A/N: SURPRISE, BITCHEZ! B)
It's been a while, obvi! But I'm back! The Navy occupies most of my life at the moment, but the good news is I will be spending a lot of time at sea over the next year, so my only obvious way to spend my free time is to write Brittana fanfiction because that's the only other ship I sail! :D Hooray! Because the only thing being on a ship out at sea wants to make me do is write about Brittana being on a ship out at sea, lmao. The updates will probably be slow in coming (that's what she said) but never fear! I'm still working on this motherfucking story, and I crawled my ass up out my Brittana grave to deliver this update to all you beautiful (invisible) people! *_*
In any case, always shout out to my brotp Tiger (get-higher)- someday maybe when I'm 70 she will finish College AU, or as I like to call it, Gouda and when I'm 90 she will finish that little gem I call NEVER TOUCH THE GROUND (challenge accepted, bro?)- and my tumblr wifey, killercereal (do you still love me? ;-;) for being my inspiration to keep writing, and also my leetl Lighthouse (NegativeSpaces) who finished FMAL like forever ago and then probably died or something idk she writes other stuff now, as do most of the old fandom.
BUT NOT ME. Because BRITTANA IS FOREVER and if the Brittana ship has sailed, well GUESS WHO WAS ON THAT SHIP? That's right, me! So I'm sailing right along with it. B)
Okay, okay. Thanks for waiting! And if you forgot what the hell this story is about, I went back and edited all of the early chapters in anticipation for some of you re-reading them (and let's be honest, I needed to, too, ahaha) with this update!
Enjoy~
"A warship?" Santana echoes in a hiss, turning to Brittany with a deadly glare. "Do you realize what you've done? We could all-"
The shrill whistling of artillery slicing through the air cuts her off, and around them, men scramble to take cover. Brittany shields her face just as the cannonball hits the port side of the ship and smashes the railing and a huge section of the deck apart. Splinters and wooden debris fly everywhere, and then Santana takes action.
"David, fire at will! Arty, bring us leeward! Jake, ammo duty!"
"HOIST THE SAILS!" someone shouts.
"FIRE!"
BOOM!
Santana pauses as the men around her rush to obey her orders, yanking on lines and manning the cannons to return the distant warship's fire. Then, as if suddenly remembering Brittany is beside her, she turns to her with a disgusted look. "You... stand by."
Brittany struggles to swallow the lump that's been forming in her throat, her stomach twisting with fear and anxiety. She wants to help defend the ship, but she knows better than to question Santana- her Quartermaster- so she stays put, powerlessly watching the battle unfold around her.
The Captain stands beside Arty at the wheel, shouting sailing commands that Brittany only understands half of, and in combination with Santana, who gets shoulder-to-shoulder with her crew and actually works to hoist and lower specific sails, Brittany's impressed with their skills as a crew, which she previously hadn't been in a position to witness before. It suddenly makes sense why The Tide Ripper earned its deadly reputation and has lasted so long.
"Incoming!" Brett calls from high on the main mast, and there's only seconds to react before another heavy piece of artillery hits the foremast, shattering the base. It cracks and tilts forward, but doesn't snap or fall, and Brittany's amazed at the resilience of it, though her stomach clenches even tighter. So much damage, and the fight isn't even over yet-
BOOM! BOOM!
More cannonfire, more scrambling to do damage control. It dizzies her as she tries to follow what's happening, as she tries to figure out if her ship is winning or losing-
"The foresail!" someone shouts, and Brittany watches as Santana effortlessly grabs the nearest piece of rigging and swings herself up.
"On it!" she yells, then practically flies up the rigging, never losing her sure grip or her footing. It's then that it actually sinks into Brittany's mind that Santana has spent a good chunk of her life on a ship. She's earned the position of Quartermaster, and as she easily climbs more than a hundred feet in the air and begins to cut ropes away to drop and save the sails from the yardarms, Brittany realizes how unskilled she is by comparison. She'll never be as skilled or as smart as Santana. She wouldn't even know where to start-
"Brittany!" Jake calls, and Brittany turns toward the sound. "I need a hand, here!"
Moving quickly to the sound of Jake's voice, it doesn't take her long to realize that there's a huge hole in the deck where a hole should not be. And below, in the exposed hole, are several crates of ammo and gunpowder.
"We have to get these moved to another space," Jake tells her in a strained voice once she reaches him. "If they get hit…"
He doesn't have to finish his sentence. Brittany's already sliding down into the hole to help. Once her boots touch the floor, she gags- smoke has filled the space from the firing of the cannons in the gunwales, and the sound of another approaching round of artillery reaches Brittany's ears.
"Down!" Jake yells- not that it matters, because if the round hits the space they're standing in, they'll be blown up along with the ammo beside them, but Brittany shields her head with her arms and crouches anyway, bracing against the side of the space.
The ship rocks from the force of the impact, and shreds of smoking wood rain down into the hole. The air is thick from water vapor and smoke, and Brittany, though light-headed, manages to pull Santana's red bandana from her arm and wrap it around the lower half of her face to try and filter it out so she can breathe.
Then, she sets to work helping Jake move the crates to the deck below at a blinding pace. It's hard work, and the ship is far from steady as it executes evasive maneuvers and takes on heavy fire, but Brittany doesn't quit as she struggles to relocate the heavy crates, her adrenaline and fright driving her onward, her thoughts flying in all directions.
She knows she's going to be in so much trouble. She's scared to face the pirates once this battle is over, but more, she's absolutely terrified of thoughts she's had numerous times before- what if they lose? What if the ship goes down- because of her? What will happen to her friends? To Lord Tubbington?
What will happen to Santana?
She works harder, dragging the heavy crates to the ladder and trying to focus on anything but her own frightful thoughts, all while more water droplets and shards of wood rain down on her.
BOOM!
BOOM!
A crack echoes in the distance, and a loud cheer goes up from the men on the deck above her. She dares to hope-
"Holy shit, David!" Santana shouts with wild joy, far above Brittany's head.
"What a shot!" someone else cries.
Curious and eager to know the outcome of this battle, Brittany twists to look, craning her neck to see out of the hole, and just barely catches a glimpse of the enemy ship in the distance, sporting a huge hole in the bow. Puck yells to Tack the ship! and another loud cry goes up.
"We aren't boarding?" someone asks dumbly.
"Are you fucking kidding?" Puck demands, though sounding surprisingly jaunty. "That was one hell of a lucky strike- we don't want to test the fates!"
Santana whips her head around and points at the pirate manning the main sail. "Take us out! David- keep the pressure on for another ten lengths, then halt- no point in wasting our fucking ammo!"
"Aye-aye!" David calls from his spot in the gunwales.
Jake gives Brittany a nod, signaling for them to pause in their task, and they wait, listening in tense silence. The firing of the enemy ship grows distant, and then, almost on cue, another collective cheer rises up, and Jake grins.
"Come on!" he says, and he hauls himself up and out of the hole.
Brittany does the same, surprised at how much stronger she's gotten during the time of her captivity, but once she gains her footing on deck, a rough hand grabs her shirt collar and lifts her to a standing position. Before she can process what's happening, she's whipped around and her back slams into the hard wood of the main mast.
She has zero time to react as Santana's familiar hand rips the red bandana from her neck. The Quartermaster pauses for a second to shoot the article a seething glare before tucking it into her belt. Brittany feels her stomach sink and tighten with dread, with fear for what Santana will say about her keeping the bandana. She's also admittedly disappointed it's no longer in her possession, and she bites her lip, worried.
The sound of a sword unsheathing is unmistakable as Santana draws her weapon and presses the metal of it to Brittany's throat, and then Santana's in her face, right in her face, her warm breath flowing over Brittany's lips, her eyes flaming with anger. Brittany shivers at how close Santana is pressed to her, at the cold edge of Santana's sword against her neck, giving her a feeling of déjà vu.
"I'm going to cut your fucking throat out," Santana breathes, enraged, intimate. "I'm going to fucking cut your fucking throat out and-"
"Easy, Master Santana." Strong arms encircle the woman, pulling her back and out of Brittany's face, but Santana doesn't back down, straining against Matt as he tries to contain her.
"I told you what would fucking happen if you betrayed us," Santana hisses, brandishing her sword threateningly.
"I didn't betray you," Brittany whimpers, trembling and shaken at the hateful look in Santana's eyes and the knowledge that the only thing stopping Santana from killing her is Matt.
"Whale shit!" she snaps. "What the fuck was that?!" She waves her hand wildly in the direction they'd come from. "What the fuck were you thinking?! I ought to cut your fucking lying tongue out of your-"
"That's enough," Kurt snaps, appearing to block Santana's path, and Brittany feels only slightly better knowing she now has two people defending her.
"Stand aside, Pony!"
"Step off my property," Kurt hisses coldly.
"Back off, both of you," Mike says, his voice calm and reasoning as he intervenes. "Let's discuss this-"
"She's a fuckin' liar," David growls, pointing his small axe at Brittany's face and striking double the fear Santana did. Her reassurance is gone- no way will Kurt, Mike and Matt be able to defend her from Santana and David. "Knew she was from th' beginning. We can't fuckin' trust 'er!"
"You don't have to," Kurt snaps, and David gives him a disgusted look, as if seeing him for the first time. He shakes his head and spits at the deck near Kurt's feet, but Kurt doesn't back down.
"Well, we still made it out all right," Arty says cheerfully as he hobbles up to enter the conversation, readjusting his spectacles.
"Barely. And almost at the cost of our lives!" Santana snaps.
Puck sighs from his spot far to the left. Brittany hadn't even noticed him watching the exchange, but he spreads his hands wide, his expression hopeful. "Come on, Dia- everyone fucks up-"
"What?!" Santana shoots him an incredulous look. "We cannot afford this, Puck! Do you want to get that map or not? It seems you've lost sight of what's really important here." Puck looks mildly embarrassed, but doesn't say anything as Santana storms over to a smashed-up section of the deck. Some of the planks jut upwards at a forty-five degree angle, and she kicks at one, causing it and several others to collapse downward into the hole. Brittany cringes at the sound of the crumpling wood.
"Look at this shit!" Santana sneers. She pushes on a piece of the railing, which falls onto the deck and splinters. "Look at this fucking-"
"It's a lot of damage," Mike interrupts softly, and Brittany feels guilt overwhelming her- Mike's the carpenter, and she just made his life a lot harder-
"So much damage," Puck groans in agreement.
"We'll be payin' for't fer months," David growls.
"Not months," Arty corrects with a roll of his eyes. "We have enough to-"
"I'll pay for it," Brittany blurts, the guilt overwhelming. She can't believe she caused such a mess- and she doesn't want her friends to be the ones to clean it up. Somehow, she'll find a way to fix it. She has to.
"How?" Santana demands. "You have nothing."
"Nothin' but your life," David agrees with a vicious glare. "Pay for't with your blood-"
"That won't do anyone any good," Mike says calmly, shoving his shoulder.
"Nor is it a compromise I'm willing to make," Kurt seethes, narrowing his eyes at David. His glare doesn't waver as he says, "Brittany, have Jake escort you down to the galley. Stay there until I come to fetch you."
Nodding quickly, and knowing she dare not protest or disobey, Brittany slips away from the gathered group of pirates and allows Jake to take her gently by the elbow. She tries not to shake as she walks, but she's utterly afraid of the outcome of the impending conversation that's surely about to happen once she's off the deck, and she's still overwhelmed with the guilt of knowing she's caused her friends a lot of trouble-
"It'll be okay," Jake tells her softly. "Noah won't let anything bad happen to you."
Brittany chews her lip and nods absently. She doesn't know who Noah is.
Santana gestures to the pillar of smoke in the distance, rising from the ship they left to its own peril. She takes a deep breath, trying to hold onto her rage. "That very easily could've been us," she starts. "They were better armed, better built-"
"But not better manned, eh?" David teases, poking her in the side, and she cracks the barest smile despite her anger.
"Not better manned," she relents.
"We still don't have an answer on what to do with Brittany, though," Arty points out, bringing the conversation back to its original subject.
"She lied to us," David reminds everyone calmly, inspecting his axe.
"I would have, too! We were gonna toss her overboard, remember?" Mike grins.
"She's been nothing but loyal," Matt says quietly.
"Except the part about her betraying us," Santana interjects angrily.
Matt ignores her interruption. "She works hard, she doesn't complain-"
"We can't fuckin' trust her!" Santana explodes. "What the fuck is wrong with you lot?"
"Why do you want her gone so badly?" Kurt demands. "You pushed for her to be gone when we first met her, too…"
Santana falls silent. Her heart races- she doesn't know how to answer Kurt's question, because she doesn't know why, herself. She doesn't know why Brittany scares her the way she does. She's never been scared of a person, but Brittany terrifies her in a way she's never felt before, and she doesn't know what to do. Perhaps it's the feelings of helplessness, lack of control, and powerlessness that scare her, but she doesn't want to feel it any longer.
"Aye, 'nd if she'd won, we wouldn't be sailin' to Phiny with only half a usable ship 'nd our fuckin' tails between our legs-"
"And we wouldn't have found that platinum, either!"
David sneers. "You don't know that-"
"Enough," Puck commands, finally speaking from his seat near the bow. He taps his fingers together, making a pyramid with his hands. "We have more important things to worry about." He takes a deep breath. "I'm the Captain and I say: she can stay- for now."
Santana presses her lips together angrily as Kurt lets out a relieved sigh.
"Kurt- I'll leave punishment up to you," Puck continues. "If she fucks up one more time-"
"Understood," Kurt exhales quickly.
Puck nods. "Dandy. Okay, next- we were a day's out from Phiny, but now with the damage we've taken on thanks to Brittany's little benjo, we have to slow our pace and it's gonna take at least two more days to get there- so Kurt, I need you to stretch the supplies. As soon as we port, contact your pop; we need an estimate on repairs and when we can get underway again." Kurt nods in understanding, and Puck looks at Santana. "Dia-"
"Don't call me that."
Puck grins. "You go with David and see about a buyer for our precious metal- we need funding, now more than ever. Arty- start asking around town about Lao; we still have no blasted idea how to get into that place, so sniff out some clues. They've got to have some kind of chink in their armor, something we can exploit and use to our advantage."
"What about you, oh, fearless leader?"
"Me?" Puck laughs. "I plan on getting swazzled."
Santana groans.
Conrad Hummel doesn't really remember when he realized that he wasn't interested in women- he supposes it was something that started when he was young. After all, he grew up on a ship, surrounded by men, without a female aboard for many years. He'd experimented in port, of course, but women had never interested him. Truthfully, he couldn't do much with them, anyways- a fact he unerringly discovered after his fifteenth birthday, when Puck had purchased him a night with a lovely wench from The Beiste; he was left feeling mortified and embarrassed after his failure to rise to the wench's expectations, and ever since then, he'd assumed there was something wrong with him.
It wasn't until he met Adam that things added up and he discovered his attraction to other men. He'd never felt ashamed or unsure of himself again, thanks to his supporting shipmates, and naturally he'd done a lot more exploring since Adam, with a lot of different men.
But he had minimal experience with females, so trying to comfort one- especially a crying one- is not in his area of expertise.
"Shh, Britt, it's okay," Sugar soothes as Kurt enters the galley, pausing in the doorway at what he sees. Brittany's sitting at the workbench, crying hysterically into her hands as Sugar kneels beside her, rubbing her back reassuringly, and Kurt feels an awkward panic rising in him as he realizes he's going to have to offer some comfort.
"It's not," Brittany sobs into her hands. "They're going to kill me, and you, and-"
"They're not going to kill you," Kurt interrupts gently, fighting the uncomfortableness he feels from seeing the tears streaming down Brittany's face as she finally looks up at the sound of his voice.
"Kurt!" Brittany whimpers. She takes a deep breath and stutters, her words tumbling out in a rush, "I'm so, so s-sorry- I didn't mean to deceive you, I just- I felt-"
"I'm a little angry and disappointed," Kurt admits. "I wish you had been honest with me from the beginning- I could've prevented this whole mess from happening, but instead it's been made worse." At the sight of Brittany's even more devastated expression, Kurt realizes he actually is really terrible at comforting women and struggles to backpedal in his mind over what he said.
"I'm sorry," Brittany rushes again, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "I-"
Kurt holds his hand up to halt her apology. "I'm upset," he repeats, "but I understand why you did it. Sometimes the truth is hard to confess when you've been living the lie for too long."
Brittany bites her lip and nods, ashamed.
"So what's to happen?" Sugar wonders, stroking her fingers down Brittany's arm gently, and Brittany seems to calm a little, making Kurt inwardly sigh with relief.
"I've managed to keep the sharks at bay- for now," Kurt smiles. "You're lucky you're so well-liked, Britt. Many of us spoke for you, and the Captain has reserved judgment again for the time being."
Brittany lets out the breath she'd been holding. "Thank you, Kurt. I truly owe you my life."
Kurt smiles, but then he turns serious as he says, "There's no need for that; but Britt- you're really going to have to be careful. You can't slip up again-"
"I won't-"
"And you're going to have to work very hard to regain everyone's trust."
"I will. I promise."
"I know you will. There might be more punishment pending once the damage to the ship is assessed," Kurt admits. "But for now, stay out of trouble. And no more secrets- all right?"
"No more secrets," Brittany agrees, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand. She sniffles, staring down at her lap, and Kurt frowns as he takes in her crumpled state. Her hair is a mess, lines of dark gray soot streak her face, and red lines of cuts, no doubt from falling wood debris, litter her forearms. There's not much Kurt can do for her until they arrive in port, however, so he takes in her expression instead, which is not much cheerier than it was before he told her she wasn't going to be feeding the sharks.
"You still look miserable- is your punishment so awful? I thought-"
"No, no," Brittany reassures. "My punishment is fitting and better than I ever could have expected or hoped for."
Bewildered, Kurt glances at Sugar, who shrugs and shakes her head in confusion. He looks back at Brittany and bites his lip. "Then what-"
"She hates me," Brittany cries.
"Who?" Sugar wonders.
Kurt smiles sadly. "Santana?"
Brittany nods, burying her face in her hands again. "She hates me and she will never, ever forgive me- I've snarled everything up too badly-" She chokes on a sob and this time it's Sugar's turn to look baffled as she makes eye contact with Kurt, reaching out to rub Brittany's shoulder again.
"Britt…"
"She doesn't hate you," Kurt reassures gently.
"But I really tripped," Brittany protests, scrubbing tears from her cheek with the back of her hand. "She'll never be my friend, now…"
"Everyone trips," Kurt says with a shrug. "The important thing is that you get back up and keep trying." Brittany bites her lip, and Kurt smiles. "Trust me, Santana still doesn't hate you. She's probably just angry that you lied, but it will pass. You'll just have to prove your usefulness, right?"
"You did find all that platinum," Sugar points out.
"That's right," Kurt agrees. "But you're more than just that- you're helpful, and most of the crew, believe it or not, genuinely like you, Brittany."
"Scrap doesn't," Brittany says sadly.
"David will get over it." Kurt rolls his eyes. "He just doesn't warm up to people easily, but even he will come around eventually- don't worry."
Brittany nods, letting out a defeated sigh. She believes Kurt. Someone as wonderful as him wouldn't share his time with someone awful and undeserving, would he? She just has to prove that she's truly sorry, and that she's still worthy of being part of the ship's crew- even if she's not an actual pirate.
The ocean's not calming her the way she wants.
She's been carving away at her wooden block for the better part of an hour, and all it's managed to do is frustrate her further, because she's been having the problem a lot lately- ever since Brittany came aboard. She doesn't know why the normally soothing rocking of the ship and caress of the salty breeze doesn't relax her the way it used to, but she wishes it would. Even her hands, ordinarily inspired and easily able to create interesting images from the wood block held between them, have not been able to carve the grain into any discernible shape.
She knows that Brittany's the reason for her current unease. Despite her repeated assurances to herself that she doesn't care about the blonde, she can't deny that discovering Brittany's untrustworthiness hurt her on some level. She feels angry that she trusted Brittany- slight though it was- and angry that in doing so she put her crew in harm's way. She's a ruthless pirate, but as Quartermaster, she feels responsible for every life aboard her ship, and Brittany almost got them-
She heaves a heavy sigh and stares up at the stars above her, trying to sift through her thoughts. She searches for the familiar North Star, remembering when her father had taught her how to navigate the constellations when she was a child, and takes a deep breath. She feels her edginess beginning to leave her-
And then she hears footsteps.
Without looking, she can tell they belong to Brittany. She's not sure if Brittany has a distinct gait, or if she subconsciously memorized the sound of her footsteps, but her fleeting peace is immediately broken with the realization that her quiet time is over.
They're half a day's sailing time from Phiny, and Brittany, unable to sleep from the worry that she'll be abandoned in port despite Kurt's reassurances, hoped the fresh air would make her feel better. She hasn't really left her space down in the belly of the ship except to help Kurt in the galley, and the confinement and stifling atmosphere had really been bringing her mood down. It's quiet and peaceful on the main deck, with only a few of the crew tucked into their various posts, standing watch and keeping the ship on course. She walks as quietly as possible, trying not to be noticed- the last thing she wants to do is run into anyone, especially-
She freezes when she spots Santana sitting with her back to her, her breath catching in her chest from fear. She inwardly panics for a moment, deciding to turn around as quickly as possible, and maybe Santana won't notice her if she just-
"Your footsteps are louder than a whale sneeze," Santana snaps acidly- as if she didn't hear Brittany walk up and suddenly stop. The scuff of her boots was unmistakable, and Santana's annoyed that Brittany thought she wouldn't notice.
"Whales sneeze?"
Santana rolls her eyes at the innocent question. "Of course they do."
"I've never seen one, but I suppose you're right- I guess I've just never thought about it." Brittany pauses, her heart stammering as Santana finally looks at her, eyes dark and intense. "Do you see them often?"
Santana shrugs sullenly, slowly scraping the edge of her blade against the block in her hand. The wood curls up into a perfect circular shaving and Brittany struggles to find something to say, desperate to keep talking to Santana and equally desperate to flee before Santana kills her. She swallows, nervous, scared of being shut down immediately, but the lady pirate hasn't told her to leave yet, and-
"Did you need something?"
Brittany gathers her courage. "Why do you dislike me?"
Santana stares down nonchalantly at her knife. "Again- did you need something?"
Brittany bites her lip, trying to figure out how to answer. She does need something- she needs Santana to like her, she needs Santana to be her friend, but she doesn't know why-
"Can you stop staring at me? I can't concentrate," Santana growls.
Without thinking, Brittany moves closer. "What are you making? Can I see?"
Santana glares in warning, but Brittany forces herself not to be discouraged. Instead of moving closer, she sits down a few feet away and looks up at the stars. When Santana doesn't leap to her feet or scream at her, she takes a deep breath.
"I'm sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, but- I never meant for any harm to come to anyone," Brittany says sadly. "It's just that I couldn't reveal the truth without revealing that I'm- useless. I've never been allowed to do anything on my own, you see- and it's hard to accept that I'm not worth keeping around on the ship." She pauses to draw another deep breath, shivering from the cold and from too much emotion. "But I don't want to marry Prince Rory; I'm sure he's nice, but I can't live the life Father wants for me. That's why I left, it's why I ran away to Argo, but I never meant for so many people to be hurt- to be killed- because of me. I've truly grown to care for all of you, and for the ship, and- forgive me, please. Please. Forgive me."
Santana remains silent, listening, her heart softening a little more the longer Brittany talks. Her throat tightens, and she's not sure what to say. She can't help but to forgive Brittany after such a tearful confession- how can she not? But forgiving her out loud means something else entirely, and Santana's not sure she can handle the weight of whatever she might be agreeing to. She bites her lip and stares down at her hands, absently whittling.
Crestfallen at Santana's silent rejection, Brittany struggles to change the subject. "Sometimes I wish I'd never left," she admits quietly, forcing herself to sound upbeat. "That I'd just be content to marry Prince Rory and to have everything handed to me. I miss it, sometimes. The little things- like the strawberry sweet tarts Chef Couter used to make." She pauses. "How many people would still be alive if I'd never…" Her voice cracks and she swallows, her throat feeling tight. She wipes discreetly at her eyes, hoping Santana doesn't notice (not knowing the lady pirate notices everything about her) and stares up at the stars. She takes a deep breath. "Sugar used to tell me a story about a horned horse when I was younger…"
And as Brittany begins to talk about the constellation, and the story mirrors a story Santana's father used to tell her as a child, Santana feels the weight on her heart lifting, feels calmness settling over her, and her hands work of their own accord, giving life to the timber in them. Santana doesn't interrupt to point out the differences in their stories- like how the constellation is actually a Pegasus- but instead listens quietly, her thoughts drifting as she processes Brittany's words. She lets the sound of Brittany's voice soothe her, secretly enjoying the enthusiastic way she speaks.
When Brittany finishes the story, she climbs to her feet, awkwardly patting down her trousers- Santana's old trousers. The reminder makes Santana's heart stumble, and Brittany smiles at her. Santana can clearly see the pain in Brittany's eyes, but admires the strength and determination the girl has to try to leave her on a friendly note.
"Thank you for listening," she says quietly. "Enjoy the remainder of your evening."
Santana just stares, watching as Brittany leaves, her footsteps on the deck fading after a few moments. She feels even more conflicted and confused, but surprisingly not frustrated or angry. She glances down at the wood in her hands, and smiles when she notices that for the first time in several weeks, it's taken shape- it has the likeness of a Pegasus, with one minor added detail-
A tiny horn on its forehead.
They port in Phiny early in the morning, and Kurt wakes Brittany before the sun is in the sky, guiding her off the ship before most of the crew is awake. Brittany wonders if it's for her safety; with the exception of the night before, she hasn't left the stifling confines of her tiny quarters, so she's still unsure of the crew's attitudes towards her, despite Kurt's reassurances. She's not sure she wants to know.
As they walk, Kurt urges her to keep her face hidden in case anyone recognizes her- Phiny is an extremely large and busy port, and with the Lycan warship they'd had the misfortune of meeting only a few days out, they must make the assumption that Lycan soldiers are nearby.
Kurt leads her down several alleys, each one shadier than the last, before finally reaching a dark wooden door set deeply into a dingy brick wall. A single hanging oil lamp illuminates the entryway, and a weathered, faded sign carved and full of chips and dings marks the space Upkeeps. Brittany looks over her shoulder uneasily as Kurt raises his fist and pounds heavily on the door several times.
After a few quiet moments, the door opens, revealing a man who resembles an older, much more rugged version of Kurt. He sports a thick, great beard but not much hair on his head, and once his eyes fall to Kurt, he smiles widely, revealing a golden tooth.
"My boy!" the man booms loudly, pulling Kurt into a rough hug. "My boy's home!"
Brittany feels awkwardly out of place- as if she's intruding on a private moment as she watches the two men exchange an intimate hug, and then Kurt's father- Burt, Brittany remembers Kurt telling her a few nights ago- pulls back, holding Kurt at arm's length to look at him.
"H'lo, Pop," Kurt says sheepishly, and then Burt's eyes fall to Brittany, who freezes, feeling shy.
"Who is this?" His face lights with realization. "Have you finally brought a woman home?!"
He must not know, Brittany thinks as Kurt turns red and quickly shakes his head.
"No, Father. This is Brittany, my- um, well, she's my friend," he mumbles unsurely, and Brittany is shocked and touched at the label. Friend. Kurt thinks her a friend!
Burt nods, giving Brittany a scrutinizing look, but quickly shakes it off. "It matters not, son. Come inside, come inside! We have much to discuss." He wraps an arm around Kurt's shoulders, guiding him to the door.
"Of course," Kurt agrees, allowing himself to be led inside. He motions behind his back for Brittany to follow, and she does carefully, stepping through the large entryway and shutting the heavy door behind her.
Immediately she's greeted by the smell of smoke and woodsy hearth, and something sweet like molasses. It's pleasant, and Brittany allows herself to relax as she follows Kurt and his father deeper into the space. Overstuffed furniture, the fabric worn and faded, sits arranged around a fireplace, which has a low, crackling fire lit in it. A black kettle of something stands on the floor next to it.
"Have a seat," Burt growls, not unkindly. "I'll make coffee-"
"We can't stay long," Kurt interrupts as he obediently lowers into one of the chairs, and Brittany's disappointed instantly- she'd gotten excited at the prospect of coffee, since she's never had it before. "We need your help, Father."
"Repairs?" Burt asks, immediately worried for his son, though Kurt sits perfectly unharmed before him. Brittany feels a pang of sadness, jealousy, and anger for her own father, who doesn't care half as much about her well-being. At Kurt's nod, Burt scratches his beard thoughtfully in response. "I'll grab my coat."
The trio reach the dock and the sound Burt releases at the sight of the damaged shipreminds Brittany of how much trouble she's in, and how much work she will have to do to get out of it.
"What the hell happened to 'er?"
"Sea battle," Kurt says simply.
"You were lucky to sail away," Burt comments as he climbs the ramp and boards the ship. He points to a large gouge in the side, near the waterline. "If that cannonball shot had been any closer, you'd've flooded." Brittany chews her lip nervously, her head spinning with the idea that they might not have made it as she climbs the ramp behind Kurt.
Mike's waiting for them and he and Burt exchange smiles and a hearty handshake. Brittany's relieved that Mike smiles at her, too, and she returns it gratefully. Then, Mike escorts Burt around the ship, pointing out damage areas which the older man inspects, occasionally telling Kurt to make notes on a notepad Brittany hadn't noticed he was carrying.
Brittany follows a few paces behind, cringing as Mike highlights damage she hadn't even noticed or seen, and Burt's expertise shows itself as he points out damage Mike misses, all while Kurt writes furiously beside him. Brittany listens intently, trying to learn anything and everything she can, trying to decipher Burt's code of repairs- since after all, she's certain she will be the one performing most of them.
Once the walkthrough is complete, Burt shakes Mike's hand again and yanks Kurt into another crushing hug, then exits with the promise to be back by midday with a team. After he's left the ship, Kurt sighs for a moment, then turns to Brittany.
"Let's get breakfast started."
Breakfast doesn't take long, mostly because the amount they have to prepare is so small. Kurt explains that it's because most of the crew are free to wander around port and eat wherever they please, and after over a week's voyage at sea, none of them want to eat at the ship's galley, which means they are only cooking for the pirates who stayed behind to guard the ship, and themselves. Brittany's jealous, wishing she could taste all that Phiny has to offer- not because she displeases Kurt's cooking, but because she's curious and eager to discover new things; it's been so very long since she's had anything sweet. She sighs, knowing she has neither the freedom to explore nor the money to afford a meal even if she did, and returns to the task at hand.
After breakfast- a cold, pickled egg and stale toast, smothered with the jam they'd pilfered from The Orchid Heart, which had been surprisingly good- Mike puts her to work tearing up the damaged deck in preparation for the laying of the new one, and within the first thirty minutes she's drenched in sweat from exertion and the beating of the sun. It's grueling work, and her hands are dry and raw by the time she's finished and Jake brings her a tin of water. The cool liquid soothes her parched throat and she gulps it down, spilling some down her chin, but her shirt is already damp with sweat and she cares not.
Burt returns with two men as promised around lunchtime, and Kurt comes up from the galley shortly after with sandwiches and a stack of cheese curds, which indicates to Brittany that he'd gone into town to buy supplies. They break for lunch, and Brittany eats her ration ravenously, listening as Burt outlines his repair plan to Mike and his team.
"If we utilize all the time, it should take 'bout four days," he says around a mouthful of sandwich.
"Four?" Kurt pipes up loudly, his eyes wide with surprise; then, muttering into his sandwich, "Our Captain is not going to be pleased…"
Burt shrugs. "Well he'll get over that fast enough, 'cause he has no alternative."
"I'm just not looking forward to breaking the news," Kurt admits, chewing carefully.
"I'll do it," Brittany offers sadly. "It's my fault we're even in this mess, after all…"
Burt eyes her suspiciously. "Wha'd you do?"
"She made a mistake," Kurt covers quickly, cutting Brittany off before she can answer, and she wonders why Kurt is so nice; she doesn't feel like she deserves it, and yet, Kurt just protected her- again. She wonders if there will ever be a time when she won't need people to protect her. Guilt weighs on her and she finishes her sandwich slowly, feeling awkward as the subject is dropped and the others continue to discuss repairs.
The rest of the day is spent toiling under the unforgiving sun, executing Burt's plan. Brittany works side-by-side with Mike on the deck, holding measuring string, steadying planks while Mike cuts through them with his saw, and assisting in laying them in place. They get a quarter of the way through the deck when Burt calls out that it's time to stop.
Brittany's never been so relieved to have an end to her day. She's exhausted, more so than she can ever remember being in all her time as a slave, and all she wants is to eat her meagre supper ration, curl up on her pile of frayed rope far beneath the main deck and the sun, and pass out, because she knows she's going to have an equally long and grueling day tomorrow. She wishes she could bathe, but since she's living on the ship, the most she can do is to scrub her arms and face. It will have to wait until she returns to the island she's begun to call home.
Resigned, she turns to make her way to the ladder which will take her belowdeck, until Kurt calls her name, and she stops as he reaches her.
"Come with me," he says, taking her elbow gently.
"To where?" Brittany wonders. "Are we to fix supper?" She certainly hopes not. She's so very tired, and the last thing she wants to do is work in the galley, but she knows she deserves more punishment, and she can't leave Kurt to fix supper by himself, so she begins to lead them to the far steps that will take them down to the galley before Kurt stops her.
He shakes his head. "You're not staying here, tonight, Britt. We're in port. Besides, you could stand a bath- you reek."
"Then where must I stay?" Brittany asks, worried. Is she to sleep on the street? "I haven't any money to-"
"Don't worry about that," Kurt reassures, guiding her to the ramp and leading her off the ship, much as he had earlier that morning.
Kurt's words turn over in Brittany's mind. What does he mean, she can't stay on the ship? She can't afford to rent a room! Did he forget she has no money? She chews her lip as Kurt walks her in comfortable silence to the tavern down the road, and then his intentions hit her. "But, Kurt-"
"It's taken care of," he says softly. "We will eat here tonight. I need a break, too, you know. I tire of galley food just as surely as the rest."
He leads her inside, and once they're seated at a table, a busty blonde woman makes her way over and begins talking to Kurt. Brittany struggles to take everything in- she's never been to a tavern before, though she's heard stories, and the sound of drunken men laughing, shouting and arguing around them is very distracting.
Also the blonde woman's barely-contained bosom is very distracting, but Brittany's not sure why.
The woman leaves, but only after casting Brittany a distasteful look and winking at Kurt, and then Kurt smiles at her. They make light conversation about the day's repairs until the woman comes back and sets down two mugs, making sure to lean over the table in Kurt's direction, which Brittany determines is completely unnecessary. She wonders if maybe the woman has a weak back or an illness that causes her to bend over in such a way- she's never heard of such an ailment, but she also doesn't consider herself an expert on the subject.
"It'll take the edge off," Kurt tells her as he picks up his glass.
Brittany copies him. "What edge?"
Kurt chuckles and takes a drink, and Brittany does the same. The liquid is sweet, smoother than any of the spirits she's experienced in the past, and she finds she rather likes the taste. Kurt tells her about the supplies he purchased in town, and the supplies he still needs to acquire the following day. Brittany enjoys the boringness of the conversation, because in her exhausted state, she's not sure her mind has enough energy to keep up with a more engaging topic.
When their food comes, Brittany eats ravenously. She didn't realize how hungry she was, but the food is hot and delicious, though she's still partial to Kurt's cooking. The blonde busty woman continues to try and make advances on Kurt, which confuses Brittany, because Kurt clearly isn't interested, but maybe she's missing something important.
Kurt escorts her upstairs once they've finished eating, and then down a short hall. They reach a door, and Kurt produces a key from his pocket, which he jams into the brass lock. He hands the key to Brittany once he's finished, then opens the door for her, ushering her inside. Waiting for her is a large bed and a vanity, complete with a small washtub.
"There's an actual washroom down the hall," Kurt tells her as she stares around the room in awe. "You should find everything you need in that drawer." He points. "You'll be staying here all four nights, so get comfortable. If you're hungry, go downstairs, and the kitchen will take care of anything you need."
"Kurt…" She's speechless. She's not sure if she should protest, if it would insult him. He obviously went through a lot of trouble. "I don't…"
"You worked hard today, Britt," he says softly. "Get a good night's rest. Tomorrow's another long day. I'll fetch you in the morning."
Brittany swallows the lump in her throat. She laughs, shakily. "Aye-aye."
Kurt grins and closes the door.
Brittany takes a deep breath to compose herself, then decides to explore a little. She opens the drawer Kurt had pointed out and finds a clean change of clothes- obviously worn, and she wonders if Kurt had old, spare clothes at his father's house-
She finds soaps and a towel in the washtub, and she bathes, the hot water relaxing her tired muscles. She enjoys herself, for once not on a time limit or under a curfew. Except for the absence of Sugar, and the room being a lot less grand than her old one at her father's, she would almost think herself back in Lycas.
Clean and dressed in a silk nightshirt that smells a lot like Santana, she curls up into the soft, fluffy bed and wonders how she is ever going to make this up to Kurt.
"Now, lemme do the talkin'," David reminds her, and Santana rolls her eyes.
"I always do."
"Just look menacing, and-"
"I always do," Santana repeats. "Have you forgotten this ain't our first time dickering metals?" She sighs as they round the corner and head down a dark, sketchy side alley. "Who are we meeting, anyway? It's not Goolsby, is it-"
"Naw, it's someone new," David says, his eyes darting back and forth, "but Goolsby put me on to 'im."
Santana blinks. "Hades- I've never seen you so nervous."
"Never bartered platinum before, either," he responds tightly. Then, "There's where they said to meet." He waves at a small niche in the crumbling and decaying brick wall, and Santana doesn't feel confident about the spot at all. If she wasn't so certain of her own skill and ability to escape unharmed, she would not put herself in such a disadvantageous position, but she trusts David, so she finds a spot where she can survey as much of the alley as possible, and waits.
It's late. They'd spent much of the day tracking down David's contact in port, and then he'd taken the rest of the day to get back to them with information on a meeting place. Santana can't wait to get back to her room in the tavern, so she can take off her boots and sink into her large, comfortable bed. It's been a while since she's spent so much time at sea- perhaps she's grown spoiled, but she's glad to be back on land.
Shadows shift in the distance, catching her attention, and she's instantly more alert, perking at the sounds of rustling fabric and shuffling footsteps. David catches her eye reassuringly, but she doesn't relax her stance as three cloaked figures move into the alley.
David moves to meet them, keeping his hands open to show he is unarmed. Santana watches from her spot posted up on the wall, scrutinizing the strangers' movements. She glares them down, analyzing whether they pose a threat or not. Her long, hooded cloak obscures her weapons and most of her features. She prefers to let the mystery of her identity intimidate people- it's less work.
Once David shakes hands with one of the men, Santana determines they are not a threat, but doesn't relax- her job is to look menacing, after all. She continues to scowl at the strangers, taking secret pride in the nervous way their eyes avoid her, and she continues to watch as David talks in a hushed tone with the men, obviously about the platinum they are there to sell. Santana can't really hear what they are saying, and even if she could, she wouldn't follow what's going on- but she knows how David operates.
When David reveals the platinum brick, Santana feels her heartbeat pick up with excitement. This is the moment when deals go sour- when double-crosses happen. She's been through it before. If the men are as sketchy as some of the other clientele Goolsby has set them up with in the past, they might get the idea to simply take the platinum without a trade, which is why Santana watches the interaction so carefully.
But the men simply examine the platinum, testing it for authenticity, and Santana is surprised that the outlaws Goolsby set them up with are actually honorable for a change as they shake David's hand again. Santana watches the exchange silently, and once the three strangers exit the alley in the same fashion that they'd entered it in, David comes to stand beside her, releasing a heavy breath.
Santana doesn't miss the way his hands shake, or the drops of sweat on his forehead. "I was joking earlier, but you really were nervous, weren't you?"
David shakes his head slowly. "Those guys- they're part of the Sea Bears, Santana."
"Wha-"
"-I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to lose your wits, but, well-"
"Are you fucking touched?!" Santana hisses, grabbing David's lapel and shaking. "The Sea Bears?! You trying to get us offed?!"
David cringes but smiles goofily. "They're the only ones who'd know what platinum's worth! I had to!"
"Well we can kiss our asses good-bye when we come back with the rest of it, then! They'll just slit our fuckin' throats and-"
"They're solid, San," David promises. "And we're only bringin' 'em half, at first. Tomorrow morning. The rest tomorrow night, different spot. I ain't that stupid."
"But they're solid, you say," Santana mutters darkly.
David slaps her on the back good-naturedly, though he's still shaken. "Don't worry, it'll probably be fine."
Santana rubs her temples tiredly. "I want my bed."
And that's a wrap! ...for now. Haha.
This chapter was going to be longer, because duh, it's me we're talking about here, but then I decided to split it because duh, it's me.
Thanks again to everyone who sent me reviews and messages over the last year (2?) asking about the story! You guys are the real MVPs and I'm writing this story for ya'll. :)
Feel free to leave a review if you're glad I came out of my grave to update! But if not, that's okay, too!
See you in another 2 years probably! XD
(JK... tbh most of the next chapter is written because it was supposed to be part of this chapter, lmao.)
OKAY BYE NOW MY DARLINGS!