“Oops!” | Cutler to Thomas

17. Your character walking in on mine having an embarrassing fall.

Pushing himself up from the floor after a rather horrific tumble down a blessedly short flight of stairs, Thomas stilled as he noted a pair of polished shoes – upon which the wig which had flown from his head and likely slid across the polished wood had come to settle.

Flushing furiously with embarrassment, Thomas brought himself to his feet to face whom he would have to apologize to on account of his own misfortune. The sight of the young upstart from the EITC made him want to swallow his tongue entirely and feign far greater injury than that which he had actually attained solely to avoid this particular encounter, but in the end he grit out that which polite society dictated, and even managed to paint on a smile in the process.

Miranda, at least, would be proud of him for not simply storming out of the building and returning home in a right state.

“Forgive me – I’m afraid I lost my footing.”

“A charming invitation, but I fear I must decline.” [ @ t.ham, london era ! ]

{ The Pirate Chase Starters }

“Oh,” Thomas swiftly strangled his sense of disappointment at the dismissal – it wasn’t so much that he expected lieutenant McGraw to always be at his beck and call, but rather that he had grown rather accustomed to him over recent weeks and had hoped that they might be able to continue on their conversations over dinner.

Miranda had seemed certain that the man would be receptive to such an invitation, so perhaps there truly was some other engagement at play – it simply wasn’t in his experience that refusals were ever just due to bad timing. He smiled regardless, and fell upon the prescribed response for such situations as these. “Perhaps another time then.”

“It’s cold outside” | Joji to Thomas

{ The Meme }

There was no sound before Thomas found himself draped with a blanket – nothing to forewarn him of what was coming. He stiffened a moment, looking around until he caught sight of the culprit – and the silence was understood so immediately, he could not help but smile as he drew the article tighter around himself with a sense of gratitude swiftly overriding the nervous irritation that had bubbled up to begin with.

“Thank you,” He hesitated only a moment, then, “Will you be warm enough?” He supposed the man would, but courtesy could only be throttled so far.

“I don’t see how anyone could argue with such a sensible plan.” [ @ t. ham, james is being a Low-Key Sarcastic Bastard (a sarcastard, if you will) ]

{ The Pirate Chase Starters }

“James,” Thomas’ tone was painfully mild, which by this point of knowing one another ought to indicate to the lieutenant that he was utterly exhausted and reaching a point where he may excuse himself and doubtless return to argue this point again in the morning unless what came next proved itself utterly scintillating, “If you’ve some complaint you would like to lodge, or some better idea that has been overlooked, please be frank about it.”

“Alright; we’re done here.” [ @ thomas, who has been Temperamental(TM) and james is comfortable enough to just be like ALRIGHT I’M NOT DEALING WITH THIS WHERE’S MIRANDA ]

{ Things I Said To My Puppy }

Thomas stilled, perhaps for the first time since mid-morning, and simply stared at James as if struck by something. On one hand, he was rather pleased by the man’s assertiveness – on the other, he would have preferred a lack of interruption in his diatribe.

Warring with this confliction, Thomas settled for a middle ground – rewarding James with an approving hum, even as he waved a hand and dismissed him. There was little point in them engaging – he had no desire for his anger to bleed out upon the other, and that he was wise enough to retreat was to his credit regardless.

Pacing off, Thomas considered what outlet would best serve him by way of distraction. He would like to be more managed by the time the lieutenant returned.

“When everyone lies, telling the truth isn’t just rebellion. It’s an act of revolution. So think carefully when you speak it, because the truth is a weapon.” miranda? cautioning thomas re: verbalisation of idealism? absofuckinglutely

{ Altered Carbon }

“My dear Miranda,” His tone is fond, and there is a subdued delight upon his features which would take no effort to hide if he willed it. As it was, he saw no reason to conceal his amusement, for it was far kinder a response than the grim foreboding her words set upon him, “I do believe you’re becoming quite the dangerous radical yourself with such ideas.”

It was hardly an insult – in the privacy of their own home, in the quiet after the last of their guests had taken their leave, dangerous words like revolution and radicalism bore tones quite deadly in the times – of fondness, gratitude and even adoration.

“To conceal one’s true intent and ambitions at all times,” He mused, stepping into his robe so that he might remove his wig without damaging his clothes, “Not only sounds tiresome in the extreme – but also as dishonest as one can get. I’ve always admired our honesty – are you suggesting that for the sake of our ideals, we become more like the dishonest to whom we must entreat ourselves?”

“ i just want to kiss you. ” [ mcgraw, muttered very v e r y softly to thomas while they have Company ]

{ Kissy Starters }

Maintaining a neutral expression in the wake of that particular confession proves phenomenally difficult. Thomas knows his jaw has slackened slightly in shock, perhaps more because he felt his lips part than any particular attention spent on how tightly clenched his teeth had been up until that very moment.

Quietly, his gaze seeks out the lilac vision of his wife as she mingled among their guests, seemingly harmless with her charming smile and innocuous remarks. She was perhaps his most delicate and dangerous device in these political games, her cautious wit affording her the capability of gathering intelligence with none being the wiser for it. She was a formidable ally, but she was not without her own games – he thought, for a moment, she might have put James up to this.

As it was, she was most engaged in conversation with Peter, and appeared to not be paying him or James any mind at all. He supposed that was fitting enough all things considered – she was the one who among them, was the least reckless. Making this gambit all James’ doing and therefore, all the more enticing for the fact the once so formal lieutenant could now possibly be so wickedly and delightfully bold.

“In good time,” He assured mildly, as if they were merely discussing something as indifferent as when it would be best for them to make a proposal before parliament, as opposed to the unspoken promise that there would be a great deal of kissing once their guests had taken leave for the night. “Patience may be a virtue I lack, however,” He warned, glancing over at James with a slight, hidden smile upon the corner of his lips – it wasn’t as though they couldn’t excuse themselves for a moment or two if need must.

The ocean’s embrace.

intolerablexsacrifice‌:

@oceanfoamed (from here)

_{There was no way of knowing which demon was tormenting Thomas at the moment, not when he barely knew any of their names- but in the end, knowing what was wrong mattered far less to him in the moment than being able to do something about it. Flint waited, patiently, as Thomas drew in ragged breaths like each one was its own agony. Either he would lash out, at which point Flint might put him to work for the sake of a distraction from his thoughts- or he would not, and James, then, could take over.}

_{In the end, Thomas reached for him. Flint’s expression softened, and James stepped closer, allowing those hands to curl around his wrists without complaint.}

_{“Love,” he murmured, and lifted his hands to brush away the tears on Thomas’ cheeks. He did not use such terms of endearment often, and never had: there was rarely a need for them when he could make something as simple as a name sound like worship. “I’m not busy.”}

_{In truth, there were things he ought to be minding. But there was very little that could not be put aside for this man, and he was confident that nothing would go drastically askew in the time they might take to lie together awhile. “Come on.”}

_{He took Thomas’ hand in his own, leading him out of the dark, uncaring of curious eyes they might pass by on the way to his cabin. Once they were safely secluded, James paused. It was second nature to him to lock the door in moments like these, but Thomas…}

_{“Do you want this locked?”}

James came for him, and the feel of the man’s wrists in his grip truly did feel more like he was anchoring himself than his lover. Their hands rose together when James decided to brush his tears away, and Thomas held on a moment longer despite the fact it was a somewhat awkward position on his end. The endearment settled something in him – the rarity of such a term making it meaningful enough to catch on to and hold as he was assured.

His hands lowered, about to settle at his sides listlessly when James took one up to lead him, confidently drawing him by it to the cabin they had come to share, an unexpected home and sanctuary for a man who up until a couple of years ago when he had left the plantation with James, had only been on a ship but once – to be delivered to that very same plantation.

Gratitude flooded him as James took charge, knowing in that moment that he needed this leadership, for he was very much at a loss within himself. Yet what truly pushed him over the edge he balanced so precariously upon was James checking if he would be comfortable with the door locked. It struck against his core, the awareness that the door did not have to be locked, for even if they were found in one another’s arms none on this ship would judge – or have room to do so.

“I am so tired of locked doors,” It fell from him almost without his own volition, but the words were true. He did not see a locked door as safety so much as imprisonment now – and he did not want to feel trapped here, in this space he shared with James. Not even for a moment, not even for a metaphor.

Taking charge himself, Thomas led James now – still holding his hand from before – and drew him to the bed they now shared. A far cry from the old one, but better together than alone. He settled in and waited until James had settled, before leaning in and damning his height as he tucked himself beneath James’ chin and gave himself over, the strain in his shoulders draining away as a true sense of security returned to him as a result of it.

Exaggerated Rumors

@intolerablexsacrifice continued from [x]

The moment he had caught sight of the redhead at the tavern Thomas had felt his stomach twist. The idea that James might come here, that after all that happened he might have come to Nassau was heartwarming as it was absolutely devastating. He couldn’t even tell if he wanted the man to be James, or if he would rather his lover and wife had found a peaceful life in the colonies. All he knew was, he could not leave the question of it unanswered.

He could tell, however, that the man was not particularly keen on being approached. Thomas had hoped to make this a quick venture – just a stop by to assuage his curiosity and put the terrible idea aside – but the man had been determined to make that as difficult as possible. By the time Thomas finally caught up to him, he rather felt he deserved something good to come of it – but even still, he could not decide what outcome of this could in fact be determined as a good one.

He was faced, finally, with a close examination of the man’s features. That ridiculous hair and beard aside – those mismatched green eyes could not possibly belong to any other man. He knew this face – intimately, he knew this man – and he could see in the cavernous silence between them that the other man knew him in turn.

Lips formed over a familiar name, and for one wild and impossible moment Thomas considered hauling the man by his shirt and kissing him senseless just to prove them both real to the other. He didn’t know what manner of man James had made of himself to survive here, however – and he would not shatter that reputation to ease his own heart.

“James,” Just saying his name felt like enough, and a dangerously emotional smile curved upon his lips, “I thought that might be you.”

Some habits never die.

intolerablexsacrifice‌:

@oceanfoamed (from here)

_{The click of the tongue made his eyes snap up, meeting Thomas’ in the dark. He thought himself rejected at first, and twitched as if to withdraw- but stopped as the covers were flipped back, and Thomas addressed him with a tone that James recognised as decidedly displeased. That alone was incentive enough to break his silence.}

_{“Sorry,” he murmured, and meant it. It was a valid complaint, after all- Flint, too, knew that particular brand of justified paranoia. But James slipped in beside him, burrowing in close- there was no pretense, no suppression of the desire to be as close as physically possible (though naturally, this was not always the case- Flint, too, frequently needed space). He draped an arm across Thomas’ chest, looking up at his face in the darkness, the curve of his jaw. Gazing at him, as he sometimes did, as if Thomas was the only thing he wanted to look at from this moment onwards. Smiling slightly, James added, only half-joking: “Sometimes I forget you can’t read my mind.”}

The niggling sense of frustration that continued to linger drifted away both in wake of the apology ( for it indicated to Thomas that the man understood the sentiment enough to be genuinely contrite ) and in the face of the easy way in which his lover tucked against him despite the cold invitation.

It was in moments like this – when James treated him normally and yet somehow still managed to remind him of all the time they had lost, and all of the love that had driven them into their reunion – that Thomas found there was no room in him to be angry. The worst of those storms had passed – and now, they had only the smaller things to weather, things any couple needed to face when getting used to being a couple.

Huffing softly, Thomas settled his arm around James and drew him in, pressing a kiss to the man’s fiery hair before returning his attention to his book and asking, in a much softer tone that betrayed the fondness welling within him, “Would you like to read with me, or shall I read to you tonight?”