Work Text:
The first attempt I make to dress Percy’s wounds ends with me losing my supper over the side of the Eleftheria .
Felicity insists upon my coming along while she changes the bandages and checks for infection, and although I’ve left Percy’s side for no longer than a handful of minutes since that dreadful moment he was shot, I’ve yet to see the extent of the damage.
Unsurprisingly, I damn near burst into tears and fling myself into Percy’s arms where he’s sat upon an empty barrel in the captain’s quarters when the bandages are unwrapped. God, it seems like all I’ve done these past few days is cry.
He hisses in a breath. “Shit, love, that’s—“
And then I pull away, and cry a bit harder, and spend an amount of time Felicity will probably quantify as excessive kissing any part of his face I can reach in apology.
He laughs a bit, airy and less than genuine, and says “I’m alright, Monty,” so many times I almost start to believe it.
Felicity, seeing that she would get nowhere with me, waves me out of the room with minimal eye-rolling, and I stagger out onto the upper deck, attempting to wipe my face with my shirtsleeves. The crew keeps a wide berth, and I wind up at the front of the ship, staring down into the ocean below.
Without the adrenaline of battle or the immediate relief of seeing him breathing steady again, the full weight of what happened slammed into me upon seeing the twin puncture wounds along his ribs. I’d almost lost him. He was slipping through my fingers, and I was useless. And I’m still useless after, unable to care for him in any way that would ensure he’d be well again.
Thank God for Felicity.
I rest my head on the rail and fix my gaze on a point on the horizon. Of course, there are no guarantees. My stomach lurches. Some son-of-a-bitch illness could sneak in through the wound, and Percy could die slowly and in pain once we’re back in London, and I’d once again be useless, and Felicity wouldn’t be able to sail in from Algiers in time to save him again, and I’d be left without the love of my life because of my inability to function at the thought of him being hurt, and every pained hitch of the breath that got caught in Percy’s lungs would be my fucking fault , and—
“Monty, are you alright?”
I retch, forcing myself to lean over the side of the ship as a hand closes around my wrist.
“Monty, breathe .” Felicity.
I try. Eventually, having thoroughly emptied my stomach, I stand back up and turn to face her on shaky legs. “Hello, Feli.”
She doesn’t let go of my wrist. “Are you seasick?”
“No, it’s just—” I shrug. “A lot. It’s a lot.”
“Alright, um. I’ll get some water.” She leaves me clinging to the railing, feeling like I might tip over the side and fall into the god-awful ocean, and returns a few minutes later with a grimy mug. “They only had this and whiskey.”
I take a sip and resist the urge to gag. “God, I wish I could have the whiskey.”
Felicity starts to walk away, but I catch her by the arm. “Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s…” She delicately detaches herself and waves her hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Just some water. It probably tastes like piss.”
“No, I—” I go to pull her into a hug, then draw back. “Thank you. For saving him.”
Something in her expression shifts. She gives my hand a hesitant squeeze. “Of course. You’re my brothers.”
Felicity leaves me properly, and I stare out at the sea again, wishing Percy and I were home.
“One, two, three, up!”
Percy shrieks with laughter as I make a valiant attempt to lift him across the threshold to our new bedroom, my arms shaking with effort as he clings to my chest. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m— carrying— you—” I force out, just as I make it through the door and my arms give out.
He stumbles into bed, then rolls onto his back, laughing. “Well done.”
I huff. “You make it look so easy the other way round.”
“I’ve had lots of practice, haven’t I?” Percy reaches for my hand and pulls me on top of him, lacing our fingers as I settle with my head on his chest. My breathing is embarrassingly heavy.
“Ugh. Am I going to have to commit to slinging bags of flour around daily in order to properly carry you?”
“I don’t mind that you can’t.”
“But I want to ,” I whine, grabbing his other hand and lifting myself to hover on hands and knees above him. “It’s very attractive when you do it.”
Percy tips his head back in an open-mouthed bark of laughter. “I thought we already established that you’re very attractive. I thought that was one of the world’s universal truths.”
“You’re telling me that you have never once thought wouldn't it be rather gentlemanly and arousing if Monty were to scoop me up for purposes of kissing and possible consequential activities? ”
“I’m not sure there’s anything gentlemanly about possible consequential activities .”
“That’s not a no .”
He rolls his eyes and leans in for the kiss I’ve been wanting since the front door shut behind us, and I return it with the enthusiasm of a man who’s recently returned from war and is experiencing the touch of his lover for the first time in years.
Not that that is at all the case. Even on the Eleftheria we found the time to express our affections. But it’s Percy .
The kiss, of course, leads to consequential activities including Percy’s hands on my waist as he leaves painstakingly slow kisses trailing from my pulse point to my collarbone. I’m squirming beneath him, (I’m not sure how I wound up there—I swear to God this man makes me forget everything but him sometimes) and when he runs his hands up to my chest, I let out a noise that’s half-laugh, half-groan.
“Perce, if you don’t hurry up I think I might grow old and die here.”
He pulls back with a crooked smile, and even what I know is a temporary loss of his mouth on my skin makes me want to haul him back in without allowing him to get three words out. “I’m surprised you’re opposed to the idea of spending years in bed with me.”
I roll my eyes and begin to work on getting his hair untangled from its queue. “I never said that . I’d rather like to get on with this before I’m old and grey, though. It’s actually possible for backgammon to take less than a century.”
“You say that like I’m not fully aware,” he says, leaning in to kiss me once more. “Perhaps we could take our time. Patience is a virtue, love.”
He goes back to his feather-light kisses and gentle hands, and I am going veritably mad with want when he finally obliges to discard my shirt. A small sigh of relief escapes my lungs, but he’s still moving so damn slowly , with no apparent intentions to get to work on my trousers anytime soon, and so I take matters into my own hands by wrapping my legs around his waist and flipping us.
Percy squawks in indignation as he’s pressed to our mattress, then bursts out laughing. “ Monty .” His laugh quickly turns into a caught breath as I make quick work of the buttons on his trousers and begin to slide them down his hips.
“Time has been taken,” I say as he looks up at me, his eyes shining with equal parts need and joy. “Time has been taken, and I have never been virtuous, and you are gorgeous .” It goes without saying, but always bears repeating. Especially when he’s laid out like this, his hair just a little messy and framing his face, looking at me like I’m something even more beautiful than him.
“Fair enough,” is all he says before sitting up to kiss me. I settle into his lap, and card my hands through his hair while he pulls me closer. Our noses knock, but I can’t even be bothered, because he’s got his hands on me in earnest, and I’m struck by how strong and real I feel when his arms are around me. I’m not breakable when Percy is touching me. I am something that has survived and continued in spite of, and I am wanted, for maybe the first time in my life, by someone who thinks me his equal even while knowing my flaws.
I let my hands wander to his torso, where his shirt has rucked up, and my fingers pause on the scars left behind by a bullet and a corkscrew. He freezes, and I pull away slowly. “Are you alright darling? Have I hurt you?”
“No, it’s fine, I just—” His eyes follow my gaze to where it’s landed on the puckered skin over his ribs. “You’re looking at it.”
“So I am,” I reply, trying to keep my voice light as I trace the red marks, careful not to catch him with a nail.
“You haven’t… when you were changing the bandages for me you didn’t…”
I smile as a pang goes through my chest. “I couldn’t. It was a reminder of that day. And I just couldn’t, Perce, I couldn’t think about almost losing you.”
His eyebrows knit. “Oh, darling, I…”
I kiss him because I’m not sure how to tell him how afraid I was. How I thought he was going to leave. How I couldn’t imagine a life without him. From the way he moves a hand to cup my cheek, the one with the scars, I think he understands, though.
When I pull away, it’s only by a breath, and I press my forehead to his as I whisper. “I’m just so, so glad that you’re here.”
He pulls me into a hug, letting his head rest on my shoulder. “So am I.”
When I wake beside Percy the next morning, hazy and happy and the most exquisite kind of sore, I smile as I lean down to kiss his scars, and he smiles back.