#silverflint dow

“For the crimes of murder and conspiracy against the crown, you are hereby sentenced to death by hanging from the neck until dead.”

“Is that all?” Silver asks looking down at the magistrate. “You’re not even going to mention the theft of an entire warship? This isn’t the first time I’ve done this.”

“You’re a savage.”

“I am a gentleman,” he says. “With a lady wife.”

“Who isn’t here,” says another man with a smug look and Silver grins sharp and dangerous just as there’s a loud noise and one of the shops on the square erupts in a ball of flames. 

A plume of smoke engulfs the plaza and then, like a pair of deadly ghosts, Madi and Flint emerge armed to the teeth.

for the @silverflintdaily DOW prompt measure, dwindle, flirt

(Modern au, established relationship)

"Why do you look so pensive?"

Silver shrugged, sipped his wine. Flint, standing behind him, wrapped one arm around Silver's waist, kissed one cheek.

"I don't think I've ever had an anniversary," Silver said. "I flirt, I date, I watch affection dwindle, I leave when things get bad or boring, or before they go that way. A whole year together... a measure of commitment I wasn't sure I was capable of."

"Well you are," Flint said. "Don't let past fears haunt you. I'm not going anywhere. And I hope neither are you."

spaghetti, failure, cat

---

He had become somewhat of a decent cook. Enough to run an tavern, to have people not only not die, but also return for more food. He had the only tavern in town who hadn't poisoned someone yet, so that might be more of the reason however.

Yet, too little water and Silver had managed to burn the spaghetti. Fuck Italians, and fuck he misguided wishes to expand his horizons. Silver cursed under his breath, while he put the ruined pot under water.

"Calm down, it's not a complete failure. The salsa is great," Flint said.

"I can't just serve salsa, and you know it," Silver replied back angrily.

"I think you're upset about more than just pasta."

"Do you? My wife left me, the damn cat just died and you're back here after ten years. So maybe I am just upset about pasta."

Week 3: anchor, news, shirt

The news was spreading. From where he stood below deck, he could hear the men stomping in reenactment. He waited; it wouldn’t be long before Flint found him.

As always, their conversation held so much more than the words they spoke. But right now, Silver felt bold. Ready.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said, “how good it feels.”

He grabbed Flint’s shirt and dragged his mouth down, wrapping his hand around Flint’s head to anchor him as their lips pressed together. Flint pulled back, resting his forehead against Silver’s.

“What was that for?”

“Mother of god,” Flint chokes. John hits the cursed plus sign on the treadmill, kicking the speed up a few more excruciating degrees. “Show some mercy. I’m older than you. I can’t keep up.”

“You kept up fine in the locker room shower last week,” John winks, finally pressing his finger against the stop button. “Trust me, your energy is more impressive than some of my younger clients.”

James mops up sweat with his towel. “What would it take to become your one and only client?”

John tugs him toward the gym bathroom. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

"I told you more times than I can remember. My past is dead. Buried. Stop asking."

"I'll keep asking till you trust me enough to give me your past. Where you travelled, what you saw, who you met. Who you lied to. Who you were close to. What made you what you were the day we met. What made you leave me in Savannah, and then find me again here."

"Why the fuck do you …?"

“What exactly are we looking for Mr. Silver?” Jim asks, staring at the water crashing against the rocks. He could barely see, even with the lighthouse brightly lit above them.

“Don’t get squirrely on me now,” Silver says, nudging him with his crutch. “He’s never late on my birthday. It’s loyalty you know.”

“More like annoyance,” Jim huffs, but then there’s a ripple in the water, before a pale figure slides out of the foam. It’s nothing close to human, all sharp angles and silver scales.

for the @silverflintdaily prompt: friendship, beer, wheelbarrow