whisted | for jollyboat: anywhere you go

He doesn't quite fit.

Horatio had known, of course, that he wouldn't. Even if he had managed to make his way onto a ship years ago, everyone would have known he was odd. Perhaps it's for the best that he's clearly just a bit skittish, just a bit uncertain of himself unlike the other young men his age. Perhaps that would distract the human mind from looking to see just why, exactly, this one didn't seem to be quite entirely right.

It was, nonetheless, one thing to know and another thing to live. Being bundled in heavy unfamiliar fabric is surprisingly uncomfortable. The uniform is far more restrictive than the clothing he had forced himself to become accustomed to while hovering around the port. The sensation of being on a boat, despite the familiarity of the sea, is throwing his stomach through something of a loop. He can't shift and change direction. He can't twist along with the waves, comfortable and easy, or cut through below the discomfort of breakers tugging in the wrong direction. It's unnatural, here on a warped version of the surface. It's twisting something uncomfortable in his shoulders, almost dizzying as he tries to find his feet under him.

This is what he wanted, and it doesn't quite fit.

For the most part, feeling his skin in the sack slung over his shoulders is reassuring. His fingers can worry against the familiar softness with each odd rush of discomfort. This, after all, is the back-up plan. This is the fail-safe if everything falls completely to pieces and he needs to throw himself simply back into the sea. This is the piece of himself which will always fit properly, no matter where he is.

That's why it's resting at the top of his sack as he scrambles up properly into the ship. That's why, in the bluster of humanity, the young selkie doesn't notice that his skin has spilled out onto the deck.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

barderalready

“I want to,” he admits, nose nudging briefly against Horatio’s shoulder. They can’t risk much more affection than that, even though he wishes to.

“Just— don’t know if that’s the— right thing.”

It’d mean leaving behind this life entirely. More pressingly, it’d mean leaving behind the others to the Captain’s tender mercies.

He doesn’t know if he has it in him to do that.

From:

midship

The right thing, Horatio is infinitely certain, wouldn't be to leave the perfectly wonderful young men like Henry Wellard to the whims of this tyranny. It's just that the right thing also probably wouldn't be to whisper down to the surface of the sea until Sawyer met the same fate as Simpson.

"Won't get safer."

Most of it, of course, was from the unraveling of the captain's mind. Most of it was from the uncertainty that every day brought to a crew of generally good, hardworking men.

Some of it, however, came from Horatio.

From:

barderalready

"I know," he sighs softly, entirely body briefly drooping with exhaustion.

"Just-- we need to be careful. No matter-- what we end up doing."

Leaving will take planning. Getting rid of Sawyer, if that's what needs to be done, may as well.

From:

midship

Selkies are born with a native caution. Their earliest stories, after all, are of the wolves of both land and sea--the cruel creatures of the world who will without a single thought snatch away their lives or, far worse, their freedom.

When, exactly, recklessness bled as much as it did into Horatio isn't entirely clear, but he sometimes pinpoints it back to the day Jack Simpson had tried to take Archie Kennedy away from him.

"...hm."

It's easy in theory to be careful. It's harder in practice, because the wild comes out when Archie's under threat.

From:

barderalready

"We can leave."

He doesn't think he minds that. It's been long enough that he feels more certain he'll always have Horatio, even if it means losing his birth family.

"If it gets-- really bad. I'll go with you. But if we can-- try to find a way to make it so we can-- help, first, I'd rather do that."

From:

midship

Something relaxes just a hair, knowing that Archie would leave with him. Some piece of severity unknots from his brow, allowing a certain lightness back into his gaze as he studies the man he loves.

"Have to... go down at least two."

The first lieutenant wouldn't actually be all that much of an improvement, after all.

From:

barderalready

"Just th'one's a-- start."

Sawyer is a particular level of dangerous that Buckland isn't, for all Buckland is dangerously incompetent. Sawyer being gone will at least make it feel less like the ship is going to shatter into pieces.

"We'll at least be able to-- breathe. Figure out a way to deal with the next 'f we-- have to."

Maybe Buckland will surprise them. Maybe he'll be easy enough to guide as subtly as possible to keep the ship running.

Edited Date: 2018-09-14 11:06 pm (UTC)

From:

midship

"Maybe. Maybe not."

Sitting together is the easiest way to speak freely. It's also a quiet comfort, being able to lean his shoulder just slightly against Archie's.

"If it's... something that makes the others nervous, it'll be-- harder. The second time around."

Buckland might surprise them after something natural and expected, but after anything suspect? Horatio couldn't imagine the man not being gripped by a consuming panic.

From:

barderalready

The gentle leaning is clearly a comfort. Archie has been tense since the first instant Sawyer’s nature became obvious, but his shoulders start to relax a hair now, even with the subject matter.

“I haven’t seen a man so— unstable in a long time, ‘ratio,” he murmurs, expression darkening just slightly, “I highly doubt it will seem so unnatural if he were to— take an unprompted leap over the side.”

Which is a touch cruel, perhaps, true though it is. It likely only serves to show how on edge he is.

From:

midship

The idea itself isn't so unmanageable. The sea is always hungry, and there's no true shame in pushing a few hands so that the deep swallows the most deserving. At the end of the day, it was something Horatio's mind would have at least drifted to, if only to weigh the pros and cons of begging another favour.

It sits a little oddly in his shoulders, coming from Archie.

That, as much as anything, is what keeps Horatio silent as he studies the man he loves.

From:

barderalready

It takes a moment to notice Horatio's look. It takes him a moment for it to feel safe enough (as safe as it could be) in this room for his expression to crumble into utter exhaustion.

He scrubs at his face tiredly, entire body slumping all the more.

"--I'm sorry," he says, and almost leaves it at that because he doesn't know if he has the words to explain. If he wants to explain it.

But this space is safe enough, for now. This man has always been safe to talk to.

"...He scares me, Horatio. Sometimes I see him on deck and he looks... He looks like he's-- hunting."

It's a familiar look. It's a look that haunts his dreams. He isn't certain Sawyer's abuses of power drift quite so far as Simpson liked to, but it's close enough.

It still makes him feel like prey.

"I don't want it to be-- either of us he finally decides on."

From:

midship

They have a moment. There is no unexpected footfall to startle them apart. There is no unsafe shift or creak of the planks around them. There's only the quiet of a moment alone in the wardroom.

"Don't apologize."

For a moment, they can duck their heads together. It isn't such a nerve-wracking thing to press his forehead against Archie's, even if they may have to abruptly pull away--but the comfort of a moment leaning together is infinitely comforting.

"We'll... fix it."

From:

barderalready

Leaning helps. Shifting forward just enough to quickly bump his nose against Horatio’s does, too.

“We— will.”

He doesn’t ask how, anymore. He trusts Horatio; trusts that they’ll look out for one another.

From:

midship

Even here, in relative safety, it feels faintly bold to brush his fingers against Archie's, just shy of actually lacing them together. Touch is such an important thing, when they're this far from a true opportunity to curl together entirely.

"No one's going to hurt you, Archie."

It's a broader concern, he knows. It's a concern for all the midshipmen, all the tars; all the people who could be made to take the brunt of a captain's wrath.

But this is important to note.

From:

betteralready

Touch helps considerably. Even with how difficult things are; with how dangerous it all feels, touch is definitely something that's helpful.

"'m worried about you, too."

And the midshipmen, the tars, and anyone else who could be impacted by the captain.

It's just that it's also mostly Horatio. It's just he knows he can survive most things, but he doesn't know if he can handle losing Horatio-- or even letting Horatio be hurt.

From:

midship

"Hm."

Horatio's head tilts briefly away in quiet contemplation, although his fingers stay in place.

"Watch the midshipmen, then."

Worry was protective, after all. Worry helped keep those worried after safe. Not having to keep so much attention on Wellard on the rest--knowing Archie had an eye on them--would free up some pieces of himself to seize the sort of opportunity Archie was suggesting they look for.

From:

betteralready

"I will."

It's just he'll also be brushing his fingers back against Horatio's lightly. It's just he also won't be able to help but murmur, "You'll be-- careful?"

It's been a while since he's felt insecure enough to have to ask it. It's not Horatio he mistrusts-- It's everyone else.

Edited (fais) Date: 2018-09-17 02:56 pm (UTC)

From:

midship

Archie trusts him. He knows Archie trusts him. The lightness of their fingers together like this is a piece of that trust.

Horatio still has to exhale a slight rankling before he can nod.

"...I do promise."

From:

betteralready

"All right."

Then he can breathe a little more easily. He can add a careful promise of his own.

"I do, too."

Because he knows he's his own tendency to throw caution to the wind, when he feels Horatio or others under his protection are in danger.

From:

midship

"Thank you." Horatio's thumb hooks lightly over Archie's, just for a heartbeat. "That's... the only way this works."

Either of them being utterly reckless, after all, set the other in danger as well. Either of them being brave and foolish and thrown into true danger meant the other rushing forward to help.

In moments of finesse like this, it simply couldn't happen.

From:

betteralready

"I know," he says, letting his free hand up to squeeze lightly at Horatio's shoulder.

"We'll-- sort it."

Somehow. Together, certainly.

They'll have to part ways, soon, at least for the moment. Archie can't help but risk letting his hand up to touch briefly at Horatio's cheek.

Human throats aren't made to make the sounds of seals, but he's practiced the one meaning "I love you" frequently over the years. Even alone like this, it's safer to let the gentle vocalization out now rather than actually speaking the words.

From:

midship

These throats aren't quite right. These lungs hold air differently.

After all these years, the soft vocalization sounds incredibly right rumbling through the space between them.

Horatio's head ducks briefly, needing to press his cheek in against Archie's shoulder. It's all they can have for a moment, but it's enough. "Come on. They'll miss us."

And that would make plotting properly later more difficult.

From:

betteralready

“You go ahead.”

It’ll look less suspicious, if they aren’t always seen wandering about together. They’d done it on the Indy, safer though she’d been.

It’s a far different reason now, though. Archie can’t help but hate it.

From:

midship

Horatio does shift away. It's just that he shifts to listen to the creaking and complaining of the ship just outside the wardroom, straining for any sign of footfall.

Hearing none, he moves closer again to press a gentle kiss against Archie's lower lip.

"We'll sort it tonight."

But for now, he'll head back to the deck alone, turning the concern over in his mind.

From:

betteralready

"I love you."

It's a whisper as they pull apart from one another. It's a truth that he gets to hold in his heart.

It's a thought that comforts, even when they have to stand apart once he returns on deck. It's a thought that he does his best to express by directing his attention to the midshipmen when the captain comes up topside.