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It didn’t go how Frenchie had imagined it. He hadn’t imagined it, not really. He hadn’t allowed himself to. He’d thought Wee John was dead.
If he had permitted himself the daydream, it would have gone like this: he’d have run to him and Wee John would have picked him out of midair as he leapt at him. Then they’d have spun in a happy circle until one of them closed the gap between them for the first time.
Instead, their eyes met across the deck and they couldn’t get any closer because shit was going down between Blackbeard and Stede. Wee John gave him a little wave and Frenchie swallowed against the lump in his throat, blinking away tears.
Of course, Stede and Blackbeard got their kiss. Naturally.
When their captain(s) had retired, presumably to cry all over each other’s dicks, Olu and Jim stole Frenchie’s idea and then they, too, quickly left for the room.
Jim and Frenchie had been sharing the room. It wasn’t the same. Jim hadn’t really gotten the idea of the sitting nook.
Frenchie supposed that there was going to be a sock on the door for some time now. He sighed and looked at his shoes. After a second, he looked up and smiled at the shipmates he had given up for dead and opened his arms.
They crowded over and slapped his back, put arms around him and laughed, telling him about their misadventures under ‘Captain Edwards.’ Frenchie struggled to take it in as his head swam. He forced himself not to stare at Wee John.
“We missed you,” Wee John said, finally, after staying quiet for most of the hubbub. “We were- I was afraid they’d killed you.”
The tears that he’d been keeping at bay finally spilled over onto his cheeks and Frenchie let out a noise like a strangled bark.
“I thought all of you were dead,” he said.
Wee John swept him up into his arms and… it wasn’t the high romance that he’d maybe have hoped for, but it was real. The arms around him were warm and heavy and the chest his head was held against moved up and down under his cheek. He could feel Wee John’s heartbeat — could hear it when he could calm his sobbing.
He felt Roach’s hand between his shoulder blades and Buttons’ on his shoulder.
He sniffed and tried to even out his breathing.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to be like this. It’s just been-”
“You don’t need to apologise,” Wee John said. “Don’t bottle it up, eh?”
Frenchie laughed against Wee John’s shirt and wiped his face clean against it. The shirt had seen worse in its day than a bit of salt water.
“No, right,” he said. “We talk it through-”
“As a crew,” the rest of them chorused.
Later that night, Frenchie slid closer to Wee John on the floor of the deck and poked him awake.
“What is it?” Wee John asked. “Nightmares?”
“No,” Frenchie replied. “I haven’t been to sleep yet. I was just thinking… I thought- well, you know what I thought. But… part of what was so awful about it was the things I never said.”
“What sort of things?”
“I love you,” he said in a low whisper.
“We love you too,” Wee John replied and put a hand on his arm.
“No, I mean… I love you,” Frenchie said.
He waited for the hand to be taken back. It wasn’t.
“You do?” Wee John replied after a long pause. Frenchie groaned.
“Just forget I said anything,” he said and went to roll over.
The hand on his bicep tightened.
“I love you too,” Wee John said. “I always have.”
“Yeah?” Frenchie smiled wide.
“Yeah.”
Frenchie shifted closer still and leaned forward to rest their foreheads together. Wee John tipped his head slightly to rub his nose along Frenchie’s.
“Can I kiss you?” Wee John asked.
Frenchie didn’t bother wasting words on his answer.
Wee John’s mouth opened in surprise beneath his and he slid his tongue inside briefly before retreating back.
“I love you,” he said again into the space between them when they separated a little.
“I love you,” Wee John echoed back.
“Want to do such lovely things with you,” Frenchie whined, sliding a bare foot between Wee John’s shins. “I wish we had the room. Not a lot of privacy here.”
“They’re asleep,” Wee John said, putting an arm around him and pulling him closer.
Frenchie looked around.
“Fuck it,” he said and then leaned forward and kissed Wee John again.
He slipped a hand under Wee John’s shirt and squeezed a handful of flesh before sliding it around to his back and pulling him closer even still.
They were close enough now that he could get a leg between Wee John’s thighs and grind up against his hip. He was going to make such a mess of his trousers and he absolutely did not care.
Large hands reached down to cup his arse and push him forward in time to the roll of his hips. He could feel Wee John (a nickname that had never seemed more ironic) hard against his leg.
“I’m not going to last,” Frenchie said.
“That’s fine,” Wee John said. “Let it happen.”
And, well, just as well it was fine because with one more push against Wee John’s hip he was coming.
Wee John held him as he went stiff in his arms.
“You’re okay,” Wee John said to him, petting the back of his neck. “That’s okay, love.”
He lay there and panted for a few seconds before reaching down to unbutton Wee John’s fly.
“You don’t have to do that,” Wee John said, drawing in a sharp breath as Frenchie’s knuckles grazed his cock.
“Of course I don’t have to,” Frenchie said. “But I want to. Unless you don’t want me to.”
“Of course I want you to,” Wee John replied with a low laugh.
“Well then,” Frenchie replied and went back to work.
He worked by feel, because he didn’t want to stop looking at Wee John’s face.
“Tomorrow I’m gonna find somewhere quiet and suck your cock,” he said and then Wee John came all over his hand.
Frenchie reached up and licked himself clean while Wee John watched.
“Yum,” he said with a smile.
“You’re incorrigible,” Wee John said and threw an arm around him.
“Never been corriged once in my life, it’s true,” Frenchie said, laying his head on Wee John’s shoulder.
“What am I ever going to do with you?” Wee John asked.
“Anything,” Frenchie replied. “Everything.”
Wee John kissed his forehead and Frenchie closed his eyes, aware of the snoring bodies around him. It was not at all what he would have imagined. It was better.
He slept soundly for the first time in months.