Grantaire was listening to Éponine tell a story about trying to net fish for the first time when it happened. It was sudden, sharp, and clamped down on two of his fingers. He ripped his hands out of the pile of crab he'd been sorting, one of the creatures latched on for the ride. It was almost as long as his arm and had a herculean grip. He cried out, his other hand coming down to try and hit it off.
"What are you doing?" Courfeyrac laughed, leaning on the side of the table.
"I'm going to punch it in its stupid crab face!" Grantaire bellowed, whacking it off the deck in vain, "Let go of me, you little shit!"
His cousin and Marius were too breathless with mirth to offer any useful suggestion. Grantaire rushed to the bait table, snatching a hammer from his bucket of tools and slamming it down on top of the crustacean's arm. The claw exploded, releasing his aching hand.
"Come here," Joly grabbed his glove, feeling out the artist's fingers, "Nothing broken. How much does it hurt? Do you feel anything different?"
"I feel like a crab bit me," Grantaire scrunched up his nose as he tried not to make a pathetic sound, "I don't think it's broken."
"I think you're fine," the medic's lips turned up at the corners, "You should be more careful. Guys have lost their fingers in less."
"This happens a lot?"
The guys just laughed.
They filed into the cover of the ship, the rain whipping at their backs. Their captain had deemed the storm too violent to continue fishing in, complaining that he couldn't see the buoys from his wheelhouse. If he couldn't spot them, there was a high risk of running over the lines and getting their motors jammed. The break was impromptu but much needed. They had a few short hours and everyone was ready to drop.
The 'zombie movie' comment wasn't as funny when they were moaning and dragging their feet.
The three bedrooms were divided up pretty evenly among the crew, the captain's hidden somewhere up at the wheelhouse. Courfeyrac and Combeferre shared, their two beds on opposite sides of the narrow room. The other two had two sets of bunk beds, mounted to the walls and comfortable. Joly, Feuilly, and Marius shared in an unspoken rule to give the woman on board some privacy in the remaining room. Yet when Grantaire had joined the crew, she'd offered to bunk with him.
The two friends stood back to back and stripped off their gear, getting down to their shirts and pants. Each pile of gear was kicked aside.
"I need to wash my face and brush my teeth and eat," Éponine groaned, leaning heavily on the frame so her forehead rested on the top bunk, "I'm not going to get a God damn one of them."
Grantaire hummed, plucking off his cap.
Courfeyrac ducked into the room, coming up to wrap an arm around his cousins shoulders.
"Proud of you, R," his cousin pressed a kiss to his forehead, fingers ruffling his hair, "Have peaceful dreams, okay?"
Grantaire nodded, leaning into the affectionate embrace. He crawled into bed, his arms giving out before his head could properly hit the pillow.
Sorry the chapter's so short. The next chapter is very boot-kinky and a dream sequence, and I wanted to put it by himself.
