asfhjakhf yes. and they also hold hands doing that, fingers entwined.
Imagine James trying to make Thomas smile though. No that it is hard, but he wants to make him laugh cause God he has missed his laugh, and he starts saying silly stories or jokes
!!!! and imagine when he does make him laugh – he feels it more than hears it because Thomas’s face is still tucked against his skin, and it’s just as wonderful as he remembers it so he turns and kisses Thomas’s forehead
Anne’s not going to make a move on her own. Jack knows this. The
question is what he will do with it. In between worrying over finding Flint and
possibly dying and pondering what lie to tell Lady Guthrie when it became apparent
that no one was dying, he had thought of that.
On the one hand, he doesn’t have to do anything of course. On
the other, that’s such a poor lie he can’t even stomach it.
So when it’s evening and Anne is curled up on her side beside
him, her hand on his stomach, like she can’t believe he’s really come back,
Jack pulls away from her touch.
“What is it?”
“Give me a moment.” Jack kisses her hair, knowing
things are going to charge yet again for them. But that’s life, one eternal
change. But there are certain constants, and they must be held onto, especially
in the face of change.
He goes out into the hall and pauses, and then quickly before he
loses his nerve and changes his mind, he raps on the door.
Max answers quickly. “What is it?” She looks past him,
“Is Anne well?”
“No.” Jack says.
At her worried look, he takes her hand reassuringly. “Sorry
shouldn’t have put it like that, but it’s the truth and we both know it.”
Max licks her lips, haltingly, taking her time with her words
and for that he is grateful. “You returned to her. She will be herself
soon enough.”
“If you actually believe that, then you don’t know her half
as well as I thought you did.” Jack said. “Look, just come with me.” He leads her by the hand through the
hall and into the other room.
Ann’s sitting up in bed. “Jack, what is it?” She looks
from him to Max with worried eyes.
He nods at her. “It seems rather silly to me, to waste any
more time pretending you two don’t still care for each other. So if you could.”
He gestures vaguely between them. “Simply make up and get into bed so we can
get some sleep, I’d appreciate it.”
“We did make up.” Anne mutters without looking up at him.
“Then why are you here?” Jack asks, dumbfounded.
At that she looks at him. “Because I weren’t gonna just
leave you for fuck’s sake.”
“I know that, but what’s stopping you from being in there
with her?”
“I am standing right here, you know.” Max crosses her arms
over her chest.
“Yes, and why is that again?” Jack’s hands are on his hips
as he stares at her. “Ah yes, because I went in there and got you. That was not
in any way my responsibility, but the two of you won’t see sense and I, for one,
am tired of it.” He sinks down on the foot of the bed. “Do you even realize how
unbelievably lucky it is that I came back at all from that little excursion?”
Anne looks at him sharply.
“If I were dead.” Jack trails off. “I like to think the two
of you wouldn’t continue being so fucking stupid.”
Max eyes him. “Bullshit. You’d want us to be drinking in
your memory and telling fantastic stories about your glorious deeds and
adventures.”
“Well, that too,” Jack agrees, chewing on his lip. “I just…
Stay, go, decide whatever. But I am going to bed.” He looks at Max. “You’re
more than welcome to stay. That’s all I’m trying to say here.”
With that he kicks off his boots and crawls back into bed,
pulling the blankets over him. Anne settles back beside him, but he can feel
the tension in her, the hard line of her body holding and waiting and wanting.
“Do you want to me stay?” Max asks quietly.
Jack buries his face in Anne’s hair as he listens to the
soft catch in her throat.
“You know I do.”
“Then I will stay.”
Jack closes his eyes. The bed shifts and Max joins them. He’s
only mildly surprised when a hand is placed over his and given a small stroke
of her thumb.
He opens his eyes to see Max smiling at him. “More than
welcome, you say?”
“I do tend to elaborate.” He murmurs, but his mouth twitches
slightly in return, his thumb pressing against hers briefly. “Now if you would
be so good as to blow out the candle, we can all get some sleep.”
The room settles into darkness as she does. Jack lies beside
Anne, feeling the warmth of her, the softness in her body now that she’s held
safely between the people who love her.
It wasn’t a hard decision in the end. When you love someone
you want them to be happy, and sometimes, if you’re lucky enough, that happiness
includes you. Change is inevitable, perhaps, but love is a constant in the
dark.
Jack didn’t understand. That was problem number one. It
wasn’t just about wanting a woman. Anne had wanted women before. Didn’t drive her mad with desire, the way it
did with men. She wasn’t ruled by her cunt, not like men and their cocks. Just looking
at a women and thinking her pretty, that was nothing. Nothing to fret about. She
didn’t have to say anything about it. It was enough to just look.
Problem number two was herself. Anne knew she wasn’t the
sort that other women were drawn to. She wasn’t soft or sweet; she wasn’t kind
or pretty or anything like that. She wasn’t drawn to dresses or jewels, baubles
showcasing a woman’s assets how people liked. She was like as not always rough
and half covered in grime, clothes rusty with bloodstained, long stringy hair
unkempt. As long it didn’t get in her eyes in a fight, she didn’t bother with
it.
The third problem was the woman. The woman in particular, for it was just one woman this time,
making her feel as she did. Max was all of those things, but they didn’t demean
her. They didn’t fill Anne with disgust like they did sometimes on other women.
Max used her power to get what she wanted to survive, what she wanted, for
pleasure.
That was something to be admired, Anne thought.
Max was meant to be admired. She deserved someone who could
give her things, who could show her how much she deserved the entire world to
be laid at her feet. How she should never have to move a fucking finger if she
didn’t want to.
That wasn’t Anne Bonny. She was never going to be good
enough, she knew that.
But she did her best.
She brought back a shawl from one of their plunders, a silly
bit of bright yellow silk that made her think Max when she saw it.
She left it on the foot of Max’s bed one night when she was
leaving.
“You forgot this?” Max came in from her dressing room, her
robe pulled loosely around her body, barely covering it. Anne shivered
slightly, knowing all the full delights that body gave her, how freely Max gave
them to her, and was what struck Anne with wonder time and time again.
Max gave herself to Anne, because she wanted to.
Max held out the shawl, waiting for Anne to take it.
“Naw.” Anne ducked her head, reaching for her hat. “I didn’t
forget it. It’s for you.” She paused, watching Max’s face as she looked down at
the shawl, puzzled. “Thought you might like it, is all.” And she ducked out of
the bedroom quickly before she could see Max’s face.
If she had lingered, she would have seen Max’s fingers trace
over the soft silk, gently, as though it would vanish from her fingers if she
held it too close. She would have seen Max slowly pull the shawl around her
shoulders, holding it lightly to her body with her eyes closed like she was letting
herself breathe for the first time in a long time.
Meg's Mumbles 