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intheheartTitle: Advances
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Danny makes her move.
Warnings: none
Notes: The brush seemed to demand pirates. Also, there's a minor bit in here that may read as erasure of bi/pansexuality. It is not intended that way; I just couldn't think of another way to word it as the characters in question are not aware of bi/pansexuality or how it works. In fact technically sexuality itself is anachronistic at this time since it wasn't really a concept until Freud and I am rambling and will shut up now.
The night was warm, lovely and still, with stars scattered overhead like a handful of diamonds across a black velvet skirt. The captain had ordered out the fire box and an extra portion of rum, which meant the singing had started soon as the sun went down, the dancing not long after, and all of it now wound down into piles of sailors curled around the fire box, watching the stars wheel by overhead while the sea rolled gently beneath them all.
Maybe it was the grog, but Danny was feeling brave.
She picked her way across the deck, carefully-- the grog had gone to her head a bit and her
shipmates scatttered everywhere didn't make the footing any less treacherous. Lars sat against the rail, his head tipped back to look at the stars. Danny watched the line of his throat, and swallowed.
He'd come aboard just last month, after their last helmsman jumped ship in France. The last man had been ill-kempt, rude, and annoying; Lars was clean-cut, polite, and quiet, at least until you put a cutlass in his hand and pointed him at a Spaniard. Danny liked that about him. She liked everything about him, actually.
She sat down beside him and wordlessly offered the bottle of grog she held.
"No thank you," Lars said, without even looking. He was still staring up at the stars, his face soft and happy.
Danny took the bottle back and had a swig herself, but a small one. She didn't want to be drunk for this, and she was well on the way already. "Good night," she said.
"Yes," Lars said, and looked at her at last. "You're not who I was expecting."
She arched an eyebrow, watching his face, watching it change. "Yeah? Who did you think it would be?" She gestured at the ship and their mostly-sleeping shipmates, apart from the handful on watch. "Not a lot to choose from."
He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Aaron. Maybe Ivy."
Or, the only two people who'd known him at all before he turned up on the ship. In fact, Danny wasn't even sure that Ivy had known him; Aaron had just disappeared for an afternoon and returned with him, and no one had asked any questions because you didn't ask questions of the captain. "Well," Danny said, at a bit of a loss. "It's me. Sorry."
Lars glanced at her again, his eyes warm. "I didn't say I minded."
That look on his face, the sweet soft smile-- she couldn't help herself, and didn't particularly want to.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
He jumped back, eyes wide with shock; she heard the clunk as his head struck the side of the ship. "Ow!"
"Shit," Danny said, and then, "Sorry, sorry. Let me see it."
Lars, muttering curses under his head, bent his head forward and let her probe through the hair at the base of his skull. He didn't seem tense under her touch, so there was that, at least-- if he didn't want her to kiss him, he at least wasn't afraid of her. Unlike half the men on this damn ship.
"Looks fine," she said, at last, and pulled back. He straightened, rubbing the back of his skull. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." She trailed off, not sure what verb to use there. Frighten him? Take liberties?
But Lars was waving his free hand already. "No, no, don't worry about it, I was just startled." He paused a moment, chewing on his lower lip. "I'm not, though... I don't... like men. Like that. It's not you. I like you. I like you a lot. I just..."
Danny stared at him for a moment. He... why the hell was he... Then it dawned on her, and she began to laugh.
"What?" Lars asked. It wasn't defensive, only curious.
"Who the hell told you I was a man?" she asked, and laughed again. "If it was Aaron, I'm going to kill him. We used to take baths together and he damn well knows better."
He blinked at her. "No one said, I just assumed... you're a woman?"
"I'm a woman," Danny confirmed, gleefully. "I'd take off my shirt to prove it but that's for private time." She paused herself, suddenly uncertain. "If... if you want private time. I don't want to assume." She'd done that before, after all, and look where it had gotten her.
"No, no," he said again, looking a little dazed. "Feel free to, uh. Assume that."
She laughed again. "Want to see where this goes?" she asked.
She'd meant the night-- and taking her shirt off, and everything that implied, assuming they could find a private corner. But it sounded more... it sounded like more. As if she meant more. And maybe she did.
"Yes," Lars said, and she had the funny feeling that he meant more too.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Danny makes her move.
Warnings: none
Notes: The brush seemed to demand pirates. Also, there's a minor bit in here that may read as erasure of bi/pansexuality. It is not intended that way; I just couldn't think of another way to word it as the characters in question are not aware of bi/pansexuality or how it works. In fact technically sexuality itself is anachronistic at this time since it wasn't really a concept until Freud and I am rambling and will shut up now.
The night was warm, lovely and still, with stars scattered overhead like a handful of diamonds across a black velvet skirt. The captain had ordered out the fire box and an extra portion of rum, which meant the singing had started soon as the sun went down, the dancing not long after, and all of it now wound down into piles of sailors curled around the fire box, watching the stars wheel by overhead while the sea rolled gently beneath them all.
Maybe it was the grog, but Danny was feeling brave.
She picked her way across the deck, carefully-- the grog had gone to her head a bit and her
shipmates scatttered everywhere didn't make the footing any less treacherous. Lars sat against the rail, his head tipped back to look at the stars. Danny watched the line of his throat, and swallowed.
He'd come aboard just last month, after their last helmsman jumped ship in France. The last man had been ill-kempt, rude, and annoying; Lars was clean-cut, polite, and quiet, at least until you put a cutlass in his hand and pointed him at a Spaniard. Danny liked that about him. She liked everything about him, actually.
She sat down beside him and wordlessly offered the bottle of grog she held.
"No thank you," Lars said, without even looking. He was still staring up at the stars, his face soft and happy.
Danny took the bottle back and had a swig herself, but a small one. She didn't want to be drunk for this, and she was well on the way already. "Good night," she said.
"Yes," Lars said, and looked at her at last. "You're not who I was expecting."
She arched an eyebrow, watching his face, watching it change. "Yeah? Who did you think it would be?" She gestured at the ship and their mostly-sleeping shipmates, apart from the handful on watch. "Not a lot to choose from."
He shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. Aaron. Maybe Ivy."
Or, the only two people who'd known him at all before he turned up on the ship. In fact, Danny wasn't even sure that Ivy had known him; Aaron had just disappeared for an afternoon and returned with him, and no one had asked any questions because you didn't ask questions of the captain. "Well," Danny said, at a bit of a loss. "It's me. Sorry."
Lars glanced at her again, his eyes warm. "I didn't say I minded."
That look on his face, the sweet soft smile-- she couldn't help herself, and didn't particularly want to.
She leaned forward and kissed him.
He jumped back, eyes wide with shock; she heard the clunk as his head struck the side of the ship. "Ow!"
"Shit," Danny said, and then, "Sorry, sorry. Let me see it."
Lars, muttering curses under his head, bent his head forward and let her probe through the hair at the base of his skull. He didn't seem tense under her touch, so there was that, at least-- if he didn't want her to kiss him, he at least wasn't afraid of her. Unlike half the men on this damn ship.
"Looks fine," she said, at last, and pulled back. He straightened, rubbing the back of his skull. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." She trailed off, not sure what verb to use there. Frighten him? Take liberties?
But Lars was waving his free hand already. "No, no, don't worry about it, I was just startled." He paused a moment, chewing on his lower lip. "I'm not, though... I don't... like men. Like that. It's not you. I like you. I like you a lot. I just..."
Danny stared at him for a moment. He... why the hell was he... Then it dawned on her, and she began to laugh.
"What?" Lars asked. It wasn't defensive, only curious.
"Who the hell told you I was a man?" she asked, and laughed again. "If it was Aaron, I'm going to kill him. We used to take baths together and he damn well knows better."
He blinked at her. "No one said, I just assumed... you're a woman?"
"I'm a woman," Danny confirmed, gleefully. "I'd take off my shirt to prove it but that's for private time." She paused herself, suddenly uncertain. "If... if you want private time. I don't want to assume." She'd done that before, after all, and look where it had gotten her.
"No, no," he said again, looking a little dazed. "Feel free to, uh. Assume that."
She laughed again. "Want to see where this goes?" she asked.
She'd meant the night-- and taking her shirt off, and everything that implied, assuming they could find a private corner. But it sounded more... it sounded like more. As if she meant more. And maybe she did.
"Yes," Lars said, and she had the funny feeling that he meant more too.
