I mean, by the terms of that treaty he forced her to agree to they were supposed to turn over any pirate who tries to stay on there island right? And he’s a pirate soooo…
right? I like to headcanon that she goes up to that cliff to tell him to gtfo or she’s going to turn him over to the English.
Every time I hear someone refer to Silver as a poodle, I can’t help but think of my poodle Buttons, who used to genuinely forget to stop barking. She’d just start barking at someone and then, like – forget to stop, and when you said her name, she’d look startled like “oh – crap. Was I barking? I was, wasn’t I.” Coincidence? I think not.
(For some reason all I can think is modern au James is a cheeky shit in the Navy with his adoptive dad Gates having to pick him up all the time so here have this ridiculous thing that was stupidly fun to write)
——
It usually takes more than just a couple of hours for the phone call to come. This is a record breaker.
“Hal Gates,” he answers the phone curtly, sure of the reply he’ll get.
“Hal,” a familiar voice says sheepishly, “I’m in a spot of bother…”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and fishes for his car keys as he moves towards the door. “Which station?”
–
By the time he gets to the police station there’s already someone else waiting. A man of average height, so slightly taller than Hal himself, silver grey hair carefully combed back under a very official looking hat, smartly dressed with creases on his trousers that could cut through glass should the need arise, and a stern frown that makes Hal want to laugh at its absurdity.
“Are you Lieutenant McGraw’s legal guardian?” The man asks, voice a shade softer than his frown.
Hal nods, holds out his hand, feels the strong and sure grip his hand is held in and purses his lips. “Aye, I’m Hal Gates. What’s he done this time?”
The man sighs and quirks his lips in an almost smile. “From what I hear, saved a young woman from a nasty situation and broken a few noses whilst doing so. Though he’ll be in a state for inspection tomorrow.”
A lightbulb illuminates Hal’s mind.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” He asks, giving the man a chance to introduce himself. Not that Hal needs an introduction. If he’s right, this is the man who’s given James more than enough second chances and single handedly started his career as an officer.
“Admiral George Hennessey,” he says with a tip of his head, reaches up to remove his hat, “at your service. James tells me you’re a fisherman?”
Hal takes a moment to admire the soft curve of the Admiral’s eyes as he speaks of his son and lets himself look a little more as they talk. “By family and by trade. I taught James the basics before he took off to join your lot – I like to think my teaching’s done him good over the years.”
Admiral Hennessey’s smile broadens and he lets out a soft and disarming laugh. “That it has. It was clear from the start he knee his way about a ship, and not just more modern ones either. I’ve never met a man as young as he with as much knowledge of sailing ships.”
They speak a little more about James and his better qualities, a little light shone on their own lives as they go. When James is brought to them, his bail paid, he has a black eye and a split lip. There’s blood on his collar and a nasty cut on his cheek Hal will no doubt have to force him to clean.
“S-Sir!” James snaps to attention, ignoring Hal’s presence for a moment.
“None of that, you should have called me instead of leaving me to find out what happened. Your lucky to have a father like Hal here,” the Admiral turns and gives Hal a smile. “I think it might be best you took him home, maybe knock some sense into him. God knows the Navy can’t get through to him now.”
Hal laughs and shakes the man’s hand again, his smile widening as they linger a little longer than is polite.
“C’mon lad,” Hal says when he finally lets go. “You can tell me what happened on the way home… It was good to meet you, Admiral.”
“George,” Hennessey says, “call me George. It was a pleasure to finally meet you as well, Hal. I hope we meet again.”
When they get in Hal’s car James shoots him a pleading look.
“What?”
James grimaces. “You know what.”
Hal laughs and starts the engine. “I’ve had to watch you flirt with that politician ‘friend’ of yours. Let me have my fun.”
“Thomas is-“
“A brilliant man, I know, I know… But you have nothing but good things to say about the Admiral. Maybe we’d get on, having to put up with you so much.”
James snorts and leans back in his seat, a small ice pack pressed to his cheek. “Well he’s never been married and hates seafood, so don’t cook for him.”
“I’ll take that as you giving your blessing?”
“You’re my father, not the other way around! You don’t need my blessing.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
I still do not get how anyone considers Silver’s “I will wait as long as it takes – a day, a month, a year,” to Madi, to be anything but creepy as shit. Dude – she told you no. She told you get out – and your answer is “I’ll wait until the answer is yes”? Excuse fucking me? How is that not stalker-tastic to anyone?
i just saw a post that redid POTUS as SCROTUS which stands for “so called ruler of the united states” and i wanted to let you all know that’s how i will exclusively refer to trump henceforth
(Hello!!!! Good to be back my friend! A warning, this goes to some bad places. I have…. multiple feelings about Thomas post reunion, moreso than I do James, and it’s inspired by those feelings. I hope you enjoy it though.)
—-
The body is a marvelous thing.
It endures so much – physical abuse and pain, stresses untold, horrors that visit in the dead of night… Sometimes it is as though the body exists only to suffer. But sometimes the body can rest; it can be touched gently, bathed, treated with kindness and understanding.
With Thomas, James’ body does just that. His skin tingles, hair rising in goosebumps as Thomas touches him from head to toe. The scars from numerous battles are kissed, mourned, cleansed by Thomas’ touch. He spends long minutes on each and leaves no inch of skin unadorned with the light of his love. James weeps like a babe as he is loved. He had thought this was lost to him, first when Thomas was stolen from him, then when Miranda was torn from the world.
But now he is in the hands of the only one who means anything to him anymore. Thomas, his eyes bright and touch soft, whispering words of praise and adoration against the freckled and burned skin of his body. Thomas touches his reverently. His collar bones, the peaks of his nipples, the paunch of his belly and the downy hair there, the jut of his hipbones and the stiff rise of his cock. Every inch is rediscovered, lovingly mapped by fingers that bend out of shape.
When he is spent, James turns his attentions to the man who inspired him for ten years through darkness and back into light. He reaches out to trace his fingers over the ridges of scar tissue on Thomas’ shoulder, barely visible above the collar of the shirt still on his torso-
Thomas flinches, shrinks away silently with a grimace that twists his angelic face.
“Thomas,” he says, tasting the name on his tongue and finding it bitter in realisation that there is pain in his love’s face. When he reaches out again, it is to touch unmarred skin on Thomas’ upper arm. “Thomas, what is it?”
James’ breath leaves him when Thomas lifts the shirt over his head.
His back is a myriad of scars crisscrossing from his shoulder blades to the dip at the base of his spine. There are burn marks, old brands, showing between the lash’s cruel signature. His back is curved unnaturally from bending and toiling with little rest. James feels his own body ache in sympathy.
Thomas’ hands, once so elegant and precise, are gnarled and calloused. When James reaches out to hold one Thomas shies away. James sees a flash of scarring on his wrist and feels bile rise in his throat. Scars like that didn’t come from a set of manacles.
“Thomas,” he says again, shifting closer slowly, as one would with a skittish animal, and touches his knee. “Thomas…”
He spends the next hours loving each and every inch of Thomas’ body thrice-over. He kisses each scar, each burn, each indentation and badly-set bone. With each kiss he says how amazed he is that Thomas is here, how brave Thomas is to have endured, how glad he is to have the chance to love him again.
James pours his soul into each touch and word, thanks God for this moment. He kisses the tears from Thomas’ cheeks and lets the salt of them feed his spirit.
Later, when Thomas sleeps, he cries for the pain Thomas endured without him, because of him. He silently asks Miranda to watch over them from Heaven. And in the morning he will show Thomas just how beautiful he is all over again.
Meg's Mumbles 