Permit Me a Father Fantasy

A/N: PLEASE READ BELOW TO UNDERSTAND THE FOLLOWING CONTENT:

So, I mentioned last chapter that there was a document in my folder bearing the ambiguous yet intriguing title of Damn it, Jimbo! This, of course, is that document - but when I read it over, I realized there was absolutely NO context. Jim is suddenly nineteen, and Silver is inexplicably washing dishes with him in the rebuilt Benbow's kitchen - and there's no mention whatsoever of policemen, or the captain, or any consequences at all for Silver's previous actions. Utter confusion led me to conclude that I must have decided to rewrite the ending of Treasure Planet at some point to allow Jim and Silver to remain together long after the credits roll, and for a minute, I was tempted to add some small mention in the beginning of Silver perhaps receiving a fairly lenient sentence for his crimes - then I decided it worked even better as a humorous, lighthearted piece if I didn't waste any time on backstory. So there is no context. Just pretend Silver got off with something light, maybe a six-month sentence, and forget my failures.

By the way, I may have called this a crack chapter in the AN on Tough, but when I thought about it, I couldn't help but think this was exactly the sort of thing Silver would do xD but I shouldn't have even written this because Lord knows I have my HTTYD and RotG fics (Those Who Stay and Break of Dawn leap immediately to mind) that have suffered several months of neglect, and seriously deserve an update.

I dunno what the next chapter will be, so I'm not going to promise any specific thing; I guess we'll just have to see. Don't forget to review if you enjoyed, and feel free to (politely) explain why you - or others - didn't.

"Oh, for God's sake, Silver," Jim Hawkins huffed as he slammed the chipped, waterlogged bowl in his hand down onto the counter with a loud and decisive clink. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Oh, c'mon! If I don't say somethin', there ain't nobody else who will! And ya know what'll happen then?" With all the melodrama ordinarily associated with a stage, the cyborg in question flung his soapy towel down into the faucet and reached to clutch at his chest, expression twisting into one of unimaginable suffering. "I will perish! I will die! I will surrender," he declared, in a voice of exaggerated and theatrical sorrow, "to old age! And they will lay me in the ground! I will be dead, I will be in the ground, and how will you feel then?"

"I'd feel lucky if that old age felt the urge to take you soon," Jim muttered.

Silver froze a moment.

"That," he said at last, in a tone of great injury, "was not the response I was expectin'."

"Yeah? Well, it's the response you deserved," the kid replied pitilessly—well, Silver supposed he couldn't technically be called a kid anymore, considering he'd turned nineteen last September, but to call him a man seemed simply unthinkable; no matter how tall the boy before him grew, no matter how many years he spent at the Academy, Silver would always recall first the scowling, smart-mouthed kid from that voyage four years ago.

Either way, his retort was simply unanswerable – and so the cook switched tactics. "Lad—be—be reasonable—

"Okay, well, reason is telling me that this has nothing to do with you!" Jim said impatiently, grabbing the discarded bowl off the counter and running his tattered white dishcloth over the slightly wet ceramic.

"This? This has everything to do with me!" The ex-pirate countered, gesticulating wildly about himself as if the everything he spoke of was the Benbow's gleaming kitchen in which they stood – which it was not.

"How do you figure?!"

"Well, now, I dunno," Silver responded, words laced with a generous amount of sarcasm, "maybe 'cause I been waitin' four years? 'Cause I didn' say a word, even when I had plenty o' opportunities? 'Cause ye've spent a fair bit o' time up at that Academy of yours, rompin' 'round and havin' adventures and it's 'bout time you started settlin'? Maybe 'cause somethin's gotta happen and it hasn' yet and I ain't gettin' any younger?"

"Believe me, I've noticed," Jim began cheekily, but Silver sent him the sort of look that suggested violence might follow should he choose to keep speaking – and it proved wonderfully efficient, as the kid fell silent as if struck dumb.

"It's just that I been waitin'," the cyborg continued, "a good long while to see anythin' come o' this, Jimbo. I been waitin' a long time for ya to find a girl ya really feel serious about."

"But I don't feel serious – not about any of those Academy girls! And I don't want to! I'm happy just the way I am." The boy held the half-dried glass in his hand aloft, as if offering a toast. "Bachelor for life."

"Ye can' do that!" Silver argued, aghast.

"Well, if the right one comes along…" Jim shrugged, shoving the glass into a nearby cupboard.

"Yer only nineteen! Ye can't swear off marriage!"

"Silver, I'm not swearing it off," the kid now looked, if anything, a little amused, by the cyborg's obvious panic. "But let's be real – I haven't found anyone, and I'm not interested in finding anyone. I'm only nineteen, like you said, I have plenty of time for all that stuff later—

"Ye gotta find her!" Silver wailed. "Ye gotta find her, and I gotta be here when ya do!"

"Um, can you…back up and tell me when I joined this episode of Matchmaker?"

"Damn it, Jimbo!" The ex-pirate boomed, slamming a fist down on the kitchen counter – how could this kid be so oblivious? "I want grandkids!"