The Otohime's Revenge
Part Four
"Think we're in for some weather," Davide had said the night before, when he and Saeki had been chatting with each other. He'd sniffed the breeze that was kicking up, and nodded. "Yep. Definitely some weather coming."
Saeki had just snorted, and let it pass.
Remembering it as he hauled on a line, the rain coming down in sheets, plastering his hair and his clothes to his skin, he yelled at Davide. "You call this 'some weather'? This is a fucking hurricane!"
"Picky, picky," Davide yelled back as the deck pitched and tossed beneath their feet. "This is nothing!"
Saeki didn't dignify that with a response, as he was busy fighting his line, which the wind wanted to tear from his hands. When he finally managed to tie it off securely, he raked the wet hair out of his eyes.
Thunder cracked above them, and the waves tossed the Heron again. Davide cursed as the roll of the deck knocked him off-balance, and he lost his grip on his line. The wind whipped it away from him, and above them, canvas began to unfurl. "Fuck!"
"I've got it," Saeki called to him, since he was closer to the rigging, already moving to climb aloft to recapture the line. The rigging and spars groaned as the shrieking wind filled the sail. Saeki cursed silently, climbing faster, careful of the wet ropes under his hands and feet, until he reached the spar he wanted. He hooked an arm around a handy brace, and leaned out to grab for the flapping line.
The wind gusted, knocking it away from his fingers, and he cursed again, waiting for it to flap back in his direction. The ship pitched; he tightened his grip on the rigging in response. This was, he thought, making another grab for the line, a really stupid place to be in the middle of a storm.
The line slapped into his palm, wet and stinging, and he seized it with cold-numbed fingers. Grateful that it had been so easy to recapture, he began to make the precarious climb back down to the safety of the deck. Having only the one hand to climb with meant that he had to move slowly, and he cursed silently and steadily as he tried to find secure footing on the wet rigging.
The Heron crested another wave, and dove down into the trough, and putting everything at a much sharper angle. At the same time, one of Saeki's feet slipped free of its precarious toehold.
For a long, terrifying moment, he flailed, his grip on the rigging and his other foot the only thing keeping him from falling, before the ship righted herself and his foot found the rigging again. He clung to it for a moment, adrenaline singing through his veins, before he drew a shaky breath and finished the climb back down to the deck.
Davide's face was white under his tan. "You crazy bastard," he growled, loud enough to be heard over the storm, and he grabbed the line out of Saeki's hand. He hauled on it, furling in the sail again, and tied it off with short, angry movements.
"You're welcome," Saeki told him, leaning against a barrel so that Davide wouldn't see the way that his knees were shaking.
Davide reached out and cuffed him. "Don't do shit like that!"
Saeki saluted, half-heartedly. "Yes, sir!"
Shishido loomed up behind Davide. "This isn't teatime, ladies!" he bellowed. "Get back to work!"
Saeki pushed away from his barrel, and hoped that no one would notice how long it took for his hands to stop trembling.
The storm began dying down towards the middle of the afternoon, or they came to its edges—it was hard to say for sure, but the worst was past them. Nomura was able to distribute an actual hot meal (and as the waves stopped tossing the Heron around so much, they found the appetite to keep it down) to see them through the remainder of the storm. By the time the sun began to set, they were clear of it, and when Saeki leaned against the stern's railing, the retreating rags of the clouds caught the light gorgeously. He savored the sight, and being able to stand on a deck that wasn't pitching wildly under his feet, and the fact that he was there to appreciate it at all.
Yuuta joined him as the sun slid down to meet the horizon, leaning against the railing next to him. Saeki looked him over and raised an eyebrow; Yuuta had abandoned his customary rag-tag finery for an ordinary shirt and breeches. "Underdressed, aren't you?"
"It's drying." Yuuta picked at the ragged cuff of his worn shirt. "Can't abide wet clothes."
"Then you're in a hell of a business," Saeki told him, wondering a little at the sullen tone. Yuuta had been positively elated earlier, laughing into the teeth of the storm.
"That's because I'm a contrary son of a bitch." Yuuta worried at a loose thread, twisting it around a finger, tugging on it restlessly.
Saeki watched as the hem began to unravel under the persistence of Yuuta's fingers. "Hope you can sew," he said, as it came undone. "Or know someone who does."
"I don't." Yuuta snapped the loose thread free, and let it float away in the breeze. "I don't give a damn about the shirt, either."
Saeki blew a breath out through his teeth. "If all you want is to take your temper out on someone, just say so."
"It's not temper," Yuuta snapped. He scowled. "...not exactly." He scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I need a drink." He turned on his heel; after a few steps he stopped, and looked back. "Are you coming, or not?"
"Didn't realize I was invited." Saeki shrugged at Davide, who shrugged back, and followed him, expecting Yuuta to go below for rum. Instead, Yuuta made for his cabin.
Saeki lingered in the door, until Yuuta looked up from the chest he was rummaging through. "You can sit, if you want," he said, something like his normal good humor tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"So gracious of you." Saeki moved the damp shirt that was draped over the chair next to Yuuta's desk, and hung it over a half-open drawer, and took the seat as Yuuta placed a bottle and a box on the desk. "...wine?"
"What else? A genie?" Yuuta flipped the box's lid open, and lifted out the wine glasses nestled within.
"I'm never sure what to expect from you," Saeki shrugged.
"Flattery will get you everywhere," Yuuta said, holding the glasses up to inspect them in the failing light. "Do me a favor and light one of the lamps."
"Aye, Captain." He scooped up the tinderbox and moved to the nearest lamp.
Yuuta's face was odd in the flickering shadows, when he dropped the tinderbox on the desk and resumed his seat. "Thank you." He offered Saeki one of the glasses.
"You're welcome." Saeki took a drink of the wine, and blinked. "That's... not bad."
"Not bad?" Yuuta echoed, looking appalled. "It's considerably better than 'not bad'."
Saeki regarded his glass. "Couldn't prove it by me. Never drink the stuff."
"Barbarian." Yuuta shook his head, over the rim of his glass. "I suppose you prefer your rum."
"Rum is honest. You know where you are with it," Saeki told him, cheerful. He took another drink. "Wine sneaks up on me, and goes straight to my head. Stays there, too. Gives me the damnedest headaches."
"You don't have to drink it if you don't like it," Yuuta told him.
Maybe he was beginning to regret extending the invitation. "Hmph." Saeki shook his head. "That would be a waste."
"Of course it would." Yuuta shrugged. "Next time we'll drink rum."
Next time, huh? Interesting. "Sounds good," Saeki said. "When it comes to rum, I can drink any man under the table—even you, Captain." That odd expression crossed Yuuta's face again. "What?"
Yuuta raised an eyebrow, and his face smoothed out again. "Beg pardon?"
Maybe it was just the lamplight, doing funny things. "Nothing, never mind." Saeki covered up his puzzlement with another drink.
"If wine goes to your head like you say it does, you should slow down," Yuuta murmured. "You're going through that glass pretty quickly."
"You're drinking just as fast as I am," Saeki pointed out. "Faster, even."
Yuuta's expression was almost prim. "I've a good head for my wine."
Saeki slouched in his chair, beginning to feel the wine working on him, warming him from the inside out. "If you say so. You're the one who needed a drink, not me."
"Funny how that works, isn't it?" Yuuta lifted the bottle, refilling his glass; he gestured at Saeki's glass, and topped it off when Saeki held it out. "It's been a hell of a day."
"That's God's own truth," Saeki sighed, and lifted his glass to Yuuta in a mock toast.
"More for you than for me, I'd think," Yuuta said, scowling into his glass.
Oh. He must have seen the stunt with the rigging. Did the man miss anything that happened on his ship? "Eh. I'm just glad that Sengoku's luck has rubbed off on me," Saeki said, cheerfully—yes, the wine really was starting to work on him, if he could recollect that moment of mind-numbing terror with this much equanimity.
If anything, Yuuta's scowl turned darker. "That's pretty casual for someone who just about got himself killed today."
"It's not going to do either of us any good if I panic about it after the fact," Saeki said, trying to be reasonable. "And we're all courting death out here, one way or another."
"That was still one of the most idiotic things I've ever seen," Yuuta told him, tone frosty.
"Someone had to secure that line," Saeki argued. "When I first thought of it, it didn't seem as risky as it turned out to be. And if I hadn't done what I did, half the rigging would have gone."
"I would rather have lost half the rigging than—one of my crew," Yuuta said. "Rigging can be replaced. People can't."
"They can't," Saeki agreed, "but a crippled ship in deep water will kill her whole crew. I don't exactly outweigh the whole crew, do I?" And that was impeccable, unassailable logic. He wasn't doing too badly, despite being halfway through his second glass of wine.
Yuuta drained his glass in lieu of answering, and put the glass down rather than refill it from what remained in the bottle. Saeki counted the argument his, and savored the last few mouthfuls of his own wine against the backdrop of Yuuta's brooding silence. He set his glass down with a satisfied sigh, and the warm glow of alcohol warming his stomach.
"You can have the last of it, if you want," Yuuta said, and nudged the bottle over to him.
"You don't want it?" Saeki asked.
Yuuta looked away. "I've had enough."
"Might as well be hanged for a sheep," Saeki announced, and took advantage of the offer, which didn't amount to much wine. He toasted Yuuta again, and remarked, "Drinking doesn't seem to have done you much good."
"It never does," Yuuta murmured, back to toying with the ragged cuff hanging over his wrist. He gave Saeki a faint half-smile. "Seems to be agreeing with you, though."
"I'll be paying for it later," Saeki promised him. "Won't be fit for duty tomorrow, Captain, and it's all going to be your fault." This time he was watching, and saw that the faint shadow that crossed Yuuta's face wasn't a trick of the light. "What?" he asked, bewildered. "What did I say?"
Yuuta shook his head. "It's nothing."
"The hell you say." Saeki tipped back the last of the wine, and leaned forward. "What is it?"
"Wine really does go to your head," Yuuta noted, and collected their glasses. He moved away from the desk, and Saeki, to rinse them out with a bit of water.
Saeki refused to let himself be sidetracked. "Something I'm saying is pissing you off," he insisted. "Only you aren't yelling at me about it like normal." Since Yuuta had turned away, Saeki moved so that he could get a look at his face. "I mean, I'm not a smart man, but even I can tell something's wrong."
Moving did him no good; Yuuta's face might have been cast in stone for all of the information it gave him. "I told you, it's nothing," he said.
Saeki watched as he packed the glasses away. "...thanks for the drinks," he said, finally, and turned toward the door.
"You're going?"
"Didn't think you expected me to stay." Saeki tipped a puzzled look at him. "Unless you're just dying to pick a fight with someone." Which, given Yuuta's mood, seemed likely.
"I'm not—" Yuuta stopped, and shook his head. "Stay? A little longer?" His mouth quirked. "I'll try not to fight."
"...okay. I'll stay." Saeki sighed, and ambled back to his seat to collapse in it, bonelessly. "Even if you get even stranger when you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," Yuuta told him. "Not yet, anyway."
Saeki cocked his head. "No? Planning on changing that? You already put the glasses away." He grinned. "I can go get some rum."
Yuuta seemed to be tempted by the offer, for a moment, before he shook his head, no. "It wouldn't work."
"Of course it would. It's rum." Saeki leaned an elbow on Yuuta's desk, and propped his chin up on his fist. "It'd be perfect for getting drunk on."
"Not getting drunk," Yuuta murmured, smoothing his fingers over the lid of the box, tracing his fingers over the engraved brass plate.
"Then what?" Saeki asked, tracking the movement of Yuuta's fingers, trying to read it, even angled away from him as it was. The first line looked like Yuuta's name—what was the next part? Saeki squinted, and gave up the section in the middle as impossible, as long as Yuuta's fingers were resting on it, and tried for the last line. ...mest regards, Mizuki Hajime
Saeki jerked his eyes away from the box, guiltily, and saw that Yuuta was watching him. "Forgetting," Yuuta said, evenly. "I never seem to be able to forget the things I want to."
Saeki shifted in his seat. "Maybe that means you're not supposed to forget them."
Yuuta frowned. "No," he said. "No, I'm talking about... things that need to be forgotten. Things that only hold me back."
"Oh." Saeki turned that over. "Wine's not going to do that for you." Especially not wine from those glasses. "Rum might, though."
"Would you shut up about the rum?" Yuuta gave him an exasperated look.
"You were the one who brought it up in the first place," Saeki said.
Yuuta shook his head. "I did no such thing."
"You did, too." Weren't they supposed to not be fighting? Saeki thought that had been the plan.
Yuuta cast his eyes heavenward. "I suggested drinking wine, like a civilized person. You're the barbarian who keeps bringing up rum."
"I like rum." Saeki ran a hand through his hair, studying Yuuta. "What's got you needing a drink so damn bad you'd drink with a barbarian?"
"Ghosts," Yuuta said.
Saeki wondered what his face must have looked like, because Yuuta burst into laughter—maybe he was drunker than he was admitting to being. "I don't believe in ghosts."
"Neither do I," Yuuta said, between chuckles.
That clinched it. "You're drunk," Saeki announced. "And being drunk makes your crazy show even more than it normally does."
"I'm not crazy! ...not very crazy, anyway," Yuuta retorted. "And I'm not drunk. Mostly." He should his head, smile slipping away. "They aren't... real ghosts. Just... memories."
Oh. Memories. Couldn't he have said that was what was bothering him? "Memories," Saeki repeated. "What are you remembering that's so bad?"
"Did I say they were bad?" Yuuta's smile was back, and sliding towards the fey. "Some of them are very good."
"It's a good thing I know you like to be cryptic for the hell of it," Saeki said, tired of dancing around the subject—whatever the hell it was. "I'd've had to give up talking to you months ago, otherwise."
"We can't have that," Yuuta said. He rested his chin in his palm, eyes searching Saeki's. "I confuse you that much?"
"I can't tell what you're after, half the time," Saeki said, since Yuuta favored candor over courtesy. "And I can't tell when you're after one thing but say another, Cap—" Yuuta's brows drew together, and Saeki stopped, as a hypothesis presented itself to him. "—Yuuta," he said. "You were wanting me to call you by name, weren't you?" Yuuta's mouth went thin, but he didn't deny it. Saeki sighed. "Couldn't you have just said?"
Yuuta looked away. "Couldn't think of how."
"Saying, 'Hey, Sae, when we're being buddies and not captain-and-crew, call me Yuuta,' didn't occur to you?"
"...not in those precise terms." Yuuta crossed his arms, still not looking at Saeki.
"You had something else in mind, Yuuta?" Saeki asked, trying out the feel of it. "Or were you going to hope that I'd read your mind before your bad mood drove me out of here?"
"Something else." If anything, Yuuta's mood was turning darker.
"...hey." Saeki waited, until Yuuta looked at him again. "We're friends, right? But you have to help me out a little—I told you, I have a hard time figuring you out. So you have to let me know."
Yuuta held his eyes for a moment, and then nodded. "All right," he said, and picked up the abandoned cork. "Do me a favor, Sae," he said, after a moment. "Don't... crazy things, like what you did today. Don't do it again. Okay?"
He started to protest—they'd been over this already—but stopped himself. "That's still bothering you?"
"Yeah. It's still bothering me." Yuuta rolled the cork between his fingers, eyes fixed on it. "I thought you were going to splatter yourself on my deck."
"For a little while, so did I," Saeki said. "Scared the crap out of me."
"The rigging's not worth that," Yuuta said. "It's really not."
"This from the man who's in love with his ship," Saeki said, lightly.
Yuuta flinched. "I'm not," he said. "Not with my ship." His fingers were white, clenched around the cork.
Saeki started to protest that, argue that yes, he was, when he took a second look at Yuuta's expression.
...oh. Oh.
Saeki took a deep breath, and when he managed to speak again, his voice was quiet. "And here I thought there wasn't anyone who could compete with the Heron."
The muscles in Yuuta's jaw jumped as he swallowed. "You thought wrong." He looked up. "Stay with me for a little longer?"
Saeki laid his fingers on top of Yuuta's. "Yeah," he said. "I'll stay."
Yuuta exhaled, like the weight of the world had just come off his shoulders, and the smile that spread across his face was brilliant and much more like his normal wicked grin. "Good," he said, lacing his fingers with Saeki's, and leaned across his desk to kiss Saeki. He kissed the way he did everything else, holding nothing back and giving no quarter, fierce and uncompromising. Saeki let it catch him up the way he'd let himself be caught by the rest of Yuuta's moods, responding eagerly to the dizzy heat of Yuuta's lips sliding against his.
"Sae," Yuuta breathed, resting his forehead against Saeki's, hands cupped around face, eyes asking.
"Yeah," Saeki whispered back, and pushed away from his chair. Yuuta rose to meet him, pulling him close. "Yuuta..." Saeki said, hands roaming over Yuuta's lean body, sighing as Yuuta spread his hands against Saeki's chest. Saeki found Yuuta's mouth again for another kiss, hot enough to steal Saeki's breath away.
Yuuta returned it, hands fisting in his shirt, and then he growled impatiently into Saeki's mouth. "Off," he ordered, and Saeki blinked at him, confused that Yuuta had broken away from their kiss until Yuuta's hands slid up his chest, pushing the coarse cotton of his shirt ahead of them. Then he was blinded, briefly, as he understood, and helped Yuuta get it off. "Better," Yuuta grunted, and attacked him with hungry hands and a hungrier mouth.
"Getting there," Saeki agreed, breathlessly, hands finding their way to the fine-grained skin of Yuuta's back, liking the way Yuuta's muscles jumped and shivered under his hands. Yuuta pressed against him, kisses making it impossible to think, or to pay much attention to the fact that Yuuta was coaxing him backwards until something hit the backs of his legs, and Yuuta had tumbled him down onto his bunk.
Saeki blinked up at him, dazed, as Yuuta stripped off his own shirt impatiently, and joined him. "Impatient, aren't you?" he asked, sighing as Yuuta's chest pressed against his own, warm and sleek, and then he gasped as Yuuta insinuated a leg between his. "...Yuuta!"
"Time's too valuable to waste." Yuuta's voice was throaty in Saeki's ear, and his mouth on Saeki's throat was hot.
"Then don't," Saeki breathed, rocking his hips up against the hard thigh edged between them, groaning at the pleasure that arced up his spine. "Yuuta..."
"Yes," Yuuta whispered, "God, yes," and his hands were clever and quick at the laces of Saeki's breeches, and his hands were rough against Saeki's skin as he pushed them down Saeki's hips. Saeki moved slower, fingers feeling thick and clumsy (damned wine) as he returned the favor, and Yuuta murmured wordless encouragement, arching above him, skin golden in the lamplight.
Saeki drew him back down, breath coming fast at the feel of Yuuta's skin bare against his own, and the pleasant weight of the hard body over him. "Yuuta," he murmured, exploring the sharp angles and juts of him, beginning to lose track of everything beyond the heat of their bodies against each other and the need spiraling through him. He tipped his head back with a moan as Yuuta's fingers, calloused and rough, slid up the insides of his thighs and closed around him, stroking him slowly. "Oh, God..." Yuuta's eyes were burning, hot and heavy. "Yuuta, please..." He ran his hands over Yuuta's back, over the firm curve of his ass, kneading his skin restlessly.
"Sae..." Yuuta's mouth descended on his again, searing hot, and he reached over them, fumbling for something in the cubby above his bunk. Saeki had just enough time to catch a sharp herbal scent before Yuuta's fingers slid under him, stroking over him, and then teasing into him, slow and more careful than he had thought to expect. Saeki shuddered, and Yuuta swallowed his groan with another kiss.
Saeki gasped for breath at the slow burn of Yuuta's fingers working into him, muscles shivering with the heavy pleasure of it, and he cried out when Yuuta's fingers twisted inside him, sending starbursts exploding behind his eyelids. "Yuuta!" He caught at Yuuta's shoulders. "Do it."
"God, Sae..." Yuuta leaned over him, hands catching him up, spreading him wider against the bunk, and his face was tight with concentration as he pressed into Saeki.
Saeki moaned, shuddering at the slow, rough slide of him, opening him up, and his fingers dug into Yuuta's shoulders as he gulped in breaths of air. "God, oh God," he panted, "God, Yuuta!"
Yuuta groaned as Saeki flexed up against him, gasping his name, and his hips snapped forward. Saeki cried out again, muscles coming unstrung as relentless heat drove up his spine, gasping nonsense as Yuuta fucked him, hard and fast, and then Yuuta's hand closed around him again, stroking him hard, and he lost track of everything as pleasure whited out his world.
Yuuta was draped over him, limp and breathing heavily, when Saeki's widely-scattered wits began to collect themselves again. "God," he managed, and swept a lazy hand over Yuuta's back.
"Yeah." Yuuta's murmured was satiated, and smug to boot. "Damn."
There didn't seem to be anything more to say than that, so Saeki let himself drift in the aftermath of pleasure, muscles heavy and relaxed under the weight of Yuuta pinning him down. In a bit, he would have to stir himself, and go back to his hammock in the crew's quarters, but as long as Yuuta didn't seem inclined to move, he'd let himself be sluggish and stay. Saeki sighed, and closed his eyes against the brightness of the lamp. He'd say something, in just a moment.
Before he knew it, he was asleep.
Sometime later—past midnight, perhaps—Saeki woke up, and suffered a moment's panic, trying to recall where he was, before a movement in the dark caught his eye, and reminded him.
He must have made a noise, because Yuuta's voice came drifting through the dark. "Did I wake you up?"
"No, I don't think so." Saeki sat up, the blankets pooling around his waist. Now that he was looking, he could see Yuuta, outlined against the dim light of the window, looking out into the night.
"Ah. A restless sleeper?"
Saeki rubbed his forehead, willing the dull ache that was gathering over his eyebrows to go away. "Not usually. Need to take a piss."
Yuuta's snort carried through the dark clearly enough. "Slop jar's under the bed."
"Thanks." He fished it out and relieved himself; when he was done, he hesitated, wondering whether this was the time to excuse himself and slip below decks to the crew's quarters.
Yuuta interrupted his thoughts. "How's your head?"
"Beg pardon?" Saeki looked up as Yuuta turned away from his windows.
"Your head," Yuuta repeated. "You said before that you don't drink wine because of what it does to your head."
"Still shouldn't drink it," Saeki grunted.
"Sorry." Yuuta sat on the edge of his bunk. "C'mere." In the dimness, Saeki could just barely make out the motion that was Yuuta patting the twisted bedclothes. When Saeki hesitated, Yuuta sighed. "I'm not going to bite you. C'mere."
Saeki sat, and blinked as Yuuta's calloused hands settled on his shoulders, turning him until his back was to Yuuta. "What—"
"It's okay," Yuuta murmured, sliding his fingers up the back of Saeki's neck and resting them over his temples, rubbing them with a gentleness that was, really, more of a shock than anything else that had happened between them since Yuuta had offered him a drink.
When Yuuta didn't do anything else but massage his aching head, Saeki let out a breath and closed his eyes. "Feels good," he offered, uncertainly, as Yuuta's fingers eased some of the ache away.
"I know." Yuuta's fingers moved over his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles of the frown Saeki hadn't realized he was wearing. "I used to get headaches, when I was little. Yumiko would do this for me."
"Yumiko...?" Saeki echoed.
"My sister. She half-raised the two of us." Yuuta's voice turned wry. "Said we were more interesting than any doll."
"Mmm." Yuuta's fingers were coaxing him back to lean against his chest. They felt good enough that Saeki shifted, willingly, and settled against him. "Is she in the navy, hunting for pirates, too?"
"No," Yuuta said, voice distant. "She died. Childbirth." He laughed, short and bitter. "She loved children. Couldn't wait to have her own. Figures, doesn't it?"
"I'm sorry."
"What for?" Yuuta's fingers were running through his hair, stroking over his scalp. "It happened years ago. Just before I left to go to sea, actually."
"Ah." And just how related to the one had the other been? But he didn't ask. "You would have been a good uncle, I bet," he said, instead.
Yuuta's huff of laughter was warm against his ear. "I'm a terrible uncle," he said. "I don't think any of Shuusuke's brats know my name." He paused. "Well, the one named for me might."
Lulled by the murmur of Yuuta's voice, and with his headache easing away, Saeki spoke without thinking. "You should change that. Maybe after we deal with the Rose."
Yuuta's response was quiet. "You know as well as I do that there isn't—"
Saeki reached back, blindly, and stopped him. "Sh. I know. We all know. There's no call to say it."
"Sae—"
"Koujirou," he said. "My name's Koujirou."
He could feel Yuuta's lips moving under his fingers, twisting into what might have been a smile. "Koujirou," Yuuta said, winding his arms around Saeki's chest. "Stay with me tonight?"
"Yeah," Saeki said, again. "Yeah, I'll stay." He twisted around in Yuuta's arms, mouth seeking Yuuta's.
"Good," Yuuta said, against his lips, and they didn't speak any more after that.
When he woke again, it was morning, and his headache had mostly dissipated. Yuuta was sitting at his desk, staring into space. The door was sliding shut behind Dan, and there was a tray at Yuuta's elbow. Saeki sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Morning," he mumbled. Now what?
"Good morning," Yuuta replied. He gestured at the tray. "Hungry?"
"Always." Saeki climbed out of the bunk and stretched, wincing a little at the protests of muscles stiff from unaccustomed exercise, before hunting around for his breeches and pulling them on.
Yuuta's eyes followed his movements, gleaming faintly with something—appreciation, Saeki decided—and he pushed the tray over to Saeki when he sat. "There's plenty, so eat up."
Saeki looked the tray over and raised an eyebrow at the amount of food on it. "Does Nomura always feed you like this?" he asked, selecting a hard roll and gnawing on it.
"No, he doesn't." Yuuta sounded the faintest bit rueful. "Didn't have to ask for it, either."
"That didn't take long, did it?" He could hardly wait to see his crewmates and hear what they had to say.
"There aren't many secrets on a ship this size," Yuuta agreed. "If anyone—"
"I'll be fine," Saeki said, indistinctly, and swallowed his mouthful. "I can take care of myself."
Yuuta frowned, and sliced a piece of cheese off the chunk on the tray. "I know you can, but they can be..."
"Complete assholes?" Saeki volunteered, when Yuuta didn't finish his sentence. "Yeah, I know."
"I was going to say it more politely than that." But the corners of his mouth had turned up a little.
"I don't see why. It's the truth." Saeki shrugged, and pointed at the other roll. "Are you going to eat that?"
As easy as it had been to pretend insouciance in Yuuta's cabin, Saeki was less certain of himself outside of it.
"Good of you to join us, Saeki," Shishido called, when he finally made it to the deck. "We could use a hand over here, if you don't mind?"
"Aye, sir." He took his place at the capstan, leaning into it.
Next to him, Bane was grinning. "Oversleep this morning?"
"I was up later than usual," Saeki replied, because there was no point in pretending otherwise.
Across the way, Muromachi laughed. "Listen to that, would you? Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth."
"Can think of something else that would," Sengoku leered.
"And what might that be, Sengoku?" came the question from behind them.
Saeki sighed, and frowned at Yuuta, who ignored him completely, all of his attention turned to Sengoku.
Sengoku didn't hesitate. "Ice," he said, promptly. "Ice would definitely melt in his mouth."
"I'm sure you're right," Yuuta said, blandly, and sauntered away.
Sengoku waited until he was decently out of earshot to snicker. "Sure he's sure."
"Actually, not yet he isn't," Saeki told him, smiling. "But thank you for the suggestion."
Bane laughed outright at that. "Let me know if you need any tips."
Saeki snorted. "In your dreams, Kurobane."
He'd half-expected snide comments about being the captain's pet whore to go along with the more good-natured ribbing, but they never materialized. It was a pleasant surprise that they didn't, so he tried not to question his luck too closely, but when Davide greeted him that evening with a casual, "Enjoy your drink?" curiosity won out over circumspection.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say people were about to shake my hand to congratulate me," he said.
"Congratulate you, hm?" Davide's teeth flashed white. "Thank you, maybe. We'd be congratulating the captain on finally getting you."
Saeki narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean, 'finally'?"
David shook his head. "Any idiot could see that the captain has had his eye on you since we hauled your sorry ass on board." He grinned again. "Most of us had bets on how long it was going to take him to get you."
"...say what?" That had to be one of Davide's jokes.
"You should spend more time being sociable with the rest of us," Davide told him. "That way you wouldn't miss these things."
The entire ship knowing that Yuuta had taken him to bed was one thing, but that they had been betting on it... Saeki did his best to ignore the warmth crawling up his face, and asked the only logical question. "Well, who won?"
"Me." Davide's grin turned wider. "Remind me, and I'll buy you a drink next time we're in port." He laughed. "Sengoku says I had an unfair advantage, since I got to watch the captain courting you, but I think he's just a sore loser."
"All of you need better hobbies." Saeki scowled, and went back to the other question Davide's greeting had spawned. "So. Why thank me?"
Davide pursed his lips. "Been a while since we've seen him happy. Since the Mercury went down, probably."
"The Mercury?" Saeki echoed.
Davide leveled a look at him. "You think you're the only lover he's ever had? I was pretty sure you weren't that stupid."
"I'm not," Saeki retorted. "I'm also don't know what the hell you're talking about half the time, since I've only been on this ship for a few months."
"But you're so charming when you're confused."
"Captain," Davide tipped his head in a nod.
When Saeki turned around to look, Yuuta had his arms folded and there was a twist to his mouth. "Did I get here before or after you told all of my secrets?"
"Before." Davide lifted a shoulder, shrugging. "He ought to know what he's getting into, and I know you don't tell anyone anything if you can help it."
"You're presuming an awful lot on our friendship, Davide," Yuuta said, and Saeki recognized that deadly quiet tone for what it was.
Yuuta's anger didn't ruffle Davide's calm. "I know, Yuuta," he said, without flinching.
Yuuta scowled, and turned on his heel, stalking away.
Davide waited a moment before whistling through his teeth. "Took that well, didn't he?"
"I would have hated to see badly," Saeki muttered.
Davide laughed at that. "Don't blame you." He looked away, staring into the distance. When he spoke again, he was quiet and serious. "What you need to know is this: he's not been what you might call lucky, so it took him a while to say anything to you. You understand?"
He didn't. "Not lucky...?"
"Get the details from him, if he'll tell you. I'm not going to." Davide chewed on his lip for a moment. "I'm just saying that if he needed a drink last night, I don't think it was because he was thirsty."
"You don't, huh?" Saeki frowned, turning the previous night's odd mood over. If that hadn't been anger, but something else, channeled into anger... "Complicated, isn't he?"
"He puts a lot of work into it." Davide paused. "Where're you going?"
Saeki grinned over his shoulder. "Where do you think?"
"Good luck," Davide called after him.
Saeki made his way down to Yuuta's cabin, and paused for a moment outside the door. In the end, he shrugged, and let himself in without knocking.
Yuuta was pacing the length of his cabin, muttering softly. He stopped short when Saeki came in. "That didn't take very long. Come for the rest of the story?" he asked, voice sour.
"I don't care about it," Saeki shrugged. "It's not my business, is it?" He moved to where Yuuta stood, and laid a hand against his chest. "I care about what's here, and what's now. Okay?"
Yuuta's mouth thinned. "What's here and now is crazy," he said. "We could be dead next week."
"Everyone dies eventually," Saeki said, stepping closer and sliding his arm around Yuuta. "Nothing lasts, remember?"
Yuuta was rigid with tension. "Stay ashore," he said, softly. "Next time we make port. Stay ashore. Please."
"No," Saeki told him. "I can't do that. I won't do that."
"We're on a fool's mission." Yuuta's voice was as taut as his muscles. "You shouldn't—"
"Neither should you," Saeki interrupted, flattening his palms against Yuuta's back, pulling him closer.
"It's personal for me," Yuuta said, his breath warm against Saeki's ear.
"And it's not for me?" Saeki asked. "I'm staying, Yuuta." He pressed a kiss against Yuuta's throat. "We'll make the best of what time we've got. Okay?"
"Damn it, Koujirou..." But Yuuta's hands were coming up, and settling against his back, light and warm.
"That translates into 'Yes, I've seen reason, now let's go to bed,' right?" Saeki murmured.
Yuuta's frame shook in his arms; Saeki decided that it was laughter, and not something else. "Let's go to bed," Yuuta whispered, and Saeki decided that was close enough for the time being.
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