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Somewhere in West Caribbea, after another long day of hassling the Navy and looting their ill-gotten gains, Wesley returned with yet another injury that could have been easily avoided had he exercised a shred of self-preservation and caution for his own well-being instead of trying to nobly sacrifice himself at every opportunity for the sake of his fellow teammates and die an "honorable" death.
It was becoming a more frequent occurrence lately, much to Quincy's growing concern.
And even though Quincy was a man who only tried to use direct confrontation as a last resort when resolving personal matters, he still felt the need to try and address this rather unsettling behavior from his favorite and most loyal crewmate. If only to try and get him to understand that constantly putting himself in danger for the sake of “honor” was something not everyone would fully appreciate.
Or want.
(Especially him.)
Quincy decided the best way to do this was to steer Wesley tactfully to his personal quarters above the helm to have a private word with him about it.
But for all his delicate words and careful explaining, it didn't seem to have any effect on Wesley.
Like. At all.
And honestly, the lack of visible remorse from Wesley only seemed to leave Quincy to the point of exasperation.
"Alright, look. Even though I well aware that you are a highly trained and experience soldier, I still would really... appreciate. If you would take more care of yourself a little more when you’re out on the battlefield, Wes!” Quincy concluded with a touch of frustration edging into his otherwise goodnatured sounding tone of voice while trying to strongly convey a subtle, yet poignant message through Wesley’s otherwise titanium-sturdy consciousness with nothing but his unblinking eyes. "And to, you know, not get involved in any more sabre duels to the death like that if you can help it! ...Like you did today. When you ignored Judy's (very) reasonable suggestion to wait for Daisy for proper backup in handling all those navy swordsmen and instead just started shooting willy-nilly and trying to handle it all yourself!"
If Quincy still had two arms, he would have folded them defiantly to really show his disapproval of Wesley's actions. But as it is, he had to make do with his go-to hand on hip expression to emote his displeasure at seeing the long and extensive bandage that was wrapped around Wesley's arm from his most recent injury in "glorious battle".
Wesley hummed politely in response. "That is understandable, Captain." He acknowledged sympathetically, yet otherwise unmoved as Quincy stood in front of him with his face contorted with tight and barely hidden irritation. "I will not try to deny that my actions today out on the battlefield have unfortunately caused you some... undesirable stress.-"
(Quincy didn't like the way Wesley paused to articulate the word "stress" like Quincy was somehow being the unreasonable one here.)
"-But perhaps, if I may be so bold, Captain, I could offer you a small token of an apology to attempt to make amends with you?" Wesley offered inquisitively. "If not to quell your frustration towards my actions, then at least to demonstrate my own humble regret upon carelessly causing you such needless anxiety?" He queried with a slight formal bow, his expression reflective and thoughtful as he silently watched Quincy's face and waited patiently for permission.
"...Go ahead." Quincy finally answered. Face still skeptical and firm with frustration, yet his curiosity evidently getting the better of him despite his current feelings.
Wordlessly, Wesley stepped forward towards Quincy and reached out to grasp his remaining hand from where Quincy still had planted it firmly on his hip.
Quincy's mind started to raced wildly with both confusion and anticipation as Wesley gently raised the Captain's hand closer to himself, and in using his other hand to gently open Quincy's half withdrawn fingers, the ex-navy man leaned down his head with closed eyes to delicately kiss the exposed palm of Quincy's hand.
The sensation of feeling Wesley's lips on his skin sent electrical tingles all throughout Quincy's whole body. His stomach buzzed with a million butterflies, he felt that gravity had suddenly lost all meaning in that split second, and that time had either glitched out or became meaningless entirely when Wesley lifted his composed gaze to penetrate Quincy's own wide-eyed stare.
"I hope that you can find it in the depths of your compassionate heart to forgive my insensitivity this morning, Captain." He tenderly spoke, now clasping both his hands tightly around Quincy's. His own intense gaze unfaltering as he waited for his Captain's verdict.
"(*)-"
Forgive me.
Forgive me and all my sins, you flawlessly beautiful human- no, guardian angel in disguise!
Is what Quincy would have wanted to exclaim in return.
If it hadn't taken him an embarrassingly long moment to remember that he needed to breathe first.
"...Sure!" He squeaked, all other words failing him. "S-...Sure, Wes! It's-"
Quincy coughed out a near hysteric laugh before clearing his throat loudly. Wanting so desperately to have a second hand to rub against his neck or scratch a nonexistent itch or something, anything to help him pretend that everything was normal and fine and definitely not something to faint over!
"It's cool! You- (*ahah*) ...You're fine, Wes. Really." Quincy managed, watching Wesley's posture shift into something more relaxed as he fumbled through his barely conceived words. "In fact, I'm-... I'm sorry for getting so, uh.. hot under the collar before." He apologized lamely. "It's just- I want you to be more... careful. In the future. When it comes to battling." He added, trying to pick up whatever fragments remained of his shattered persona of an austere and discontented captain in the midst of disciplining his faithful, yet out-of-line crew mate. "You get that... right?"
"Yes, of course, Captain. I understand." Wesley responded graciously, still not averting his gaze from Quincy's flushed face. "After all, you take your responsibility as Captain very seriously. One simply should not fault you for simply doing your job in leading such a worthy and honorable crew such as this."
"Ah-haha... uh, yes. That's right!" Quincy answered, finally being able to almost breathe properly now that Wesley had finally let go of his hand. "Just doing my job as Captain, ha-haa!" He agreed with much chagrin, flashing Wesley a smile which he hoped looked more charming than cringe.
"Indeed." Wesley nodded evenly. "Now, if you will permit me Captain, I have some business with Miss Clutch that I must attend to." He replied calmly.
"S-...Sure! I'll (uh), catch you later then, Wes!"
Quincy swore he saw a faint smile creep underneath Wesley's composed stoicism as he bowed dutifully with respect before exiting the room.
The young Leeway squeezed out another breathless laugh as he stood there like an idiot after Wesley had left. Before absently lifting up his hand to feel the evident warmth from his unshaven face. Convinced that it would either burn up or melt in the aftermath of Wesley's unexpected "apology gesture".
(Cog in the machine)
(He'd probably need a few -minutes- hours to recover properly from that.)
Hopefully by then he'd be normal enough to ask Wesley if he'd like to share a drink with him at the bar later on today and recite a few one-liners and jokes to conceal his own damn shortcomings and insecurities and pretend that everything was perfectly normal between the two of them like the two perfectly normal friends they were.
Instead of dwelling on the fact that the man he so desperately admired had kissed him like a noble prince for the mere purpose of seeking his forgiveness on some petty little disagreement they had had.
And how that was totally was not a normal way to apologize to someone who thought of you as a friend.