Chapter 3
It took the entire six week journey to the Haven for James to regain some semblance of his natural colour and health. Bruce seemed pleased, but Tony was unable to let go of his concern that he was taking too long to heal. “Your arm’s almost healed,” Bruce was announcing, one night three weeks after saving Barnes. “And your complexion is far more reassuring. You no longer look half-dead on your feet, which is a promising sign, my friend.” He beamed as he spoke, earning one in return from the man in question as his wrappings were replaced.
Bruce had taken a liking to their skittish freed, indeed most of the crew had, with James slowly shedding the weight of his time in captivity and becoming friendlier and more open to socialising, though he still had his bad days; times when he would snap, eyes vacant and even sometimes he would just scream and scream, the sound breaking something deep in Tony’s heart because there was nothing he could do to help.
He was helpless, only able to watch, to try to offer some help, some comfort, but nothing seemed enough.
Of course the crew understood it; they all had their scars, their private anguish, Tony especially, and it only served to bring them all closer, to slowly accept James as akin to them.
He bowed his head in thanks, standing from the small, ratty bed and moving to Tony’s side, hands brushing. Tony resisted the urge to smile as the brief contact send something warm burning through him, momentarily devouring his concerns because that was so new; James was only just starting to reach out, to initiate brief snatches of human contact like this.
Barnes had taken to helping out on deck where he could, and sitting in the warm sun when he couldn’t due to his injured arm. Tony felt something warm and uncurl in his chest whenever he saw it, heartened at and proud of Barnes’ improvement. (The delicious bronzing of the skin he was developing under the long hours spent shirtless under the sun’s rays also send something warm zinging down his spine, settling low in his gut). “Alright, Barnes?”
Barnes grunted an affirmative at Clint’s inquiry, hauling supplies over the deck and into the kitchen one-handed, cursing his lame arm under his breath.
“You don't have to, you know,” Tony spoke, voice mild as he regarded their supplies, counting them. “Helping out, I mean. You remain injured, and are a guest on our ship at that. You would not be regarded lesser if you did not do all of this for us.”
Barnes eyed him, silent for a long moment before shrugging. “I want to,” he protested, almost defensive. “I- I detest it when I am a burden. I have never liked being useless. I owe you my life, Stark. This,” he gestured around him, “is the least I can do.” He shot Tony a look of pure stubbornness. Tony smiled inwardly. ‘Sides, I was in the Navy, so I know what I’m doin’.” He looked down at his hands, scowling; he was frustrated at his inability to properly articulate his thoughts and feelings of that moment. Wordlessly, he shrugged again, sagging slightly where he stood.
Tony offered a sympathetic smile, brushing a hand down the man's arm reassuringly, hoping the touch would be welcomed. “I understand, truly I do.” He paused, considering the options. “If you want to help, then by all means help; if you talk with Clint-” he rolled his eyes at Clint’s pointed cough. “Sorry, ‘Hawk’ here, I am sure that he will be able to direct you to where we could do with another man.”
The man smiled, something small and soft, but genuine. “I shall,” he promised. “Thank you, Stark.” His voice remained hoarse and rough (not that Tony had any desire to complain; on the contrary, he rather liked his deep tambre, with the beautifully rough edge) from disuse. Though he was slowly overcoming the trauma he had suffered, slowly opening to the crew, he still struggled to speak, often going days with nothing more than a few grunts uttered.
He reminded of Tony of how he had been after he had been captured, after the betrayal that still hurt more than he could describe, even after a few years. Emotional wounds had always pained him more than any physical wound ever could.
Tony beamed. “That’s Captain Stark to you,” he winked, ignoring the way his stomach clenched with something other at the sight of Barnes smiling.
Clint- because he was not calling him Hawk, even in his head- snorted. “Don’t kid yarself, Tones. None ‘a us call ye Cap’n, and y’know it, fool.” He said it fondly though, stepping forward to ruffle Tony’s hair, which, rude! He wasn’t that short. Everyone was just unnaturally tall.
Scowling, he shoved the man away. “Fine, fine. Barnes, you can call me Tony, too, then. We’re all friends and equals on this ship,” he offered, shooting Barnes his most charming grin.
Bucky blinked, suddenly flushed, making Tony frown. Was he okay? He hoped it wasn’t an infection; that could easily prove fatal. But no, it couldn’t be, because the wounds had closed over, and were in the final stages of healing. “James,” he blurted, blinking in shock before flushing even more to an almost alarming shade of read. “You may call me James, then,” he added, awkwardly. “Please.”
Tony beamed, joy and pride bursting within him. “James,” he tested, rolling the name on his tongue, liking the way it sounded, the way it felt. “James, I like it.” Clapping the man on his- good!- shoulder, he moved to where Rhodey was ordering everyone about, throwing a ‘check in with Clint in the morning,’ over his shoulder as he went, goofy grin on his face, even when Rhodey rolled his eyes at him and called him a lovesick fool.
It wasn’t love, though. Just… happiness, because he’d come so far. James was overcoming so much, and he was so proud. That’s all he was.
Right?
It was a cool night, a gentle breeze flowing over the calm water. James felt peaceful, crowded in a circle with the others, food warm and belly full. With a lazy smile, he leant back on his hands, sipping at the ale as Thor roared in laughter at something. The Viking was a giant; muscular and towering, James had been too terrified to even look at him, but gradually he had gotten to know the man through the others, and see that we was, quite literally, a gentle giant. At least until someone stole his sweetmeats or was consumed by the bloodthirst of battle. Luckily, James was yet to witness the latter.
“Thor, shut it,” Rhodey grumbled good-naturedly where he was half-asleep, hand rested on fist, blinking sleepily at the man in question, looking eerily like a grumpy and tired cat.
Thor just laughed harder. “Nay, my friend. Join our merriment!” He raised his tankard, ale splashing on wood as his arm lurched drunkenly. “Oops.”
James felt himself laugh slightly, catching Stark’s-Tony’s- eye in time to see the face-splitting grin his laugh earned. Cheeks reddening, he glanced away, in time to see Clint (who, for some reason, demanded he be called Hawk? James was unsure why, but was amused at the scowl he earned whenever he ‘forgot’) jump to his feet, tankard raised high. “It’s a pirate’s life for me, lads!” He cheered, skulling the rest of the drink as the others echoed his words in a drunken slur, raising their tankards in salute. “Barnes! My good man, get your ass over here!”
“Excuse me?”
“Get. Your ass. Here.” With a tispy giggle, Clint gestured him over. “We gotta show you the highlights of piracy, my friend.”
James shrugged helplessly, bemused, eyes flickering to Tony again. Help me, he mouthed, exaggerating a horrified expression. Absently, a part of him warmed and marvelled at his ability to be so playful again so soon after the darkest days of his life.
Tony just smirked, the ass. “Sorry, Barnes, you’re on your own here.”
Rolling his eyes, James stood standing next to Clint, taken aback when the man grabbed his hands, jumping them around the deck in the most un-elegant and uncoordinated dance James had ever danced, singing all the while, the others joining in, laughing as they slapped the wood, thumping their feet.
“What shall we do with a drunken sailor?
What shall we do with a drunken sailor?
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?
Way, hey, and up she rises,
Way, hey, and up she rises,
Way, hey, and up she rises,
Early in the morning!”
James found himself laughing, unrestrained, as he danced, singing along, reveling in the light-hearted atmosphere. Soon, they were all cheering and dancing, singing as loud as their lungs allowed.
With enough ale in him, James also summoned the courage to teach them a few of the Shanties he’d learnt in the Navy with the boys. Leading them through ‘Fish in the Sea’ and ‘Randy Dandy Oh’ they calmed, voices rising high in the night, flowing out to join the ocean noise, blending as one.
They danced through the night, stars shining bright above them, leaving James feeling lighter than he’d ever been. By the time they’d exhausted themselves and their ale, James was soaked with sweat, chest heaving and skin glowing, beaming. Tony laughed, looking just as happy as he took the man’s hands. “Ready to call it a night?” At James’ playful pout, he chuckled. “Come, now. You’ll regret this in the morning.”
James just smiled, stepping closer, close enough for their noses to brush. “Maybe. You’re all drunkards, it’s no doubt I can’t keep up.” Indeed, he felt tipsy and unsteady on his feet.
Tony laughed, a sound as beautiful as anything he’d ever heard, and his mouth suddenly went dry. “My dear friend, it pains me, but I fear that we shall have to keep you from the ale if you get like this everytime. Like a child,” he teased.
James just smiled, gingerly touching the man’s hair, making a curious sound as he found it to be softer than he expected. He felt so light from the rum and ale, free of his nightmares. It was nice. Following Tony’s tug on his wrist, he stepped into the room they’d been sharing (He distantly remembered that first night, when Tony was so gentle, so kind, when he’d explained that this was the largest quarters as it was the Captain’s, and it was best for Tony to keep an eye on him anyway, incase his health declined overnight.) Tumbling into the bed, he tugged Tony to join him. “We can share,” he murmured, falling asleep almost instantly, smile still on face.
That night, he dreamt of pirates, rowdy and free, full of life and joy. A strange longing filled him, twisting and filling something in him he hadn’t realised was empty. Was missing.
“It’s a pirate’s life for me,” he heard Clint’s words echo throughout the dream, compounding that feeling.
“It’s a pirate’s life for me…”
Hawk had him scrubbing the decks the next morning, unsympathetic to his pounding head it the bolts of pain that shot through it when he opened his eyes more than a sliver. “Feels like someone took an anvil to it,” he grumbled, scowling as a certain stain didn’t budge at his rough scrubbing.
Hawk just laughed, unsympathetic, humming a lively shanty- perhaps William Taylor? He’d heard it sung by the lads in the Navy before but couldn’t recall the lyrics with his head throbbing so painfully- under his breath as he worked out their path, keeping one eye on his progress, sporatically chiming in with some mightily unhelpful advice or comments. ‘You missed a spot, James’, ‘put your back into it, man’, ‘you need to scrub harder!’. What an ass, he thought fondly as he worked. It was the sort of easy, ribbing friendship he had with some of his crew back on Steve’s Patriot. The memory of the majestic ship twisted something within him, making him wince. Steve. God, he missed him. He was eager for the day they reached a land where he could send off a letter to his friend, his captain. He must be beside himself. “You decided what yer gonna do?”
James was pulled from his thoughts by Hawk’s out of the blue question, looking up, confused. “‘Bout what?”
Hawk rolled his eyes, slouching in the chair, tucking his hands behind his head, closing his eyes as the early-morning sun warmed his face. “After we get to the Southern Continent. You gon’ leave us for your Cap’n?” When James paused, face closing off, he sighed. “Look, you gotta figure out what yer want soon, like. If you aint gonna stay on this ship you’d better stop leadin’ on my Cap’n.” There was a hard, ungiving edge to the warning that had a shudder crawl up James’ spine.
“What do you mean, Hawk?” He demanded, impatient. “Stop speakin’ in riddles and get to it, yeah?”
Hawk opened his eyes to shoot him a look. “James, mate, you’d better decide if you’re gonna leave us, like, ‘cause if you keep up whateva you got goin’ with our Captain and leave us? You’ll break his bloody heart. He’s a good man, always worn his heart on his sleeve for the world to see. Had it broken more times than I’d like to count, but he’s still quick to love. Do you understand, James? He cared for you, deeply. So you’d better set ‘im straight pretty damn quick if ya don’t want his love” He leant forward in his seat, dagger in hand. He twisted his wrist, so that it glinted menacingly in the sunlight.
James sat back on his haunches, eyeing Hawk warily. “I don’t got nothin’ going on with Tony.”
Hawk scoffed, biceps rippling as he buried the dagger in the soft wood of the chair. “No? That ain’t the way I see it.”
James avoided his gaze as he scrubbed, harder than was required. “There’s not anythin’ between us yet,” he conceded reluctantly. “An’ it scares me that there could be.” The admission had his shoulders hunching defensively. After a pause, he spoke again, voice slightly quieter. “You think he could love me? Broken bits and all?”
Hawk sighed, rubbing at his temples, muttering something darkly under his breath that sounded suspiciously about wanting to bash the two of them together. “Look, James, I like ya. I do, but you need to get’ yer ‘ead outta yer ass. That man’s already half in love with ya, of bloody course he’d love you. You really think he cares about you bein’ broken? He’s ‘broken’ himself, and he may be a boat full ‘a things but ‘e aint a hypocrite.”
James gazed at the man, thoughtful. “He’s… the same?”
Hawk shrugged. “Ask ‘im yerself. Ain’t my thing ter tell. But that’s irrelevant. This is about what you want. If you’re just gonna go after yer cap’n then ya need to tell ‘im. But from where I’m standin’? There’s no reason why you have to break his heart. Yer cap’n can come aboard for all I care, but if you say you’re gonna stay, you bloody well better.”
James remained silent, thoughtful. “I don’t want to break his heart.” And he didn’t- in fact, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Learning that Tony could love him only furthered his resolve not to. “I don’t see any way of avoiding that.” He scowled, frustrated. Absently, he recognised how easy it would be to fall in love with Tony, but he couldn’t. Not when his heart was already taken. It wouldn’t be fair.
His mind turned, as it usually did, to Steve, guilt crawling up his spine. Steve. The man he had loved since he had known what love was. It had never happened, though, Steve had never loved him the same way, but part of James had alway held back, waiting, hoping.
He would never be able to stop loving him, and he couldn’t do that to Tony.
Something must have shown on his face because Hawk’s whole body language changed, his face shifting into understanding. “Oh,” he breathed, soft and shocked. “Your captain’s not just your captain, is he?”
James shook his head, avoiding the other man’s gaze. “I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember,” he admitted. “I can’t let Tony love me because I’d love him back, and it wouldn’t be fair to him because I’d never stop loving Steve.”
Hawk shook his head, disbelieving. “What a fucking mess,” he sighed.
James smiled wryly. “My life tends to be.”
“Shit.” Hawk ran a scarred hand through his hair, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as he regarded James carefully. “You know, you’re a pirate, now,” he started, casual as ever. James flinched, but didn’t dispute the fact. There was no denying the truth; he’d been a pirate since the moment Tony had brought him on board and showed him his world. He’d changed, at a fundamental level, and he knew that he would be unable to leave his time aboard The Vendicatore behind him, even if he did end up leaving her. “And I hate to break it to yer, but we pirates? We ain’t ‘xactly all moral and proper. Don’t care ‘bout bloody decorum and social mores. So, while it ain’t proper, I think I see a solution to your conundrum.”
James raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell, because I really don’t.”
Hawk smirked. “Think like a pirate, mate.”
Frowning, James spread his hands in a ‘what the hell?’ gesture. “What the hell?”
Hawk leant forward in the chair, pointing his dagger at him. “Yer still thinkin’ like a proper little man. Stop it. Yer a pirate now, and we don’t care ‘bout bein’ proper. Ain’t limited by society, and neither is our relationships.” He raised an eyebrow meaningfully, but James was still lost.
“Still got no clue what you’re on about, man.” He was about to demand the man to be clearer when he paused, hesitant understanding dawning on his face. “Are you telling me to court them both?”
Hawk nodded, then shrugged. “Long as you talk to them both I don’t see why not. You’ve got a big heart, James, almost as big as our cap’n’s, even though you try to hide it. I reckon there’s enough love in there for the both of ‘em.”
James bit his lip, crossing his legs. “You might just be right,” he conceded. He already felt something for Tony, and knew the other man did for him. There was no point denying that. And he was sure that it would be so easy for that to shift to love, maybe even one to rival his love for Steve. Or match it, he thought absently. Maybe I could love them both equally.
He could imagine it, being with the both of them, and was surprised by how nice it seemed, how appealing. He wanted it.
If Steve could ever love him, though. That was the catch.
But maybe he could. Maybe if he actually confessed, Steve would love him too. But at the very least, he knew he needed to tell Tony how he felt before they went any further.
He hummed, thinking. Tony had said that he’d take James to send a message to Steve after they left the Southern Continent, so it would be so easy for him to, with Tony’s permission, to invite him aboard? They had already discussed leaving the Navy soon, before he was taken, so he was sure Steve would be agreeable. He’d always been a free spirit, anyway, trapped by the rules and regulations of society and its imperfections. A pirate’s life liberating slaves would be something that called to him, a siren’s song he wouldn’t be able to reject.
The idea was appealing, and James found himself excited about the possibility.
He could have both of them.
But was he ready for Steve to see him like this? Scarred, broken and ugly? He’d loved Steve for as long as he could remember, a slow, gentle thing that burned bright in the pit of his heart. He had long learned to shoulder its burden, but he didn’t think he would be strong enough anymore to not fall apart if he met him face to face while in this state.
He’d always been the strong one out of the two, Steve’s rock throughout their childhood and Naval voyages, when Steve’s mother had passed, leaving him an orphan.
To have that turned on its head, for Steve to see him as weak would truly shatter something within James,
But, just maybe, with Tony at his side, he’d be able to cope. With Tony’s strength he’d be able to flex instead of shatter. Because there was something growing within him for the jovial pirate that could match what he felt for Steve. A possibility that he could love him just as strong, admire him just as greatly. And whilst it scared him, it also gave him confidence to be selfish enough to reach out to Steve, to stay with Tony, and have the two most important people in his life here, together.
He contemplated the idea until the sun lowered, washing the sky in pink hues, its last rays sparkling off the water like tiny fairies dancing along its surface.