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The three stood at the dock as relative strangers, waiting for the boat back to England.

Prince Matthew tapped his foot idly, looking from the small novel he’d picked up from a nearby stall, out onto the water.

“Is this boat ever arriving?” A voice asked, prompting the prince to look over to his side.
Right... His butler was there. Once England had found out the prince was missing, his convoy was ordered to stop, waiting until Edward had found the man before returning for him. Unfortunately, most of the convoy cared not about Prince Matthew, or for royalty.
All except Wallace.
He was a tall man, well dressed in a black suit that stood out against the dusty town. His posh accent rang out through the area, attracting a few stares, but nothing more. Had they been anywhere but some semi-populated town, they would have been in trouble.
Down by the docks, you could be the highest royalty or the lowest criminal. There was no difference.

It wasn’t a problem for Matthew at the moment, though. Before they’d left for the dock, Edward had taken him to the tailors, asking the man to make the prince’s outfit more tame. His coat was turned into a waistcoat, and he was given a white shirt to go underneath. It made him look rich instead of royal, which was as far as Matthew’s butler was going to let them go. His regalia and other outfits were stashed away in a large bag that sat beside him, under his butler’s unrelenting gaze.

“It’s coming,” Edward softly answered, hoping to calm the man down. “They have to travel a long way, so we have to be patient.”
Matthew sighed, looking back to his book with a gentle frown while his butler huffed in annoyance. He softly mumbled under his breath too, prompting Edward to let out a weary breath. At least the man wasn’t storming off to harass the other sailors.
Looking to his right, Edward saw Sheriff Thompson-
Right, Ex-Sheriff.
-To see Thompson sitting on a suitcase, swirling his flask of whisky around. “Thompson?”

“Hm?” The Ex-Sheriff looked up, pushing back his hat so he could see Edward better. “Something botherin’ you?” He asked. “You seem quieter than usual.” Thompson took a swig of his flask and sighed. “You worried about gettin’ back to England?”

Edward nervously laughed. “I’m... not good on boats,” he replied, scratching the back of his head. “It’s all so bumpy that I... I get off balance.”

“Maybe that’ll help,” Thompson said, pointing at the bottle of Co-La on the detective’s leg. It sat where his gun holster should be, and Thompson had chewed him out for hours about it. “It helped yer shootin’, maybe it’ll fix the seasickness.”

“Oh!” Matthew turned to them both with a wide grin. “The physicians in the palace always said that reading or drinking would improve life on the sea.” He seemed confident, and so Edward nodded in understanding. “I’ve been on a lot of boats in my time.”

“Have you?” Thompson asked, leaning forward to see past Edward. “I always thought royalty jus’ liked to stay in and do nothin’ but complain about the people.”

Matthew looked offended but the butler, who Edward vaguely recalled being named Wallace was livid.

“Mind your tongue, Mister Thompson,” Wallace roared, attracting more stares from people nearby who only wanted to get on the boat. “Royalty is treated with the utmost respect-”

“Actually, most of the people don’t pay us any mind,” Matthew cut in, leaning past Wallace to shoot Thompson an apologetic smile. “As long as we royals keep the country rich and powerful, and make sure the people are fed, there’s no problems.”

“Honestly, I think the people should care more about their future leader.” Wallace set a hand on Matthew’s shoulder and Edward caught the uncomfortable look that spread across the prince’s face.

Edward softly mumbled to himself. “I bet Wallace is why the poor hate royalty.”

Thompson choked on his drink.

It was within the next hour that the boat arrived. It was a large freighter, run down with peeling paint and stacked with shipping containers. It looked more like it had taken an inconvenient pit stop to get them, as opposed to wanting to retrieve royalty. Matthew looked at it with disgust.

“That's our way home?”

Edward and Thompson answered together. “Yup.”

“Well, I've been on worse,” Matthew sighed, placing the book in his breast pocket. “Are we boarding?” He stepped forward but the butler’s arm blocked him. “Pardon?”

“This is an insult,” he spat, angered. “Royalty should not have to ride on something so... so unsophisticated! I’m going to talk with the captain right now!”

Matthew tried to call him back but his words fell on deaf ears as the man stormed away, angry and irritated. Thompson stood and cracked his back. “We should be able to get on in a bit,” he said, picking up the suitcase he'd been sitting on. “Gotta let them offload any goods for the town.”

“I hope we'll have some decent quarters,” Matthew said as the sailors began to drop the bridge. He watched them offload the cargo with strange fascination. “At least for Wallace’s sake.”

Edward began to amble towards the boat, taking long, lazy steps. “Depends what counts as decent, Your Highness. I'm sure it'll be fine though.”

“As long as it’s warm, I'll be happy,” Thompson said, following Edward. “All I need is a soft place to lay and a sheet that fits. They could stick me with the horses for all I care.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “You'd sleep in a stable?”

“I've slept in one before,” Thompson answered with a grin.

The look on the prince’s face made Edward laugh, and he set a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’s joking,” he commented with a smile.

“I’m not,” Thompson answered, taking a swig of his flask. The prince shook his head in disgust, trying to shake the image from his mind. “Now come on.”

Matthew raised his other eyebrow. “Why?”

The grin on Thompson’s face inspired some strange trust in the prince, and he knew that whatever was going to happen, it was going to be good. “We’re gettin’ on the boat without that suited trash bag.”

Edward laughed, grabbing Matthew’s hand before he could protest. Barely, Matthew managed to grab his bag, holding onto it deathly tight. He tugged the prince into the crowd of people gathering around the bridge, waiting for the sailors to finish offloading. Wallace’s voice could be heard even amongst the calm chatter of strangers, and Matthew blushed at it. Edward gave his hand a comforting squeeze. Soon enough, the crowd began to move, and Thompson led the other two along, guiding them up the rickety bridge and down towards the check-in station.

“Will we get in trouble for leaving him behind?” Thompson asked, still able to hear Wallace at the desk. Matthew shrugged.

“It’s his own fault,” he answered, signing himself and Edward off.

Wallace had only been halfway through his rant when the boat’s horn echoed across the dock.

“Listen, I ain’t got time for your complainin’,” was the captain’s sharp answer, pushing past Wallace to rush towards the boat. The butler scoffed in disgust at the man’s behaviour and turned, looking for the prince.

“I’m so sorry Prince Matthew, but-” he paused, noticing the space where the trio had been earlier was now empty. “Your Highness? Prince Matthew?”

“Good luck getting to England, Wallace!” Edward shouted from the boat, waving goodbye with both arms. Beside him was Thompson, copying the gesture while Matthew stood wearing Thompson’s hat, giving a royal wave. Wallace stared in shock.

Matthew grinned down at the butler, full of joy and enthusiasm. “I’ll see you at home!”

His words seemed to free Wallace, who raised his arm and shook his fist, scolding the prince as best he could from the dock. Thompson laughed, holding onto the boat’s railing while Edward wandered away in search of somewhere to sit. Matthew just leaned against the metal bar, watching as the American shoreline got further and further away.

“You gonna miss him?” Thompson asked, taking the hat back from Matthew. It had given him a mild case of hat hair, strands poking up from his perfectly slicked and brushed mane.

Thompson would have thought Matthew would fuss about the stray hairs, but instead, he calmly attempted to smooth it out. “No,” came the reply. “He’s been looming over me as a child. Every time I so much as step out of my bedroom, he tails me.”

The ex-sheriff laughed. “At least now you can piss without him holding it for you.”

Matthew looked at him for the longest time before letting himself grin.

By the time Matthew had pulled himself away from the metal railing that kept him from falling off the boat, Edward was relaxing in a makeshift dining area out on the deck. The chairs were made out of poorly hammered together planks, held together with just enough willpower to keep it from splintering.

“I thought you’d fallen overboard,” Edward laughed, gesturing to the barrel that would serve as their table. On it sat two glasses, filled with whiskey and co-la. “I thought I’d split it,” he added, shaking the now half empty bottle.

“You’re too kind,” Thompson said, approaching one of the rickety chairs. He pulled it out and looked to Matthew. “Your Highness.”

Matthew scowled. “Sod off,” he said, posh accent dropping for a moment into a more casual tone as he slipped his bag under the chair. “Bloody Colonials.”

Edward snorted, cola and whiskey pouring out of his nose and mouth as he attempted to stifle his laughter. Thompson stared at Matthew, watching as the prince merely leant forward and began to sip at his drink, pinky extended and legs crossed at the ankles.

“Imperialists,” Thompson grumbled, rolling his eye and moving over to his own seat. He swiped the last glass, swinging his feet up onto the barrel and slouching, taking long sips of the whiskey blend. Matthew seemed unbothered by the comment, even smirking slightly at the comment. Edward paid it no mind, too busy trying to mop up the spilled drink and perhaps salvage some of it.

Matthew set the drink down beside his chair and uncrossed his legs, attempting to sit more casually. He kept his hands in his lap though, not entirely sure where to put them. “Thank you for the drink.”

“N-No problem,” Edward coughed, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket to try and blow the stinging sensation out of his nose.

“Hopefully you’re enjoying it more than our detective friend here,” Thompson commented, taking another mouthful of the mix. “I’ve got another handkerchief if you think it’d help but...” He trailed off, looking at Edward’s ruined clothing. “...I don’t think any amount of dabbin’ s’gonna clean up that mess.”

With a sigh, Edward stood up and shook off his hands, scattering drops of alcohol onto the stained wooden deck. “This was my only outfit.”

Matthew grinned, standing up straight. Both men turned to look at him curiously, watching as he picked up his bag. “I’ve got some more! Come on, you can try something.”

“Try on the prince’s clothes?” Edward asked with a perfect blend of shock and confusion. “The crown prince of England. Destined to rule the Commonwealth.”

“Yes,” Matthew said, still smiling.

“Try on his clothes?”

“Yes!”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“The prince-” Edward stopped as Matthew grabbed him, winking. “B-But-”

“Now.” Matthew tugged him and Edward offered no resistance, letting the prince drag him away. Thompson watched as the two vanished down a nearby staircase into the cabins, waiting a few seconds before leaning over to take Matthew’s glass and pour some of it into his own.

“Royalty,” he scoffed, taking another sip.

Once Matthew had gotten them down the stairs, Edward had to point him towards the room. It was towards the end of the hall, on the right hand side.
“Here,” Edward said, pointing to the second to last door. “We’re sharing. Sorry.”

“It should be fine-” began Matthew, trailing off as Edward twisted the handle and pushed open the door.
Inside was tiny and squished together. The width of the room was Edward’s arm span, and most of it was taken up by either the large oak desk, or the triple bunk bed. Ugly striped sheets covered the thin mattresses, and half dry inkwells sat on the chipped wooden desk, looking as if it’d been a great deal of time since someone had even considered making the room comfortable. Awkwardly, Matthew shuffled in, followed by Edward, setting the bag on the bed. To fit, they had to walk sideways, and could only stand side by side at the far wall.

“I hope you’re not offended by me changing in front of you, Your Majesty,” Edward said as he removed his hat and vest, setting them on the bunk bed’s ladder. “And I’d like to take the middle bunk, if I could.”

Matthew shrugged, opening up his bag and setting out the clothes. “I’m not at all bothered where I sleep,” he said, accent dropping again. He sounded more at ease, like he wasn’t about to have some official walk in on him and call him to the throne room. “All of the beds are probably uncomfortable.”

Edward frowned. “I hope it’s not too bad, Your Highness-”

He was stopped as Matthew held up a hand. “Call me Matt. Matthew if you have to,” he said, setting out the rest of the clothes and looking them over. “I’m meant to be incognito, remember? Can’t have you calling me royalty if that’s going to happen.”

“Right... Matt.” It felt weird coming off his tongue. He’d always known the man as Prince Matthew. Their family had flaunted their child, and made public appearances often, in order to strengthen the loyalty and allegiance to the crown. “So... what do you have?”

“Suits, coats with tassels, gold embroided waistcoats, fur coats, snakeskin pants,” Matthew answered, sounding bored as he listed off the clothing as if they were commodities. “Got some epaulettes in here too, if you’d like to look fancy.”

“Anything more tame?” Edward asked, feeling awkward as he looked over all of the expensive clothing. This was the kind of stuff you dreamed of wearing, but never got to.

Matthew stroked his chin for a moment before diving back in. He pulled out mountains of purple clothing, with a few silver or black pieces wedged between. It just radiated royalty, and Edward squirmed.
“How about this?” Matthew asked, holding up a green coat. It had vines of gold trailing along its arms, ending at the wrist, where it became a full line of gold. It looked like something you’d wear to court, or to a formal event.
Not really something Edward ever thought he’d get to try on.

He stammered. “Um... I don’t-” The words stopped as Matthew stepped forward, quickly unbuttoning Edward’s shirt and stripping it off him before he could argue. “Matt! What are you-”

“You weren’t going to agree, so I took matters into my own hands,” he said, tossing the wet shirt onto the desk. He returned to the bed, grabbing a white dress shirt and a dark green waistcoat. “Now, put these on.”
Edward shook his head, and Matthew sighed. “I guess I’ll have to do it.”

“Wait-”

Edward stiffened, breath caught in his throat as Matthew grabbed his arm, forcing it into the sleeve with a strange grace, before moving to the other side. His heart thundered in his ears, feeling the prince button up his shirt. Dimly, he heard Matthew ask him to bend his arms slightly and he obeyed, staring blankly ahead while the other dressed him.

“They fit wonderfully,” Matthew commented as he did up the last few buttons on Edward’s waistcoat, trailing a hand down his chest. It made the detective shiver, body trembling as the sensation ran up his spine. Matthew laughed, grabbing the coat and slipping it on the still distracted Edward. “At least you can tell all the boys back in England about this.”

The words snapped Edward back to reality. “Pardon?” He asked, shocked and a little distracted, having zoned in all at once. He attempted to process the information. “Tell?”

“Not everyone gets a prince to dress them, or undress them for that matter,” he said with a wink, straightening out the coat before taking a step back to look at Edward. “You look good. I was worried they wouldn’t fit, seeing as I’m taller than you but...” The prince trailed, looking over the other. “I really like it.”

“I like it too,” Edward confessed nervously, trying to get a glance at his entire look. Matthew cleared his throat, and he looked up to see the prince holding a mirror. “Wow...”

Matthew smiled, putting the mirror back into the bag and repacking his clothes. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Now, should we head back upstairs?” His accent came back as he extended a hand, wiggling his fingers in an attempt to beckon Edward on.

He gave a nod, hand shaking as he slipped it into Matthew’s, eyes widening slightly at how smooth they were. Before he could really think about it too much, Edward felt himself being dragged back out of the room. Matthew paused only to close the door, before rushing back towards the stairs. “Thompson probably stole my drink. Rapscallion.”

Edward smiled. “Maybe he just likes co-la?”

“I’m surprised you’re still on the boat, considering you drank some,” Matthew commented as they slowed down, taking each creaky step one at a time. “I watched you fight those bandits.”

“The whiskey dulls it,” Edward answered. “Takes all the energy out of it. So I guess that’s a way they can sell it to the people back in England.”

A laugh escaped Matthew’s lips, despite trying to stifle it. “Our citizens are not ones for running amuck, not like the Colonials.”

They both laughed this time, grinning at each other widely.

When they returned to their chairs, Matthew found his glass slightly more empty than when he’d left. He narrowed his gaze on Thompson who was slouched in his chair, face lightly dusted with red.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, looking at the ex-sheriff with a slight glare.

“Yes,” Thompson answered, looking lazily across to Edward, but sitting up straight as he finally took in his appearance. He looked positively royal in his coat, and Thompson could barely believe it was the same man. The outfit made his childish face into something older, like he was wiser than his years. “Edward...”

The man jolted as he was addressed, hands fiddling awkwardly. “Y-Yes?”

Thompson smiled. “You look really good in that.”

Matthew laughed. “I said the same thing!”

“It’s not that good,” Edward mumbled as he moved back to his chair, picking up his drink again. Matthew sipped at the mixture, shooting another glare at Thompson for having taken some of the liquor. The man only shrugged, grinning in his slightly drunken state. “Hey, should we have a toast?”

Thompson rolled his head to look at Edward. “To what? The throne?” He asked with a laugh. “Yes, to our good prince, Matthew of England!”

“That’s not how it goes,” Matthew scowled. “You’d say, ‘To Prince Matthew’ and then you push your glass and-” Thompson and Edward quickly leant forward to clang their glasses against the prince’s own, before throwing back and draining their drinks in one movement.

Matthew stared at them blankly before swinging his own glass up and finishing it at once.

As the night fell, the three grew louder and more merry, attracting the attention of sailors and passengers alike. Matthew’s claims of being royalty amused the crew, but they accepted his gold coins, changing it for bottles of whiskey and whatever alcohol they had on board. They at least had the decency not to rip him off. The one time a sailor tried, Thompson had caught on and threatened to shoot him.
Being sheriff had meant you had a sharp eye for swindlers.
Edward was the lightweight, and it left him slurring his words before Thompson even started feeling giddy. Matthew sat in the middle, softly floating in the haze of tipsiness, but still grounded enough to speak.

“I’m really glad we left Wallace behind,” Matthew mumbled from inside his glass, words echoing poorly as he tried to drink and talk.

“Who the fuck is Wallace?” Edward asked, slamming his glass down on the barrel-table. Some nearby passengers who had also decided to drown their sorrows turned to laugh at the question, finding hilarity in the way the words were slurred to perfection. Thompson laughed too, voice loud on the ocean, and heard even in the engine rooms.

Finally, Thomas reigned himself in enough to speak. “Wallace was that stuck up prick of a butler that was next to Matthew.”

Edward scowled. “Wow fuck that guy. He... He’s a bad guy Matthew he...” Edward was starting to droop, but the prince leaned forward, eager to hear the drunken rant. “He’s so shit man, he’s wiping your ass and telling you how to live your life. Dude just piss on his hands when he holds your dick man just...”

Matthew lost it, arms wrapping around himself to attempt to keep in control. Edward giggled, taking great care in his state not to spill any drink on his fancy clothing. Thompson just sat by and watched them passively. Seeing them so happy and content made him feel warm. Back in Spitbucket, the only warm feeling you got was either from the large amounts of alcohol you consumed, or the bullet tearing through your chest. There was far too much crime for Thompson to enjoy frivolity.
“I’m glad you two are having fun,” he said, setting down his drink and standing up. “But I think you’ve had too much.” Carefully, Thompson helped get Edward to his feet, slowly guiding him towards the cabins.

“He wanted the middle bunk,” Matthew commented over his shoulder before taking Thompson’s glass and sipping from it in revenge. He grimaced, looking at the liquid with an analytical gaze. “God, did you put more alcohol in this?”
It didn’t stop him from taking another sip, however.

With time and Thompson’s unending well of patience, both him and Edward made it to the bottom of the stairs. The boat gently rocked on the night’s waves, and it was more noticeable below deck, making Edward sway.
Or that was the alcohol. Thompson was still working that out.
Either way, it wasn’t helping him get the detective down the way to the room. His feet tripped over themselves, and each step had him whining that he needed another drink.

Thompson, hang in there. You’re so close.

“So, middle bunk?” He asked, wanting to see if the detective could be distracted from his longing for more alcohol. “Are you sure you won’t roll out?”

Edward nodded. “Yup,” he drawled. “An’ Matty-man can sleep on the bottom.” He shot Thompson a grin that didn’t fade until they reached the room’s door. “I wonder if the prince will undress me again.”

“What the hell?”
The sentence caught Thompson off guard, causing him to turn and look at the Englishman with shock and a slight hint of horror. “The-The prince undressed you?”

There was another nod and Edward opened the door, stumbling in. He made it past the bed and desk without a problem, moving back to the open space where he had dressed earlier. “Matty-moo took off my shirt.” He pointed to the discarded clothing on the desk, and Thompson trembled.

“Let’s jus’ get you to bed.” Thompson tossed his coat onto the bottom bunk, letting his hat and bandanna join it a moment later. It’s strange to see him so plain, with only a brown short sleeved shirt and his pants, but Edward only coughed and blinked slowly. “Can you get up the ladder?

“Sure can.” He gripped the metal pole and hauled himself onto one step before losing his grip and slamming into the floor. “Ow.”

Thompson sighed and hoisted the boy up, making sure he was stable before letting him go. “Try again?”

“Sure!”

“I believe in you.” He spoke with a smile, watching as Edward struggled to make it up. It took some time, but he got onto the mattress, flopping down and slowly wriggling towards the pillow. “You stay there, alright? Me an’ His Royal Highness will be down here later.”

“Goodnight Tommy,” Edward yawned, somehow managing to untuck the bedsheets and slip in.

“Goodnight, Edd,” Thompson answered, slipping out of the room without another sound. He headed back to the stairs, almost to the top when he noticed that Matthew wasn’t in his seat. His drink was empty, and as Thompson got closer, he noticed that his own glass was empty too. “Good for nothin’ royals.”

It took a good amount of time wandering around before Thompson found the prince. He was standing on the boat’s railing at the rear, watching the ocean slowly pass them by.
“You’re gonna fall,” Thompson warned, cautious but not at all serious.

“I’ll be fine,” Matthew answered. “I’ve got good balance.”

Thompson didn’t answer, merely leaning beside Matthew on the bar. The two of them stood there in silence, letting the salty night air ruffle their clothes. Thompson suppressed a shiver, and silently wished he’d brought his coat with him instead of leaving it in the room.

“You know, I’m not really cut out to be a prince. I understand that I must take my role seriously, and I do, but being with the common folk is much more interesting,” Matthew said, cutting through the silence. His voice held weight, and Thompson supposed it was his royal upbringing shining through, commanding his attention.

The American scoffed. “Aren’t all famous and royal people supposed to have some rebellious streak?”

Matthew shook his head. “They are, but this is more than that. There’s just... I’m nowhere near being the King, but my parents make me do almost more work than them. There’s so many expectations on me.” He sat down, holding onto the railing while he kicked his legs. “Any time I make a public appearance, I hear people saying that I’ll never be as good as my father, and that I’ll not be able to keep England powerful. It’s... It’s concerning, and demoralizing.”

Thompson frowned, letting his thoughts wander as he looked out to the sea. “I guess I can understand on a smaller scale. Spitbucket was a home for thugs and ruffians, basically the birthplace of cowboys and crime. Being the only form of law enforcement there, it put a lot of pressure on me.”
He looked over to Matthew and sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean ta talk down on your problems or treat them as lesser. You’ve got a lot more on yer plate than I do.”

“It’s the same, in some way.” Matthew smiled and shuffled closer to Thompson, looping an arm over his shoulder. His warm hand against Thompson’s skin made him shiver, but he managed to mask it enough. “I run a country, but you run a town. I work with many people, but in a larger space. You work alone, and in a small area. Aren’t we the same, power wise?”

“I dunno,” Thompson answered, looking away from the prince. “I mean, you’re a royal, and I’m some backwater sheriff who couldn’t do his job very well.”

Matthew’s laughter snapped him from his daze. “You saved me, didn’t you?” He asked.

“Edward saved you,” Thompson corrected.

“But you armed him. You led him.”

Thompson paused, looking back to the prince. “That doesn’t mean much, does it?” He said, raising an eyebrow at the prince.

“But think about it. Without you guiding him, he wouldn’t have found me. Aren’t there other criminals that you’ve caught or persuaded otherwise? People you’ve comforted? Someone you’ve helped? Being sheriff isn’t just about locking up criminals, is it?” Matthew offered him a smile. “There will always be crime, but if you’re trying to do even a little good, isn’t that worth it?”

Thompson stared and for a moment, Matthew was worried he’d said something wrong. So when the ex-sheriff’s eyes started to water, and a gentle hiccup escaped him, the prince was stunned.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in years,” he said, voice weak with the sobs brewing behind it. ”Honestly, that’s-” A sob forced itself out of his throat, breaking the sentence. Matthew smiled, wrapping both arms around Thompson. It was difficult to do while balancing on the railing, but Matthew wasn’t one to give up easily. He felt the other cling to him, and he laughed softly.

“You’ll catch cold like this,” Matthew commented, letting go of Thompson so he could climb back onto the boat. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere warmer.”

There was a nod from Thompson as he wiped at his face. “Aren’t you- aren’t you drunk?” He stuttered, chest still heaving with unused sobs.

“Being raised as royalty meant starting on wine from a young age,” he answered. “”I’m little more than tipsy.” His smile was reassuring and Thompson found himself mustering one in return. “Impressed?”

“We should drink together more often,” Thompson answered, forcing out any remaining sadness with a few coughs. “So, to our cabin or the recreational room?”

“Cabin,” Matthew answered. “I’m feeling a bit tired.”

Thompson nodded and hesitantly offered his hand. Matthew took it immediately, and let the American drag him towards the stairs. They descended in a thunder of steps, muffling laughs as they stumbled down the hall, trying to balance with the bob and sway of the boat on the waves. Matthew opened the door and Thompson stepped in, picking up his coat. He grabbed Edward’s clothes too, taking them off the ladder and folding them neatly before setting them on the desk.

Matthew moved his bag under the bed, pausing after a moment. “Didn’t you have a suitcase?” He asked.

“Shit!” Thompson threw the door open and thundered up the hall. Matthew only laughed, pulling back the covers from his bed. They were thin and scratchy, but he supposed they would have to do. Perhaps he could trade some goods around the boat in exchange for real bedding. He’d just gotten comfortable when Thompson came back in, tossing the luggage haphazardly into the space by the window where Edward had changed.

“Don’t wake him up,” Matthew warned. To make a point, Edward groaned and rolled over. Thompson nodded, putting his shoes by his suitcase and quietly moving over to the ladder.

He slowly began to make his way up, stopping at Edward’s bunk. “Edward?”

The man stared back, eyes half closed but gaze solid. “Thompson, would’chu, would ya come here?”

Thompson nodded, crawling across the bunk. Edward smiled and looped his arms over him, snuggling into the ex-sheriff’s chest. The bedsprings creaked, and Matthew kicked off his sheets. “Are you guys cuddling without me?”

“Maybe?” Thompson answered, honestly unsure. There was the sound of Matthew kicking off his shoes, followed by the dull echo of feet on metal. The prince grinned as he poked his head up, crawling onto the bed and snuggling up on Edward’s other side. “You comfortable there?”

“Very,” Matthew answered.

“So warm,” Edward mumbled, snuggling into Matthew and pulling Thompson closer. “I like you guys. You’re so nice, and so warm.”

Matthew slung his arm over Edward, letting it rest on Thompson’s hip. He returned the gesture with a gentle blush. There was a grunt as Edward tried to get comfortable again, finally content being wedged between the two of them. “G’night.”

“Night Edward.”

“Good night, Edward.”