noah.

Arsenia noted his slowed pace to allow her to catch up, speeding up her own a bit. “And what if I am not altogether opposed to such a thing?” she asked, teasing as she met his gaze. “I was not born with them, no. I had a cosmetic dental surgery when I was about fourteen to get them though, so they are indeed real in that regard.” Holding out her hand, she twitched a finger to indicate he was to give her his. “They certainly feel real.”

Noah hesitated. It wasn’t often that he felt out of control, even on the island. His height and his standing as a pirate seemed to secure the upper hand in most situations. He liked that. He wasn’t a Tulach, but sometimes he acted like one, and that opened doors for him. But yet --

He cocked his head, but gave his hand to her all the same. “Why? Do you like the myth?”

It was a warm day, Eli had been up from sunrise buried deep in his research. It was still quite early when hunger had driven him to the canteen for breakfast but still later than he would have liked because more and more people were filing in with the same idea. He had eaten quick and grabbed a cup of coffee with a plan of searching a quieter place outside to enjoy it.

He spotted a familiar head of dark hair at a bench overlooking the newly constructed pergola. “Hard at work already?” he asked with a smile as he took a seat next to him. The look on Noah’s face gave him a pause, the furrowed brow and pursed lip. There was a sympathetic raise of his brow and Eli tried to fight the fond smile from tugging at his lips in response.

He looked towards the pergola the find the cause of Noah’s discontent, “The plants?” he could admit that he had seen plants before that looked more… alive. “The soil is mostly sand here so it’s definitely going to be a challenge, at least if you want to keep those plants alive,” he indicated with a nod.

He didn’t know anything about soil. Dirt was dirt, until it wasn’t, and he’d bought an awful lot of supplements to help fix that. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing grows here. No plants. No vegetables. I haven’t had a mojito with real mint in--”

Too fucking long.

A beat. He glanced up. Looked at the surgeon with surprise, and interest. “Are you saying--” Eli had a bit of a reputation, but that was mostly constrained to tea and hospitality. He squinted. “What sort of plants would grow well?”

In it, shmin-it. Noah wasn’t even wearing his eye patch.

“No need to be jealous that I’m set up to be happily married one day.” Valko slowly tilted his glass back and forth, swirling his drink. Whether or not he would actually be happy was beside the point. Valko had already managed to avoid a number of deep conversations today, he was not about to get dragged into a debate on the merits (or lack thereof) of arranged marriages amongst the monarchy.

“There’s someone out there that’s perfect for you too. And one day you will find him or her. Don’t you worry. I bet they’re gonna have a big smile, and… hair.” Valko gave a half-hearted gesture to the perfectly coiffed, if excessive amount on Noah’s own head.

Eye patches were for weenies; that’s why he’d given one to Valko.

“Whatever.” Noah huffed. He liked his hair. He was also beginning to feel oddly claustrophobic in the lounge, as more and more bodies filtered in. He’d gone through a period where he read too much about public fires, about theaters where the doors opened the wrong way, about dinner clubs with unmarked exits. Crowds got him on edge.

Never mind that these royals would kill him without a second thought, the first second they got. Noah wet his lips.

“Alright, well. Don’t you wanna go talk to her?” It felt a little bit like the first day of school, a big brother trying to shrug off his clingy, younger half. “Go on. She won’t bite.”

Or if she does, you probably like that, you vampire.

Reaching out, giving the proffered hand a firm shake, and murmuring an introduction (”Ragnar, Iceland”) in return happened on autopilot before he had properly processed the words.

“Amazon Prime?” His voice did not crack. It was - shock. Extreme surprise. Those were words from what felt like a world away. Here he was, scrounging and - and using rocks on the beach, and these - these kúkalabbi had internet. Of course the pirates would not be depriving themselves of modern conveniences, but the reminder still rankled.

On the other hand, this Noah - Noah the Architect Pirate - seemed like an amenable sort.

He picked up a stack of pavers, giving them a considering glance. “How long would it take to order a new stack of these - these pavers then? For example, if this stack met an unfortunate accident.” He wasn’t even aware this forsaken place received mail. Did they use - use drones?

He pasted a smile on his face. “We royals, we can be quite clumsy at times. After all, we are not architects.”

Noah reached over, taking the pavers from the prince. Three, he could hoist under an arm. Five required both arms. He huffed, and nodded his head at the gravel. “Yeah, that’s why you’re carrying that.”

A nudge with his toe, green eyes flicking up at the prince. “Come on.” This one took almost as much cajoling as the princesses, and that was saying something. Noah wet his lips. “Down we go again. Shut your eyes and think of the vodka.”

Mischevious didn’t play well with him, since the fire. Or, he thought, since ever.

Amazon seemed to interest him, though. He couldn’t blame the prince, Ragwash or whatever he’d said his name was. The world owed everything to Jeff Bezos. Leading the way down the path, he set the next stack of pavers down and trotted to the top of the hill, his eyes alighting on a joyous sight: last load.

“What, are you missing your Marvelous Mrs. Maisel or something?”

He stared glumly out, green eyes far more living than the wilted plants around the pergola. The structure itself looked great: concrete-footed pillars stretched high to accommodate dark-stained boards, the floor an intricate example of pavers-as-tile work. But the plants --

Noah sipped his coffee, the Yeti in his hands keeping it exactly right. Stupid island. Stupid tropical sun. Everything he was accustomed to fried in it like paper. He barely registered the arrival of someone else, only glancing as the bench shifted underneath him. “Hey, Eli.” When Noah was sad, there was no hiding it. He was on the verge of pouting.

“Look at this mess.”

Mina rolled her eyes, hitting his shoulder once more. “I know I’m not the only one who thinks that. There is a good chance we’re all crazy but still.” She put the paint samples over towards the rest of the supplies. “I know this is probably silly but just….thank you. For letting me help with all this. I’m not sure what I would do without it right now.” 

It might have been too much but it was true. She truly did appreciate Noah and his willingness to let her do something. “I have always liked to do this kind of stuff. I don’t get a chance to do it a lot. Even when I go to do mission work, it’s never this kind of stuff. I have to twist some arms just to be able to actually interact with people. So….thank you.” 

“You’re welcome?” It was an odd turn of sentiment from the pretty redhead, and he gave her a quick once-over, rising slowly from his crouch on the floor. The pavers were down, the pillars were up. Concrete had been poured. It was the home stretch by all accounts, though his eyes did stray from her for just a moment, taking in the sight of the rafters. They’d need hooks. Every sixteen inches. To string lights or boughs or -- whatever. Knowing Valko, he’d find some ridiculous garland to throw up there.

His attention snapped back to her as he slid the paint chips into his pocket. “You doing okay, princess?” 

At that Valko actually took the time to lean back in order to see around Noah’s abnormally tall hair. He followed the pirate’s gaze, searching the crowd until he saw the feathers. The corners of his mouth quirked up slightly, and he sipped the drink that was a Mai Tai only in name. Future wife was 

“Looks like a Victoria’s Secret model to me. Except… a little overdressed.” He turned back to the bar. “What happened to your costume?”

Petrov’s lack of morals was at once astonishing and refreshing, and, not for the first time, Noah wondered if their roles should have been reversed. In many ways, his agreement with the prince felt more like captivity than he wanted. Somehow, Noah seemed constantly subjected to his whims.

“What are you talking about?” Noah huffed, glancing down at the black jeans he always wore. The shirt was different, though. A lot of color for his usual motif. “I’m in it.”

Rolling his eyes, he nodded. “You should’ve been a parrot. Then you’d match your bride over there.”

Hashtag lovebirds.

He staggered back, arms reflexively reaching out to support the bag of - dirt? sand? he was not familiar with the details of home construction - before he could think better of it. And once he was holding it, it seemed …petty to drop it again.

He sighed, hefted it up and peered around. “Where does this go? On top of the pavers?”

Pavers. Dirt bags. Pergola. Not to mention an assortment of admittedly basic, but still functional tools for the building. He made a note to himself to do a full, ah, inventory of what was available.

“Asking politely is working for you right now,” he pointed out, “And I find it difficult to imagine you making anyone do anything.”

Setting the bag down by the pavers, he bent to pick up a stack and walk them over to where the pirate had begun stacking. “I also find it difficult to imagine this - this pergola-building knowledge coming in handy as a pirate, but here you are.”

He nudged one of the stacks with a foot. “Is all of this from the warehouse? Or do you have to order special pirate-island pavers?”

Did Amazon even deliver here? And where was here?

Bending, he picked up a similar bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. The pebbles shifted, but it was a hell of a lot more comfortable than carrying the weight in his biceps. They already felt like jelly.

“I’m an architect,” Noah returned cheerfully. The prince’s accent softened any blows he might have given -- it sounded Russian, almost. Or European. But lighter, almost tweedy. Catching up to him at the bottom of the hill, he dropped the bag he was carrying on top of the one just set down. The pebbles crunched. “Architect first. Pirate second. Noah Graves, Boatswain,” he stuck out his hand to be shaken. “Amazon Prime is a beautiful thing.”

But, in truth, he’d picked these up at Home Depot the last time he was home.

Ships could carry a hell of a lot when they weren’t full of whiny captives. He missed those days.

“Is allowing them near power tools really the smartest decision?” she questioned, glancing over at him. Claire trusted him to keep an eye on them of course, but still she had to wonder. “And by my new kitchen renovation you mean the warped floor I refuse to let you fix, right?” Her brow was raised by a smirk played on her lips. She knew how much the floor of her kitchen bothered him but had reservations about letting him fix it. Namely, she didn’t want to get kicked out of her own villa for weeks again.

The walk to the lounge was done mostly in silence, which was fine by her. It gave the first mate a chance to collect her thoughts.

“Yeah, i’m definitely the tequila sunrise type.” she replied with a faint laugh before shaking her head.

“How about just some Jameson.” she decided, eyes meeting with the pirate who stood behind the bar before turning her attention back to Noah. “Whiskey and coke is pretty simple.”

His first drink as a legal adult had been similar, poured by Grace as she was nearly falling over from having one too many of the same. Ketel One and coke. It tasted like someone had mixed a soda with antifreeze, the bitterness stinging all the way to the back of his mouth. And that, he supposed, was adulthood.

Noah shook his head. It wasn’t like him to be so maudlin.

“Sorry.” He muttered. He didn’t like it when he was so amped up, so stressed and worried. The island felt like a sinking ship, pun intended, and the band just kept playing. Noah raked a hand through his hair. “How do you stay so calm here?”

11:44pm

why am i wearing ur shoes?

Noah has two items for Kane on his recurring Amazon Pantry order: Chips Ahoy! cookies and Charmin toilet paper. It’s a gentlemen’s agreement between them.

@treacherous-kane

One time, Noah let Nael drive his golf cart down to the docks while Noah rode shotgun. He was in a heated Reddit debate and wanted to get all of his points in before they went back to renovating Claire’s villa. They wound up joyriding around the island for awhile without Noah even noticing.

2:00am, exactlyWhy doesn’t this island have sushi? We all have knives and we’re surrounded by fish...

Lola is one of Noah’s favorite princesses on the island, and he’s actually spent a lot of time trying to teach her how to do new things. She’s getting better, and that makes him glad (and a bit relieved).

Noah thinks Lecia’s being really dramatic about that time he left her in the dungeon. He didn’t even use a weapon, and he told Jacob she was there before sunset. D r a m a t i c.

@leciacardoza

When Noah was twelve, Jacob took him on a short sailing trip along the coast of New England. On the third night, Noah fell asleep on some coiled rope on the upper deck and wasn’t found for nearly three hours. Jacob about lost his mind.