suffering soiree

“Mmn,” Jonah hummed affirmatively, burying his head back into the pillow. It was probably nothing. He was so warm here, nestled in the silken sheets atop the Captain’s luxurious bed. He just wanted to go back to sleep. 

Vale slipped on a robe and padded out of the bedroom to the main entrance. Jonah heard the wooden door side open, then he heard a voice. 

“Captain,” Voss’ low voice reverberated from outside. “We have a situation.”

“What on earth is so important as to wake me in the middle of the night?” Vale hissed. He sounded clearly irritated. 

“Ship’s headed right into a storm,” Voss said matter-of-factly. “We need you to approve the new heading. Alejandro’s already identified several ways around it, but you have the final say, Sir.”

Jonah could hear the rushing of the rain now, if he focused his ears to listen—a rushing wind echoed from the open door like white noise. He could hear the raindrops hitting the side of the ship, pattering against the dark window on the wall to his left. 

“Agh,” Vale let out an irritated grunt. “Fine. Let me put on some real clothes.” 

“Right,” Voss said. “And what of the boy? Surely you don’t intend to leave him in your quarters alone.”

“No, no,” Vale concurred. “It’s far too soon for that. Take him to wherever you’re keeping Sawyer tonight.”

“Aye, that’d be the brig tonight, Sir,” Voss reported. “Mutt’s earned it with his shit behavior today.” 

Jonah’s world crumbled. He was so incredibly comfortable and warm right now—it was the most incredible bed he’d ever slept in, truly fit for a royal. And now they were going to send him to the brig? After all he’d endured? He’d tried so hard to be good for the Captain. He’d earned this! Jonah buried his face in the pillow and groaned, wishing he could just disappear. 

Jonah heard the Captain sigh. “Very well. It’s not my first choice, but it’ll do. Do give him a bedroll, though, won’t you? He’s been quite well behaved this evening and I don't want him messing up his bandages.”

Jonah’s heart jumped a little when the Captain called him well behaved. He was relieved his efforts had at least been acknowledged by someone on this god forsaken ship.

“Fine, fine,” there was a growing impatience in Voss’ voice. “Just hurry up and get dressed. Alejandro needs that heading.”

“Come in and get him now, then,” Vale said, sounding far too tired for this. “And don’t forget the shackles.” 

“As if I’d forget,” Voss muttered, but the Captain ignored him, beckoning him into the room and sliding the door shut behind them. 

Two pairs of footsteps echoed along the wood as they approached the bedroom. Jonah hid under the covers—a childish instinct really—but some tiny part of his brain wanted to hope that if he just hid from it all, they’d let him sleep. 

Jonah winced sharply when the covers were abruptly ripped off of him. He curled in on himself, suddenly freezing cold—the open air snapped all that warmth out of his body instantly. He looked up, wide eyes dismayed and pitiful, and was met with Voss’ stony expression staring down at him. 

“Get up,” Voss ordered sharply. “And put your clothes on. You’re coming with me.” 

“Oh, I do apologize, darling,” came Vale’s voice from the other side of the room. He pulled the ruffled midnight blue shirt over his head and reached for a pair of folded trousers. “But I have some urgent business I must attend to now and I’m afraid I just can’t leave you here unsupervised.” 

He buttoned his pants and walked over to Jonah, fondly cupping the side of his face. 

“You’ll be good for Voss, won’t you, dear boy?” 

Voss rolled his eyes, but stepped back to allow the Captain some space. 

“Y-yes, Master,” Jonah said, his tone exhausted and dismayed, nearly a whimper. But he obeyed, he agreed, he did as they expected of him.

Jonah heard the familiar rattling and looked up to see Voss holding the chain, shackles dangling down threateningly at him. 

“Legs out,” Voss ordered, cold and stern. Jonah obeyed without thinking, stretching his legs out in front of him on the mattress. He squeezed his eyes shut as Voss snapped the shackles around his ankles and locked them in place with the padlocks. Jonah felt the weight of them instantly—the freedom of motion taken from him once more. His heart sank in his chest. They’d never let him forget his place here, and the shackles were integral to that, it seemed. 

“Arms up,” Voss commanded, holding the bunched up silken dress he’d worn earlier. Jonah felt his lip wobble as he raised his hands above his head, allowing the first mate to slip the meager garment over his body. Were they really going to take him out in the pouring rain like this?

“Stand,” Voss said curtly. Jonah slipped his body off the bed, mourning the loss of those silken sheets. He shivered in the cool air of the room. 

Voss grabbed the thin gold chain that held the garment together and simply draped it around Jonah’s neck. No time to lace it up properly, he figured. 

Voss was growing impatient. Jonah could feel it, and it made him uneasy. He just had to be good. Be good, and they would allow him to go back to sleep.

“Give him a cloak or something, would you?” Sebástian said, slipping his coat over his shoulders. “I don’t want that silk getting wet.” 

Voss gave a low hum, not bothering to hide his irritation and urgency. This was taking too long, clearly. 

Sebástian tossed a bundle of fabric at Voss, who caught it and let it hang from his fingers before wrapping it around Jonah’s slender frame. It was a long dark cloak—smooth fabric draped over Jonah’s shoulders and engulfed him down to his knees. Voss tugged the hood up, and took Jonah’s wrist in a vice grip and began to pull him out of the room. Jonah spared one last look at Sebástian, who was slipping on his boots now. 

“I’ll see you later, darling boy,” he said, a fond smile curling at his lips. 

Voss pulled Jonah from the room without another word, and when the door to the main entrance slid open, Jonah nearly gasped as he was hit with a sudden wave of bitter cold. He clutched the sides of the cloak and wrapped it around himself as tightly as possible, trying to shield himself from the wind and rain as best he could while Voss dragged him across the deck towards the staircase that led down below. 

They descended, and Jonah had to walk slowly to avoid tripping over his chains on the dark stairs. It was warmer down here, shielded from the brunt of the storm, and Jonah was grateful he at least would be able to sleep inside tonight. He shuddered, remembering the nights Carlisle had chained him up outside for the night. The brig wouldn’t be comfortable, surely—nothing compared to the Captain’s luxurious cabin—but it was better than suffering the elements. Jonah tried his best to be grateful for that, at least.

Voss pulled Jonah through the corridors of the ship’s underbelly until they reached a room with a large metal cage along the far wall. Its walls were made of iron—thick rows crosshatched back and forth to create a grid-like pattern. More barrels and crates lined the walls on either side, resting beneath the lanterns that illuminated the space in a dim glow.

As they approached the cage, Jonah’s brow furrowed when he saw another figure was already locked inside. The man’s torso was wrapped in bandages, seated on a sleeping mat with his hands chained above his head, locked to the iron grid. Jonah recognized Sawyer instantly. The young man was slumped over in the sitting position—his head hung down limply, black hair dangling over his face. He appeared to be sleeping. Jonah’s heart clenched in trepidation at the thought of being left alone with him, but he found a tiny bit of solace that he was at least chained up. Sawyer couldn’t hurt him like this, even if he wanted to. 

Sawyer startled awake when Voss unlocked the padlock on the cage and the heavy metal door creaked open. He gave Jonah a rough shove, causing him to trip as he stumbled into the cell. His chains caught on metal at the cage’s threshold and he tumbled to the floor, nearly colliding into Sawyer, who sat back against the far wall. Jonah scrambled up into a kneeling position, ignoring the ‘tch’ he swore had just come from Sawyer’s direction. He could be as smug as he wanted—Jonah was not trying to incite Voss’ ire right now. 

Voss reached into a nearby crate and pulled out a folded bedroll. He wordlessly tossed it into the cell and slammed the door shut. 

“You two play nice,” he ordered, staring down at the boys through the bars. His piercing blue eyes now appeared light gray in the orange glow of the lanternlight. 

“Yes, Sir,” Jonah answered automatically, his voice small. He was still shivering. He curled his knees up to his chest and huddled in the cloak. 

“Could you at least fuckin’ unchain me so I can lie down?” Sawyer drawled. The layer of sleepiness in his tone did nothing to mask the irritation.

“You already asked that, and as I already told you—not happening,” Voss hissed. Jonah flinched at the edge in his sharp tone, even though it wasn’t directed at him. “I already said I don’t want you fucking up those bandages.”

Sawyer let out a dramatic groan in protest, but Voss ignored him. He walked to the side of the room, extinguishing all but a single lantern. Without so much as a ‘goodnight,’ Voss thudded impatient footsteps towards the room’s entrance and disappeared into the corridor, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Jonah sat in silence, grieving the loss of his comfortable accommodations. This was truly a dismal downgrade. He pressed his face to his folded knees, trying not to cry again. He didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, least of all Sawyer, who he knew would tease him for it.

“You can at least lay out the bedroll, you know.”

Jonah blinked and lifted his head up. He’d nearly forgotten. He nodded, crawling forward to grip the folded roll in his hands. He stood on shaky feet, chains rattling beneath him, and laid out the mat against the cell wall adjacent to Sawyer. He didn’t want to be near him, but he didn’t want to block the entrance either, in case Voss came back for them. 

Jonah settled atop it, resuming his earlier position, huddling in the wet fabric of the cloak and trying to conserve enough body heat to rid his bones of the deep chill that had followed him in from outside. 

Jonah felt Sawyer’s eyes on him. He looked back, unsettled by the unreadable expression on the man’s face. 

An awkward discomfort overcame him. They were alone in the cell, nothing to distract them now but the heavy silence and the pattering of the rain that thudded against the wooden walls of the ship.

“I’m sorry, um, about your uh, your wounds,” Jonah stammered out. 

“Fucking bastard,” Sawyer mumbled, and it took Jonah a moment to realize he didn’t mean him. “Voss wants to pretend I bring it all on myself, but the truth is that sadistic fuck likes it. Probably gets hard under his trousers every time he gives me a whipping.” 

Jonah didn’t want to say the obvious. He hadn’t seen what Sawyer had done to instigate today’s particular whipping, but based on what he’d seen of the young man’s behavior, Jonah was certain it wouldn't happen to him so much if he just held his tongue. 

“Is.. Is he like that with everyone?” Jonah asked, trying to gauge the probability of landing in the same situation. 

Sawyer scoffed. “Agh, he’s a right sadistic prick that’s for sure. Cactus up his arse, I swear.” Sawyer paused. Then, his voice lowered a bit. “But, he isn’t quite as rough on the others,“ a bitter resentment and a hint of dismay laced his tone. “Seems he’s got it out for me in particular.” 

He took a deep breath, looking down at his chained feet. “Though, suppose it makes sense, to a bastard like him. Anyone else would just quit if he beat them like this.. But I’m the only one who can’t leave.” 

Sawyer looked over to Jonah, who was staring down at some spot on the floor. 

“Though, I guess, now that you’re here, that makes two of us.” 

Jonah felt his stomach twist. He hated this conclusion, that Voss just beat Sawyer because he could, because he was a slave. Jonah was in the same position—was he doomed to the same fate, even if he tried to be good? It was clear Sawyer didn’t even try to behave, and Jonah had found solace assuming he’d be spared if he just obeyed and didn’t talk back. But Sawyer seemed convinced that his torture here was inevitable. Dread rose up Jonah’s throat as he thought of Voss’ whip, of the deep bloody lashes that lined Sawyer’s back beneath the bandages. 

They let the heavy silence hang over them for a few moments, before Jonah spoke up again. 

“How, how long have you… been here? On the ship, I mean.”

“Tch,” Sawyer turned his head. “Fuck’s it to you, anyway?”

“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” Jonah deflated. He was just trying to make conversation. Trying to learn more, if he could. He didn’t want to make Sawyer mad, but he needed to figure out how he could avoid the same fate as the ship’s resident whipping boy.

Sawyer sighed, relenting. “‘Bout two years,” he said. “They captured the vessel that held my contract—I used to be a paid man, you know—killed most of the men, sold another few to other ships, but the Captain kept me for whatever fucking reason.” Sawyer paused, and Jonah let the silence form between them, listening intently. “Haven't stepped foot on the land since the day I was captured.” 

Jonah’s heart sank ever further down into his gut. “They- They don’t even let you off the ship? Not ever??” He was trying to suppress the panic that crawled up his throat now. How on earth would he ever escape if they didn’t even let him on land at ports? 

Sawyer gave a grave chuckle. “No, fucking pricks just chain me to the mast while they all go ashore and fuck around. Or lock me up down here. Must be fuckin’ nice for them though,” he said bitterly.

Jonah thought of the shore, the sand between his toes, the waves kissing the land—the trees and the birds, the bustle of a morning market, the music of a tavern fiddler. He’d only been off land for a day, and he already missed it all so much it hurt. The knowledge that he didn’t know when, or even if, he would ever see any of it again made his throat clench up and moisture prick at his lashes. Don’t cry in front of Sawyer. 

“We’ll— We’ll do it,” Jonah swore, finally looking up at Sawyer. “We’ll be on land again, together. We’ll escape, we will. We have to.”

I have to.

Sawyer gave him a puzzled look, then just laughed bitterly. “That’s nice, kid. You sound fuckin’ crazy, but it’s kinda refreshing, you know? I’ve been trying to escape this damn place for two fuckin’ years now, and every time they just fucking hurt me worse than before.” 

“Oh..” Jonah said, trying not to let despair overcome him.

“But that doesn’t mean I won't try again, you know,” Sawyer said, and Jonah’s head perked up a bit at that. 

“R-really?” he asked. 

“Look, kid, if you can come up with some kind of genius plan to get us the fuck out of here, then I’ll do whatever I have to to make it happen. But as it stands, I’m fresh out of ideas.” 

“I’ll.. I’ll think of something. I will,” Jonah promised himself aloud.

Sawyer sighed, the hint of a smile ghosting his expression. He leaned back against the iron bars, clinking the cuffs as he adjusted his wrists overhead. 

“Sure, kid. You just loop me in if you think of something. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” He exhaled sharply, the hint of a laugh, as though he couldn’t believe it. “I’d be willing to try fuckin’ anything at this point.” 

“Just wait,” Jonah promised, trying to reassure himself it was still possible. “I’ll think of something. We won’t be stuck here forever.”

Jonah wasn’t even sure if he believed the words that came out of his own mouth, but it was better than the alternative. Better than sinking into endless hopelessness and despair. He had to remain alert, had to be ready for any opportunity to present itself. He had to grab it by the throat and jump at any chance fate would gift him. 

But for now, Jonah could do little more than shiver in the damp cloak. At least they’d given him a bedroll, so he wouldn’t have to sleep on the bare wooden floor. 

Sawyer studied Jonah’s huddled form as the silence stretched between them once more. 

“You look cold,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jonah mumbled, his voice muffled by the fabric as he pressed his face into his bent knees. 

Sawyer sighed again. “Look, kid, we’d be warmer if we were closer together. Share body heat and all that.” 

Jonah looked up at him suddenly. “What— What are you saying, exactly?”

Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me— Look, I’m not some blushing bride, okay. Just get over here and you can, like. Lean back against me. I can’t use my arms, but… you’d be warmer that way.” 

Jonah looked at Sawyer like he’d just grown a second head. Did he really just ask Jonah to fucking cuddle? Sawyer seemed like he’d try and bite anyone that came near him. He was practically feral in front of the crew. But perhaps Jonah was different. They did share a fate after all. Jonah shuddered against the cold for a moment longer, then thought, ‘Fuck it.’ 

“If you bite me, I’ll fucking punch you,” Jonah mumbled, climbing off the bed roll to drag it over next to Sawyer. 

Sawyer chuckled, his chains rattling a bit as he twisted his arms. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ bite you, kid. Jesus, you really think I’m some kinda rabid fuckin’ animal, huh?”

“No!” Jonah backtracked. “I just— You...” Jonah trailed off, not sure how to finish his sentence without offending the other man. 

Sawyer chuckled. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, kid. No biting, okay? Promise.” He flashed a smile. Jonah thought it was likely meant to be reassuring, but maybe he was just too jumpy from the day’s events, for Jonah thought he looked like a fox who’d just spotted an unsuspecting mouse. 

Nonetheless, Jonah was freezing in here, and beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers. He settled himself upon the bedroll and tentatively scooted closer to Sawyer, until his shoulder touched the man’s bandaged torso. 

“I’m not gonna bite you, Jonah,” Sawyer said again, a hint of impatience at the boy’s hesitation. “Can’t even touch you like this.”

“I— I know,” Jonah said, leaning up against him. He couldn’t lie, it felt nice. Not nearly as nice as being wrapped up in those silken sheets, but nice enough to warm his body up a bit. 

Jonah maneuvered the cloak around to his front to act as a blanket, sliding the fabric over himself and Sawyer, hoping to trap their body heat together. When the blanket was situated, Jonah’s arm instinctively wrapped around Sawyer’s warm torso. He flinched when Sawyer hissed in pain as Jonah gripped his side. 

“Shit!” Jonah grimaced. “Sorry–”

“‘Ss’okay, kid,” Sawyer’s voice sounded strained. “Just, yeah, uh, mind the lashes, could you?”

“Y-yeah,” Jonah said. “Sorry um, about that.” 

Jonah let his arm rest across Sawyer’s bandaged torso without gripping at his ribs, simply laying his fingers across the gauze gently. Sawyer gave a low hum in approval at the adjusted position. 

Jonah still couldn’t believe he was basically cuddling with Sawyer, of all people, but he couldn’t deny that it was working—he felt himself warming up by the second. Their shared body heat gathered steadily, trapped beneath the makeshift blanket. The goosebumps on Jonah’s arms and legs settled back down into smooth skin—the shiver in his chest seemed to melt away as the minutes passed there between the two boys. 

Jonah leaned up against Sawyer in the dim lanternlight, listening to the pattering of the rain until his eyes flickered shut. The steady beat of the storm ravaged the walls of the ship, but none of it reached them here. Eventually, Jonah slumped over into Sawyer’s body, his head falling into his lap as he slipped beneath the waves of slumber once more. 

༻✦༺

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