Chapter Text
He should have known nothing good could come of a meeting with the most reprehensible wench of a woman he’d ever had the misfortune to meet.
Killian turns away from the conniving sorceress with a scoff, intending to make his way back to his lonely quarters below deck of the Jolly Roger. This night was one that called for rum, and so much of it that he would slip into blissful oblivion, free from the memories Cora was valiantly attempting to dredge up.
“I have no interest in pursuing that crocodile to worlds unknown. I’ve already spent far too much of my life seeking revenge. I’d prefer to dedicate my time to more fruitful endeavors, if it’s all the same to you.” Killian’s tone is airy, flippant, belying the ache in his chest he’s tried so stubbornly for so long to repress. He often wishes it had been his heart Rumplestiltskin had ripped out, seemingly a lifetime ago. Anything to spare him the pain of what came after that fateful day.
Cora calls after him in a tone of faux surprise, but Killian hears the smugness beneath it.
“Forgive me, I must have been mistaken in believing you’d be willing to brave any hardship in order to reclaim a love lost.”
Killian hesitates, cursed heart leaping into his throat. He doesn’t want to give Cora the satisfaction of recapturing his attention, but if she means…
He twists back around, ignoring the knowing smile on the wretched woman’s face. His eyes burn into hers, desperately searching for any sign of deception. When he speaks, his voice is choked, revealing the emotions Cora was clearly counting on to get her way.
“Offer your terms and know that if you are lying to me, my crocodile hunt will seem like a friendly game of chase compared to my pursuance of you.”
Cora’s smile grows as she steps toward Killian once more, and he barely manages to keep from flinching away when she runs one long-nailed finger down his cheek.
“Oh my darling captain, I would never lie to you. My terms are really quite simple.” She takes him arm, turning them back to face the door. “Come with me, help me reunite with my rebellious daughter and in turn, I will lead you to your precious Prince Charming.”
Allowing himself to be steered by Cora’s suddenly tight grip, Killian feels a fluttering of something suspiciously similar to hope; the one emotion he hasn’t felt in what seems like centuries.
David, his heart sings frantically, joining the rush of sound as his blood pounds in his ears.
If he’s honest with himself, it’s a tune his heart has never stopped beating to from the moment he and David met.
--x--
“Who the hell are you?”
Killian smiles at the vehemence with which the question is spat, the speaker’s face twisted in a delightfully paradoxical mixture of self-confident rage and obvious trepidation. Not that Killian can fault him; if he were the one who had been accosted in the street and dragged onto what was very plainly a pirate ship, he’s sure he would be equal parts outraged and terrified. Although he supposes he’s slightly outraged as well. How dare this man not know who he is. But, Killian thinks graciously, he is from a far-off land. Even an infamy such as his own has its limits.
Though he sympathizes with the man’s plight, Killian doesn’t deign to answer the question posed of him.
“Why, that’s exactly what I had planned to ask you,” he says instead, taking the seat at his map desk facing his guest, who is bound to the chair by the bed. “Who could you possibly be to warrant such an impressive incentive to capture you?”
Killian produces the wanted poster he’s had tucked in his pocket for weeks with a flourish, watching with great interest as the color drains from his captive’s face.
“You see, I happened to stumble across this in a small port town, ages ago now, and it piqued my curiosity to no end. ‘What could this man have done to put such a price on his head?’ I asked myself, and I simply had to find out the answer.” Killian leans closer to the vexed man, and is amused when he draws himself up as straight as possible to put space between them.
“So,” Killian continues conversationally, “my crew and I have been keeping an eye out for you in our recent travels. Thankfully, this poster’s artist created an incredible likeness.” He holds the parchment up to the bound man’s face and makes a show of glancing back and forth between the two. “It’s uncanny, really. Made the job of spotting you that much easier. I recognized you right away. Of course, you have a face that would be hard to forget.” Killian leers exaggeratedly, and his prisoner turns said face away in disgust.
Killian sits back with a small laugh, turning his attention back to the flyer he holds. In truth, he had pulled it down from the wall of a dingy alley on his way to an even dingier pub, simply because he found the man it featured to be unbelievably attractive. Looking back up at the real life version of the drawing, Killian is pleased to note that his looks hadn’t been fabricated. He’s perfect.
Pale blue eyes glare out at him from beneath an unruly mop of dark blond hair, putting Killian in mind of a pristine beach beneath a cloudless day. The man, whose name the poster proclaims to be David, has a straight nose that sits above a slightly crooked mouth, but the contrast is nothing short of delightful. David’s angular jaw gives way to a long neck, framed by shoulders broad enough to entice one to bite their way across them. Killian hadn’t seen his men bring David aboard, so he didn’t get a chance to see David standing, but Killian estimates he’s slightly taller than himself. Overall, David has the build of one accustomed to hard physical labor, and if Killian had to guess, he would wager David to be some sort of farmer.
Or dastardly criminal, judging by the sum being offered for his procurement.
“I didn’t do anything, okay?” David struggles against his bonds, and his voice pulls Killian from his musings. “They’ve got the wrong man, which means YOU have the wrong man, and I demand you let me go immediately.” He fixes Killian with a look that sends a thrill through Killian’s blood, quickening his heartbeat, and suddenly there doesn’t seem to be enough air in the small cabin.
Smiling grimly, Killian stands and shakes his head, both in response to David’s demand and to cover the sudden flush he can feel rising in his cheeks. Taking a few measured steps towards the foot of his bunk, Killian collects himself before turning back to face David’s furious gaze.
“’fraid I can’t do that, David,” he says, leaning one shoulder against the bunk and smiling again at the look on David’s face at the casual use of his given name. “You see,” Killian drawls, speaking deliberately slowly just to watch David’s frustration grow, “Someone obviously desires you quite badly to go through the trouble of drawing up these lovely posters, and offering an almost as lovely sum for even a hint as to your whereabouts.”
Stepping back over to David, Killian places an arm on either side of the chair, watching as David’s eyes follow the line of his left arm down to the place where his hand should be, taking in the hook before lifting his gaze back to Killian’s. Smirking, Killian leans dangerously close to David’s scowling face. “Which means,” he continues softly, eyes flicking between David’s, “I desire you even more.”
David flushes, whether from the nearness or the words Killian doesn’t know. Leaning in closer, though there was little closer to be had, Killian breathes his next words against David’s mouth.
“You just might be the greatest thing to ever happen to me, David.”
David’s mouth parts slightly, as though he meant to speak but nothing came out, and Killian has to fight valiantly against the urge to claim David’s mouth with his own.
Stepping back from his fetching captive, Killian returns to his own seat. He tracks the movement of David’s tongue as it smoothes over his still parted lips slowly.
“Wh-what do you mean?” David finally asks, voice low and gruff. It grates along the edges of Killian’s nerves, making him wish David weren’t a man of such few words. Killian’s known him a precious short time and yet feels as though he could listen to him for hours.
Plucking his flask from its ever-present residence in his vest, Killian takes a long pull from it to contemplate how he wants to respond to David’s inquiry. Mustn’t reveal too much and yet, he finds himself compelled to provide David with anything he asks, including answers to questions Killian shouldn’t even allow him to ask.
Finally, David’s mien shifts from frozen to impatient and Killian tucks his rum back into his pocket. “Think of it this way,” he says, rubbing his hand against his thigh briskly. “You’ve just landed yourself the role of very expensive bargaining chip. You are the ace up my sleeve, if you will.”
David furrows his brow, shaking his head slightly as though to clear it. “I don’t know what that means. Who are you bargaining with?”
“With whom am I bargaining,” Killian corrects imperiously and David’s scowl returns with a vengeance. Waving his hand dismissively, Killian crosses one leg over the other and leans back in his chair. “You needn’t concern yourself with the details, David. Just know that if ever there comes a time when I find myself in need of a little…leverage, I’ll have to look no further than your becoming face.”
David flushes again, but the look in his eyes has shifted from furious to something deeper, more complex, and Killian is leaning back towards him to decipher just what the look is when the door to his cabin bangs open.
Startled, David jumps, eyes shifting away to focus on the man now standing just outside the door. Killian fixes a glare on his first mate as he steps through the doorway, ever-present red knit cap clutched in his hands.
“What is it, Mr. Smee?” Killian snaps, when no explanation for the man’s sudden appearance is forthcoming.
“Sorry to interrupt Cap’n, but the men are gettin’ anxious to set sail,” Smee rushes to answer, eyes darting from David to Killian rapidly. “This place ain’t too friendly towards pirates, sir.”
David snorts derisively, drawing all eyes to him. He narrows his own eyes back at Killian, who smiles fondly.
“Do you have a distaste for pirates, David?” he asks sweetly, laughing when David looks down at the ropes binding him dubiously.
“Obviously,” he replies, and Killian almost cuts him free, if only to ask his opinion on pirates (and himself in particular) once the present objection is removed.
He stands instead, gesturing toward the door to indicate Smee should move back into the alleyway. Stepping out after him, Killian speaks over his shoulder, making sure David can hear him.
“Right you are, Mr. Smee. What say we sail for friendlier waters?” Smiling back at a frowning David, Killian’s next words are spoken into his striking blue eyes. “We need to give our newest shipmate a taste of the pirate's life.”
Closing the door on David’s sputtered protests, Killian precedes Smee up the stairs into the brilliantly bright sun above deck.
--x--
Once they’re a ways out to sea, Killian orders one of his men to release David. He sends instructions for his reluctant guest to meet him on the bridge.
Killian waits for David impatiently, good hand tracing a well-worn path around his beloved Jolly Roger’s steering wheel. A bird passes overhead, catching his eye. He tracks its progress across the sky, feeling disgustingly philosophical as he wonders if David suddenly feels like a bird that has had its wings clipped, freedom snatched away without warning.
David’s appearance aloft puts an end to Killian’s wayward thoughts, but the relief is quickly replaced with concern as he watches David make his way toward the helm, rubbing his wrists gingerly.
Fucking pirates, you’d think they’d have learned how to bind someone’s wrists comfortably by now.
David’s face is set in its familiar scowl, though Killian reasons it could be caused by the glaring sun rather than hostility toward himself.
“Suppose you’re expecting me to thank you for granting me respite from my bonds?” David sneers slightly as he speaks.
So definitely not the sun what’s putting the look on his face.
“Well,” Killian grins in response, “normally I’d require my guests to pay heavily for such a concession, but I’ll accept your obvious delight as quittance enough.”
David has finally come to stand level with him, and Killian is pleased to note his earlier assessment seems to be correct. David is slightly taller, and significantly broader of shoulder. He radiates capability and Killian finds himself wanting to lean into him, drawing from his strength.
Killian squints up at David, who is staring down at the deck with lips pursed, arms crossed over his chest.
“Guest?” he says incredulously. “If I’m your guest, I’d hate to see how you treat your hostages.”
The Jolly Roger suddenly lists violently starboard, sending David stumbling towards Killian, who catches him easily. So much for capability, Killian thinks wryly. Pulling David flush against his own chest as the ship rightens itself, Killian murmurs in David’s ear.
“Sea legs a bit wobbly,eh? We’ll train you up soon enough.”
David shoves him away, a reaction for which Killian was prepared, so he merely takes a step back as David’s returning glare burns brighter even than the sun.
“For your information, I don’t plan on being aboard this ship long enough for whoever ‘we’ is to teach me anything,” he grits out, hands smoothing the hair back from his face. Killian notices the way they tremble and something in his gut tightens at the sight. Then what David said registers, and Killian’s smile returns.
“Oh no?” he asks, amused. “And just where do you plan on going?” Killian waves an arm to indicate the vast sea surrounding them, watching David’s Adam’s apple bob as he glances out at the water. His eyes snap back to Killian suddenly, who feels a thrill at the intensity in their blue depths.
“You can’t just keep me here,” David replies. He recrosses his arms, matching Killian’s smile with a frown.
Shaking his head in amusement, Killian leans toward David again, not too close to scare him off but near enough that he hears Killian’s whispered promise.
“Watch me.”