paincaving

i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta

The weight of Jack’s steps travels through her boards and into the long curve of her spine, and she tracks it the way the tide tracks the moon such that by the time he reaches his cabin, she’s already there. The exchange still hums through her timbers, though; the sharpness of it, the way voices cut and pressed and circled. It sits in her like a reef just beneath the surface, not rage, not quite, but a tightness in the grain.

So she lists just enough to knock the coin from Jack’s desk, the small metallic strike against wood bright and precise, and as he steps in front of his door it opens for him without hesitation. Lanternlight spills across polished grain and chart edges, across the quiet discipline of his space, and there she is, seated atop his desk as though she has always belonged there, as though the wood rose to cradle her instead of the other way round. Her posture isn’t loose, though. There’s a coiled stillness in it, a held line with her shoulders squared just slightly, chin lifted a fraction too high. Annoyance lives in the set of her mouth, in the faint narrowing of her eyes, the memory of that negotiation still pricking beneath her skin.

But when he appears in the doorway, all of it tightens into focus and then everything else falls away. On the desk beside her waits a shot of dark rum in a chilled glass, one she plucks up to hold out for him, her gaze fixed and unwavering now, the sea’s quiet claim resting in the curve of her mouth as she waits for him to step fully inside.

i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Under Murphy's steady hands, The Ark makes an about turn and sails back towards King's End with the rising moon at her back. And as they clear the Maw she'll start to dip down, too, until her keel kisses the water and she begins to sail as she was originally intended, with skill and waves and wind. Before all that, though, Jack arrives at his cabin.

The tension in his shoulders hasn't eased up any, making them ache with it, but the mask of careful arrogance had dropped from his face the moment he'd left the crew's immediate vicinity. He isn't angry or spiteful or upset, not outwardly. He's just exhausted.

"Cheers, love," he mutters to the door as it opens, trusting her to shut it once more and seal them away from any prying eyes. He takes the rum in its perfectly cool glass and shoots it back in one burning, satisfying swallow, and before the liquor can even properly heat his throat he's chasing it up with a taste of her lips.

Jack kisses The Ark long and hard, as if needing to anchor himself to something other than bile and bitterness, and when he pulls back there's an apologetic slant to his expression, the Captain standing between her knees at his desk. "That was a fuckin' rough start to the evenin'," he says, aiming for a levity that doesn't quite land.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta

The door closes behind him with a soft, decisive click, the lock turning of its own accord as the wood settles back into place. Outside, frost creeps slow and deliberate along the boards leading to the captain’s cabin, a thin glaze spreading like early morning ice over still harbour water. Anyone foolish enough to try their luck will find no sure footing there tonight.

As Jack's mouth finds hers she meets it head-on, leaning into him with the full weight of her claim. There’s nothing tentative in the way she kisses him back; no softness born of sympathy, no fragile handling of a wounded pride. She has sailed through squalls that cracked her ribs and torn winds that snapped her lines, she has limped back to harbour with splintered rails and taken repair without shame. Storms leave mark; evidence of injury did not mean defeat.

Her hands slide into his hair, fingers tightening, tongue sweeping against his, tasting the rum that still lingers there, polishing the silver of his tongue where blood had marked him above deck. When he pulls back, she lets him, though her hands remain in his hair a heartbeat longer before slipping free. Her ocean-dark eyes take him in without blinking, mapping the lines of fatigue at his mouth, the tightness still living in his shoulders. She turns just enough to refill the glass, amber sliding thick and slow into the chilled cup, then offers it to him again without ceremony.

"Flora sounded real pleased with herself," she says, voice low and even, not barbed but not warm either. "Given the size of the favour she just did you."

i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

One of Jack's arms has slid around The Ark's waist quite without his realising it, drawing her close against him even as their lips part, and when she reaches to refill his glass he offers a grateful dip of his chin as he accepts it. "Flora thinks she's just protected herself an' everyone she loves from the most dangerous man she's ever known. You'd be real pleased with yourself too, in her shoes," he says with a scoff of bitter laughter. "Here's to my reputation precedin' me, I guess." He lifts the glass in a toast, shoots that back too, then sets it down on the desk for her to pour herself a drink.

"Still, I ain't gonna complain about a loose end tyin' itself up for me," he agrees, despite the way his mind is still reeling from the past few minutes. "Wonder if her squeeze will really keep his mouth shut. He didn't know the terms he signed." Which - rookie move, in the Captain's opinion - but as The Ark has pointed out, it's a helluva favour to him. Even so...

"I hated that," he mutters, the admission rough and quiet even in the private space.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta

Her legs slide around the back of his thighs in one smooth motion, twining there with quiet certainty and holding him in place between her knees as though she were drawing a line taut and making it fast. When he repeats what Flora had said, one brow lifts and her mouth curves slowly, the expression edged with private satisfaction rather than cruelty. "The most dangerous man she’s ever known," she echoes, her tone low and almost contemplative as her fingers trail along the edge of his collar. "At least she got one thing about you right."

She pours herself a measure of the dark rum without looking away from him, the liquid falling thick and amber into the chilled glass, and she drinks it slowly, letting the heat spread and settle. The waters of her mind, restless and wind-cut since the exchange above deck, begin to smooth beneath that burn; the agitation does not vanish, but it finds its horizon again, a molten sun sinking low over steadier swells. As he speaks of loose ends and blind signatures, her hands move to his shirt and begin undoing the buttons one by one. "I don’t have much faith in his blind obedience," she says evenly, her palms flattening briefly against his chest as fabric parts beneath her touch. "But if everyone but you forgot who Flora was, where d’you think she’d run the moment it happened?"

There is no jealousy in the question, no edge of insecurity, only the certainty of knowing how certain currents pull. If memory were stripped from the world and identity blurred into fog, she has no doubt where Flora’s first instinct would drive her.

When he mutters that he hated it, the roughness in his voice settles into her and she lifts her gaze fully to him, nodding once. "I did too." She was fashioned to cut through conflict as much as to carry it, built to shield and to strike in equal measure, and being forced to hold her position while words and threats moved across her deck had required a discipline that scraped against her grain. She can endure damage, can weather splinter and strain without flinching, but watching Jack stand exposed while she kept still had felt like binding her own cannons and ordering silence. It had taken effort not to answer, not to draw herself out of the ship and step out at his side. That it would only have given Flora's bullshit an extra target to aim for had been the only reason she'd managed to stay put.

i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

"If only, love," Jack says, amusement warming his voice briefly as he shifts just enough in her grip to let her hands finish unbuttoning the shirt that had been left half open to the Longheat breeze. "S'what makes all of this so damned funny," he continues. "One minute she's threatenin' me with an arsenal of demigods, an' the next she's forgettin' she even has it. It's what always made her safe against my retaliation." Why he'd never be able to just snuff her out of Caido for telling, though that was before they'd become more than he'd ever realised he knew how to be.

"Sure, maybe I'd be able to get a few backstabs in, but one of her fathers is a walkin' revivify feather." He shakes his head, incredulous. "She had me by the balls walkin' into that deal, an' I came out with twice as much as when I started." It really is funny, the more he thinks about it, in a sad sort of way.

As she sips at the rum he feels the liquor start to coat his bones in turn, warmth rippling through his chest and blunting the sharp edges of his mood, though there's always a danger of him turning morose if he wades out too far in that direction. "Oh, she'd run here fast as her legs could carry her. If it ever happened, I was gonna pretend I didn't know who she was either," he admits, as casually cruel as the Doubletake's saccharine sweetness or flashy middle finger had been.

"Mm, I could tell," Jack says, lips slanting in a smile that's almost reluctant. "You unbalancin' her all across the chartroom was somethin' she made my fault too. Y'know, I reckon all of this really started because you threw that drink all over her."

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta

The Ark's smirk deepens as he speaks, the pads of her fingers raking down his chest with deliberate softness, tracing the lines of muscle and old scars before drifting lower, over the plane of his stomach, until they hook into the waistband of his trousers and tug him just a fraction closer. The expression she wears then is unmistakably wolfish, sharp and pleased and entirely unapologetic. "You’re forgetting something," she says, voice low and steady, her thumb pressing lightly against the hollow just above his hip. "If she can’t retaliate, neither can anyone else."

The logic settles comfortably in her mind, clean and simple. If Kaisel were foolish enough to run his mouth—and if anyone were going to, it would be him—he would lose the very thread of what he meant to avenge the moment it slipped too far. Memory would fold in on itself, motive dissolving before it could sharpen into a threat. And all those carefully polished demigods Flora likes to rattle like weapons in a drawer would have no cause to suspect Jack had a hand in anything at all, not if the path leading back to him simply...vanished. 

When he admits he’d pretend not to know Flora either, her brow lifts. "Why?" she asks, curious in a way that is almost playful. "So she’d think she misheard the deal? Or so she’d convince herself you’d already gone ahead and done it on purpose?" 

When he lays the beginning of all this at her feet—when he reminds her that she’d been the one to spill the kerosene at the rodeo—she doesn’t apologize, or even pretend to. Instead, she rises from the desk in one fluid movement, sliding off the wood and into him until there is no space left between them. Her body aligns with his without hesitation, heat to heat, her hands still anchored at his waist as she tips her chin up and grins, feral and pleased. "You’re welcome," she purrs, the words thick with satisfaction.

Then she claims his mouth again, pressing her lips to his hard and certain, not to soothe him but to remind him that whatever sting the evening carried, whatever bile and bitterness had clung to his bones when he stepped through that door, she intends to strip it away piece by piece. He might have hated the way it unfolded, but they walked out of it with more than they’d held walking in.

i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Shivering despite himself at the soft fingertips that trace over tanned skin and pale scar tissue, as The Ark tugs him closer Jack goes without complaint, one arm remaining laced around her middle, his free hand lifting to brush his thumb along the sweet curve of her jaw. An eyebrow raises at her quip, but he doesn't have to ask for more context; it all folds neatly into place in her mind like the boards of a properly aligned deck, and perhaps he allows himself a crumb of satisfaction in that. "It does take the sting out of it a bit," he admits, stepping closer still as a bit of tension unlocks in his shoulders.

"Ah, just to be a shit," he replies through a rough laugh as to the why of pretending he didn't remember Flora after making it part of the terms that he would. "Seems like the sort of shit she'd do if the roles were reversed." She had said she'd rubbed off on him, after all.

Of all the reactions The Ark might have given him at his chiding for starting this whole farce, pride is not one of them, and another laugh startles its way from between Jack's lips. He gives up the ground to her just enough that she can slip off his desk without ever really creating any distance, and before he can thank her properly, her mouth is against his again and he figures it can be said without words.

Kissing her hard but without any of the heat that might suggest Jack feels like fucking his way to oblivion tonight, he nevertheless clasps her close against the line of his body, and when they part he punctuates it with another, softer brush of his lips against her temple. "Y'know what," he mutters. "I'm real tired of thinkin' 'bout the Queen of Torchline and her theatrics."

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta

The Ark snickers softly at that, the sound low and wicked in her throat as the image unfolds easily in her mind: Flora racing to Jack's door with fury and confusion in her wake, only to find the one man who would understand exactly what had been done standing there with empty eyes and no memory of her at all. The cruelty of it is clean and precise, and her lips twist into a thin, pleased line at the thought. "That would sting," she murmurs, not remorseful in the least. "Running to the only port that makes sense and finding it closed."

Her arms slide up around his neck as naturally as tide rising along a seawall, fingers threading lightly through the hair at his nape. She feels the shift in him when he kisses her—less fire, more weight—and she doesn't mistake it for rejection. Currents change, and not all storms come with lightning. There's no insecurity in her, no sharp questioning; she simply adjusts, staying close, letting her body rest flush against his while the waters of her thoughts settle into something deeper and steadier. When his lips brush her temple, the gesture soft and unguarded, her mind flickers briefly with the knowledge that such easy affection would have sent Flora into a spiral of envy sharp enough to cut, especially given her borderline tantrum on her deck.

She tilts her chin up slightly, fingers drifting to the spaces just behind Jack's ears where tension likes to coil and knot, and begins working at them with slow, deliberate pressure. "No more thinking about her," The Ark agrees. "You need to think about you." Her thumbs press and release, easing the tightness there as she studies his face in the lanternlight.

"The world’s gotten complacent," she continues, voice smooth as dark water. "Since the Family left, rumour among the men has me thinking that all of the leaders are busy with their own little dramas. Babies. Weddings. Breakups." One shoulder lifts in a careless shrug. "You sank a business in King’s End and what did anyone do about it?" Nothing.

Her smile widens into something lean and jackal-bright, sharp with possibility rather than cruelty. "Seems to me," she says, gaze steady and intent, "it’s the perfect time to chart a new heading." Her fingers still at his neck, her body still pressed to his, she watches him not as a place of comfort but as a compass, waiting to see which way he’ll turn them when he stops thinking about the Queen of Torchline and starts thinking about himself.

i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Whilst the idea of the Doubletake forlorn and forgotten at his door might be a good way to spend a few moments, there are better ways, and so Jack opts to enact his decision to stop thinking about Flora right the fuck now. With The Ark flush against him and her fingers pressing at the tight cords of muscle along his neck it's easier than it's ever been, the Captain near helpless to stop the way his head hangs a bit under her firm touch. His eyes catch hers in the low light, the colour like deep, dark water, and for a second he can merely listen and think.

It isn't as though he doesn't know the snippets of rumour that grind through the mill across his ship, but The Ark is aware of it as a collective in a way that Jack will always appreciate, and the start of a smile curls across his lips before flinching into not-quite pain as she catches a particularly tight knot in his neck. "Eh, it prob'ly wasn't that important as a business," he says with a dark laugh, but she makes a good point.

And as she mentions it again - a new heading - for the first time Jack can see through the haze of the past to a course worth charting. "Y'know," he says slowly, "it's been a long time since I last paid my respects to the Blackfox." The Grey Road's enigmatic guild leader hadn't exactly been a stranger to The Ark's comings and goings, but it has been almost a year since he last dropped by.

Given that she rules the alleyways of Haulani's underbelly, it isn't hard to imagine why.

"Seems only right to give you a proper introduction," he continues, tilting his head towards The Ark. "What'd you say? Little jaunt to Torchline to start us off, for old times' take?"

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta

The Ark doesn’t stop when he flinches, but she doesn’t chase it either. Her fingers remain steady at his neck, easing what’s within reach, smoothing the knots that rise beneath her touch without digging for every last coil of tension buried deeper. This isn’t about stripping him clean of strain; it’s about loosening the edges, taking the sharpness down to something workable. When his head dips under her hand she lets it, thumbs pressing slow and firm, her touch measured rather than relentless.

The mention of the Blackfox stills her, though her hands pause for only a fraction of a breath. The surface of her thoughts remains calm, dark and reflective, yet something beneath it begins to turn; not fear, never that, but a bright, curious current pulling through deeper waters. She knows the Blackfox through the stories that ride the ship’s corridors and through Jack’s own history with her, and she remembers clearly the one time he’d brought the woman aboard to examine a reclaimed pocket of goods he’d found while sailing. Stolen, stripped of ownership and presented as an opportunity. The Blackfox had walked her decks with silk-shadowed grace and eyes that missed nothing. The woman had been clever, unapologetic, and now that the Ark was in a position to do so, she very much approved. Now, as Jack speaks of paying respects, a slow grin spreads across her mouth.

She leans back slightly against the edge of the desk, giving herself space to look at him fully, her ocean-dark eyes sharpening with something predatory and pleased. The placid surface in her mind gives way to a deeper, deliberate anticipation as her shoulders lift in a coy shrug that doesn’t fool either of them, innocence worn like a thin veil she has no intention of keeping intact. "One little trip," she says lightly, lips curving. "I’m sure no one’ll even notice we’re there." The lie rests easy between them, because the Ark returning to Torchline won’t be subtle. Her shadow alone is enough to stir the docks and set rumours grinding through taverns before her anchor ever bites. But that’s part of the pleasure, isn’t it?

i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

It's part of the pleasure and then some, and as The Ark leans back against the edge of the desk and Jack straightens back up, there's something alive about him that has been buried for a long time. For all of the you're immortal, do you really want to be doing the same thing in the same place forever? conversations that he's had, it's no secret that Jack Barclay had not been done with Torchline when he'd left. And he'd lost some good crewmen while tearing himself from her shores, and it isn't lost on him either, those resurfacing opportunities.

"If you think you like her," he says of the Blackfox in a low, approving voice, "she's gonna fall outta her chair at the sight of you." Another smile hooks one side of his mouth, made easy and crooked by a combination of liquor and the touch of her hands - but also the idea of going home, even if it's just dropping by.

"There's a few loose ends to tie in King's End, but we'll set off in a couple days. Let the dust settle over the Maw for a bit," he decides, stepping away from the desk properly now - and its Jack's turn to tug her along with him. "Y'know," he says, conversational but with a weight to his words that suggests they're not easily found, "if not for you, I'd have never gotten through that meeting earlier." Not with out fire and fury, not without risking further damage to the ship he'd vowed never to kiss with flame again.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta

The Ark's smile turns unmistakably feline at that, slow and satisfied, her teeth barely visible beneath the curve of her lips. She’s had admiration thrown at her since she first stepped out of timber and tar into skin, compliments scattered like petals in her wake, and most of them she’s accepted with lazy indifference because she knows exactly what she is. The rabble can gawk, the dockhands can whisper, the taverns can toast her silhouette cutting the horizon, and it changes nothing. Jack’s approval, though, lands differently. It isn’t noise; it’s weight. It isn’t awe; it’s recognition. And even if the Blackfox falling out of her chair would serve him as much as it serves her, the thought curls warm and indulgent through her all the same.

When he decides on a couple of days, on letting dust settle and loose ends tie themselves off, she nods once in agreement and reaches back without looking, snatching up the bottle of rum as he tugs her from the desk. She moves with him easily, her stride matching his without effort, the wood beneath her feet answering in quiet familiarity. 

As he speaks again, the weight in his voice draws her attention in full. Had it been anyone else hearing his words, they might have replied with some dismissive reassurance, some light deflection that aww shucks, sure you would have Jack, but the Ark does no such thing, doesn't coddle or soften the edges of what he's admitting. Instead, she steps into him and lifts her hand, pressing her palm against his cheek, her thumb resting just beneath his eye. Her gaze holds his, deep and endless as the water beyond the hull, steady and certain.

"Your days of facing anything alone are over," she says quietly. There’s no cooing in it, no indulgent sweetness, because this isn't romance, it's fact. They’ve been tested long before she wore skin, long before she could press her hand to his face and feel the warmth there. They’ve taken fire and storm and loss together, carried triumph and ruin in the same breath, and all of it had bound them tighter than any spoken vow could.

i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Jack is already half losing himself to the unspooling of The Ark's mind when she steps in close, reaching for him in a way that's as casual as it is proprietary, but rather than shrug it off, he leans into the cradle of her hand. "You better be careful," he says, tutting through his teeth, "or I might start believin' it." The amusement is still a deflection, but he brushes closer to the truth of the matter than he ever might have once upon a time. And whether he likes it or not, whether he's thinking about her or not, that's also thanks to Flora.

Turning his head to kiss the palm of her her hand, Jack steps away if only to kick off his boots and unbuckle his belt, slipping it free tossing it away into the corner of the room like a coiled snake. For all of their plans and decisions, for all that has been set alight inside him at the prospect of being back in Haulani, he's still wrung out by the evening's events, the memory of it chafing like a fresh sunburn.

"You'll forgive me if I ain't geat conversation tonight?" he says with a raise of an eyebrow, sinking down into his bunk without fanfare.

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!