Perhaps she should have thought this through a bit more.
Accepting the offer for an alliance from a pirate captain and getting on his ship for a journey of unknown length was one thing. Jumping on said ship with only the clothes on her back was another thing entirely, one she's almost starting to regret now.
She is tying her belt over the black shirt she's been given - the Captain's shirt she has been borrowing ever since she received a nasty gash on her flank while boarding a Navy ship.
(Her torn and bloodied tunic is probably still in his cabin) (If she hadn't already trusted him, the way he took care of her wound without commenting on the scar on her back marking her as the Queen's property would have probably done her in)
Back to the problem at hand, his shirt is too big on her, and warm as it may be, it doesn't do much in the way of staying in place and keeping her covered, not when she's on a ship in the middle of the ocean and determined to pull her weight climbing up and down the riggings. It doesn't do much for the trembling inside her chest whenever she pulls it over her head either (this intimacy that comes with wearing a man's clothes, it's newand untainted with memories of another time and another man, memories of betrayal and chains around her wrists as she lost everything), and its softness and faint smell of him aren't helping the case. (It would be easier if his crew had made lewd remarks when they first saw her in it, if they didn't look at her as if she means more than business to their captain. As if she will stay with them)
And his eyes shouldn't be so bright and open when she joins him at the helm with a bread roll because the cook said he hadn't had breakfast with them either (Emma should have punched him or something for the very exaggerated emphasis and very obvious meaning behind his words, but then again, the cook is the same one that prepared her an infusion when she got seasick on her first days on board) (the Emma they met at port would have rewarded him with a kick to the shin) (they have to stop making her wish to stay)
Also, their deal didn't include her having rum with them at night, being taught their sea shanties, learning the names to every star she sees on the clear nights on deck (learning later that old Stark made up many on the spot just to satisfy her curiosity)
And yet, she is the one to tug him from his place at the helm when he is practically swaying from exhaustion but too goddamn stubborn to retire for the day, his night shifts somehow managing to last the entire night instead of the few hours everyone else's do (she will guide him to his cabin and tug his coat and boots off and he will collapse on the bed and snore softly almost immediately, the obstinate idiot)
And when the tables finally turn and it is her cleaning the gunshot on his shoulder, when she convinces him to take off the brace on his left arm with a soft touch and a meaningful look (trust me), when she grazes his scarred wrist with the back of her knuckles and gets him to lie on the bed with his head on her lap while she combs her fingers through his hair until he dozes off, well, she'll admit to have planned a little detour to get another rare artifact.
(just a few more months) (she isn't ready to give this up just yet)