A/N: I really liked the idea of the freezing water mechanic in Rogue, though I always felt really terrible if I made Shay swim in it for long enough that he started taking damage. Then I couldn't help thinking of Shay being tucked up in bed to get warm again, and this idea was born.
Enjoy!
(This story is also published on AO3!)
A freezing and bedraggled Shay Cormac hauls himself up onto the deck of the Morrigan, shivering violently.
"The outpost is guarded by three scouts, each in their own watch tower spaced around the perimeter," he reports, trying to control the trembling of his limbs. "There are two French officers overlooking the troops as well."
"Shouldn't be too much trouble," his first mate, Christopher Gist replies. "You've handled far worse than that before, Captain!"
"Not that you'll have anything to say about it," their Grand Master, Haytham Kenway interrupts, having come down from the quarter deck with Gist to hear Shay's report.
"Indeed," Gist withdraws at once.
"I'll return to the island at once, with your permission, sir," says Shay. "Those French bastards won't know what's hit them."
"I'm sure," Haytham smiles slightly. "But not yet. Master Cormac, are you aware you're turning blue?"
It is true; Shay's lips have a decidedly blue tinge from cold, and his cheeks have become very pale.
"I'll warm up again soon enough," Shay says offhandedly, unconcerned.
"No, you'll do it now," Haytham replies sternly, gripping his forearm and hauling him towards his captain's cabin. "I won't have any of my agents getting sick, understand?"
"What about my ship?" Shay protests.
"Master Gist is more than capable of taking charge in your stead," Haytham assures him.
Shay sighs. "Very well, sir." He'd really prefer to get his mission over and done with so he can relax afterwards, but it seems the senior Templar has other ideas.
Closing the cabin door behind the two of them, Haytham fixes his stern gaze on the Irishman. "Take those wet clothes off," he orders. "And get into bed. You shouldn't have been swimming in such cold water at all, let alone all the way to and from the island."
"I wasn't risking the Morrigan on those rocks," Shay replies stubbornly, beginning to undress.
His wet clothes are hung up to dry, then Shay climbs into bed and is soon feeling much better already, his covers tucked securely around him.
Haytham decides to sit on the edge of the bed, fussing absent-mindedly with the blankets.
"Will you not give me a good night kiss?" Shay asks cheekily, batting his eyelashes.
The Englishman snorts. "No flirting while you're sick," he orders, smirking despite himself as Shay's face falls in mock-disappointment.
"Best leave then..." Shay says slowly. "Before I get any ideas." Looking up at Haytham through lowered lashes, he reaches out to touch the older man's hand with his own, fingers lightly brushing his skin.
Haytham sighs, relenting at last, and leans over to press his lips briefly against Shay's.
"There," he says, sitting up again. "Now get some rest. You may complete your mission in the morning."
"You don't want to come in here and help me warm up?" Shay asks, lifting the covers slightly.
"Shay," Haytham says sharply, but he is smiling as he stands and walks to the door. "Sleep," he says simply, and then he is gone.
Shay grins to himself, snuggling under the covers. He loves pushing his luck with the Grand Master.
Perhaps one day he won't have to push at all.
The thought is a pleasant one, and Shay is soon lulled to sleep, listening to the sound of the ocean lapping at the hull of the Morrigan.