#study. flint.

𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐇𝐈𝐌. as if pretending would perhaps drive away the man whose weight he could feel upon the bunk adjacent him. whose gaze he could feel boring a hole into the side of his face as he slept. or, well, didn't. at last, a sigh escaped him and a single brow quirked, but his eyes remained RESOLUTELY shut a moment longer.

just a moment more to shut out the world and feign himself removed from its torments. alas, the torments came from within as well, and would suffer no ignorance to their damage.

❛ what on earth gave you that idea? ❜ positively deadpanned, like the crack of a whip. one eye creaked open, followed begrudgingly by the other. darkness still SHROUDED the room, broken only by meagre spills of moonlight from the grubby panes of glass. they caught upon the man's curls ... silver, where the brown was illuminated in that cool glow. beautiful, in the way a ghost must be. save that silver was real, was tangible, and was sat with his lower back flush to flint's thigh.

❛ you came here last night as well, and the one before. either my performance is growing less convincing, or you're becoming more observant. ❜ he stated the knowledge as the fact it was, and without any brokerage for argument. still, the annoyance he had expected to needle his tone simply ... wasn't there. had evaporated in the sea breeze at the WARM PRESS of contact. ❛ so i take it, i'm not the only one who can't sleep. ❜ a statement, not a question.

𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 & 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐓. 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐓. for one so at home in the sea, he felt much the foreign body next to one so wholly at one with her. one whose very essence was crafted from and for the open water. the motions of his arms felt floundering, the steady kicks of his legs like those of a stumbling fawn. he was a difficult man to intimidate, but silver managed it with ease ; not from any sense of fear or the like, but simply with the force of his nature. his very being. if no plain man could match james flint, none could rise to equal him ... this one could.

waves jostled them, jostled him, as silver seemed to press ever closer. laid a palm to flint's bare chest within the deep cut neck of his shirt, worn white linen translucent and BILLOWING in the water. ❛ is it, now? i'm afraid you're mistaken, mister silver. ❜ he wasn't. the moment that touch had settled upon him, unflinching and unyielding, his heart had quickened. stumbled in its rhythm only to strike up in double time.

𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅𝐅, 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐓, before heading back to work. there was a time he'd have been anxious about it, mind ever drifting back to all that remained waiting for him at home. paperwork especially. but lately, he'd been trying this novel little thing called relaxation. or, taking the stick out of his ass, as charles was prone to commenting. but the god of war wasn't here. they did have plans that evening : dinner plans, which would likely devolve into ordering takeaway and fucking all night at the beach house.

silver was here. here and shirtless, curls caught in the sea breeze, with the sun on their face. flint, for one, was aiming diligently at distracting himself from the sight of the other. a thing that had been becoming increasingly difficult of late. the further out he got from divorce, the more he seemed to notice little things. the way silver's eyes crinkled about the edges when he grinned, the way their lips parted idly and stayed that way, inviting. the way they stood so close, he could hardly recall when the space had diminished between them.

such was the case now, both stood leaning against the ship's rail and staring out at the sun glittering across cresting waves. ❛ i meant to thank you, by the way. i took your advice and started seeing someone. ❜ the words seemed to leap from his tongue, unbidden. another mode of distracting himself away from silver. a moment's hesitation, ere he stepped away and stripped the button up from his torso. ❛ as much as it pains me to admit ... you were right. i needed to put myself back out there. ❜ indeed, there were telling marks at the crook of his neck and down a broad chest : bites & bruises, and deep scratches at his back as he turned to approach a lounge chair.

❛ you know, i don't think i've really, truly relaxed in decades. ❜ he sunk down into the chair and draped, languid, reaching for his abandoned cocktail and pulling the sunglasses back down from atop his head. a beat of silence as he considered, sipping from the margarita glass. ❛ you likely wouldn't believe me if i told you, but i'll do so nonetheless if you promise to keep your mouth shut about it. ❜

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓. not exactly somewhere one would expect to find the god of the sea. certainly not where said god would've expected to find himself, for that matter. but silver had suggested he get out more, make himself more available ... move on. the latter of which was easier said than done. still, that fluttering nuisance of a god was his closest friend, and he knew the advice had been given with the best intent.

so, here he was. sat atop a far dingier bar stool than he'd like, surrounded by more people than he'd like, and four old fashioned whiskey glasses deep. at least there was no one here to recognize him ; that had been the point, after all, hadn't it? for if he was truly going to humour silver's words and sleep with someone tonight, it sure as hell wouldn't be with anyone he knew. the gods were messy, complicated, far too many strings attached no matter what the context. he needed casual. fun. things that he himself was not.

and so, flint was dressed casual. fun. worn jeans and boots, a leather jacket atop a tshirt, sleeves pushed up his freckled forearms, a silver piercing in one ear. even silver might've thought he looked fuckable tonight.

a broad hand closed about his fifth drink, rose halfway to his lips, when he heard the familiar husk at his ear. eyes rolled, scowl affixed as he turned to face the god of war. ❛ charles. what the fuck are you doing here? ❜ his own voice was rough, but looser than it was without an evening's alcohol to ease the way. also, pointedly ignoring that he was the odd god out in a place like this, not charles. ❛ i'm not here to pick a fight much as i'd enjoy beating you to a bloody pulp and calling it a night. ❜ glass now pressed to smirking lips where he sank the last of its contents and set it aside.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐗𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐃. that endless, nattering voice in his ear at what seemed like all waking hours. why had it ever seemed like a good idea to accept his application for teaching assistant? what had possessed him not to turn it down on sight? the other was easily and effortlessly his most vocal student ; opinions on everything, and always the first to voice them, no matter how devil's advocate they may appear.

of course, that was exactly why flint liked him so much. an admission that would never escape his lips, else silver's ego grew even more unmanageable. if such a thing was entirely possible. still, his begrudging fondness could be read plain in other ways, by those who knew him best. in the way he humoured his interruptions, suffered his arguments with pride, allowed their ... unprofessional tendencies. this particular line of questioning, rather impressively, managed to fit within the bounds of all three.

❛ no. in fact, ❜ a beat of silence as he continued his current scrawl into the margins of a student essay. ❛ i've been reliably assured i'm getting worse with age. ❜ deadpanned, dry & sharp. not once did he pause to glance up from the paper and acknowledge silver directly. the scratch of his pen and the dull, ticking clock the only sounds to fill the room. he wrapped up his scathing comments with a flourish and added a large letter 'F' to the front paper. a pause, ere he circled 'round it twice. he pushed his chair back from the pile of work and looked up at last to where silver sat, hunched in the chair across his desk. sharing the space and grading their own stack of flint's students' papers.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 ? 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄, but which had been building. evolving. sprouting legs and hobbling its mass ashore, free from the roiling depths of flint's judgement, but beholden to something new. the terrible weight of balancing that disconnect with a fresh sensation. affection, he may have called it, if not for his vehement refusal to do so. respect, he would settle upon. though, he'd respected hal gates more than anyone, and his gaze had never lingered upon the man's mouth. open and inviting as silver's always seemed to be ; not always. but around him? those lips seemed to part, ready and willing, as if knelt to receive. but flint could offer no such holy communion.

those thoughts hovered 'round his skull, unwilling to settle. a seabird surrounded with naught but open water.

his eyes tore from their focus at last and rose, wary but unsurprised to find silver staring as well. peering up at him from his seat at the window, bright, clear blue shining through those dark lashes. blinking up at him. flint licked his lips in an absent gesture that he'd resolutely pay no mind to. standing over them like this, imposing, rimmed in the harsh orange sunrise, he felt a giant. as if touching silver would be just as liable to crush him whole.

❛ morning. ❜ it came as a low husk, the depth of it startling him against the otherwise silence. ❛ the crew'll expect their quartermaster's address soon. ❜ as if that had anything to do with his cadence or the darkened storm of his gaze. no, the reason for both and more lie solely in the night before. in his moment of vulnerability, as silver had shorn away his copper locks and made him laugh through his tears. in the way flint had leaned up to them from his knees, and pressed a kiss so near to the corner of their mouth. how he had lingered there, hot breath fanning out across silver's cheek and throat ... how he had pulled away before a more grave mistake was made.

flint sunk to his knees again then, a mirror of the night before. he snagged the peg leg boot from the floor and beckoned for the other's acquiescence. ❛ you didn't sleep last night, did you? i know the look. ❜ of course he did. he rarely slept these days, and when exhaustion did overtake him, such rest was filled with fitful nightmares. ❛ you should let me take the window tonight. the bunk's more comfortable, and the crew need you at your best. ❜

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐇 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 '𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃, plucked from the golden serving tray of a passing demigod. a single brow rose, expectant, as he chewed and swallowed it down. ❛ followed you? my, how it must be to live inside your head. such delusions of grandeur. ❜ and yet, the smirk which played upon his lips told another story. at the very least, it spoke to the pleasure of silver's company, helped along by the teasing lilt of his tone.

fingers curled about the stem of his goblet, thumb steepled against the bottom where it stroked idly back and forth along the ribbed metal surface. he tipped it in silent cheers and brought it to his lips for a sip of the luxurious summer wine. it mulled about on his tongue a moment ere he swallowed and licked his lips, thoughtful. there was a time he'd have claimed to loathe sweet things ... but that was a time before he'd tasted the remnants of honeyed berries from another's mouth. silver's mouth.

❛ i was summoned, by our king. ❜ disdain caught within that low rumble, despite his best efforts to remain neutral. it was no secret amongst the pantheon that tensions had been growing between he and hornigold, but this was hardly the occasion for rash decisions. ❛ though, your promise of a gift this evening was incentive to show, i'll admit. it would've been terribly rude of me to deny an offering, after all. ❜ and to deny another addition to his burgeoning collection. where once his palace chambers had been modest, nigh on bare in their tendency toward the AUSTERE ... now they were filled with all manner of stunning trinkets and intriguing little knick knacks, brought and often crafted by silver themself.

one such trinket seemed now to be weighing a hole in his pocket, utterly focused as his attention was upon the feel of it against his leg. for this little thing was a different sort. one of his own to gift the other, fashioned by his own hand : a bit of driftwood, whittled to the rough shape of a little bird. often did flint watch them, hovering above the ocean's great expanse, and think of silver. ❛ i've a gift as well. a foolish thing, i'm sure, but ... well, it can wait 'til there are less eyes about. ❜ he tucked a hand into his pocket and leaned back against the wall, shifting weight. the gaze of so many settled upon his silhouette, enough to exhaust him already.

𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐄, 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 & his coward's pistol aimed down upon him. he had stared across the water, to the walrus, unflinching, and met eyes with his partner. his other half. had shaken his head and made that decision then and there. there would be no exchange. there would be no compromise. if the death of captain flint would light the spark of war, then so be it. he would hold no regrets in his heart. perhaps it was always going to end this way, and all their stolen moments in between were just that : love on borrowed time.

he had stood and watched, powerless, as silver denied him. as silver resolved to make his own decision at the expense of EVERYTHING they had worked tirelessly toward for months. everything that was so near at hand, that could have been so easily achieved by just one more life.

what was the value of his life against a war that would reshape history?

it had all fallen dim then. the fog rolled in to obscure all else, all conscious thought that would flood his mind. tuned out, like the aftermath of cannon fire at his ear, skull ringing. had they marched him 'cross the gangplank to the walrus and unchained him? had silver led him to the captain's quarters? to their quarters? he couldn't recall the details ; only knew where he sat now, perched at the window sill and watching that goddamn TREASURE sail away. hands, still thick with dried blood, still trembling with loss and rage and regret, resting in his lap.

no move to reach out. no desperate desire to feel his love against him, to hold him in his arms and lay those hands upon him, that chapped and silent mouth against him. only staring, out and away, at the future bought and sold for something so cheap as himself. silver's words cut through the din at last. as if heard from a distance, or from beneath the water.

love, not betrayal. love, not betrayal.

❛ you cannot have one without the other, my dear. ❜ his voice was low and rough, and sounded FOREIGN to his own ears. that stormy gaze tore from the horizon and levelled upon the other, hazed and glassy. ❛ this is not what i wanted. you know, for a fact, that this is not what i wanted. ❜ the quiet of his own fury shocked him. the need, not to lash out, but to shrink away. to sink through the floor and fade into the depths below ; to join the flotsam and be lost at sea.