Title: Assumptions

Rating: T

Genre: Mystery/Humour

Summary: "I'm thinkin' that what the captain does in his quarters at night is his business." Slight AU, implied Twig/Cowlquape.

A/N: I… really don't have much to say about this. The idea came to me so late at night that it was early, and I wrote the majority of it there and then. Slightly cracky, hopefully amusing, and with a rather dirty-minded Tarp Hammelherd. Enjoy!

"Look," Tarp Hammelherd said reasonably. "All I'm saying is that, much as I'm sure the cap'n'd appreciate the… concern, we should keep our noses out."

He was speaking to his fellow crewmates and friends, Wingnut Sleet and Bogwitt, the three of them huddled together slightly away from the original crew of the Skyraider. Although they had nothing against them – quite the opposite, in fact; all got on well – they had agreed that this particular topic of conversation would be best kept to themselves. The last thing any of them wanted or needed was anyone doubting Twig's judgement.

"He's a liability, though." Sleet complained. "I have nothing against the lad personally, of course, but he just…"

"He gets under your feet." Bogwitt supplied.

"Exactly." The quartermaster agreed, nodding. "Oh, he's willing enough, but it's clear he's in over his head. It would be better for everyone if we took him back to Sanctaphrax. Sky alone knows why he left in the first place – he would have been Most High Academe!"

"I know what you mean, I suppose," Tarp conceded as he ran a hand through his long thick hair. "He wants to learn, but he's not cut out for it. There must be a reason he's here, though, or the captain wouldn't have it. Not when we're on as important a voyage as this."

"The only reason he's here is because he's travelled with the captain before." Sleet snorted. The silence that followed his statement made him defensive. "Well, it's true! We're all thinking it, I'm just saying it."

"The captain doesn't do favouritism." Bogwitt said. "Like Tarp says; the lad must be doing something, or he wouldn't be here."

"You know…" Tarp began slowly, as if an idea had suddenly occurred to him. "He is in the captain's quarters a lot."

"So?" Sleet asked, his one eyebrow rising in askance. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Wingnut Sleet, a born-and-bred Undertowner, had, through no fault of his own, acquired over the years certain ideas about traditions and taboos that were common in the sprawling city. Namely, that there were certain relationships that were reserved for a man and a woman, with no room for variation. Those who dwelled in the Deepwoods did not always share these ideas, which would explain why Bogwitt's eyes suddenly widened a little, and a chuckle rumbled in his throat as he shared a look with the slaughterer.

"Tarp, are you thinking…?"

"I'm thinkin' that what the captain does in his quarters at night is his business." Tarp said. The remark would have been completely innocent were it not for the suggestive, knowing smirk that graced the slaughterer's features.

"Well yes, of course, though I hardly see how that relates to…" Sleet began, and then frowned as he tried to decipher Tarp's meaning. When he did, his mangled face twisted further in horror at what his crewmate was proposing. "You can't possibly be suggesting…"

"Oh, come on, Sleet, isn't it obvious?" Tarp asked, now fully grinning. "It takes all kinds, after all, no matter what you born-and-bred Undertowners think."

Sleet sighed and shook his head. "Sky above, Tarp, I knew you had a mind perpetually stuck in the sewers, but this is something else entirely." The quartermaster sighed and raised his eyes to the heavens, muttering, "Sky give me strength."

"It does make sense, though." Bogwitt said slowly, nodding. "The cap'n and the lad are shut up together a lot."

"Not you too, Bogwitt!" Sleet cried out, aghast, having been counting on his support against Tarp. "Really, I expect as much from Tarp here—"

"Hey!"

"—But I never thought you would assume such a thing!"

"Why not?" The flat-head goblin asked, amused by the quartermaster's reaction. "I mean, I always figured the captain was like that."

"See!" Tarp exclaimed, pointing at Bogwitt. "It's not just me! It's obvious, Sleet – the captain and the lad are going at it every night!"

"Shameless!" Sleet moaned, burying his scarred face in his hands. "Both of you are absolutely shameless."

"Don't worry, Sleet." Tarp said cheerfully, clapping the quartermaster on the shoulder. "If Captain Twig was after you, I think you'd know it by now."

This teasing remark was the last straw; Sleet abruptly stood and left to join the rest of the crew, muttering about dirty minds and what the captain would do to them all if he found out what they had been saying.

A week passed. Sleet had evidently spoken to Twig about Cowlquape, because he now had the lad under his supervision as a sort of under-quartermaster rather than letting him loose on the ship, a position in which he soon showed his worth, and peace fell upon the Skyraider.

A peace that gave Tarp Hammelherd time to think.

What he'd said to Sleet and Bogwitt about the possibility of the captain and his apprentice screwing had mostly been in jest, a successful attempt to wind the quartermaster up. Sleet made it easy enough, after all, being so high-strung about everything. Open as Tarp was to the idea that relationships did not just have to be for a man and a woman, he had not seriously considered the idea that the captain was rigged that way, as it were.

Once he'd thought of it, though, it was damned hard not to find a lot of evidence to support the theory.

For a start, the captain and Cowlquape did spend a lot of time holed up together in Twig's quarters. The official reason for this was that Cowlquape had been to Riverrise with Twig, and so was helping him go through what maps of the Deepwoods he had been able to acquire to see if they could roughly plan where to search. It made sense that they would do this in the evenings, when their separate duties had been carried out. Tarp, however, couldn't help but think that it seemed a little too much like a cover story, and not only because maps of the Deepwoods were few and far between, and never much use when you did find one. Surely it couldn't be that hard to find a place like Riverrise when you'd been there once – it was hardly something you could forget. Besides, Cowlquape was supposed to sleep in the crew quarters, but it was rare that Tarp found him in his hammock of a morning. Twig was no slave driver, so Tarp doubted that the lad was simply too exhausted to make it back to the crew quarters at night… unless, of course, there was another reason he was exhausted – one that affected and involved the captain as well.

Really, when all was said and done, there was only one course of action that could possibly be taken.

"This is ridiculous."

"Why're you here, then?"

"Because I'm trying to talk you out of it!"

"Admit it, Sleet; you're as curious as I am."

"Most certainly I am not. I'm here only to temper your foolishness."

"Whatever makes you feel better, Sleet."

"Oh, for goodness—you were the one harping on about not interfering with the captain's business!"

"That was about something completely different! Now be quiet, I can't hear."

"…Won't find Riverrise… exhausted to fly the ship…"

Tarp frowned and carefully edged closer to the door to the captain's quarters. He could hardly make out what was being said, and if he was going to do this, he might as well do it properly.

"Tarp!" Sleet hissed, trying to tug him back down the stairs. "For Sky's sake, you'll get caught!"

Tarp hushed him quickly. "I can't hear!"

The quartermaster looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but then another snatch of conversation drifted down to them.

"…Few more minutes?"

"…Said that half an hour ago… Wonderful… bed…"

Tarp felt his eyed widen. This was a little more than he'd been expecting. Even though he had just scolded Sleet for talking, he couldn't help but comment on that.

"That's some stamina!" The slaughterer muttered, only for Sleet to bury his face in his hands.

"That's it, I'm leaving. You can spy all you want, Tarp, but I won't be soiling the captain's good reputation." With that, the quartermaster made to leave slowly and quietly, but at that moment Twig's voice reached both himself and Tarp again, followed by the sound of footsteps heading towards the door.

The two crewmembers exchanged a look, and then both made for the deck as fast as they could, the captain's words ringing in their ears.

"Cowlquape… help me sleep."

Twig stretched and yawned. It had been a long day that had, as usual, gone well into the evening. He was determined to find Riverrise – and, by extension, Goom, Woodfish and Maugin – as soon as possible, but it was proving more difficult than he had imagined. There were very few maps of the Deepwoods, as it was simply too large and dangerous to be properly explored and recorded, and the ones that did exist showed only the village of the cartographer and a little of the land around it. Twig knew that if he were to find Riverrise once again, he would have to rely on his own instincts.

Cowlquape, Sky bless his soul, was doing his best to help, but he was as stumped as the young captain. Twig felt more than a little guilty for pulling Cowlquape away from New Sanctaphrax – unintentional though it had been – but Cowlquape had assured him that he could not settle if he did not know if Twig was alright, and besides, although he had good ideas and even better intentions for New Sanctaphrax, the fact remained that he was a fifteen-year-old boy who the academics probably wouldn't listen to, even if he was Most High Academe. So, he had passed the great seal on – to Vox Verlix, of all people, although Cowlquape said that Vox, despite his bullying ways, was undeniably a genius architect and engineer who would serve Sanctaphrax well – and joined Twig on his search for the last of his crew. Twig had put up a token protest to Cowlquape abandoning a position that, in the captain's eyes, he deserved, but Cowlquape had been adamant. They would search for Riverrise together, and Sky help anyone who tried to prevent that.

"You should get some sleep, Twig. We won't find Riverrise if you're too exhausted to fly the ship."

Cowlquape's gentle admonishment brought Twig out of his musings, and the young sky pirate captain smiled at the expression of worry that graced the boy's face.

"I'm fine, Cowlquape," he assured his apprentice.

"No, you're not." The boy shot back stubbornly. "Or were you just pretending to yawn a minute ago?"

Twig couldn't suppress a smile at that. Slowly but surely, Cowlquape was becoming a little more confident, a change that Twig believed was for the better. The lad, he was sure, would always prefer his own company, but if he could stand up for himself and others it would serve him well.

"A few more minutes?" He compromised hopefully, but Cowlquape shook his head.

"Twig, you said that half an hour ago," he replied. "Now," he waved a hand at the large bed that Thunderbolt Vulpoon had installed. "There's a wonderfully comfortable bed there waiting for you to sleep in it. Leave the maps, get into it, and sleep until you're properly rested."

"I didn't know you were the ship's doctor, lad." The young sky pirate grumbled, not quite ready to give in yet.

"Please, Twig." The blonde boy pleaded. "You haven't had a proper night's sleep in weeks. I worry about you."

That did it. He knew there was no point in arguing with Cowlquape when he was this determined, especially not when he made the elder boy feel this guilty, and it didn't help that Twig knew he was right. He did need more sleep than he was currently getting, and the bed was very comfortable…

"Alright," he sighed. "I'll get some sleep – but on one condition."

"Good." Cowlquape said, obviously relieved – and then, suspiciously, "What's the condition?"

The young captain smiled at the blonde, amused at what he knew was going through the younger teen's mind. "You couldn't do me a favour and get me some of that tea you got that gabtroll back at the hammelhorn fair to give you the recipe for, could you, Cowlquape? It'll help me sleep."

It didn't take long to go down to the kitchen – galley, Cowlquape reminded himself for what must be the hundredth time – and gather the ingredients needed for Twig's tea. After experiencing what herbs could do for a person first-hand, Cowlquape had been determined to learn about them himself, and though it had been a slow process he was gradually getting to grips with it. Besides, if it helped Twig, then it was worth it. Anything was worth it. Even facing the rest of the crew, who, Cowlquape was sure, thought he shouldn't be there.

Case in point: on the way back to Twig's cabin, he passed two of Twig's original crew, Tarp Hammelherd and Wingnut Sleet. He greeted them amiably, as he always did, but they only glanced at him and then averted their gazes quickly, Tarp looking amused at something and Sleet downcast. He almost asked what the problem was, but bit the words back at the last moment and simply carried on. Hopefully one day they would accept him, he thought as he re-entered the cabin he'd been spending most of his time in of late.

But for now, as he was interrupted halfway through brewing the tea by his lustful captain, who had come up with another way to aid the onset of sleep, he was content to let things continue as they were.

A/N: For anyone who didn't get it, this was kind of a subversion of the usual fic in which someone overhears something that sounds pretty sexual about two people, then it turns out to be perfectly innocent. I was originally going to play that straight, but then my inner Twig/Cowlquape shipper refused to let me, and so it turns out that it was leading up to something dirty after all. XD