Something changed between them after that, and although Jakes certainly didn't go out of his way to make pleasantries with him, he didn't act as hostile either. Sometimes they even had decent conversations with each other, and although they usually ended in a difference of opinions - as usual - the captain found him enjoying the heated arguments rather than getting irritated or riled up by the brat.
Three weeks after they'd found the boy, and only one week out from port, an easy camaraderie had settled on the ship, and Jakes was equal parts embarrassed and ashamed to say that he hadn't noticed just how high tensions were before.
Morse just… got under his skin, that was all, and it didn't matter how many pointed looks he got from DeBryn or how many somewhat confusing winks Trewlove sent his way, he refused to read into it too much. The brat was smart and snarky and more than a little sharp at the edges, and he gave as good as he got and then some, keeping Jakes on his toes in a way that hadn't happened with any other human being in… ever.
But it didn't mean anything.
It was just… Morse.
Morse, who was currently standing across from him on the quartermaster's deck, squinting at the late evening sky and making small adjustments on his charts, white chalk smudged across one cheek and the gentle breeze wisping through his hair and-
Fuck.
This was starting to mean something, wasn't it?
Labelling the brat as The Cowley's new navigator was both a blessing and a curse, it would seem. A blessing, of course, because they now had an actual somewhat competent sailing master, but a curse because now, Jakes had no excuse whatsoever to keep Morse off of the quartermaster's deck, considering that it was only himself, Strange, and – oh yeah – the navigator that were allowed on it.
This, of course, meant that he had no escape from those ocean-blue skies and caustic wit, both during the day and at night – although he couldn't quite bring himself to regret that, given that it also gave him the perfect excuse to stare at the brat all he liked.
Which he didn't.
Or did.
Or-
Whatever.
"Hey!" Jakes suddenly called, not entirely sure what he was even doing himself.
The brat didn't so much as blink, completely focused on the piece of paper in his hands, white teeth gnawing at his bottom lip in a manner that had no right to be as distracting as it was.
"Hey!" he called again, "Morse!"
Another moment paused, before the boy blinked and slowly turned to face him, his eyes remaining glued to the paper until the last possible second.
"Yeah? What do you want?"
"That's 'what do you want, sir' to you, brat!"
He let out a heavy sigh like he was the captain here and Jakes was the petulant subordinate, and the older man fought back a wave of annoyance that was tinged with something far too horrifyingly like fondness for his liking.
"Come here" he said instead, nodding towards the helm in front of him.
Morse frowned as he finally turned to face him properly. "What?"
"Come here" he repeated impatiently, gesturing for him to step closer.
"No!" he replied immediately, before his gaze suddenly narrowed, "Why?"
"Because I'm ordering you too".
He snorted and looked away. "Good luck with that".
Jakes rolled his eyes at him in exasperation.
"What's the point in being a navigator if you can't even navigate?"
An ocean-blue gaze latched onto his once more and Jakes watched as realisation slowly dawned in - three… two… one…
"You want to teach me how to steer?!"
"Yes. So. Come here".
Morse took a suspicious step closer, and then another, and then paused.
"... Is this a trick?"
"Well, first of all, if it were, then I wouldn't admit it, now would I? Second of all, no, it's not".
"Very reassuring".
"Look, do you want to learn how to sail or don't you?"
"Can't someone else teach me?"
"I'm the most qualified".
"I don't need the most qualified just to learn the basics" he shot back, even as he walked closer, "I just need someone who can do the job".
"Well, there's no one who can do this job better than me".
He finally reached the helm and gave him a somewhat appraising look.
"... Has anyone ever told you that you're a bit of a control freak?"
Jakes smirked, sharp and dangerous. "Not anyone who lived to tell the tale".
The boy snorted despite himself and then looked thoroughly disgusted for doing so, which only caused his smirk to widen. Morse scowled at him, fiercely, before finally turning his attention to the helm.
"Alright then, Captain Control Freak, what do I have to do?"
"Well, first of all, this is called the ship's wheel" he started, placing a hand on the warm wood, "I won't bore you with the finer details-"
"Because you probably don't even know them yourself".
"-but the gist of it is, the wheel is connected to the winch barrel which in turn is connected to the tiller through a series of ropes and pulleys, which is responsible for changing the direction of the ship". He gave him a look. "Basically, this heap of wood keeps us pointed the right way".
"Fascinating" Morse deadpanned, although the captain caught a spark of curiosity in his eyes, so he gestured for him to take hold of the wheel instead of rattling off the sharp insult that he wanted to say instead. "Go ahead. Try her out".
The brat hesitated for a moment before tucking his maps underneath one arm and cautiously placing his hands on the spokes. Jakes watched as he started to adjust to the subtle movements of the ship, his focus shifting between the helm, the horizon, and him.
Truth be told, it was his first mate's job to steer the ship, and as reluctant as he was to admit it, Strange could probably teach Morse the ropes a hell of a lot quicker, but… well.
Jakes stepped closer and placed his hand over the boy's, adjusting his grip.
"Steady does it" he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over the back of Morse's neck, "You've got to tune into the ship. Feel the wind – sense its direction, its strength. The ship responds to the elements; so you need to respond to them too".
Morse's hands were warm beneath his own, and he was close enough to feel the shiver that ran down the boy's back despite the warm evening sun baking down on top of them.
"Feel the sea beneath you" he continued, "Don't fight it; let it guide you. In a war between you and the waves, brat, you'll never win".
Morse raised a somewhat sceptical eyebrow but didn't protest; his cheeks flushed a rather enticing red.
Jakes guided him through the basics of steering, explaining the wind's influence, the ship's response, and the importance of keeping an eye on the compass. His tone was surprisingly patient, and what was perhaps just as surprising, the brat actually listened to him too, absorbing the information more quickly and readily than Jakes had expected.
"Now, give it a gentle turn to port" he instructed, and Morse paused for a moment before tentatively turning the wheel to the left.
The ship responded with a subtle shift, adjusting its course – and a smile tugged at the corner of the boy's mouth.
"That's it" Jakes said, fighting back his own grin in response, "Now, let's try starboard. Ease it to the right".
As Morse followed the instructions, the ship responded accordingly. It wasn't perfect, but there was a noticeable improvement from only moments before, and Jakes couldn't deny the dark curling warmth of satisfaction deep in his chest at the sight. The tension that usually lingered between them had softened, and he wondered, briefly, what that meant for them.
The crew, discreetly observing them from a safe distance, exchanged knowing glances. Trewlove wore a mischievous grin, and even Strange raised an eyebrow at the pair of them. Morse's attempts to hide his flustered state only fuelled their amusement. Jakes, however, seemed entirely focused on the lesson. He showed the boy the intricacies of navigating through the vast expanse of the ocean, his breath warm against Morse's ear whenever he offered guidance.
The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting a golden glow over the deck as the first of the night's stars started to appear. As Jakes stood beside the younger man and the air started to cool, his proximity became more apparent. The ship swayed gently, but Morse was acutely aware of the pure heat radiating from the captain's body – as well as the subtle scent of salt and sea and something smoky.
"You're a quick learner, brat. I'll give you that much" Jakes commented, unable to suppress a small smirk, "Give it another half hour and you'll even be able to navigate using those star charts of yours".
Morse couldn't bring himself to respond. The air between them crackled with an unspoken tension. Jakes's hands guided his, their fingers interlocking on the wheel. Morse could feel the captain's steady heartbeat against his back, a rhythm that matched the sway of the ship, and he felt his cheeks burn with an unfamiliar warmth.
He quickly pushed aside the strange feeling as quickly as it came. Instead, he simply nodded and did his best to focus on the captain's instructions and not on the way Jakes's voice rumbled from so close behind him. It really was a thrilling feeling – not the being-close-to-the-captain part… although…
No.
Morse mentally cursed at himself.
No, it was thrilling being able to steer The Cowley, that was all. He found himself genuinely enjoying the challenge. The rhythmic creaking of the wood, the smell of salt in the air, and the vast expanse of the ocean beneath the night sky - it was all a far cry from the stifling atmosphere of the stuffy navigation room.
But even with the distraction of learning something new again, Morse couldn't completely ignore the undeniably safe presence next to him. At one point, Jakes leaned in just a bit too close to point out a specific constellation, and Morse felt a flush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat, desperately trying to refocus on the stars that, true to his word, were now starting to appear.
"Alright, now you try it on your own" Jakes said, stepping back, "You know our heading".
Morse nodded again, simultaneously devastated and beyond grateful for the chance to regain his composure. The back of his hands felt oddly cold now that there wasn't gun-calloused skin pressed against them, and not even the dying sun could warm him up again.
Jakes leaned back against the railing in front of the ship's wheel, watching the dark water ripple as Morse sort of skilfully steered the ship, before turning back to that exact same navy blue shade reflected in the boy's eyes.
As if sensing his gaze, Morse looked away from the sky and focused on him instead. He meant to say something – a sharp retort or clever insult, but instead, he felt his breath catch in his throat. There was a brief, charged moment where neither of them spoke, the air crackling with something unknown before-
"Not bad, brat" Jakes said, surprising even himself with the admittance.
Morse gave him a startled yet pleased look.
"High praise coming from Captain Control Freak".
"Control, order, discipline - these are the threads that keep a ship sailing. But sometimes" he added, his gaze lingering on him, "you need to allow for a little bit of chaos. Keeps things interesting".
Morse raised a solitary eyebrow in disbelief.
"Chaos on a pirate ship? That sounds like a recipe for disaster".
Jakes grinned, the expression unexpectedly warm and Morse felt his stomach swoop at the sight.
"Disaster and adventure are often two sides of the same coin, brat. You'll learn that for yourself, eventually".
"Will I?" he automatically shot back, "Because it seems to me like I'll never get that chance, given your controlling tendencies and all… Or is sailing your ship part of my job description now?"
Jakes snorted and rolled his eyes, but a small smile still played on his lips.
"Don't get too comfortable there, brat. I'm still the captain of this ship, and she responds to my orders only".
Morse merely scoffed and turned back to the stars above them, reluctantly grateful for the return of their banter. The captain might be insufferable on even a good day, but there was something undeniably intriguing about the man – and the tension that had been building all evening was starting to get under his skin.
"Oi! You coming to eat or what?"
Morse blinked, startled, and quickly turned as Trewlove sauntered up the steps and approached them, her chestnut eyes alight with mischief and a knowing grin on her face.
"Captain" she greeted, with a formal nod in his direction, "Any chance I could steal Morse here for half an hour? It's just past dinnertime".
Jakes glanced up at the night sky as if contemplating the time before sighing heavily.
"Well, I suppose even navigators need food. Take a break, brat. We're pointed in the right direction for now".
"Oh. Uh. Right. Yeah... I guess I could eat".
Trewlove grinned, beckoning Morse to follow her back to the main deck.
"Come on, let's get some grub. I heard Cook even managed to catch a few fish!"
Morse gave a somewhat awkward smile to Jakes before trailing after her, but to his surprise, the captain followed too, staying three steps behind them.
Ducking below, and temporarily out of earshot, Trewlove couldn't resist making a sly comment.
"Captain's pet, now, are we?"
Morse's cheeks immediately flushed. "What? No! That's not- We're not- I wasn't-"
"Getting up close and personal with him? 'Cause that's what it looked like to me".
They turned left into the galley and he was beyond relieved to find Strange standing just inside the door – that was, until he realised that the man had just heard Trewlove's latest remark and felt the need to add to it himself.
"Oh, come on now, matey. There's no shame in getting, uh… private lessons in steering the ship".
"Private lessons?" Trewlove quipped, "Is that what we're calling it these days?"
There was a rather pointed cough from behind them and Morse suddenly remembered with horrifying clarity that Jakes had followed them down.
They all slowly turned to face him; the dim light of the galley casting an almost unearthly glow over his sharp features and Morse was reminded of that very first night when he'd snuck outside and climbed up the quarterdeck and then turned to the striking figure next to him whose high cheekbones and pale skin had made his face look more like a skull.
Jakes raised a solitary, incredibly unimpressed eyebrow.
"Something you wish to say, Trewlove?"
"Not at all, sir" she quickly replied, "I was just merely… concerned that Morse would get, uh, overwhelmed with his… new duties".
Morse wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
"If anyone here is getting overwhelmed, Trewlove, it is undoubtedly me having to deal with this crew!" he shot back, "A brat for a navigator, a cheeky quartermaster, and a gunner with a rather terrible sense of humour".
"Terrible? My sense of humour is brilliant! It's your taste that needs an upgrade, Sarge".
"And, uh, speaking of upgrades" Strange chimed in, "I saw that Morse here has been improving his… steering skills?"
He absolutely hated the whole lot of them.
"He has" Jakes replied, his voice perfectly even the absolute bastard, "Perhaps in a few days, you'll even be able to trade off helmsman duties with him. He has… potential".
"He is right here" Morse grumbled, although his cheeks still flushed red at the praise, "And he is also hungry, so if you don't mind, I'm going to get dinner".
And with that, he spun on his heels and marched towards Cook – but not before he caught sight of the nearly imperceptible smirk on Jakes's lips and felt his own traitorous heart flutter in response.