed to tear his eyes away from the two. He was not needed here.

-

The ship was cold that night, both from the air as the storm continued to rage on and from the cold shoulder his co-captain gave him. Even after Jay had coaxed Gillion into sheathing his sword and finishing his food, Gillion did not so much as look in Chip’s direction, avoiding his gaze as he kept his eyes glued to the floor. 

“ Just give him some time,” Jay had said, and now Chip sat in the empty kitchen, waiting for Gillion to fall asleep so he could creep back into his own hammock without drawing the other man’s ire.

Chip picked at his cuticles anxiously, mind jumping to conclusions, hounding him for being a nuisance to Gillion and at the same time doing nothing to help him. He should have pushed harder to find out what was wrong. He shouldn’t have stepped in at all. He should have been more perceptive of his friend’s struggles. He shouldn’t have made Gillion upset. He should have opened his godsdamned eyes for once in his life.

He should’ve, he should’ve, but he fucking didn’t. A part of him wanted to ask Jay what she had discussed with Gillion. Maybe if she knew just how stressed he was about this situation she would take pity on him and comfort him in the way she always did, reassure him that ‘ No, Chip, we don’t hate you!’ and he would pretend to believe it, every single time, even if just to make his brain shut up for a little while until the thoughts inevitably resurfaced, begging for his attention and choking his senses like smoke and ash. 

“Fucking moron,” he muttered bitterly under his breath. “What kind of captain can’t even take care of his crew?” Chip chewed on his thumbnail, leg bouncing furiously, the table shaking as he did so, clattering in the empty kitchen. His stomach was full yet it felt empty. Chip felt sick, disgusting. He yanked the bandana off of his head, allowing the illusion over his body to melt away. He forced his leg to stop bouncing, boots flat against the ground, and breathed. It was stuffy in the kitchen, constantly smelling a bit too much like oranges for Chip’s taste, and the pots and pans hanging precariously from the ceiling had a habit of banging together whenever the ship was cruising through even the calmest of waters. 

Worst, however, was the hole in the ceiling, so small it was almost unnoticeable, occasionally allowing a drop of rainwater to fall through and splatter against the ground with a little plink! The sound was usually hidden by the cheerful conversation of the crew over their dinners. But now, as the kitchen stood empty, the water drops were deafeningly loud. Chip tried to breathe in, breathe out, but the water drop kept interrupting him. He seethed with petty annoyance and squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to ignore it. Breathe in, breathe out, plink ! Breathe in, plink!

Breathe–

Chip tied the bandana around his head. The illusion formed over his arms, uneven burns giving way to smooth caramel skin, tanned from his time in the sun. His eyebags sunk back into his face, his aching bones popped back into place, and he was fine again. The water drops had stopped. He scratched at his collarbone and blinked away his distress.

He had to repair that leak, eventually. He had been putting it off for ages, and it seemed as if he were the only one that had noticed it, or at least been particularly bothered by it. Chip had to repair that leak. All he had to do was grab one of the wooden planks that had been left over from the ship’s repairs and a handful of nails. It was a ten minute job, max. It would be easy, and then he wouldn’t have to put up with that god-awful sound anymore and pretend like it didn’t make him want to claw his ears off whenever he ate dinner with the crew. 

He sunk down and rested his head on the table.

What was one more day, anyways?

Chapter Text

Dying doesn’t hurt as much as Chip used to think. Perhaps it’s just the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, leaving his body slower than the blood pouring from the gunshot in his sternum. Perhaps the gods have decided to grant him one last mercy in his final moments. The part that hurts the most, Chip thinks, is Gillion’s horrified face above him.

The man is desperately pressing down on his chest in a fruitless attempt to stem the bleeding. Red isn’t a bad color on Gillion, Chip notes in the back of his mind, watching as red swirls with inky black in a gruesome array of colors, a sickening pallet painting the rough ground he lies upon. Red is Chip’s color, but he doesn’t mind sharing it. It makes Gillion look like his. Even if it’s in less than favorable circumstances. He wishes he could have loaned him his coat, swaddled him in red and gold fabric until Gillion is shielded from anything that dares harm him. How foolish of Chip to think he ever could have protected Gillion. He is no hero. 

Warm, sticky blood trickles down his chin, the metallic taste coating his throat, making him gag. 

“Chip,” Gillion pleads. Chip likes hearing his name on Gillion’s tongue. It feels right. It feels safe. “Chip, you need to stay awake. Jay will be here any moment now, alright? Then we can go home.”

Home. Chip would have liked to see it one last time, to feel the sea breeze kiss his skin again. 

“‘S cold,” Chip murmurs, a shiver wracking his body.

“I know. It’s going to be alright.” Gillion promises. His fingers glow with magic for a brief moment, only for it to flicker out. He swears under his breath. Chip chuckles despite himself.

“Always so positive, Gill. How do you do it?” he reaches up, combing his fingers through Gillion’s hair. The triton gives him a mournful look, his eyes welling up with tears. He stubbornly refuses to allow them to fall. Chip huffs a laugh again. Always so stubborn, his Gillion.

‘His Gillion’. It sounds right. It sounds like a lie. He can only wish Gillion would accept the title like all of his others.

“You should get outta here, Gill. ‘s not safe,” he begins, his voice slurred as exhaustion creeps up on him. “Don’t waste your energy. In case you gotta heal Jay.”

Gillion frowns. “It’s not a waste. You’re worth it. You’re always worth it. I would heal you a thousand times over without a moment’s hesitation.”

“Fuck,” Chip wheezes. His back hurts. The ground is far from comfortable. “You’re a real romantic, y’know that? I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re good at everything, I bet.”

Gillion shakes his head. “Not everything. I’m…I’m not good at saving you.”

“Bullshit. You save me all the time.” Chip strokes the side of Gillion’s head, his hand shaking as he struggles to maintain the strength to keep his arm raised. “You save me every day.”

Gillion’s voice grows harsh. “Then why can’t I save you this time, Chip? Why can I never help when it counts?”

“I forgive you.”

“I don’t.”

Chip drops his hand. Gillion picks it back up, clinging to it like a lifeline. “‘S not your fault. I’m not mad.”

“You should be.”

“It’s hard to stay mad at you, Tidestrider.”

“...”

Chip squeezes Gillion’s hand lightly, licking the blood from his lips. “Hey, Gill?”

“Yes, Chip?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gillion bites his lip, knitting his brows together tightly. 

“You probably hear it all the time. But I jus’ thought I should tell you. Y’know, since I won’t get the chance to after this.” There is a few beats of silence. Chip cannot find the strength to be embarrassed of his words. “Can I ask you something?”

Gillion nods.

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Are you sure?” Gillion croaks his response out.

Chip runs his tongue over his teeth, tracing the outline of Gillion’s face with his eyes like he can commit the shape to memory. He squeezes his hand again.

“Please. Please kiss me, Gillion.”

Gillion hesitates, glancing down at the bullet wound in his chest. Chip takes the other man’s hands in his own, removing them from his chest, allowing the wound to continue bleeding freely. It’s futile, anyway.

“...Of course, Chip.”

Gillion places a shaking hand against Chip’s jaw and smears blood across his cheek, angling his face as he leans in. Their noses touch briefly as they share their breaths, and all Chip sees and knows is blue.

Gillion’s lips are soft, the warmth of his mouth contrasting the cold tears Chip can feel dropping onto his cheeks. They do not belong to him.

Chip rubs one of his thumbs over Gillion’s knuckles. His other hand cups his face like something precious, something fragile as glass. His head aches. He draws him closer.

Chip mouths at the man, almost greedily, trying to memorize the feeling, to etch it into the side of his heart. Gillion reciprocates, pushing his head further down, fingertips tickling the back of Chip’s ears. Chip mourns the lack of time. He wants more. He wants to be devoured. He wants to learn what makes Gillion tick. He wants to trace every part of him, memorize every feature and trait. He wants to touch, to taste, to take . 

But, as Gillion draws away to catch his breath, he comes to the unfortunate conclusion that the gods’ patience is short lived. He can feel them beckoning to him from the other side. He lacks the strength to ignore them for much longer.

“Thanks,” he whispers hoarsely. “You’re a good guy.”

Gillion hiccups through his tears. Chip wishes he would just smile again. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m sorry that I could not save you.”

“‘S alright. You tried your best.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

“You’re always enough.”

“I wish it were me instead.”

“I think it’s my turn to be the hero this time.”

“I wish you didn’t have to be.”

“I think you deserve a break.”

“I wish I had more time.”

“I think I do, too.”

“I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.”

Chip closes his eyes, bringing Gillion’s hand to his lips. “It’s okay,” he kisses it gently. “I think I already know.” 

-

Plink.

Plink.

Chip awoke to someone shaking his shoulder lightly, repeating his name. He blinked open his eyes sluggishly, his lashes sticking together with dried tears, and straightened up. Jay looked at him, concern clear on her face, her red hair dripping onto the floor. 

“Chip? You in there?” she waved her hand in front of his nose. Chip groaned and stretched his arms.

“Yep, yep, I’m up. Is it my turn to take watch?”

“I– I mean yeah, but, are you okay? You were crying.”

“‘S fine. Just a bad dream, I’m okay.” he stood up and started for the door. Jay stopped him, grabbing his shoulder.

“Was it about Gill?”

Chip’s throat clenched. Jay’s hand was warm, burning even through his thick coat, her touch akin to her fiery hair. He ached to lean into it, soak it up like a starved man.

He pulled away.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course it does!”

“I’ll go take watch. You go to sleep, alright?” he turned and smiled at her. She did not return it. “Night, Jay.”

She did not answer.

The door bounced a little on its old hinges before coming to a stop, shutting behind him with a resounding thud. He was greeted, as usual, by an empty deck and the unforgiving rain. An umbrella had been set up near the bowsprit, accompanied by a stool. He took a seat, straining his ears for the sound of a music box. Only the sound of thunder cracking in the distance deigned to respond. A drop of water splattered against his wrist. He glanced down. His hands were covered in blood, crimson drops mirroring the rain, sticky against his skin and uncomfortably warm. He blinked, and the blood was gone.

Chip leaned back on one leg of the stool, rubbing his eyes.

“I’m goin’ fucking crazy, aren’t I?” he asked the sky.

The northern star glimmered humorously, almost mockingly, back down at him. 

Death was a familiar thing to Chip. He had lived it, slunk around in dark streets to avoid it like a merciless stalker, beaten it many times at its own game. Death was a cruel woman and she peeked around every corner, haunting his every waking moment with her inky black tendrils of dread and dismay. As a pirate, he had long since accepted that it was simply part of his life; mortality was always especially apparent in this lifestyle he chose, a mere fact he had learned to tolerate over the years. The life of a sailor was a life of risk. He had learned this lesson a thousand times over.

But now, as he stared out into the water, reflecting the stars like freckles across its surface, he was afraid. Terrified, even; a feeling he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in ages, because now, he had something to lose. Where before he had regarded his own mortality with indifference, even seeing it as a challenge on occasion, he now had to resist the urge to run and cower in the cargo hold like a child, to hide away from the cruel world that wanted nothing more than to torment him. Chip thought he had left that cowardly little boy behind, back in the wreckage of the Midnight Rose, buried him behind bricks and barbed wire. But now, thinking of Jay and Gillion, it seemed as if a pickaxe had been taken to his mental defenses. 

Chip dug his nails into the railing of the ship, staring into the murky waters, his stomach twisting as if seasick. Now, he had something to live for; and he was terrified of that something disappearing, just as it had done a thousand times before. The thunder felt all too familiar in his ears. He bit his lip and listened to the howling of the wind, willing it to drown out his thoughts. 

If he closed his eyes, he could almost mistake the raindrops on his face for Gillion’s tears as Chip bled out. It was almost flattering, Chip realized, an ugly feeling growing in his gut, to see Gillion so distraught over him. It was rather cathartic, in a sense, to know that Gillion would shed tears over someone like Chip. The Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep, reduced to a sobbing mess over the death of a bastard like himself. Chip let out a strained chuckle, sour and selfish. What a thought.

He hugged his coat tight against his body and waited for his watch to end. A tiny whisper at the back of his head, barely noticeable, craved to return to his dreams, back in Gillion’s arms. Imaginary or not, it was comfortable. It felt safe. In his dreams, they weren’t fighting. Chip didn’t have to worry about stumbling over his words or saying the wrong thing, about embarrassing himself in front of the man. Within his subconscious, Chip was the cool and suave man he had always tried (and often failed) to convey.

As Gryffon came outside to take Chip’s post, Chip rushed past him in a hurry, avoiding his gaze, like he couldn’t fall asleep fast enough. As he bundled himself back up in his hammock, his throat tasted bitter. He ignored it and willed sleep to take him away once more.

-

Chip sits in the crow’s nest, allowing the cool breeze to toy with his hair and tickle his nose. The sky is painted with swathes of pinks and oranges as the sun dips below the horizon, the waters honey-golden as it sinks down. Seagulls pinwheel overhead, calling to each other as they, too, enjoy the peaceful weather. Chip leans his head against the railing. Somewhere below is the chatter of his crew, and he takes comfort in knowing that he is safe. Chip blinks, and suddenly Gillion is standing above him.

His broad shoulders block Chip’s view of the sunset, but he cannot find it in himself to mind. The sunlight encircles Gillion like a golden halo. Chip can almost imagine the lines of artists begging to paint this marvel of a man. A coy, almost selfish smirk creeps up onto his face. Chip knows he is the only one that will ever see this form of Gillion; highlighted by the sun with a soft, almost loving expression on his face, warm from the daylight and fuzzy around the edges, just for Chip. Always for Chip.

Gillion reaches down a hand and places it underneath Chip’s chin, angling his face up, and Chip basks in his glow greedily, head turned to Gillion like a sunflower. Gillion’s lips are parted ever so slightly, and Chip can see the glint of his sharp teeth peeking out from behind them. His body itches to pull Gillion down to his level, but for now, he can’t do anything but admire this divine creation in front of him. Gillion’s hand holds him firmly in place. The man chuckles a bit as Chip pouts, deciding to humor him by kneeling. He still hovers over Chip, just out of reach, but Chip can feel his fingers tingle, barely able to graze the other. Almost there, but not quite. Gillion huffs in amusement as Chip squirms, taking delight in his struggle. Chip kicks his ankle.

“Prick,” Chip mutters, making grabby hands at the triton. Gillion smiles innocently.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you’re really so upset, I can just leave.”

Gillion begins to stand. They both know it isn’t genuine, but Chip finally manages to grab his wrist anyways, tugging gently.

“Nah,” he slides his hand down to link their fingers. “You’re stuck with me, Tidestrider. For the rest of time.”

Gillion squeezes their palms together and kneels again, returning his free hand to its spot on Chip’s chin, tracing his jaw.

“For the rest of time,” Gillion echoes, and finally leans in. Chip reciprocates enthusiastically and rests his hand on the back of Gillion’s head, drawing him in further. 

His nose presses into Gillion’s cheek, crooked from being broken too many times over and never healing quite right. A pleased gurgling sound escapes from Gillion. Chip stifles a laugh, muffling it with Gillion’s mouth and parting his own lips, urging the other to do the same as he licks his bottom lip, feeling the indents from where Gillion chewed on his lips with sharp teeth, part of a nervous habit he had been struggling to drop and one that had been driving Chip insane as of late. 

Gillion’s breath hitches and Chip can feel it as if it were his own. His heart stutters at the same time, struggling to hold his composure together and desperate to get even closer. Chip runs his tongue along the roof of Gillion’s mouth, and it tastes like honey. One of Gillion’s teeth catches Chip’s lip. He ignores it and goes in for more. Their tongues bump into each other as Gillion moves in to swipe over the blunt edges of Chip’s teeth, curious at the differences between the two and eager to explore. Chip shivers and opens his mouth further. Gillion, seemingly emboldened, pushes Chip further into the railing, licking into his mouth, his hold on Chip’s face sharpening a bit, his sharp nails scratching against his jaw, making Chip shudder approvingly. Gillion’s mouth departs from Chip’s only to reappear on his neck, kissing down the column of his throat. Chip can feel every breath Gillion takes, and he is drowning in it. Chip can feel as Gillion’s mouth opens and his teeth press down into the skin just below Chip’s pulse point, sharp pain blooming as a result. Chip flinches, hissing in pain and tugging on Gillion’s hair. They jump apart, both breathing heavily, and for a moment Chip worries he’s ruined it before Gillion’s eyes open, his pupils drawn to slits. There’s something almost animalistic in his gaze. Chip puffs hot air onto his mouth, seeming to snap Gillion out of his dazed state, flushing a deep blue.

“S-sorry,” he croaks. Chip licks his own lips for any trace of the other, not missing how Gillion’s eyes follow the motion. 

“You’re good. Ah, really good, actually.”

“Are you sure? I’m not– I don’t know what came over me, I–”

“It’s okay, dude. J-just be gentler, yeah?”

Gillion’s hands retract. Chip frowns. “You are okay with it, then?” 

Chip nods, desperate to feel the triton’s hands back on him. Gillion exhales a sigh of relief. He holds out his palms, as if asking for something. Chip tilts his head in confusion, giving him both hands, and a flustered looking smile makes its way onto Gillion’s face. He holds either of Chip’s hands in one of his own, fingers circling around his wrists and moving them to the side, using the other to cup Chip’s jaw and angle his head to allow him more access to his throat. 

“Tell me to stop.” Gillion murmurs, pressing his lips once more to Chip’s neck. Chip doesn’t.

Gillion is, indeed, more gentle this time, his mouth almost feather-light against the skin there, cautiously kissing and nipping down his neck before dropping to the junction between Chip’s jawline and his throat. He licks at the spot for a moment and seems to hesitate, his grip loosening. Chip tilts his head away, straining to give the other room, yearning to encourage Gillion further, yet his throat is too dry to form words, and his hands have been gently restrained by the other. He settles for a choked, almost pitiful whine. It works. 

Gillion bites down, not hard enough to break skin, but just enough pressure that Chip can feel his head whirl like a spinning top and the heat rise in his face. Gillion tugs with his teeth, testing the feel of Chip’s throat against his tongue, oblivious to how he’s unraveled the man below him. Chip pants into the golden air as Gillion leaves one last kiss against his pulse point and pulls away, resting his forehead against the other’s. Chip’s face is flushed, embarrassed by how worked up he had become over something so little, and Gillion laughs quietly. 

“You’re too much, Gillion Tidestrider.” Chip ekes out and frees one hand to grab Gillion’s face, squishing his cheeks together and pressing a quick, chaste kiss against his lips. 

Gillion’s vibrant grin is enough to rival that of the sun as he leans in again.

-

Chip felt as if he were melting as he sat up, his face positively beet-red as he brought a hand to cup over his burning neck, his entire body tingling as he regained awareness. Chip brought his tongue between his teeth and bit down, hard, trying to dispel the all-encompassing feeling of Gillion that still lingered subconsciously. It hurt. A lot. But at least he was awake.

The phantom sensation of lips soon faded, only to be replaced by a burning sense of shame and overwhelming guilt.

He felt dirty, nearly disgusted by himself and his own mind, for conjuring up such a dream. He tugged at the ends of his hair. It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t right of him to think of his co-captain like this, purposely or not. He could almost imagine Gillion’s expression of repulsion if he were to ever find out what truly ran through Chip’s head.

He always was asking for Chip to speak his mind– Chip almost laughed– how grossed out would he be if Chip were to obey? 

Chip bit down again, almost enough to taste iron. Awful. Gods, he was awful, wasn’t he? Painting these fucking fantasies in his head, making up these stories where Gillion played a starring role without his consent, a puppet made to bend to Chip’s twisted desires. Chip’s stomach twisted painfully. Horrible, gods, he was horrible. Friends didn’t feel like this. Friends didn’t think like this, nor should they, because who would want to be thought of that way by Chip? Behind his eyelids, Gillion’s face contorted into one of unease.

“ I’m sorry, Chip, ” he would say, because of course Gillion would apologize for something that wasn’t his fault– “ but I don’t think I can continue to sail with someone who sees me that way. ”

And then he would leave, slip back beneath the waters and return home– home , because of course the ship wasn’t his home. Gillion didn’t see the Albatross as home, like Chip did. Neither did Jay. To those two, the Albatross was merely a stepping stone for them to cross over on their way back to their real homes, their real families– because of course they didn’t see each other as family like Chip did. Of course this journey didn’t mean as much to them as it did to Chip.

Eventually, they would dock for the last time, waving goodbye and departing for the last time, leaving Chip behind the wheel by himself, watching his family disappear down the paths, the boat now empty without their presence. And Chip…

Chip couldn’t let that happen. Not yet, anyways. Not for a while. No, he had to hold on for just a bit longer, make sure Jay and Gillion stayed by his side for a bit longer. And for that to happen, he just needed to keep his mouth shut. He just needed to act as he always did; silly Chip, who always had some stupid plan that never worked, who always had some clever quip on the tip of his tongue, able to whip out some retort quicker than a switchblade. He just needed to act as though his heart didn’t do a backflip every time Gillion looked his way, to pretend like his gaze didn’t linger whenever Gillion laughed.

Luckily for him, he was one hell of a liar.

-

As the sun awoke, so did the rest of the crew, muttering sleepy greetings to one another as they shuffled about to attend to their daily duties. Gillion, however, was not among them. This was already rather odd; Gillion had always been an early riser, eager to embark on the next journey every morning as soon as possible. Chip and Jay would often find the triton already dressed and ready for the day a full hour before either of them got out of bed. But now, the man was nowhere to be found. His barrel was vacant and none of the crew had seen him since the night prior. 

Chip bit down the worry that rose in his mind. Gillion was fine– he knew how to take care of himself. But when even Jay began to look a bit panicked when the triton still didn’t show up for breakfast, Chip felt a pit of anxiety form in the bottom of his stomach. After scraping her plate clean , Jay dismissed herself to the crow’s nest to keep an eye out for him, hoping to gain some sort of height advantage. Chip, meanwhile, loitered around the main deck, idly messing around with ropes and lines, scanning the waters below every now and then and resisting the urge to dive in and search for Gillion.

Finally, after what felt like ages and the crew had begun debating the logistics of throwing an underwater search party, Jay let out a scream from the nest.

“It’s– fuck– Gillion! ” she shrieked, pointing with a shaking arm into the water. Chip wasted no time sprinting to the side of the ship, frantically trying to spot the man. Sure enough, there he was, floating on his back in the water being pelted by rain. On his chest, the accursed claw marks slowly oozed black ichor into the sea. His eyes were foggy, staring blearily into the cloudy skies. Chip began tugging off his boots, preparing to jump off and rescue his friend, but someone beat him to the chase.

From atop the crow’s nest, Jay hurled herself over the banister, magical wings sprouting from her back and allowing her just enough thrust to bring her over the water. She shut her wings against her sides and plunged into the icy sea below, spraying Chip and the rest of the crew that were straining themselves to look over the side. Chip fell backward in surprise, his boots laying forgotten next to him. For a brief, agonizing moment, it was completely silent. Not a single one of the pirates so much as breathed, as if they feared one inhale would have both Gillion and Jay lost to the waves forever. But finally, the two emerged, and they all exhaled in relief. The two captains were dragged back onto the ship and wrapped in blankets. Ollie held an umbrella over the two, straining to stay on his tip-toes before Gryffon took over for him.

Gillion’s gills flared as his chest heaved, as if his body couldn’t decide which method of breathing to use. Jay clung onto him, shaking out her feathers and allowing her water-logged wings to disappear. Queen gently pressed a rag against Gillion’s claw marks, humming nervously, while Earl shouted at the captains for their recklessness, concern evident in his voice. Even Drey was kneeled next to them, slapping his niece’s back to get the rest of the water out of her lungs.

But Chip…

Gillion tugged at Jay’s arm, his eyes clearing of fog as he came back to reality. “Jay–”

She shook her head furiously and held him tight, face pinched with a mix of anger and worry. “What happened?”

“It was the– the same dream. The same one as before.”

Both captains turned to look at Chip, and the rest of the crew followed their gaze. Seven pairs of eyes burned straight through Chip, scrutinizing and picking at his skin like vultures on a carcass. Chip’s own eyes darted from person to person, before landing on Gillion. His stomach turned over as they did.

Gillion looked scared. 

Chip pulled himself to his feet, picked up his discarded boots, and walked away, leaving his crew huddled together in the rain, watching his departure into the navigation room. He shut the door. He was not needed here.

Chip did not look at Gillion for the rest of the day, going out of his way to avoid the man entirely, just in case his presence were to bring up memories of the nightmare. It hurt, but Chip knew it was nothing compared to what Gillion was going through. He ignored the pang in his chest when he slipped out of the room for the millionth time that day. This was for Gillion’s sake, he reminded himself, as he poked at his dinner in the empty navigation room and shut out the sounds of the rest of the crew talking in the kitchen on the other side of the wall.

For Gillion’s sake, he reminded himself, as he traced a finger against the side of his neck.

For Gillion’s sake, he reminded himself, as he told Jay that he wanted to take first watch. 

“You sure? You always take the middle watch.” she crossed her arms.

“I’m sure! I guess I just don’t feel all that tired.” Chip answered, crossing his arms to mirror her. 

Jay gave him a skeptical glance and stared pointedly at the four empty cups of coffee on the table he had asked Earl to brew him earlier.

“Is this about earlier?” she swept her concerned gaze back onto him.

“No.” he lied.

“Is this about the dreams you’ve been having?”

Chip looked away. “No.” he lied again.

He heard Jay shuffle to place a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure if you were to tell him what’s been on your mind, you’d feel better.”

He looked back up at her and wrinkled his nose. “No. I’m not going to tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Because– because it would ruin everything.” Jay looked taken aback. Chip only continued. “After all this time, I’ve– we’ve gained his trust. We’re friends now, and that friendship means a lot to me. He means a lot to me. And I don’t want to ruin it. Even if he did feel– feel the same way, I don’t want anything to change.” he exhaled. “I don’t want us to change.”

When Jay looked at him, he only saw pity. 

“Chip…”

“I know it’s stupid. I know that better than anyone. But if I’m allowed to have anything in this godsforsaken world, I want to at least have you guys. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he shouldered past Jay. “I have to take first watch.”

If there was any threat to the Albatross as Chip sat at the bow, scanning the dark waters for any sign of life, he couldn’t see it. The rain beating down around him served as an impenetrable curtain, hindering both his sense of sight and his ability to hear. Gods, he hated the rain. Even after years on the sea, he still couldn’t stand storms. He knew Jay didn’t like them either– the unpredictable weather made it hard to navigate. 

Chip huffed, drumming his fingers on the wood next to him. He wondered if Gillion liked the rain. Chip realized he’d never actually asked him. Maybe the heavy rain would feel like being underwater to him? Maybe the roaring waves would be comforting rather than alarming?

Chip twisted in his seat to look at Gillion’s usual sparring area. He wanted to ask him. He wanted to know Gillion’s perspective. Maybe if Gillion liked the rain, Chip could learn to like it, too. Maybe Chip could learn to be a better friend at the same time. To be someone less selfish, less impulsive. To be someone who didn’t fantasize about the man that was meant to be his best friend and nothing more.

Chip buried his head in his hands. Gods, he wanted Gillion so bad. He wanted to hold him, to be held by him. He wanted to be someone that Gillion would spend the early hours of the morning with like in his dreams. He wanted to be someone whose mouth Gillion would beam into like in his dreams. He wanted to be someone worthy of Gillion, to be someone worthy of his gentle touch and caring words and overwhelming love. 

But, as Chip dug his nails into his scalp, he knew that he was barely someone worthy of merely standing next to the man. A thief, a bastard, a liar. He was, simply put, not enough. And the thought alone made his whole body ache. How cruel the universe was, to make a pirate fall for a prince.

How cruel the universe was, to make a pirate desire anything more than gold.

As he wallowed in self-pity and despair, something caught his eye.

Out over the water, a slim, yellow shape was battered by the rain, twisting to and fro like it was trying to escape the onslaught. Chip squinted, placing a hand against his brow to get a better look. He frowned in a mixture of confusion and surprise as he realized what it was; a kite, made of paper the color of goldenrod, a thin white string trailing behind it, buffeted by wind, unable to find a spot to land. Perhaps it had come from the mainland. Perhaps, somewhere on land, a child was mourning their lost toy. Something itched in the back of his head, like a memory struggling to come loose. As the kite rolled in the air, his mind flickered with familiarity– perhaps even deja vu. A kite, lost to the elements, just out of reach. 

Chip stood, balancing precariously as he walked to the tip of the bow, his foot sliding on the wood for a moment before he regained control. He held his hand out, straining his arm, urging his fingers to reach further, stretch, until finally—

Chip grabbed the kite, clutching the string firmly in his palm, and began to reel it in. Maybe he could take it back to his room, patch up the spots that had been torn by the weather. Maybe he could show Jay and Gillion what he had found, even teach them how to fly kites, because he was certain neither of them had ever done it before. Maybe he could rescue this kite, this children’s toy, this yellow, paper-thin naivete. 

But just before he could take the kite and tuck it into his pocket, he slipped. 

Chip plummeted off the bow of the ship down into the icy cold waters below, the breath knocked from his lungs as he made contact. Rough waves pushed and pulled at his body, a tiny pin drop in this vast ocean, insignificant and powerless in the face of the storm, a kite in the rain. The crashing waves threatened to overtake him, slamming over his head and pushing him down before shoving him back up, allowing him barely enough time to catch his breath. Saltwater flooded his nose and his mouth, overwhelming his senses with the taste of bitter water and the fury of the storm itself, soaked down to his very bones. The chill cramped his fingers and his legs, locking them in place with frigid shock, a statue lost amongst the current, rendering him unable to move. He spluttered helplessly, his eyes burning and bleary. He could barely make out the shape of the Albatross anymore. He couldn’t see the docks. He couldn’t find the kite. Peals of thunder and lightning echoed around him, barely breaking the sound of the raging waters terrorizing his ears. 

No matter how many times Chip nearly drowned, it never became any easier. Panic quite literally flooded his senses, unable to process anything but the water threatening to swallow him whole, clutching his ankles with cruel hands and trying to drag him into the deep, dark depths. He frantically swiped at the water, each attempted stroke more futile than the last, barely managing to keep his head above the water for more than a split second, and thought of a shattered boat gradually fading to nothingness as his vision failed him. He thought of a raging storm much like this one, blood red lightning like angry veins striking down as he held a pearl aloft. He thought of a spiraling sea monster opening its gaping maw, teeth wickedly sharp and larger than tree trunks. He thought of peaceful blue waters turned red with clouded blood floating to the surface, seafoam painted pink. 

How ironic it was; a pirate drowning in the very ocean he had called home for the majority of his life. The sea that had once served as his sanctuary and his means of life, now come to finish the job and see that Chip met the same fate as his old crew. A rather fitting death, he supposed bitterly, for one as pathetic as he. Just another life lost to the abyss. Just another casualty to be jotted down in a stupid fucking history book, if he was lucky enough to even be remembered. It wasn’t fair, but neither was the ocean. It wasn’t fair, but when had it ever been?

His head pounded. His arms screamed for rest. Chip allowed the waves to crash over his head once more. This time, he did not resist. He sank like a stone in a pond, watching bubbles escape up above him and the moon’s spotlight fade. The chill of the water faded from his senses, numbing his body. The sounds of the thunder faded. It was rather peaceful, now. It felt like watching the moon rise in the sky from the side of the boat, pressed up against Jay’s shoulder with Gillion close at his side. It felt like drinking a warm cup of tea, his chest rumbling as he hummed an old, forgotten tune. It felt like home. It felt like safety. 

Perhaps dying was not as painful as he had thought.

Chip closed his eyes and let the ocean steal him away like a lover’s embrace.

Chip

         let

                      go.

Something grabbed the back of his shirt, sharp claws grazing the back of his neck. Arms circled around his shoulders, but they did not belong to the sea; not anymore, at least. Chip felt a smile tug at his lips as the last of his consciousness faded. He should have known.

Chip passed out.

Chapter Text

Chip is on a cliff. It takes him a moment to adjust to the feeling of being on stable land, rather than the unsteady rocking of a ship upon the sea. He looks down, but clouds have concealed his view of the world below. Despite being so high up, there is no wind. The cliff is completely and utterly still. Not a single bird flies past, the grass is not swayed by a gentle breeze, and Chip is alone. There is no path down the cliff, and he is unsure of how he managed to get up here in the first place, but he feels remarkably at peace. His mind is unburdened by worries and stress. His body has never felt lighter, more nimble. He feels as if he were weightless. Chip sits down, and the unmoving grass is soft beneath him.

Chip plucks a daisy from the ground, twirling the stem between his forefinger and thumb. He wishes he had someone to show it to.

Chip looks up and sees Gillion standing at the edge of the cliff, his back turned to him. Chip calls his name, and the air fills with the smell of sulfur. 

Chip gags on the scent and watches as the daisy crumbles to dust in his hand. He blinks, and Gillion is gone.

The smell of sulfur still lingers.

-

Chip’s eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly, curling into himself as he coughed up water, his chest heaving as he greedily swallowed mouthfuls of air, choking on his own saliva. He clawed at his burning throat and his insides twisted violently as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor. His head was spinning, as if his brain remained back in the ocean, displaced from his body. Tears stung at his eyes as he choked on a sob, coughing and hacking up mucus and salt and pain. It tasted like blood. He clawed at the shirt that clung to his body, damp and heavy, desperate to remove it, the cloth itching at his skin and feeling like walls closing in on him, but his fingers couldn’t find purchase in the slippery fabric. His vision blurred as he panicked, each attempt at unbuttoning the shirt ending in failure. His head swam, overwhelmed and surrounded like a trapped animal, cornered, threatened, afraid, afraid, afraid. 

He wheezed, almost in agony, scrabbling at his shoulders. If he couldn’t get the shirt off he’d just have to tear his very arms from their sockets, he scratched and clawed and his blunt nails chewed down to stubs were slipping against each other, dull and useless and dead and and and–

A pair of clammy hands hooked underneath the shirt, yanking it open, sending the buttons skidding and skipping and rolling across the floor. The shirt dropped and the air of the captain’s quarters hit his chest. The stifling feeling of imprisonment dissipated like blood in water. 

“Breathe, Chip,” Gillion urged, his fingers resting on his collarbone. The human closed his eyes and obeyed. He breathed, in and out, coughing with every other inhale, and waited for his mind to settle. Gillion’s hands came to rub soothingly at his back, allowing the remnants of the seawater to dribble down his chin, grounding him. The pounding of his heart threatening to burst free from his ribcage slowed to a calmer pace. Chip dug his knuckles into the floor, the splintering wood pricking at his skin. He couldn’t bring himself to mind the sting of pain. It just reassured him that he was alive. Gillion’s tail cautiously laid itself over Chip’s ankle, his tail fin flicking against his pant leg. Chip opened his eyes again, taking in Gillion’s worried expression and the timid smile that grew as Chip’s face flickered with recognition. “There you are.” Gillion sighed in relief and used his thumb to rub at Chip’s chin, wiping away the drips of water. Chip leaned into the touch heavily like he had been starving for it, his whole body wrought with fatigue. He pressed his nose into the crook of Gillion’s neck, a silent request for more. Gillion answered without a word and tugged him closer, tucking Chip’s head beneath his chin. 

They rocked back and forth as Gillion hummed, smoothing down damp hair with deft fingers, shielding the brunette from the world. Chip exhaled shakily and tapped his thumb against the nape of Gillion’s neck. A soothing rumble began to emanate from within the triton’s throat.

“I’m sorry,” Chip mumbled, his voice muffled with shame as he seeked to bury himself further in his companion’s arms. “I'm a moron.” 

Gillion chuckled and shook his head. “Only sometimes.”

“You’re too nice to me.”

“There’s no such thing. You…” Gillion paused, seeming to be searching for the correct words. “You are very important to me, Chip. More than I can put into words.”

Chip ignored the way the tips of his ears burned at the phrasing of the sentence, kicking himself internally. “Even when I’m being a moron?”

“Even when you’re being a moron. But may I ask what led you to fall from the boat in the first place?”

Chip squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed. It was so, so stupid. He was stupid, for even trying it in the first place, for risking his life for a stupid fucking kite. 

“I saw something, over the water. It was a kite, kinda like the ones I used to fly when I was a kid.”

He almost expected Gillion to laugh at him for something so childish, but the man stayed quiet. Neither said anything for a few seconds.

“Gillion… you don’t know what a kite is, do you?”

“...No.”

Chip giggled, honest to gods giggled , drew away, sat next to him, and began to gesture. “Okay, okay, they’re like these toys that kids make out of paper in the summer that catch the wind and float around.”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, like birds.”

“Like…chickens?”

“Uh, not exactly, but that’s a whole other deal. Anyways, back on the Midnight Rose, Arlin taught us how to make some. Me and Lizzie, I mean. We’d run around the deck all day with them, and we’d try to knock each other’s kites down.”

“What did your kite look like?”

Chip poked his tongue between his teeth, searching through his memory. “It was a dragon, I think. Bright red. It took me forever to draw all the scales.” he chuckled, leaning back on his hands and staring up at the cabin ceiling as if he could find the kite within the wood grain. “I was so pissed when Lizzie knocked it into the ocean.”

“Did you ever get it back?” Gillion asked in a quiet voice, nudging him with his knee. Chip fell silent, blinking back down at his hands resting in his lap.

He thought of red paper being swallowed up by the waves, disappearing below the horizon line. He thought of crying to Arlin, pointing an accusatory finger at Elizabeth before sprinting away to the cargo hold. He thought of papercut palms and shaky hands as he tried to make a new one. He thought of a candle held up to his failed attempt, the flame licking at the paper, making the ends curl up and turn to ash.

Chip shook his head. “No. No, I didn’t.” Gillion made a noise of acknowledgement.

“And you saw this kite tonight?”

“Not the exact one, but. Yeah.”

“Would you like me to go back outside and look for it?” Gillion offered. Chip would have thought the absurd request was a joke if he didn’t see the complete sincerity in the man’s eyes. He let out a breathy laugh.

“Only you would offer to face a storm in order to find something silly like a kite,” he ruffled Gillion’s hair, earning himself a rather disgruntled look. “It’s alright. It’s probably gone by now, anyway.”

“I don’t think it’s silly,” Gillion murmured, so quiet Chip almost didn’t hear it.

Next to them, Jay shifted in her bed. A soft snore came out from the curtains concealing her. Ever the deep sleeper, Jay did not stir.

Gillion looked confused.

“Why were you taking Jay’s shift?”

Chip froze. “I– I just wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I just figured she could do with some more rest, y’know? Especially after today.”

Gillion’s eyes sharpened in suspicion. “You’re lying to me.”

“I–”

“Chip. What’s going on? Why did you take Jay’s shift?” Chip quivered underneath Gillion’s imploring gaze.

“I didn’t want to go to sleep.”

“Why?” Gillion crowded into his space.

“Because I didn’t want to, okay?!” Chip exclaimed, pushing him away and clutching his elbows. Gillion was quick to close the distance again. A damp, clawed hand reached up as Gillion cautiously swiped a thumb underneath Chip’s eye, tracing the dark circles.

“Chip, when was the last time you did sleep?”

Ah, shit. Chip furiously began to backpedal, trying in vain to regain control of the conversation. His mind felt fuzzy as Gillion practically cradled his face.

“Well, you see, I’m– ah– it’s not–”

Gillion furrowed his brows. “Not what , Chip? Not a big deal? Not important? You keep downplaying these kinds of things.”

Chip managed to lean forward and quickly get a few rushed words in. “ That’sbecausetheyaren’timportant! ”

It was meant to be reassuring. Gillion clearly did not take it that way.

“This! You always do this. You always try to dismiss issues like this like they– like they don’t matter ! But they do, Chip! They matter! You matter! ” Gillion held tight to Chip’s shoulders, looking him dead in the face. “You matter,” he repeated, quieter this time, “And I shall repeat it over and over if that is what it takes, until you start believing it, too.”

Chip laughed nervously. It was not funny. It really, really wasn’t, but he couldn’t think of any other way to respond. He floundered around helplessly, like a part of him was still lost at sea.

“Why haven’t you been sleeping?”

“It’s just– I’ve been having dreams lately.”

“As in nightmares? Has the curse returned?”

Chip shook his head. He almost laughed again at how similar the conversation was to the one he had with Jay. One look at Gillion’s concerned face quickly made him hold it back. “Nah, nah. Not nightmares, just dreams.”

“Would you mind telling me what they’re about?” Gillion requested innocently, gently, so gently, tilting his head ever so slightly. He rubbed one of Chip’s shoulders unconsciously, and Chip’s skin burned at the contact.

And for a moment, he considered. Considered telling Gillion exactly what he had told Jay, telling him exactly who had been haunting his sleep for the past week, tell him how even hours after waking, he could still feel the phantom press of Gillion’s lips against his own. Chip’s heart burned in his chest, begging to be released. He promptly told it to shut the fuck up.

“I…I can’t,” Chip apologized, though quickly continued at the sight of Gillion’s crestfallen face. “Not yet, anyways. I’m still figuring them out myself.”

“In that case…soon?” 

Chip swallowed his traitorous heart back down. It felt heavy in his throat. “Maybe.”

Gillion nodded in understanding. “For now, I suggest you rest. You should regain your strength.” he assisted Chip to his feet. Chip stumbled a bit, his legs shaking, still exhausted from the desperate struggle in the water. Gillion guided him over to his hammock. “Goodnight, Chip.”

Chip responded with a noncommittal grunt and crawled into it, sinking down into it. He sighed as Gillion walked back to his barrel.

He tried for a long while to fall asleep, even though his mind pleaded with him to stay awake, to avoid the dreams for a little bit longer. But as the hammock rocked back and forth, Chip was back in the ocean again, playing victim to the cruel waves. He sat up and tugged at the ends of his hair.

“Fuck,” he hissed. Gillion stirred in his barrel, lifting the lid to peek out at him.

“Is something wrong?”

“Nope, nope, everything is totally cool. It’s fine.” Chip waved dismissively. The triton ignored him and climbed out.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping, but do you think it would help if we slept next to each other?”

“I-it’s fine, Gill, really. Just getting in my own head, or whatever.”

“Well,” Gillion began. “I am finding it rather difficult to sleep. It might help ward some of my nightmares away if you were by my side.”

Chip knew what he was doing; Gillion was not slick. He knew that Chip would be faster to help Gillion than he would himself. Even so, Chip nodded bashfully. 

“Yeah. Yeah. C’mere, man, we can share.”

The hammock dipped as Gillion joined him, his broader build framing Chip’s thinner one. It was a tight squeeze, and the hammock was in no way built for two grown men (so much so that Chip was almost afraid that the hook supporting it would snap and drop them both to the floor), but Gillion’s sleepy smile made the near claustrophobia worth it.

Gillion slung a muscular arm over Chip’s waist and rested his forehead against the human’s collarbone.

“‘Night, Gill,” Chip whispered, daring to drag his fingers through Gillion’s dripping hair. There was no response as Gillion’s breath grew slower, drifting off. Chip huffed affectionately and allowed himself to follow suit.

-

Chip awoke not to the sound of silence that he had grown accustomed to whenever he slept in late, but to a loud, familiar snoring in his ear. Blinking his eyes open and squinting at the light pouring in through the porthole window, he took in the man next to him. Gillion was all but falling out of the hammock, his tail and the entire left half of his body practically touching the ground as the hammock dipped precariously to support him. His leg was slung over Chip’s thighs, and his arm was over Chip’s chest, his elbow dangerously close to Chip’s jugular. He was splayed out like a starfish and he looked a mess, far from the Undersea’s prophesied, gallant hero. Instead, he looked, well, human– (not literally, but rather in the sense of vulnerability, Chip supposed). He looked mortal, real. In this space between reality and rest, Gillion was not a legend, nor a savior. He was just Gill. Chip’s heart squeezed affectionately, almost painfully, though that could just have been Gillion’s heavy arm crushing him.

The sunlight made Gillion look as though he were glowing, reflecting off of his scales and delicately caressing his face. His hair was soft and silky underneath Chip’s fingers, though the ends had clumped up a bit where they had dried funny. He smelled of seawater and the lemon soap the crew had used for laundry. As their chests rose and fell rhythmically, their breathing almost synchronized, Chip couldn’t help but feel like this child of the moon had instead been made for the sun.

A snort of amusement tore him back into reality. Jay was standing in the doorway to the captain’s quarters, a toothbrush in her mouth.

“‘Ou ‘uys are sho cute,” she giggled between a mouthful of toothpaste. Chip glared at her.

“Not a word.”

She only smiled. “No promishes.”

“If I could move right now, I’d kick your ass.”

“I’d ‘ike to shee ‘ou try,” Jay challenged. Chip snatched a boot from the floor and flung it in her general direction, though his aim was hindered from being underneath the two hundred pounds of solid muscle that was his co-captain. The boot collided with the wall just above Jay’s head. She squeaked in alarm and escaped through the door, shutting it behind her.

Gillion groaned a bit at the sound, shuffling and twisting to get comfortable. This resulted in Gillion smacking Chip in the face with a webbed hand. Chip spluttered at the man’s naturally damp skin and tried to shove the hand away from him, only for Gillion to resist. Chip tried to sit up but was pinned underneath the triton. Not yet ready to resign to his fate, Chip twisted his head to the side to escape Gillion’s salty palm and elbowed the man. Despite being dead asleep, Gillion refused to budge. As Chip struggled and fought for space with the unconscious man, the support hook that had been jammed into the ceiling began to creak. Chip glanced up in horror as the hook snapped and the hammock fell. Chip winced as he and Gillion slammed against the ground.

Gillion sat up abruptly like he was spring loaded, exclaiming his own name like he did when he was preparing for battle. Chip groaned.

“Dude.”

“Oh, good morning, Chip!” Gillion, somehow wide awake suddenly, smiled toothily at him. Chip might have found it endearing if he couldn’t feel a bruise rapidly forming on his tailbone.

“You’re in a good mood for someone who just broke my hammock.”

Gillion looked down at what remained of the hammock in surprise as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Ah. My apologies, Chip. I suppose I am not used to sleeping outside of my barrel.”

“Eh, it was a shitty hammock, anyways. I guess I’ll just sleep on the cot until I can make Jay fix it.” Chip stood up and stretched, his bones popping as he did so. “How did you sleep, though? Any nightmares?”

Gillion stood as well and immediately began doing squats as he responded. “No, actually. It was a completely dreamless night. And you?”

Chip thought for a moment, tracing the floor with his toe. He hadn’t. A completely mundane, normal sleep, with no fish men terrorizing his subconscious with their muscular arms and soft lips and gentle hands. “None here,” Chip yawned.

“Excellent! Perhaps we should sleep together more often?”

Chip choked on the yawn and started coughing again. “Ah, m-maybe!” his voice cracked on the word. Gillion slapped him on the back and he almost fell over.

“Then we have a deal! Tonight, we shall sleep on the cot together, yes? I’m glad we could find a solution to both of our situations.”

Chip wheezed in reluctant agreement.

-

The rain only continued to pour, much to Chip’s dismay. As pleasant and colorful as Kalo was, he could feel himself beginning to go stir crazy– and, as he looked around at his crewmates, he suspected they were, too. Jay was up in the crow’s nest, muttering to herself while she deconstructed an old mechanical crank she had found. Gillion slashed his sword through an invisible enemy, shouting his name with considerably less gusto than usual. Even Pretzel had gotten bored of playing chess by now. It seemed as though she had made a game with Ollie by opening her mouth up to catch as much rainwater as she could before it spilled.

The crew’s morale was low, that much was apparent. Chip nodded determinedly to himself. He had to be the one to solve this conundrum. It was his destiny, as Gillion might have said.

“Jay. Jaaaay. Jay-Jay,” Chip poked at Jay’s ribs, where he knew she was ticklish. Jay raised up her wrench threateningly. “Okay, okay, sorry!” he shielded his face with his arms.

Jay sighed heavily. “What do you want, Chip? I’m busy.”

“Yes, I know that you’re really busy breaking your little handle or whatever,” 

“It’s a crank–” she corrected.

“Crank, handle, doesn’t matter. Anyways, I had an idea.” he cut her off.

“Uh-huh.”

“I was thinking that we, as a crew, could all pick up a hobby to tide us over while we wait for the storm to end!”

“Mhm.”

“I think I saw, like, a store on the way to the carpenter’s the other day, you know, the one with the pink awning? Anyways, it’s an arts and crafts shop, and– hey, are you even listening?”

Jay gave him an unimpressed look. “Chip, get to the point, please.”

Chip puffed out his chest in defiance. “You know what? I won’t tell you, actually! It’s a surprise.”

“Right. Have fun, then.” Jay turned back to the crank-handle-thing.

“I will! ” Chip began to climb back down the ladder. He popped his head back up a second later. “Actually, I kiiiiind of need some gold for it, ‘cuz I’m all out.” Chip gave her his best puppy eyes. 

Jay whacked him with her wrench.

-

Chip walked down the street with an umbrella in one hand and the other rubbing his sore nose. “She didn’t have to hit me that hard,” he grumbled to himself. Thankfully, he had managed to scrounge up a couple of loose coins after rummaging through his sock drawer, which now clinked against each other satisfyingly in his pocket. The novelty of the colorful markets had long since worn off on him, and the overly cheerful greetings of the shopkeepers and merchants now only served to annoy him. 

That same gaggle of kids bundled up in colorful little raincoats ran around the square again, kicking a ball between them and splashing up puddles of muddy water onto each other, shrieking with laughter. One of the children, a tiefling in a yellow raincoat with blue polka dots, kicked the ball a bit too hard and sent it rolling away past Chip. The child ran after it, bumping into Chip on the way.

“Sorry, mister!” they called over their shoulder and ran the rest of the way to grab the ball. Chip shrugged and continued his trek to the shop with the pink awning, spinning the umbrella in his palm and whistling a little tune that Queen had gotten stuck in his head.

As he reached for the shop handle, however, the door opened, quickly and suddenly enough that Chip didn’t have enough time to react before it knocked against his nose. He groaned in pain, opening his mouth to yell at the stranger to be more careful, only to come face to face with Gillion, holding a large paper bag, stuffed nearly to bursting.

Gillion looked just as surprised to see Chip as Chip was to see him.

“Oh, hey, Gill. What are you doing here?” 

“Uh.” Gillion’s pupils had contracted to slits. Chip glanced down at the bag he held.

“Whatcha got there?”

Gillion threw his arm over the opening to hide the contents from view. Chip raised a brow at him, baffled. They stared at each other for another fourteen seconds (Chip counted) like they were in a standoff, waiting for the other to make the next move. It was Gillion who made it, ducking between Chip and the door, squeezing past him and making a break for it. His bare feet slapped against the wet cobblestone as he sprinted away, impossibly fast.

“I’M SORRY CHIP! I’LL TELL YOU LATERRRR!” Gillion yelled, his voice fading into the distance. Chip scratched the back of his neck.

“He’s so weird,” he commented, ignoring how it sounded a bit too affectionate. He shrugged and turned to go into the store, reaching into his pocket to grab the coins. His fingers went right through the bottom, almost if a blade had slashed through his coat pockets. Chip turned to look back at the market square.

The kids were gone.

“God fucking damnit,” he whispered.

Chip of the Riptide Pirates had been pickpocketed– and by a child, no less. What had the world come to?

-

Tracking down the kids was, thankfully, pretty easy. Being children they hadn’t yet learned the best way to cover up their tracks, though it was clear they had tried, if the mess of footprints leading into random directions and then disappearing told him anything. He would give the little thieves one thing, though– he thought as a branch slapped him in the face– they sure as shit knew how to pick a hideout!

After retrieving the stolen gold from where the kids were huddled in the hollow of an old oak tree (scaring a couple of nine-year olds was pretty easy), he was exhausted and disappointed. Not only were his muscles sore from walking through a dense forest filled with low hanging branches, but he had failed to buy art supplies for the crew. By the time he had returned to the crafts shop he was only met by the wooden sign being flipped to read ‘closed’. And so, he trudged back to the Albatross, with his hands empty and in need of a new coat.

When he clambered back up the side of the ship it was safe to say he was feeling, well, a little shitty. Looking for some sympathy, and maybe someone to complain to, Chip threw open the door to the dining room. Jay and Gillion sat at the end of the table with their backs turned to him, heads bowed close as they spoke in hushed words. As the door smacked roughly against the adjacent wall their heads shot up, alarmed.

“Chip! You’re back!” Jay exclaimed and stood, angling her body to hide whatever was on the table.

“Uh, yeah?” Chip craned his neck to try to look past her, only for Gillion to stand as well, resting an arm on Jay’s shoulder and blocking the rest of Chip’s view.

“Incredible! You, here, on the ship, in this room! With Jay and I!” he laughed nervously, voice a little too loud. Jay elbowed him.

“What Gill meant to say was that we’re so happy you’re home because, ah,” Jay tapped her foot for a second. “Because we need you to go clean the sleeping quarters!” This time it was Gillion’s turn to elbow Jay. He shook his head vehemently at her, swiping his hand across his throat multiple times. “Shit! Sorry, we need you to… organize the cargo hold?” she looked back at Gillion for confirmation, who gave her a thumbs up.

“What? I thought Earl already did that last–” Chip was cut off as Jay spun him around by the shoulders, pushing him out the door.

“Thanks so much, Chip! Gohavefunloveyouokaybye!”

And the door slammed closed behind him, leaving a befuddled Chip in the incessant rain. He sighed and trudged down to the cargo hold. Maybe he could complain to the crates and boxes instead.

As he pushed a crate twice his size across the floor (seriously, he had no idea how the old man did this by himself) he began thinking– which usually was a mistake, he had come to realize as of late. What could possibly be so important that the other two felt the need to keep it from him? Chip was great at keeping secrets! That was, like, his whole thing! He huffed and sat down on the crate, chin resting in one of his hands. He gasped.

What if Jay was telling Gillion about Chip’s dreams? Spilling his secrets after Chip had poured his heart out to her. What a cruel joke.

Chip dismissed the thought immediately. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Jay would never do that.

Maybe they were just talking shit about him behind his back? It wasn’t much better, but it was preferable. Something thumped above, followed by a string of colorful cursing and some boisterous laughter. Chip shook his head. Unlikely.

…Probably.

“But like, what if? Nah.” he muttered to himself. 

By the time he had exited the cargo hold, he had come up with several other possibilities. His current running theory was that Jay and Gillion were having a secret love affair. He tried not to think about how that made him feel, though it only seemed to result in him thinking about it. He supposed that Gillion and Jay had more in common with each other than he did– both were disgraced high-ranking warriors of some kind that had fled from home for one reason or another, and both had older sisters (some more alive than others). Even so, as Chip scratched the back of his neck, deep in thought, the defense was flimsy at best. Chip had seen the way Jay looked at Lizzie, and it was nothing like how she looked at Gillion. He was pretty confident that Jay didn’t think of Gillion like that.

But could the same be said for Gillion? Chip bit his nails and began pacing. Things like romance had always been a mystery when it came to Gillion. Maybe it was different in the Undersea? In a brief lapse of judgement and morality, Chip considered looking at Finn’s book. He shook his head fiercely, gagging a little. Maybe he’d just save that as a last resort. Chip huffed to himself. He could feel the beginnings of a headache start to cloud around in his skull, matching the storm clouds outside. It didn’t matter. Gillion could have a secret love affair with whoever he wanted. It didn’t matter. 

Chip chanted these words to himself for the rest of the day. It doesn’t matter, he thought, as he sat hunched over his dinner. It doesn’t matter, he thought, as he exchanged goodnights with the others. It doesn’t matter, he thought, as he crawled drowsily into the unfamiliar cot.

It doesn’t matter, he thought, as Gillion climbed in after him.

It might matter , he thought, as Gillion assumed the same position as last night, holding him closely and pressing his cold nose into Chip’s collarbone.

When Chip woke up the following morning in an empty cot and empty arms, he couldn’t seem to continue his mantra anymore.

-

The day followed a similar pattern to the previous one. Chip would go about his normal captainly duties, occasionally trying to spark up a conversation with Jay or Gillion, only for them to make a flimsy excuse and hastily exit the room. Normally Chip wouldn’t have an issue with secrets; for people like them, it was only natural, but he was beginning to feel antsy the more the other two avoided him. They were clearly hiding something, and he was pretty sure it was about him. Finally, he managed to corner Gillion.

Chip had been messing around with Pretzel, chucking a few pieces of bread into her mouth from increasing distances, when he noticed Gillion slinking out of the kitchen. The man was far from stealthy– even with his armor retracted into a sleeker form, he still clunked around heavily, and he had a rather large presence about him that was difficult to conceal no matter how sneaky he was. Chip paused his game, earning him a grumpy look from Pretzel, and watched as Gillion crept around the edge of the ship, low to the ground. He hadn’t spotted Chip yet, the human hidden from view by the foremast, and Chip used the element of surprise to his advantage.

As Gillion reached into his pocket, Chip sprung out of cover.

“Gill, hey!” He greeted cheerfully. Gillion practically jumped out of his skin.

“Chip!! Hello!” Gillion turned to him, a guilty look on his face.

“What’s up, man? It feels like it’s been a sec since we last talked.” Chip took a step forward. Gillion took a step back.

“You’re right. And I would love to catch up some other time, but I have something I really need to take care of first–”

Another step forward. Another step backward.

“Really? I was kinda hoping we could talk now .”

Gillion had his back against the ship’s banister, cornered. If the man wasn’t naturally moist, Chip was sure he would be sweating right now. “Are you sure?” he squeaked. Chip nodded.

“You and Jay have been hiding something from me. I wanna know what it is.”

“Pffft. Whaaaat? Jay and I, hiding? What could we possibly wish to conceal from you?” Gillion avoided his gaze. Pretzel climbed onto Chip’s shoulder and the two shared a suspicious look.

“Are you conspiring against me?”

That got Gillion to look at him. “What? Chip, we’re not conspiring. Why would we do that?”

Chip threw his arms in the air. “I dunno! You tell me!”

Gillion tilted his head pensively. “I can’t tell you. I promised Jay I wouldn’t.” Chip groaned, glaring at him. “ But, I can promise you that it isn’t anything bad. We wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You know I can’t lie, Chip.”

“Isn’t that basically lying, then? Like what happened with Edyn?” Chip challenged. Gillion flinched.

“I know how it sounds, and I’m for that, I’m sorry. If it is any recompense, I can tell you something else…?”

Chip nodded reluctantly.

“Right. Well. I had hoped to do this at a better time, but it never seemed to come up. After my nightmare, about the labyrinth, I lashed out at you, and that was wrong. You were only trying to help, and I pushed you away.” Gillion took a deep breath. “The truth is, Chip, I am afraid. Afraid that I’ll hurt you or Jay again. Afraid that I won’t be there to protect you from other things that try to hurt you. And I know that you two are strong– perhaps stronger than I’ll ever be, in some ways, but I still feel as if it’s my duty to be your shield. I have sworn it, and therefore I must follow it.” he looked out onto the waters with a wistful expression. “And so, I train to protect you from monsters,” Gillion looked back at Chip, eyes piercing. “And I push you away to protect you from me.”

Chip felt his heart crumble. “Shit, dude,” he began, less than eloquently. “If I’d known you felt like that, I– man, I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?”

“I’m sorry that we’ve made you feel like that. Like you have to protect us.”

Gillion’s face contorted into one of confusion. “But I do. It’s my duty.” Chip laughed and placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders.

“Gill, Gill, Gill– you know what else is your duty? Not as a chosen one or whatever, but as a captain.” he shook him gently. “It’s to rely on us, buddy! We’re crew, we watch out for each other. We have each other’s back. When one of us goes down, we all do– and when one of us draws their weapon, so do the rest of us! That’s what it means to be a crew.”

Gillion looked positively appalled, as if the idea had never even crossed his mind before. “But–”

“Ah-ah-ah! Listen to me. Get out of that head of yours for a moment, and just hear what I have to say. You don’t need to carry this burden alone. You don’t need to be alone, because we’re here, and that’s not gonna change any time soon.” 

Chip tried to pour every ounce of sincerity into his voice, hoping to get through Gillion’s thick skull. And, as Gillion’s face crumbled with relief, it looked like he did. The triton lurched forward and Chip hugged him tight against his chest, rubbing his palm up and down his back as he did, something he knew Gillion liked.

Gillion huffed into his neck, arms limp at his sides, and breathed. Chip let him.

“Thank you.”

Chip shook his head, though he knew Gillion couldn’t see it. “Any time, man. Besides, I owe you for saving me after I almost drowned.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Ever.”

“Then how ‘bout we just say we’re even?” Chip squeezed him again and, for a traitorous moment, considered spilling his own dreams right there and then. Instead, Chip leaned down and gently kissed the top of Gillion’s head. He pulled back quickly, face burning. If Gillion noticed it, he didn’t say anything, only sighed peacefully.

 As Chip’s heart ran in celebratory circles in his head, he noticed that the rain had finally stopped. Up in the sky, as the grey clouds began to part, rays of sunlight poured through the gaps, lighting a sun-hungry ship with golds and yellows. But Chip didn’t bask in the storm’s passing or delight in the sun’s return. The man in his arms was more than enough for him at this moment.

Chapter Text

The entire crew cheered as the anchor was hoisted out of the waters and the ship began to move, expertly steered between the tight cluster of small islands and out onto the open sea. Kalo grew smaller as the Albatross’ sails caught the wind, before disappearing entirely behind the shimmering horizon. The sea breeze swirled around, playing with the crew’s hair joyfully like it, too, had missed them, welcoming their return with open arms. Up at the helm Jay shouted orders to the others, signaling with her hands the best route to Zero. Chip, in all the chaos of the past week, had nearly forgotten they actually had a destination in mind. Ollie looked the most excited out of all of them, informing anyone who would listen of all the friends he’d impress with his pirate stories. Chip made sure to ruffle his hair extra to disguise his dismay at the thought of saying goodbye to the kid.

“Nice to be moving again, huh?” Jay slung an arm over Chip’s shoulder as he came to join her at the helm. Gryffon nodded a greeting to him.

“Yep. Thought I was gonna go crazy.”

“What, you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life on Kalo? Could’ve fooled me.”

Chip yawned loudly in lieu of a response. Jay smacked his shoulder and complained about his breath. The two enjoyed each other’s company in silence for a bit longer, and Chip felt his gaze drift down to Gillion’s usual training spot, now vacant.

“So what’s up with you and Gill?”

“Hm?” Jay looked back at him, distracted. “What do you mean?”

Chip regretted speaking almost immediately. “It’s nothing, nevermind. You just– you ‘n Gill have been kind of avoiding me lately?” Jay opened her mouth and Chip quickly cut her off, waving his hands. “And that’s fine! Like, I get if you guys need a break from me or something–”

Jay laughed. Chip frowned. Jay stopped laughing and looked at him with alarm. “Wait, you seriously think that?” He didn't say anything. “Aw, Chip. It isn’t like that, I swear.”

“Then what is it like? You guys have been acting all shady.”

“I can’t–”

“Can’t tell me? That’s the same thing Gillion said!” he ran his hands through his hair, groaning in frustration.

“And I swear we’ll tell you soon! Seriously!” Jay assured. “Just not yet.”

“Not yet,” Chip echoed. “But when?”

Jay pulled him against her side. “Soon,” she comforted. “We’ll tell you soon.”

Chip nodded reluctantly. It wasn’t much, but it’d have to do for now. He sighed and watched the tides part as the Albatross sailed on.

Dinner was rowdy and full of cheer as the crew dug into their rations, hardly even minding the dry-tasting food. Earl had even broken out some of his alcohol stash, and many of them now nursed a large tankard of rum; though only a couple actually managed to swallow the potent brew.

“Fucking hell, Earl! What did you put in this stuff?” Chip stuck out his tongue, peering into his tankard. Next to him, Jay was well into her second round, her face beet-red from the alcohol. 

“Old family recipe!” the old man declared, pouring out a refill for Gryffon, who looked similarly shit-faced. 

“Come on, you have to have something better back there.” Chip complained.

“You bet I do, but it’s off-limits. Drink up, bitch! This is the best you’re gonna get!” Earl stepped over Queen’s legs, who was passed out on the floor, and hobbled into the pantry, slamming it closed behind him. Chip groaned and took another swig of his tankard, promptly regretting it.

“Blegh. Gill…!” he called in a sing-song voice. “Gill, buddy, can you make this taste better?” He placed a hand on the triton’s shoulder. Gillion turned to him, his face suddenly very close. Chip wheeled backward. Maybe he was more drunk than he thought.

“How? I’m not a bartender.” Gillion’s tankard was empty, though he showed no signs of intoxication.

“Right, right. Wrong Tidestrider,” Chip waved a hand. Gillion seemed uncomfortable upon the mention of his sister. “Ah, sorry,” Chip rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, quickly trying to drop the tense subject. “Anyways, we’ve got a lot to do tomorrow! You wanna hit the sack?”

“The what?”

“I mean, you wanna go to sleep?”

“Oh. Sure.”

It seemed as though the rest of the crew had a similar idea. Jay was now snoring softly, her tankard left forgotten on the table she lay slumped over. Gryffon bent down to pick up Queen, nodding in farewell to the other two as he left, presumably to tuck her in. Oliver had given Chip a quick hug before slipping away. Earl came out of the pantry and followed shortly after, jamming a finger into Gillion’s chest and making him promise to clean up the kitchen in the morning. But as Chip began to walk away, he hovered in the doorway.

“Hey, Gill?” a smirk made its way onto his face. Gillion looked up as he placed a blanket over Jay. “I’m still kinda thirsty.”

“There’s plenty of rum left if you’d like.”

“Yeah, I’ll pass. That stuff tastes awful.” Chip closed the kitchen door and strode over to the pantry. “But you know what doesn’t taste awful? Hopefully?” He opened the pantry door with a dramatic flourish. “Earl’s secret stash.”

Gillion did not look impressed. Chip peeked inside, worrying for a brief moment that his dramatic flourish had been wasted on an empty closet. Thankfully, on the highest shelf was a brown colored bottle with a golden label around the neck. He motioned Gillion over. “Give me a boost?”

Gillion sighed. “If you insist,” he linked his hands together at waist height, allowing Chip to step on and gain enough height to grab the mystery bottle.

“Why is it even on the highest shelf? Earl’s like, three feet tall. There’s no way he can reach that.” Chip commented as he was lowered back down, bottle in hand. Gillion shrugged.

“Presentation, maybe?”

“Eh, doesn’t matter. C’mon, we can drink this in the crow’s nest.” Chip kicked the door closed, whistling in admiration at the fancy label. “‘Orange whiskey’,” he reads. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

“Are you sure he wouldn’t mind us taking this?” Gillion frowned, looking back at the closed pantry.

“Eh, who’s to say? I’m drinking it anyway.” Chip reached for the doorknob to exit the kitchen.

Plink. 

Chip cringed, earning him a strange look from Gillion. “Are you alright?”

“Ah, yeah. There’s just a stupid leak that’s been bothering me. Don’t worry about it. Come on, I wanna try this stuff.” Chip waved dismissively and opened the door for Gillion and followed him up the ladder with a spring in his step, invigorated by their miniature heist.

The two sat down in the crow’s nest and allowed a brief pause as Chip struggled to open the bottle. He popped the cork off, careful to not spill any, and sniffed the opening. The smell was strong enough that Chip could almost taste it; bitter orange whiskey, the taste of citrus already heavy on his tongue. He wrinkled his nose.

“Bottoms up,” he declared, and took a large swig. It wasn’t much better than the rum, and the liquid felt like fire running down his throat, but he went for another sip. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and offered Gillion the bottle. “Want some? It’s not horrible.”

Gillion nodded and took a much smaller drink of the whiskey, cringing a bit at the taste. Chip watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed it. He looked away, the back of his neck heating up. Gillion passed the bottle back, and they continued silently drinking in a sort of pattern. Chip would take a swig, Gillion would have a sip, and the pattern repeated, only sparing a few words to remark at the day’s events or the taste.

Eventually, only a few sips of the bottle remained. The coppery liquid swirled around in the dark bottle. Chip placed it down, hiccupping a bit, his face red. Gillion, at least compared to Chip, looked largely unaffected. 

The ship around them was dark, save for a single lantern above the door to the captain’s quarters. A thin line of gold severed the space between the sky and the sea, and Chip realized with drunken surprise that they had stayed out much longer than he had realized. He didn’t bother trying to stand up, however, and merely leaned into Gillion’s side.

“‘S nice,” Chip slurred, earning a nod from Gillion. “I like hangin’ out with you.”

The triton smiled. “I like hanging out with you too, Chip!” 

Chip groaned at this, pulling back to headbutt Gillion’s shoulder lightly. “‘S not the same. You don’ like hangin’ out with me like I do with you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do! You’re not the one havin’ weird dreams ‘bout–,” Chip looked up again, frowning deeply and bringing his hands up to tug at Gillion’s cheeks. “‘Bout you an’ your stupid, pretty face. An’ your big freakin’ smile,” he squeezed Gillion’s bicep. “An’ your fuckin’ arms, man. Shit,”

Chip dropped his hands and leaned back on his palms, squinting at him. “You drive me crazy, Tidestrider.”

Gillion’s eyes widened with something Chip couldn’t discern. “You dream about me?”

Chip snatched the bottle of whiskey again, popped off the cork, and chugged the rest of it, his throat burning just as hot as his cheeks were. “No! Wait, I’m not s’posed to lie to you. Yes. Like, every night. Can’t stand it.” he stuck his tongue out to catch a drop of the whiskey he had missed on the corner of his mouth. Gillion looked a bit bluer than usual.

“What happens in the dreams?”

“Ughh! Not s’posed to tell you!”

“Why not?”

“‘Cuz it’s embarrassing. I jus’ can’t tell you.” Chip giggled. “I sound like you an’ Jay. How’s it feel to have a secret kept ‘bout you?” 

A sigh. “Chip…”

“Sorry.” Chip apologized and rested his head on Gillion’s shoulder again. His eyelids felt heavy, falling closed every now and then before snapping back open as Chip clung to consciousness. Why was he still awake, anyhow? His mind was torn; half ready to sleep for the night, the other half begging him to stay out a bit longer, to soak up this moment by Gillion’s side.

“Hey, Gill?”

“Yes, Chip?”

Chip tugged gently at the tight fabric of Gillion’s sleeveless shirt as he pieced together his clumsy words. “How’d you find me that night? When I almost drowned, I mean.” he could feel Gillion’s breathing stutter underneath him.

“I was looking for you,” he began, his voice slow and cautious. “But when I saw your hammock was empty, I assumed the worst. And when I looked overboard, I saw you.” 

Chip hummed. “Oh. Okay,” he closed his eyes. “‘M glad you found me.”

Gillion shifted, tucking an arm around Chip’s shoulder. Chip felt something touch his forehead. If he squeezed his eyes tight enough, he could pretend it was Gillion’s lips.

“I’m glad I did, too.”

-

Chip woke with a killer headache, a sore neck, and at least thirty feet in the air. He squawked in alarm, allowing himself a moment to panic before he fully came to his senses and realized that he was in the crow’s nest. Next to him, Gillion grumbled, lightly whacking Chip with his tail. Chip sighed in relief and relaxed back into Gillion’s side, resting his head on the man’s shoulder and– wait a minute, why was he in the crow’s nest? He sat up again and cringed as his head pounded. He rubbed the back of his skull to ease some of the pain. Gillion whined, eyes still closed as one of his hands fumbled around, searching for something. It landed on Chip’s ankle and Gillion huffed, unsatisfied, before tugging him closer. Gillion rested his cheek on Chip’s chest and smiled in his sleep.

Chip looked down at the man, appalled, and, amidst his brain fog, desperately tried to recall what had happened last night. He remembered making up with Gillion, obviously, and leaving the island. What was after that? He had a piece of toast for lunch. Not important, but it was pretty good toast. Then…

He leaned his head back against the banister. The bell dinged softly as the breeze picked up. Next to him, a brown bottle with a golden label rolled back and forth with the wind. He remembered sneaking it out of the pantry, then climbing up and drinking it with Gillion. And then–

The bottle rolled off the ledge, falling thirty feet down and smashing against the deck. Even up in the crow’s nest, Chip could hear it.

“Oh, fuck .” 

Gillion yawned widely, seemingly roused by Chip’s exclamation. Chip silently wished he was anywhere else besides underneath his best friend as Gillion blinked awake.

His head rose from his pillow (coincidentally, Chip’s chest), but rather than darting away like Chip had expected him to, Gillion instead smiled warmly at him. “Good morning.”

“Uhhh,” Chip said. “‘Sup?”

Gillion sat up fully, raising his muscular arms over his head and stretching. Chip swallowed and rubbed at his sore neck, looking away. 

“Is something wrong?”

Chip looked back up. Gillion crouched down in front of him, one of his hands settling on the side of Chip’s neck. Chip’s brain lagged behind his mouth.

“Yeah! I mean, no, all good here. Just a bit–”

Gillion ignored his awkward rambling and angled Chip’s head to the side to get a closer look at his neck. Chip bit his lip to stifle an embarrassing sound from being maneuvered so smoothly.

Gillion turned his head the other way and Chip wheezed. Holy shit, Gillion was fucking manhandling him. And he didn’t exactly hate it.

“I don’t see any injuries.”

“Really? Who would've thunk?” he squeaked at the way Gillion’s fingers grazed over his throat. 

“What's causing your pain?” Gillion sat back on his heels, though he didn't remove his hands from the nape of Chip’s neck. Chip shivered.

“Hangover,” he answered simply, face red with embarrassment. 

Gillion tilted his head. “Are fever symptoms also part of hangovers? You're hot.”

Chip coughed. “Come again?”

“Your face. It's burning up.” Gillion placed a webbed hand on his forehead, leaning his own against it to compare temperatures (though, with his cold-blooded nature, it probably wasn't working).

“It's nothing, buddy.” Chip finally brought himself to scooch backwards. “Probably just a sunburn.”

Gillion still looked skeptical.

“If you wanna help so badly, though, do you wanna try to heal this hangover?” 

He nodded and raised his hands again, placing them on either of Chip's temples, and fuck Chip was pretty sure that this would kill him if his headache didn't get to it first. Cool mist emanated from Gillion's hands and seeped into Chip’s skin, the pain fading until it was practically nothing. Gillion let go and Chip released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. 

“Wow,” his voice cracked. “That's pretty handy, huh?”

Gillion patted his shoulder. “Would you like to find something to eat now?”

Chip nodded and began to climb down the ladder, suddenly aware of his rumbling stomach. 

Right as he went to step off and onto the deck, Gillion, who was just above him on the ladder, grabbed his wrist. 

“Careful.” He nodded his head to the glass that had shattered at the base of the nest. 

“It's alright, I can just–”

Gillion pushed off of the ladder and jumped, landing a few feet away from the glass, and held out his arms. Chip squinted at him. Gillion smiled.

“Jump into my arms.”

“Are you serious?”

Gillion looked down at the glass, his arms, and then back at Chip.

“I think so!”

“I'm not gonna jump into your arms.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can just step down?”

“But then you'll get glass in your foot!”

Chip stared pointedly at Gillion, the hypocrite, who was currently barefoot. “I’m wearing boots.”

“I am aware.”

Gillion, stubborn as ever, did not budge. Chip sighed. “Fine, if it’ll make you happy. You’d better not drop me, though.” he climbed a few more rungs and jumped off, landing squarely in Gillion’s arms. The man stumbled a bit, though quickly regained his balance.

“Was that so hard?”

Chip pushed his face away, knowing his own was rapidly turning pink. “Dick.”

“Hm. Takes one to know one.”

“Where’d you learn that?”

“Jay.”

“Oh, great. Jay’s teaching you how to be sassy. Can you put me down now?”

Gillion hummed, as if he was considering the request. “Ah… no.”

“What do you mean, no? I have t–” Chip shrieked as Gillion flipped him over, adjusting him so he was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “ Gill!! ”

“Oh, what’s that? I think I can hear Jay calling my name.” Gillion spun around while Chip clung on for dear life, hitting his back uselessly with his fists. 

“Put me down !”

“Say ‘please’.”

Chip groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands. “Put me down, please .” 

“Good enough!” true to his word, Gillion dumped Chip onto the floor unceremoniously, just as Jay exited the captain’s quarters. For someone who had drank just as much as Chip had last night, she hardly looked worse for wear in comparison. She seemed to notice as much.

“Damn. You look like shit.” she commented.

“Gee, thanks,” Chip responded drily from his spot on the ground and flipped her off. She happily reciprocated it before helping him to his feet. “Good morning to you, too.”

“Where’d you guys disappear last night, by the way? I woke up and you weren’t in your cot.”

Chip tried not to react at the way she said ‘ your cot’ when referring to both him and Gillion, like it came so naturally. Were they really that obvious? It wasn’t as if he was trying to hide the fact that he had been sharing a bed with him, but it still made him feel a bit flushed thinking about others seeing them. Gillion seemed not to notice, however, patting Jay on the back in greeting. 

“We slept together in the crow’s nest!”

Jay wrinkled her nose but forced a smile. “Oh! Cool!” 

Chip shook his head vehemently. “Gill, phrasing. We’ve talked about this.”

“Ah, yes. We slept next to each other in the crow’s nest,” Gillion corrected himself, radiant grin not slipping for a single moment.

“I guess that’s a bit better.” Chip shrugged. Jay snapped her fingers like she had suddenly remembered something.

“Right! Chip, can I talk to you for a sec?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she hooked her hand around Chip’s elbow and began to drag him over to a more secluded part of the ship. Gillion began to trail after them. “Alone, please.”

Chip felt a silent bit of gratitude to have a brief respite from the man as Gillion walked away, especially after what he had woken up to earlier. Jay hopped up to sit on the banister, looping an arm around a rope to keep herself upright. She tossed an apple to Chip, who stood next to her.

“So. You and Gillion–”

Chip sunk his teeth into the crisp fruit. “Uh-uh. We made up, nothing more.”

Jay frowned. “And you’re still not gonna tell him?” 

“That’s the plan. And no, you can’t change my mind on this,” he chewed loudly. “I’ve already decided.”

Jay raised a brow, skeptical. “Sure,” she kicked her feet against the side of the ship idly. “Well, I’m glad you guys aren’t ignoring each other anymore. It was really annoying seeing you two mope all day.”

Chip scoffed in mock-offense. “Mope?! I don’t mope , I lament !” he paused. “Wait, Gillion was moping, too?”

“He was just as bad as you. But that isn’t the point! I didn’t just call you over to talk about that.” Jay rested a hand on one of his shoulders. “Gillion said you almost drowned the other day.”

Chip grumbled, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Yeah, we’re totally gonna talk about it. C’mon, spill.” she knocked her knee against his ribs, prompting him.

“There’s not much to say. I was being stupid, and I fell off the boat, and I almost died.”

“That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s it.” he answered.

She squinted at him, like Chip was a puzzle she was trying to solve in her mind. He squirmed a bit, uncomfortable. “I don’t believe you. That was the night you took the first shift, right? Why did you do that?”

Chip hopped up on the banister next to her, forcing her to scooch over. “Dreams.”

“Okay. What about them? Work with me here, Chip.”

“I wanted to stop having them.”

“And your solution was to throw yourself off of a boat,” Jay nodded thoughtfully, more of a statement than a question.

“What?! No, I’m not that dumb. I just decided to not go to sleep that night.”

“And then you almost drowned. But you’re okay now?” Jay elbowed him gently. Chip drew his head back, looking at the sails flapping in the wind. 

“I think so. For now, at least.” he grinned. “I’d be better if you told me what you and Gill have been hiding from me–” 

“No way! Be patient!”

“Boooo. I’m gonna throw myself into the ocean again.”

“Do it, you won’t.”

“Watch me.” Chip chucked his apple at her and swung a leg over the banister teasingly, fully ready to plunge into the waters again for the bit, but as he looked into the sea below him, he felt his stomach turn and his palms grow sweaty. It was a long way down. Though the waves weren’t nearly as violent as they had been that night, he still felt ill just thinking about seawater flooding his senses, pushing and pulling every which way and and and–

Gillion’s arms wrapped around his midsection, pulling him off the banister. Even when Chip felt his feet settle on the deck, he was not released. He exhaled sharply. Gods, did he seriously just take one look at the water and start having a meltdown? Some pirate he was! He pressed his lips together, his cheeks hot. Gillion tapped him lightly.

“Let’s not do that again, alright?”

Chip nodded. “Yeah.” he cleared his throat. “Yeah, probably not a great idea.” he turned in Gillion’s arms. Both Jay and Gillion were looking at him with almost pitying looks. Chip clenched and unclenched his fists. Fuck, this was so embarrassing. Maybe he should jump back into the water, just to hide away for a few hours. Gillion was still holding him. Chip felt like he was melting, right there under the beating sun, slowly turning into a puddle on the deck of his ship, seeping into the floorboards. “Ah, anyways, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Gillion stepped back, his hands moving from Chip’s shoulders to instead clasp their palms together, clearly hesitating to let go, like if he were to release him Chip would shatter into a thousand pieces, just like that shitty whiskey Chip had swiped from the pantry and then sipped from while he hung out with Gillion. Fuck, what had he even said last night? He couldn’t possibly imagine what he could have said, especially if it made Gillion act so strangely. Alcohol always had a habit of loosening his tongue.

“Maybe we should just take it easy today? You don’t seem to be feeling well.” the triton proposed. Chip waved him off, pulling his hand from Gillion’s.

“No, no, I’m fine. Just still a bit tired, I guess.” Chip snapped his fingers. “You know what would wake me up, though? A fight! You down for a little sparring, Gill?”

The other man seemed skeptical, looking over at Jay as if asking for permission. She merely shrugged.

“Just try not to overdo it. Oh, and if you break anything, I’ll be pissed.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Chip stuck a leg out as Jay passed, aiming to trip her, only for her to stomp on his foot. “ Ow ! Does that ‘don’t break anything’ also apply to my bones?!”

“Nah, it’s alright if I do it,” Jay responded, taking a big bite from her apple. Chip glared at her as Gillion drew his sword, stepping a few paces back in preparation. He still looked unsure. Chip offered him a grin to assuage his hesitance and removed his swords from their scabbards.

“Ready, big guy?” he challenged, twirling one of his swords in the air. The wrinkle between Gillion’s brows smoothed as he smiled back and brandished his own weapon.

“I should ask the same of you, Chip! You should know by now that I was born ready.”

Over by the door to the navigation room with her toe keeping it open, Jay cupped her hands around her mouth to boo and jeer loudly. “Quit flirting and start fighting already!”

Chip turned his head and opened his mouth for a retort. He was barely able to raise his swords in time before Gillion swung Destiny’s Blade down toward his face, clashing against the X formed by Chip’s crossed weapons in defense.

“Hey! Not fair, I was distracted!” Chip shouted in alarm, gritting his teeth as he struggled to withstand the other man’s strength.

“All is fair in love and war, Chip!” Gillion crowed, leaping backward. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chip squawked and ducked down as Gillion slashed horizontally just over his head. He quickly rolled to the side when Gillion redirected his attack into a diagonal, the blade nearly catching his ear in the process. 

Gillion was both built like a brick wall as well as highly trained. In most scenarios his skill outweighed those of Chip. However, if Chip had one thing on the man, it was his dexterity. Gillion may have been quick with a sword, but Chip was light on his feet, and this proved to serve as the balancing factor in battle. Neither could land a solid hit on the other as they exchanged blows and quick maneuvers across the deck.

Chip, now lower to the ground, sweeped his leg at Gillion’s ankles, attempting to throw him off balance. Although it didn’t fully knock him over, the distraction allowed Chip enough time to spring back up onto his feet, darting away to regain some distance. Gillion was quick to follow, chasing him up onto the ship’s banister.

Each time Gillion swung his sword down Chip was forced to block and take a step back on the railing, quickly being driven into a corner. If he didn’t turn the tides of the battle soon, he would surely lose. He feinted to the left, purposely faking a strike toward Gillion’s shoulder before grabbing hold of a low hanging rope and pushing himself forward off the ship. He swung around in an arc, building enough momentum to plant his boots against Gillion’s chest and push him overboard. He managed to grab hold of a second stationary rope before he overshot his swing and joined Gillion.

Chip glanced down to see if his opponent had fallen into the water like he had planned, only to see him stubbornly clinging on to the side. He laughed breathlessly, more impressed than frustrated, and prepared himself once again for the other to climb back up and return to battle. 

“Don’t know when to quit, do you, Tidestrider?” he called. Gillion’s arms flexed with effort as he grabbed the banister and hauled himself up.

And Chip–

Chip felt his grip on his swords begin to go slack. Memories of orange whiskey up in the crow’s nest flooded into his head. He had– fuck, he had told Gillion, didn’t he? It wasn’t a direct confession of love, but admitting to having dreams about how pretty your best friend is wasn’t exactly the most platonic thing to do. Gillion noticed Chip’s moment of hesitation and took the opportunity without a second thought, springing forward and knocking him to the floor.

The back of Chip’s skull slammed against the hardwood, making his ears ring with pain, but all he could focus on was the sheer and utter dread as the fog cleared from his mind. Gillion kicked the swords from his hands to disarm him and placed a knee on his chest, effectively pinning him in place. The flat side of Destiny’s Blade, now humming with blue energy, was pressed up against Chip’s throat, promising a nasty cut were he to make any wrong move.

Gillion’s chest heaved with effort, a great big grin on the man’s face as he kneeled over him, and Chip couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

Gillion knew. Gillion knew that Chip was dreaming about him, he knew that Chip fucking fantasized about him, and he had to know about Chip’s feelings.

And yet, why was he still here? Why was the expression on his face one of amusement and pride, rather than one of malice and hatred? 

Why had he stayed in the crow’s nest with Chip last night?

For a brief moment, a potential answer itched in the depths of Chip’s mind. He brushed it away quickly as it appeared. There were limits to how optimistic one could be.

“Do you surrender?” Gillion asked, pulling Chip from his thoughts. Chip blinked at him, dumbfounded, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. When Chip didn’t respond, Gillion frowned, pulling his blade away from his throat. “Are you alright?”

Chip exhaled sharply, forcing himself back to the present, and patted Gillion’s knee. “Yup, fine. You’re just kinda suffocating me. No gills, remember?” 

Gillion stood apologetically, offering a hand to help Chip stand back up. Chip ignored it and got up himself. “Pretty good fight! Guess I’ve still got a lot to learn, huh?”

“Well, don’t count yourself out too quickly. You almost had me with your rope trick.”

Chip shrugged helplessly and itched the back of his neck. He didn’t bother trying to argue. “At least we didn’t break anything this time. I think Jay might’ve killed us if we had.” Gillion nodded and they both fell into awkward silence, neither knowing what to say. “Well, I think I’m gonna, ah, go… over there.” he pointed randomly, desperate to go anywhere besides here. “Yep! Bye!”

Chip burst into the navigation room, not bothering to knock. “Jaaay, I fucked up!” he yelled, letting the door fall closed behind him. “And also my head seriously hurts so if you could heal it that would be–” he glanced around, surprised to find it empty. “-great. Jay, c’mon, where are you when I need you?” 

Chip huffed. Jay was nowhere to be found– the chairs around the map table were vacant. He dropped heavily onto one, kicking his legs up onto the table. His boots scuffed against the parchment, smudging some dirt right over the compass.

“Shit,” he mumbled, quickly removing his feet and rubbing his thumb over the mark. As he did, however, he noticed the section of the map was not level with the rest– almost as if there was something underneath. He slid his fingers under the edge of the large map and lifted it to take a look. Something red peeked out, looking to also be made of paper. He dragged it out and his mouth fell open in a gasp.

It was a large piece of thick cherry-red paper, cut and folded clumsily into the shape of what he assumed was meant to be a dragon. Scales were drawn on with black marker, each row uneven and of different shapes and sizes. The teeth were crooked and the eyes were both looking in opposite directions. Its tail was too small and its horns were too far apart. Anyone else might’ve thought it to be some oversized piece of origami, but Chip knew a kite when he saw one.

“Chip, what are you– oh, god damnit.”

Chip spun around, guilt creeping onto his face like he had been caught stealing. Jay stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame and the other pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You– huh– what?” Chip floundered helplessly, resorting to just holding up the unfinished kite. Jay frowned, chewing on the inside of her cheek and rocking back and forth on her heels.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she explained, continuing when she noticed that Chip’s confusion didn’t clear. “It was Gill’s idea. He told me about your thing with kites and I guess he noticed you’ve been acting off for a while, so he wanted to do something to cheer you up.” she crouched down and dragged a bag out from under the map table– the same one he saw Gillion carrying at the crafts store. It was mostly empty now, but there was still a roll of string and a few scraps of colored paper inside. “We’ve spent the past few days trying to learn how to make one.”

Chip looked down at the kite in his hands, then back at Jay. He felt his lip wobble, but he managed to swallow the tears that threatened to well up. 

“Why?” he asked. Jay frowned, tilting her head like the question confused her.

“Uh, because we care about you?”

Before Chip could respond, Gillion appeared behind Jay’s shoulder.

“What are you guys talking about?”

Jay sighed, not turning her head. “He found the kite.”

“Uhhhh– what kite? I don’t know anything about a kite,” Gillion said, unconvincingly.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re oath-bound to never lie.”

Chip couldn’t stop the great big smile that spread across his face. “Thanks, guys. That– that means a lot to me.”

Jay clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Hey, don’t go all soft on us now!”

Gillion tugged them both into one giant hug, squeezing a bit too tightly and lifting both pirates a few inches off the ground. Jay shrieked in protest, struggling to get her arms out of the suffocating embrace, while Gillion waxed poetic about true friendship and the like. Chip just grinned, lips stretched so wide in the smile that his face started to hurt.

Jay finally managed to wiggle out of Gillion’s grasp, picking up the kite that had been dropped when Gillion went in for his bear hug. “Alright, alright. Don’t you wanna try flying this thing?”

Chip glanced over, his mouth still open slightly in excitement. “Yeah! Let’s give this thing a spin!”

Jay motioned the two to follow her out onto the deck, pulling a spool of fishing line and a small plank of wood (most likely left over from the ship repairs) from her pocket. With deft, skilled fingers, she wove the fishing line around the wood and through the wings of the kite, giving the line a sharp tug to make sure it stayed in place. She nodded approvingly at her handiwork and passed it to Chip, who immediately scanned for quality. Gillion peeked over his shoulder as he scrutinized the kite. Finally, Chip gave Jay a satisfactory thumbs up. 

“Let’s make this baby fly!” 

“The kite, he means. Not an actual infant.” Jay explained, before Gillion could start to question the phrase.

“Ah! Yes, let’s!”

It was, luckily for them, just windy enough to lift the kite up into the air as Chip released it, holding onto the wood. It rose high above their heads, just above the main sail and hanging over the glittering sea. Chip gave an excited whoop as the wings of the dragon caught the breeze, billowing out like it was truly soaring through the sky. The red contrasted sharply against the blue, flapping confidently like it controlled the wind, instead of the other way round. Chip’s heart felt full to bursting, nostalgia dancing in his head like flickering flames, warm, but not burning. Standing there on the deck of a ship headed north, his two favorite people right behind him, with a piece of his childhood fluttering among the clouds, Chip felt awake. Chip felt at home.

The entire crew took turns flying the kite; some even made their own, though they were far simpler in design compared to Chip’s. Soon enough, the sky was full of colorful paper kites. Pink, blue, green, purple. Squares and stars, one shaped like a fish, one, a diamond. If their fishing lines tangled together they’d merely laugh and haul the kites back to the deck and free them before sending them back into the sky. There wasn’t a drop of rain in sight.

Chip leaned against the banister, arms folded to rest on top, looking out onto the open ocean. He was, well, happy . Across the deck, Ollie and Jay were sitting on the ground, trying their best to make a bird-shaped kite, laughing together. Gryffon and Queen were taking turns flying Chip’s kite. Earl and Drey were squabbling and trying to cut each other’s strings. 

A gentle hand came to rest on Chip’s shoulder– he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Are you alright?” Gillion asked, squeezing his palms together. He looked strangely nervous as he came to stand beside Chip. Chip nodded, giving him an easy smile.

“Yeah. Just enjoying the moment, I guess. What’s up with you?”

Gillion audibly gulped. His tail slid over the floorboards, back and forth, in an attempt to soothe himself. “I had something to tell you, if you weren’t too busy.” Chip quirked a brow but dipped his head, signaling for him to go on. Gillion let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat. “Right, right. Ah, here goes.” he cleared his throat again. Swallowed. Chip frowned and reached forward, gently holding onto his elbow.

“You good, man?”

Gillion nodded jerkily. “Yes! I am fine. I just–” he sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. Chip bit his tongue, rather confused, and waited. “Chip. My time on this ship has been incredible. You and– and Jay are the best things that have ever happened to me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you enough for all that you’ve done. But I haven’t been truthful with you lately, and I feel obligated to tell you.”

Chip drummed his fingers against the railing, beginning to feel nervous himself, his mind running down the list of possibilities. “Yeah?” he said in a whisper despite himself.

“Oh, Chip,” Gillion said in a sigh, the words seeming to expel from his mouth like he couldn’t say them fast enough. Chip’s stomach swooped like a bird taking off, felt his heart clench in his throat at Gillion’s voice. The triton’s eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, electric blue eyes burning a hole straight through him, his voice heavy with something Chip couldn’t discern. “I adore you.”

And Chip– Chip couldn’t breathe .

“You are– it’s hard to put into words, really,” Gillion chuckled, sounding just as breathless as him, eyes darting around like they couldn’t decide where to land. “You are wonderful. It scares me sometimes, just how much you mean to me.”

“ Why? ” Chip asked, ashamed of how his voice trembled. Gillion blinked, almost surprised by the question. 

He paused for a moment, his voice coming out in nearly a whisper. “You don’t know?”

Chip could only bite his lip and look away. Gillion smiled, almost sheepishly. “Gods, how could I not ? There’s– there’s so much to love. So much to see, to appreciate,” he placed his hands on either of Chip’s shoulders, as if anchoring himself. “Chip, you are beautiful . You are the embodiment of change, and growth, and you are just so– so human, it’s remarkable. You make me feel, you make me think, you give me the confidence to doubt where I could not dare to before. Oh, Chip, Chip, you’re– you’re perfect .”

And Chip crumbled. His legs could barely hold his weight anymore as he swayed back and forth, tugged to and fro by the sea itself as Gillion continued, his eyes practically shimmering.

“Your eyes, they reflect the morning sun, and your hands are so soft and gentle, even though the world has been far from gentle to you yourself, and your laugh lights up the room, and your bravery– you stand tall even when you want to flee, because you never back down from a fight, even when it’s in your enemy’s favor, and you stand tall to protect the weak, because you know what it’s like to feel weak. You’re so selfless, you give everything you can until you have nothing left to give, and even then you still give, because you care– you care so much , Chip, it’s incredible, and Chip, Chip …” 

Gillion repeated his name like he was addicted to the sound, like the word alone was a drug, and Chip wanted to chase the high off his lips, to taste the syllable for himself, but he still couldn’t breathe.

“Perfect. Gods, you’re perfect, and it scares me.”

“I scare you?” Chip gasped out, his lungs filled with water and his throat with cotton. Everything felt fuzzy. He was sure he was about to wake up any moment now.

Gillion’s hands lifted from his shoulders to cup his face, sickeningly gentle with their touch, but Chip wanted him to dig in deeper, to claw his face to shreds so he’d be sure this was real, to be sure he wasn’t still asleep.

“You terrify me,” Gillion murmured, rubbing circles into his jawline, tracing his thumb against the scar on Chip’s left cheek. “You terrify me in a way I’ve never felt before. It’s– it’s wonderful.”

Chip exhaled sharply. His hands were still dangling at his sides, useless and limp, though his fingers begged to touch, to skate across Gillion’s skin and map out the feeling against his palms, an equal push and pull of the very tides that guided their path.

“I don’t understand,” Chip said, voice threatening to cut out at any moment. “I don’t– why? You–”

Gillion’s brows furrowed, his eyes filled with something Chip could only describe as adoration. 

“It’s hard not to,” Gillion confessed. “It’s hard to not— it’s hard to not love you, Chip.”

Chip felt sick to his very stomach. Summoning all his will, he pushed Gillion away, almost immediately regretting it as an expression of hurt passed over the other’s face.

“You shouldn’t,” he began, every fiber of his being protesting the words. He wanted to apologize, to cling back onto Gillion, to feel his hands on his face again, to kiss him silly until his lips were rubbed raw. “You shouldn’t love someone like me.”

“Who are you to tell me how I should or shouldn’t feel?” Gillion asked, his tone teetering between a challenge and a genuine question, the hurt apparent. “Who are you to tell me who I can and cannot love?”

Chip dragged a hand through his hair in sheer frustration. “Fuck, don’t you get it, Gill? You’re– you’re too good for me! You think I’m perfect? I can’t even protect my own crew! I’ve lied to you, I’ve nearly gotten you killed way too many fucking times, I– Damnit, Gill, I’m not like you. I’m not effortlessly kind! I’m selfish, and I don’t think, and I hurt people, every day of my goddamn life.”

He was breathing heavily by the end of it, like the words had taken everything out of him– and in a way, they had. He had just laid bare the entirety of himself in front of Gillion, cut open his stomach and showed him what was inside, and asked him to give his honest opinion on all of his flaws.

But Gillion didn’t look repulsed, or frightened, or angry. He didn’t turn tail and run the other way, didn’t flinch at the sight of Chip’s ugly reality. He just looked sad. “You really think that?”

Chip clenched his fists at his sides, feeling as if he were mere moments away from shriveling up and being blown away by the wind, lost to the seas forever. “You’re too good for me, Gillion,” he repeated. “You always have been.”

Gillion hiccuped, making Chip raise his head just in time to see the man break. His eyes flooded with tears, trickling down his face to gather at his chin before falling onto the deck, the deck that had finally gotten a break from the rain after days only to be stained with tears; tears that Chip had caused.

For the first time since meeting him, since pulling him from the unpredictable oceans and onto the boat with him, since dragging him directly into the face of danger, Chip had made Gillion Tidestrider, Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep, cry.

Chip immediately jumped to apologize. “Gill– shit, dude, I’m sorry.” he reached his hands out helplessly, hovering over his shoulders and unsure if he was allowed to touch. Gillion shook his head, stepping away from him, and Chip’s heart shattered.

“I’m sorry,” Gillion bit his lip, unable to hide another hiccup as more tears rolled down his face, shaking his head harder. “I’m sorry.”

Gillion caught his balance on the railing momentarily before stumbling away below deck, hand on his mouth to stifle the sobs that shook his shoulders. Chip could only watch him go, frozen in place as the distance between them increased, further and further apart until he disappeared. A strained whimper wrestled itself from Chip’s mouth, wrenching tears in its wake in quick succession. He pressed his back against the ship’s banister, staring at the ground, unblinking and unseeing. “F- Fuck, ” he gasped, hugging his shoulders tight as if he could hold his pieces together.

Perfect, he thought bitterly. Yeah fucking right. 

Chapter Text

Jay, thankfully, knew better than to try talking to him that night. As did the rest of the crew, most likely at her command, who now kept their mouths shut, eyeing him whenever he entered the room but not daring to comment on his puffy eyes. Dinner was much the same; not a soul spoke, not even a single side remark about the weather or the taste of the food broke the dreadful silence throughout the kitchen. It was probably for the best, anyways– Chip could hardly taste it himself.

As the crew scraped at their plates to finish whatever was for dinner that night, Chip realized with cold amusement that he hadn’t heard a single drop of water from the leak in the ceiling. A plank of wood had been nailed to the hole, sealing it shut. He wasn’t sure who had done it, though he couldn’t bring himself to care– everything felt hollow, like he was merely a spectator to his nightly routine as he prepared for bed.

Chip didn’t dare look at the cot until he had to. He didn’t think he’d be able to fall asleep that night, not without Gillion’s arms around him. What a joke , he thought, sparing a glance to watch Gillion climb into his barrel. Jay mumbled a clumsy ‘goodnight’ as she dropped into her own bed, pulling the curtains shut. Gillion closed the lid of his barrel, and Chip was alone.

The cot creaked under his weight as Chip lay down. The blankets were itchy against his legs, and far too thin to protect even the most sea-weathered of pirates against the night chill.

It was uncomfortably quiet. Chip found himself wishing it were raining again, if only to have a bit of white noise to fall asleep to. Gillion’s smell was already fading from the pillow.

Chip shifted onto his side, facing the wall.

The cot was far too big for one person. The people who made it should have used the size to thicken the mattress instead, because he could practically feel the cheap springs under his ribs. Maybe he should try folding it in half? He shook his head.

He flipped onto his stomach.

He was still hungry. Chip regretted not asking for seconds of– wait, what did they even eat for dinner? He couldn’t remember. Something with carrots, he was pretty sure. He pressed his tongue into the back of his teeth.

Nah, it was potatoes.

He rolled onto his other side.

“Oh my god, Chip. Stop fuckin’ moving around and go to sleep.” Jay grumbled from her bed, agitation evident in her voice.

Chip mouthed an apology and stopped moving.

The silence was short lived. “Jay. Jay, are you still awake?” he whispered.

Jay groaned. “No, I’m not.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you are.”

“ No, I’m not . Go to bed.”

“I’m trying!” Chip protested.

Jay sighed. “Do you need me to tuck you in or something?”

Chip paused a moment, considering it. “Mayb–”

“That was a joke. Go the fuck to bed.”

Chip huffed and sat up, the cot creaking again. He scuffed his heels against the floor, frustrated, and stood up. Perhaps a walk around the deck to clear his head would do him some good.

The fresh air was a welcome sensation, crisp and cool in his lungs. He tucked his hands in his pockets and let the small night breeze tousle his hair. His throat still felt raw from crying, and he regretted not grabbing some water before coming outside. He barely managed to begin his circling around the deck before he heard a door open, and his eyes snapped up to meet Gillion’s. His immediate instinct was to flee, to hide away and shield himself from Gillion’s searching eyes. He felt vulnerable, like his skin had been peeled back from his bones and his flesh. He wanted to cover his body with his arms, feeling inadequate in the face of the other.

Instead, he waved and offered a shaky smile. Gillion did not return it; if anything, his brows only seemed to furrow at the attempt, face deeply set in a frown. Chip took a deep breath.

“Look, Gillion, I–”

“You can’t tell me how to feel.”

Chip blinked in surprise. “What?”

Gillion’s nostrils flared. “I’m tired of people telling me how to feel, what to think, what to do. I left the Undersea to escape all of that.” he took a step closer. “That’s why I took your hand that day. Because I saw an opportunity to feel, and to think, and to do what I want to do. So no, Chip. I don’t get it. I don’t get why you’re so set on making yourself unhappy. I don’t get why you push everyone away constantly.” his shoulders rose, and fell. “I don’t get you , Chip.”

And that? That hurt. Chip sunk his teeth into his tongue. But Gillion wasn’t done.

“I don’t get you, Chip. You confuse me. A lot of things up here confuse me, and I make mistakes constantly. I don’t understand you, but I want to. ” Gillion took another deep breath. “I want to learn about the Overseas, and humans, and your culture. I want to learn about what it means to be a pirate. But most of all, I want to learn about you. I want to learn what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. I want to learn about your favorite food, and your favorite color, and I want to learn about the kites you made when you were a boy.” Gillion’s gaze was steely with determination, but Chip could sense a hint of nervousness behind the way his jaw was set so tightly, like a rope pulled taut.

“I want to learn it all. And I know that I still have a long way to go, so I ask you to be patient with me.” The rope began to fray in the middle.

Gillion’s hands were shaking. Chip was sure that his were, too.

“So please. Allow me to be selfish, just this once. Just this once, and I’ll never ask anything of you ever again.” The rope was on the verge of snapping in two. “Just please– please, Chip– let me love you.”

The rope snapped, and Chip kissed him.

It was clumsy, filled with more desperation than anything as Chip surged forward. Their teeth clacked together painfully and their noses smashed against one another with nowhere to go. Chip was holding onto Gillion’s shoulders far too tightly, so much so that he left crescent-shaped indents in the skin. It was a mess, it was a fucking disaster, and Chip couldn’t get enough.

It wasn’t perfect like the one on Desire Island, and it wasn’t akin to a fairytale like the ones they shared in Chip’s dreams. It hurt, it was awkward, it sucked, and if he wasn’t in love before, Chip sure as hell was now.

Gillion managed to ease him into a far more natural rhythm, placing his hand on Chip’s jaw and tilting his head to the side, allowing their mouths to slide against each other far more naturally, noses pressing into each other’s cheeks. Chip huffed and released his fierce hold on Gillion’s shoulders, instead dragging them up and down his sides, revelling in the way the man shivered fruitlessly against his palms. Gillion’s other hand tugged at the ends of Chip’s hair, though he didn’t seem to realize he was doing it at all.

Chip mouthed against him, determined to etch the outline of his lips into his own forever, desperate to feel. It was overwhelming. Chip was ashamed of himself for getting so worked up over a closed-mouth kiss, panting hot air against the other’s lips, but he didn’t dare pull away. Gillion’s thumb pressed against his chin, pushing him back for a moment. Chip kept his eyes squeezed closed, embarrassed. He heard Gillion laugh breathlessly, and his thumb swiped over Chip’s bottom lip. Chip groaned, trying to close the distance again by pulling on his waist. Gillion laughed again, as if amused by his plight.

“You have to breathe, you know,” he murmured. Chip shook his head in denial, hooking his fingers into the fabric of Gillion’s shirt and tugging again.

Finally, he yielded, pressing a quick kiss to the skin underneath Chip’s eye before returning. The thumb on Chip’s bottom lip cautiously and patiently eased his mouth open and, ah, shit, Chip felt lightheaded.

Gillion groaned as their open mouths slid together, slicker than before, and swiped his tongue over the top of Chip’s bottom lip. Chip shuddered and squeezed Gillion's hips even tighter, his head spinning as he returned the favor. Gillion, never to be outdone, ran his tongue over the roof of Chip’s mouth, forcing a choked noise out of him that he failed to suppress. Chip's face burned, each separation dragging a whine from his throat before Gillion came back, kissing him slow and deep, the thumb on his chin shining sunlight straight through the skin. Gillion’s sharp nails scratched at his scalp, satisfying an itch Chip had never realized was there, dragging through the locks of his hair and teasing apart the tangles, fingers smoothing down the particularly unruly strands.

Chip pressed his tongue against the points of Gillion's teeth, inhaling sharply at the tiny pricks of pain that came of it, though he did not pull away. He snuck his hands beneath Gillion's skin-tight shirt, tracing the edge of his ribs and the firmness of his stomach. 

Gillion hissed, pinning Chip's tongue against the roof of his mouth, and the brunette quickly retracted his hands apologetically. He pried himself away from Gillion, a thin line of saliva the last connection between them before it, too, dissipated– but Chip could still clearly see the shine on Gillion's lips. 

“Too much?” he panted. His voice was hoarse, sounding far too loud for such a precious moment, like raising the volume even slightly would dispel the air around them. 

Gillion’s eyes opened, just barely, small slivers of blue peeking over the apples of his cheeks, searching, before dropping his forehead down onto Chip's shoulder and breathing heavily. 

“I– Chip– haahh,” he mumbled into his collar. Chip wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him gently. 

“Hah. Sorry, I guess I got carried away.” Chip apologized, despite not regretting it in the slightest.

Gillion’s hands hung limply at his sides, barely brushing against the tops of Chip’s thighs.

“It's– good,” Gillion bit out, breaths ragged. “I liked it.”

Chip rubbed circles into the space between his shoulder blades.

“You sure?”

Gillion nodded against his collarbone, cold nose pressing into the exposed skin. Chip shuddered.

“Good. So good, Chip– gods, you're so good–”

Chip grabbed a fistful of Gillion's hair and yanked, crashing their mouths together again. 

“You can't just– say that–” he begged in between kisses, his head reeling as they lost themselves in each other again. 

“I don't lie,” Gillion grumbled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Chip's body thrilled at the feeling as Gillion dropped kiss after kiss against his face; against his jaw, his chin. He pressed his mouth against the slit in his brow, then his eyelid, then his temple, then the crooked bridge of his nose. It was so painfully soft that Chip's chest ached with the very feeling, Gillion's breath dancing across his face. 

Finally, he managed to place his palm over Gillion's mouth, holding him back.

“You're gonna freaking kill me, man.” Chip pleaded. Gillion's brows furrowed. Though Chip was covering half his face, he knew that Gillion was pouting. He lowered his palm to his chin just to check, his fingers squeezing the other man's cheeks together. He was right.

“Ret me kish you.” Gillion pressed his lips together, obvious to how ridiculous he looked. Chip couldn't help but giggle at the man before him. 

“The Champion of the Undersea, begging? That's not a good look.” 

Gillion whined, trying to press closer. Chip, unable to hold in his laughter, loosened his grip enough for Gillion to escape. Chip cackled and snorted, lips stretched too wide in a smile for Gillion to be able to properly kiss him. He whined again, grabbing a handful of Chip's shirt collar and tugging gently. When Chip showed no sign of his laughter slowing, Gillion resolved to pepper his face in kisses once more, each one only making the pirate laugh even harder until finally running out of breath. 

“Fuck,” Chip huffed, rubbing his mouth, sore from smiling and red from kissing. Gillion didn't look much better. “You're too good at this.”

Gillion merely hummed in lieu of a response, back to burying his face in Chip's neck.

“So unfair. How can you be this cute?” Chip smacked a kiss to the crown of his head, then one more on his hairline. A rumble rose from Gillion’s throat, akin to a cat's purr. Chip bit his lips to suppress a smile, raising his head to the sky. 

The stars smiled right back at him, bright and clear against the dark of the night.

“‘S not gonna be easy. Being… with me, y’know?” he managed, his voice quiet enough even he himself could hardly hear it.

“When have I ever wanted things to be easy?” Gillion responded, idly twirling a lock of Chip’s hair around his finger. Chip bit the inside of his cheek to force a frown.

“I’m serious, man. I’m– I’m not good. I’m not a good guy like you are.”

“That’s not true. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good.”

“Well, I’m selfish.”

“So am I.”

“I fuck up all the time.”

“We all have.”

“I made you cry.”

“I forgive you.”

“Geez– Gil, c’mon.”

Gillion hummed in half-acknowledgement, kissing his knuckle. Chip felt his heart squeeze a bit inside of his chest. “You’re the kindest man I know. But you really need to work on being kind to yourself. ”

Chip groaned, flustered, drumming his fingers on Gillion’s shoulder blades, unable to work up a response.

 Gillion huffed in amusement against the pulse point in Chip's neck, making him shiver.

“Are you cold?” Gillion asked, muffled, the feeling of his lips forming the words against his throat making him shudder pleasantly again. 

“Yeah, a bit.” Chip responded, noticing a chill in the air he had overlooked while lost in the triton earlier. 

Gillion perked up. “Bedtime?” he asked hopefully. Chip nodded, and Gillion's tail started swaying happily before his hand circled around Chip’s wrist and guided him back to the captain’s quarters. Jay snored in her bed, undisturbed by the door opening and closing as the two slipped back inside.

Chip glanced between the cot, Gillion’s barrel, and the triton himself, frowning. Gillion released him. Chip was sure the other man was about to wish him goodnight and slip back into his barrel. Instead, he dropped right onto Chip's cot, kicking at the thin blanket that had gotten tangled in itself until it settled evenly over his body. Chip blinked at him. Gillion looked up, and lifted a hand to beckon him over. He raised the blanket, offering a spot in the cot. The look in his eyes made even the uncomfortable thin mattress enticing. Chip drew in a tight breath in preparation before crawling under the blanket as well. Gillion's arms immediately circled around his torso, their chests pressed together and legs tangled. Chip could hardly tell where he began and Gillion ended– even so, he allowed Gillion to tuck his head beneath his chin, rumbling softly and pressing his nose into the bob of his Adam's apple. Chip swallowed, praying Gillion couldn't hear the pounding of his heart, and squeezed his biceps, rubbing patterns into his shoulders with his thumbs. 

“Goodnight, Chip.” Gillion said.

Chip exhaled evenly, forcing his leg to stop bouncing and his heart rate to calm. “Goodnight, Gill,” Chip said. 

The conversation from earlier wasn’t over. Buried beneath the fluttery feelings in his chest he still harbored that sticky, ravenous sense of doubt. He knew there were still things to be discussed. But for now, he could rest easy and leave it for tomorrow, to unpackage it after a good night’s rest.

He closed his eyes, but not before kissing Gillion's temple one more time. 

“See you in the morning.”

-

“Aaand–” Chip retracts his hands, backing up to admire his handiwork, smiling. “There!” 

Gillion looks up at him through his lashes, a bashful expression on his face. 

A small circlet of daisies woven together by their stems sits upon Gillion’s head, resting over the sprouts of coral poking out in between locks of green hair. Chip grins, unable to resist reaching out and pinching the triton’s cheeks affectionately. “Gah, you’re so cute!”

Gillion frowns, the corners of his eyes pinching as he pouts a bit at the affection. “I still don’t understand this Overseas tradition of yours. Why bother making fake jewelry?” he pokes at a loose daisy, the petals fluttering a bit. “Especially if it only wilts a day later.”

“Because they’re pretty. Did you guys not have flowers in the Undersea?”

Gillion shakes his head. “Just coral gardens, really. They’re pretty, too, but you can’t exactly make a crown from them.”

“Really?” Chip raises a brow and brushes a thumb over one of the coral sprouts just over his auricular fin. “This isn’t jewelry, then?”

Gillion shudders a bit. Chip pulls back, but Gillion takes his hand reassuringly. “Not exactly.”

Chip frowns at the vague answer, but Gillion doesn’t seem too keen on explaining. “Well, I guess that just means I’ll have to make twice the flower crowns to make up for the ones you missed out on.”

“That hardly seems necessary.”

“Of course it’s necessary! Look, if you’re so embarrassed, I’ll make one for myself. Then we can look stupid together.”

Gillion swipes his thumb over the back of Chip’s hand. “Could I do it?”

“What, make me a flower crown? You didn’t even know what flowers were until today, man. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out. What kind do you want?”

Chip scans the field they sit in, an array of colorful flowers of all different shapes and sizes. Daisies, poppies, tulips, roses. A sunflower here, a patch of hyacinths there. His eyes catch on a patch of indigo-colored flowers, lightening to a pale sort of pink closer to the center, the petals flat and angled out like a cup. He lights up with recognition.

“Morning glories!” he points at the flowers. Gillion nods and carefully plucks a couple from the ground like Chip taught him, being sure to leave a few before returning to Chip’s side. “You sure you don’t just want me to do it, bud?”

Gillion shakes his head, kneeling in front of him with a determined expression on his face. “It is my destiny to make this the best flower crown you have ever seen.” Chip smothers a giggle in Gillion’s shoulder at the man’s misplaced confidence, and Gillion immediately gets to work.

He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in deep concentration, brows furrowed as his clumsy claws struggle to tie the flowers together. Chip leans back, cushioning his head with crossed arms and watches the man work. 

“Y’know, if the concept of flower crowns confuses you so much, you’d better wait until you find out about flower language,” he says, grinning as Gillion’s eyes widen to the size of saucers, nearly dropping the morning glories.

“Flowers have a language?!” he gapes at the meadow. 

“Not a literal one. They don’t, like, speak, or anything. But some people associate different flowers with different meanings.”

“Really? So they can be used to speak in code?”

Chip shrugs. “Probably. I don’t know a lot about it, honestly. It’d be pretty cool if we could talk using flowers, though.”

Gillion bites the inside of his cheek, glancing around. He picks a bright yellow flower from the ground, covered with hundreds of tiny little petals.

“What does this one say?”

“That one’s a dandelion. I think they’re, like, happiness, or something. Most people don’t usually call them flowers, though, since they’re considered weeds up here.”

Gillion picks another. “And this one?”

“Aster. Wisdom, I’m pretty sure.”

Another. “This?”

“Cornflower. That one is hope.”

And another. “What about this one?”

“That’s a peony. They represent, uhhh…” Chip snaps his fingers, trying to jog his memory. “Beauty, or something? Yeah, that sounds right.”

Gillion nods, seemingly satisfied, and returns to his flower crown. It’s quiet again, but the silence is comfortable. Chip closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sunlight on his skin.

“Oops,” Gillion mumbles, making Chip open one eye. The flower crown has snapped in two, either half hanging limply in Gillion’s hands. “I broke it.” 

Chip chuckles and sits up fully, pinching one of Gillion’s cheeks. “Don’t worry man, it happens.”

Gillion sighs, a bit dramatically, as he is known to be. “But I wanted us to match.” Chip clutches at his heart, aching with affection for the man. 

“It’s alright. We can still match, you just gotta try again.”

Gillion huffs and flops down onto Chip’s lap, resting his head on his thigh. Chip happily accommodates him, curling his pointer finger and gently brushing away a blade of grass from beneath his eye.

“What about those?” Gillion asks, before clarifying. “The morning glories.” Chip lets out a little ‘aah’ and shifts his legs a bit, his cheeks going pink.

“Those ones are, uh, love.” he clears his throat. “Unyielding love.” 

Gillion hums in acknowledgement, a smile itching at the corner of his lips. “And the ones on my head?”

“Those are daisies.”

“What do the daisies mean?”

Chip can’t suppress his giddy laughter. He leans down and kisses Gillion’s forehead, once, twice, then again. The angle is a bit awkward and he has to strain his neck, but he kisses his cheek once more. “New beginnings,” he explains. 

Gillion smiles, his eyes still closed, and his hands come to rest atop his chest. Chip gently shuffles the triton off of his lap and sinks down to lay next to him, mirroring his position. He lifts the crown of daisies from Gillion’s head and places it an arm’s length away so it isn’t crushed.

“I don’t want you to ruin my hard work,” he explains as Gillion raises a quizzical brow.

He shrugs, raising an arm and wordlessly beckoning Chip to huddle up next to him, face pressed against his chest. It’s warm. He closes his eyes.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Gillion pokes his nose. Chip groans softly and shuffles in closer, squeezing the man tighter.

“Maybe a little,” he mumbles. Gillion laughs, but it’s subdued, purposely quieter to not disturb him.

“It’s alright, Chip. You can take a nap, and I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Chip squints a little. “You promise?”

Gillion raises Chip’s hand and plants a single firm kiss on his knuckles. “I promise.”