7. Tipsy

7. Tipsy

Captain made an adorable drunk. Hakan had watched from the corner of his eye in quiet delight as the evening progressed. His crewmate had gradually relaxed, slumping into his seat, nursing his glass and growing seductively dishevelled. When he'd given up on drinking, he'd turned to watching Hakan while trying not to be obvious about the fact.

He was very obvious about the fact.

Hakan was trying his hardest to pay attention to the dance and catch up with friends old and new, but he was also growing distracted. He wanted to wrestle Captain to the ground and kiss him breathless.

He was confident he hid his own desire far better than Captain did.

When the crowd at the table thinned, and before Captain could grow so drunk he'd have to carry him back to the boat (he was well aware high tide was drawing closer and closer, at which point she'd be at risk of being carried away by the waves if they weren't on board), Hakan took a seat beside Osman and asked the questions he'd come to ask.

"I've got out of touch the past months. Where can Sixblades be found these days?"

Osman sat back, eyes glittering. He tugged on his beard. "What's your business with Sixblades?"

Hakan shrugged. "I understand he gained the indentures for two of my crew. I want them back."

Osman shook his head, his locs rattling as he moved. "Best find a new crew. Sixblades won't let go of what he has."

Hakan was reminded of his own advice to Captain. But this was his crew. They were family. He couldn't just wave them away and sail into the sunset. "Sixblades likes gold as much as he ever did, I'll wager."

Osman pulled a face. "Sixblades has become ... eccentric."

Hakan chuckled. "What's that supposed to mean? The man was never going to be invited to court to debate philosophy with the alems, was he?"

Osman sucked his teeth. "I don't think he's ventured from his home since he moved there. Rarely even steps aboard ship."

Hakan raised his brows. "What prompted the change?" On the other side of the table, he saw the tension now holding Captain still, cutting through the relaxation prompted by the rum. He didn't plan to tell Osman his suspicions, but he wondered if Sixblades' out of character behaviour had anything to do with whatever it was he'd stolen that Captain was so determined to get back.

He might see whether Captain was so inebriated he'd be willing to spill a few more of his secrets when they returned to Free Breezes.

Osman shrugged, scratching at a stain on the tablecloth with his thumbnail. "Who's to say? I wondered if the man's thinking of retiring. Or perhaps he's already done so and simply hasn't told anyone."

"What does his retirement look like? Other than staying home?"

Osman flicked away the dust he'd just created. "Staying home and surrounding himself with pretty things. He's reputed to be quite the collector these days."

There was no reason for Osman's words to send a shiver down Hakan's spine, but it happened all the same. "Collector of what?"

Another shrug. "Beautiful things. Curiosities."

There was definitely something in how Osman said that. "People?"

"If they catch his eye."

Heaviness settled in Hakan's stomach. He wanted to tell Captain to steer very far clear. He'd proven he could hold his own, but something about this raised the hair on the back of Hakan's neck. He didn't want Captain putting himself in danger. He wasn't a pirate and he didn't understand the risk he was courting. Another glance at his crewmate found his eyes were once more glazed, the man half-sprawled across the table. He had to hold back a smile that rapidly twisted to a grimace. When had he started feeling so protective of the other man?

He shifted back with a sigh. "That's useful to know."

Osman laughed, shattering the tension. "There's no need for you to worry. You're too old and ugly to be at risk, old friend."

Hakan grinned and punched Osman gently. "I've already told you – less of the old." He let silence fall a moment, then persisted gently, "Where should I go looking for Sixblades?"

Osman shook his head, but he knew Hakan well enough he didn't bother to argue. "He lives on the furthest island north-east of Mosbahl. An estate with a stone wall around it. I'm told it's pretty distinctive."

"Thank you." Hakan toasted his friend, then downed the rest of his rum. "We should get back to our boat." He looked at Captain, whose eyes were closed, chin propped in his hands, elbows splayed on the table.

"Do you need a cart?"

Hakan laughed, assuming a joke. He prodded Ramorran, who opened bleary eyes. "Time to go. It'll be high tide soon."

"Fine. Yes." Captain stood quickly, then swayed alarmingly.

"Come along." Hakan grabbed his arm, slotting it over his shoulders. "Let's get you back while you can still walk."

"Take care." Osman accompanied them to the door, watching as Hakan started down the path, weaving slightly with Captain leaning heavily on his right side. "And don't leave it so long next time, old man!" he called before they shuffled out of sight.

Hakan raised his left hand in a wave followed by a rude gesture. "Less of the old!" he shouted back.

Osman's chuckle followed them through the still night air.

Hakan hummed as they walked; staggered. Captain alternated between supporting his own weight and nearly downing Hakan when he leaned on him.

"Come on, come on. It's not far." If he didn't have Ramorran's weight dragging him down, Hakan suspected he'd enjoy the walk. The moon was high, insects chittered in the grasses either side of the dunes. In other circumstances it would be a pleasant route to walk with a lover. He scoffed silently and took another step, halting when Captain dug his heels in rather than following obediently.

"What's—"

Captain grabbed him with a drunkard's strength, pulling him so they faced each other. "You make me want things I told myself I wasn't going to want any more."

The other man's eyes were wide, his expression pleading. Hakan's heart pounded and other parts of him stirred. The man's lips were plump and perfectly kissable – and every breath exuded rum fumes.

It was enough to tug Hakan back to his senses. "Tell me this when you're sober and we'll do something about it then." He continued along the path. After a couple of steps, when silence held behind him, he turned to find Captain with his head tipped to the sky.

"Come on." Two steps back and he grabbed the man's hand. His fingers were chilled by the night air, but his palm was warm and broad. "Time to get you into bed."

Captain's profound sigh gusted against his cheek and made his heart leap.

"I didn't mean it like that," he protested, his complaint strengthened by the fact he wished he could mean it like that. He wasn't imagining the attraction between the two of them – and why not make the most of it? Two healthy men having a bit of fun together before parting ways amicably. That was exactly the sort of relationship Hakan liked.

Except he wasn't interested if Captain would only give in to attraction when he was drunk. Maybe if tonight was all they'd got he'd be tempted to say to hell with it, but they were stuck on a boat together for thirty hours to Mosbahl. The atmosphere was likely to be tense enough without adding an ill-thought-out liaison to the mix.

"Here we are." He was delighted when the beach came into sight and he could stop trying to convince himself not to jump Captain's bones. "Steady now." As they stepped onto the soft sand and sliding stones, Captain staggered. Hakan held him up on instinct, long used to helping shipmates keep their footing. He wasn't fully sober himself, but he wasn't equally as likely to pitch into the sea as the boat, which Captain's unsteady steps put him in danger of.

The tide had come in since they'd landed, waves kissing the hull in a gentle nudge before retreating. He left Captain swaying mildly while he heaved himself on board. By pushing the plank to its full extent he made a dry path from the beach to the boat.

A glance at Captain made him doubt the man would be able to pick that path for himself. "Here." Clomping down the plank he held out his hand. Captain stared at it for a long moment before setting his hand slowly in Hakan's as though entrusting him with his life.

"Watch your step," Hakan advised. "I'll do my best, but I can't make the plank wider than it is." Captain stepped onto the wood and his swaying grew more pronounced. "Perhaps I should let you fall," Hakan said lightly. "A dunking would sober you up."

"You wouldn't be so unkind," Captain replied, surprising Hakan because he'd been so silent he thought all his energy was going into keeping him upright.

"Maybe it would be a kindness." Hakan took a step, almost towing Captain behind him.

"No." Captain sounded determined about the fact, even a little sulky. "You're not unkind. You try to hide it, but you've a kind heart."

Hakan hid his grimace. Kind? Still, Captain probably wasn't trying to insult him. "I really don't."

They reached the deck. Hakan tried to regain possession of his hand, but Captain appeared disinclined to let go. "You really do." The sulkiness was growing more pronounced. Under better circumstances it would be cute. Appealing. "You're lovely."

Hakan's heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the rush of the waves. "Yeah. Tell that to everyone in the Dirty Dog," he muttered. "Come along." Since his hand was trapped, he might as well make use of the fact. "Time for bed." He guided the shuffling, swaying Captain to the covered area. The man was almost asleep on his shoulder by the time they reached the hammock. He assessed the chances of trying to get the man alert enough to take instructions and opted for the easier route of simply pushing him back into the hammock.

It should have worked perfectly, but Hakan underestimated the power of Captain's grip. By dint of simply holding on to Hakan's hand he pulled him in his wake. Hakan landed on top of Captain, the hammock sweeping both their feet out from under them.

Then, Captain let go of his hand, but only for both his arms to go around his waist, hugging him close, chest to chest. "This is lovely," Captain murmured in his ear.

"And I'd love us to revisit this, perhaps in the morning, but—" Hakan trailed off when he was interrupted by a snore. "…But let's face it, nothing's going to happen tonight," he finished with a sigh. He tried to wriggle backwards off the hammock, but the hammock refused to co-operate and Captain's arms tightened to iron bands.

Hakan was abruptly too drunk to fight. He'd leave it a few minutes and when Captain fell faster asleep he'd escape.

Right now, it was rather pleasant to be splayed over Captain's warm, broad chest.

Hakan closed his eyes. Just a minute...