Ocean Eyes, Storm Cloud Minds

Chapter Twenty

Sharp and bitter murmurs under the captain's breath were taken in neither a friendly nor a passive manner, and Lancelot soon began returning the s**t-talking, glaring down at his own shaking hands to avoid further upsetting the unpredictable, impulsive drunk man before him. Especially when the dagger- kept close to avoid mutiny- was currently lying on the desk beside him- within reach for any time, at any moment, provided that the brunet did or said something stupid enough to deserve a slit neck.

Closing his eyes- squeezing them shut- Lancelot began to murmur a little louder than intended, his tone bitter and his words unfriendly.

"Capitan, pero no voy a ser un criminal de alcohol que no ha vivido un buen día ensu vida. Estaba intentando hacer una vida verdad." ((Aye, Captain, but I've not become an alcoholic captain without an honest day in his life. I was intending on making a true living.)) He hissed, still lying back for the moment, but with his head propped up enough for him to not be looking up at the wooden ceiling. A small movement at the other side of the room before a raised voice spoke back to him.

"No hable ami así, un pedazo de mierda. No estoy estupido. Y tu va a ser un alcohólico, cuando has estada en este barco el mismotieme que yoo," ((Don't talk to me like that, you useless piece of s**t. I'm not stupid. And you'll be an alcoholic when you've been on this boat as long as I.)) Elric argued back in a hiss, his words slurred but understandable enough to make the brunet sit up again out of surprise. There went Lance's only way to talk s**t about the captain around him without being caught. Caught immediately, at least.

Stumbling over his words in an alcohol influenced frenzy of panic, Lancelot tried desperately to force out some kind of redeeming words or something, but instead, he could only let out a surprised, stuttered, "¿H-Hablas español?" ((You speak Spanish?)), although it would likely have been a much wiser idea to have simply apologised and closed his mouth. As if he ever knew when to do that. Elric's bloodshot eyes rolled and the male let out a gruff, exasperated noise as a sigh while murmuring soft and spiteful comments under his breath - obviously all about Lance.

Before long, though, he slowly nodded and the captain spoke up once more, the tense silence nearly dissipating as he did. Despite that, though, Lancelot was unsure whether or not he wanted the other to talk, as the tone he used was irritated and almost at the extreme levels of tired.

"Si, hablo español. Mucho. ¡Soy el Capitan de este barco! ¿Que bien soyyo sino buedo enderel el captain cuando estoy atacando su barco?" ((Yes, I speak Spanish. I'm the ship's captain. What good would I be, raiding a Spanish ship, when neither of us can understand the other?)) An eye roll ensued and a small hint of embarrassment began to surface within the curiosity of the brunet.

Nervously and incredibly hesitantly, Lancelot nodded slightly, about to say 'los siento' to apologise before curiosity overtook embarrassment once more and he blurted out another senseless question. "¿Cuantos idomas hablas?"((How many languages do you speak?)) He asked, almost slipping over his words as he spoke, having an interrogation's worth of questions on the tip of his tongue. This question, though, caused Elric to do nothing but roll his eyes as opposed to answering- instead he just bitterly murmured.

"Ojos azules, dormirse," ((Go to sleep, blue eyes.)) he said in a bitter and direct tone. Lancelot frowned, looking over at Elric who had, in one sudden but abrupt moment, lost all interest in the brunet- who'd only just gained a personal interest in the other.

"S-Solo estaba preguntado ati-" ((But I was only asking you-)), but Elric only repeated what he had said the first time in twice as harsh of a tone and in a much more commanding manner.

Without refusal, Lancelot complied and moved so he was lying on his back, the wound on his leg throbbing and pulsating, getting his attention now that there was no conversation to distract him, and he soon spoke up about it. It would have driven him mad otherwise, despite already being noticeably dulled by alcohol. Without that clouding his mind and judgement, he was sure he'd be holding back tears at this point, or that he'd not even have been able to speak without whining or bitching about the pain.

A few moments passed of the same, heavy, boring silence.

"¿Puedo tener un otro bebida para ayudarme quedarse dormido?"((Can I have another drink to help me fall asleep?)) Lancelot slowly slurred, too tired to translate and speak in English, whining softly in pain as he asked his question, not even realising the pathetic way his voice escaped him. Elric seemed reluctant to flicker his gaze onto Lance, barely even willing to acknowledge him after the stress he'd been put through, but nonetheless, he slowly turned his attention to the brunet. The way Lancelot cowered back seemed enough of a hint that the look in his eyes was full of malice.

More silence. Awkward. Heavy.

"Mi perna se duele, es todo, capitán," ((My leg hurts, is all, captain.)), he quickly added, as if to justify his own request in the heat of such a hostile gaze. His eyes fixed onto the captain anxiously, as he fidgeted around in his place on the bed, hating how quickly the tension had returned to the air, thickening the atmosphere. Elric stood up so abruptly, so spontaneously, that he suddenly had his knees hit the chair where he'd been sat.

The impact then caused the chair to shift its balance, making the weight of the various items hanging on the back overpower the lacking weight at the front and it toppled over, loud clangs of coins and the jangles of jewellery suddenly filling the room, startling the injured brunet, whose perceptive skills had been dimmed by the alcohol but his alertness having been drastically increased. If he could have walked in that moment, he would surely have jumped from the bed at the surprise and panic that filled his mind. His heart rate slowly soothed and his breathing calmed, but by the time he looked up the captain was gone from his desk and stood at a glass cupboard, having lost all and any interest in his chair. He hadn't even picked it up before walking off.

Opening the glass door, Lancelot saw the wide varieties of browns and greens- looking like some muddy rainbow- that the glasses came in, his eyes hazy from the recent, unexpectedly high alcohol intake watched as Elric took a murky green bottle that he'd previously drained about half of with a surprisingly pale hand for someone who spent so much time out in the open. As he turned and began approaching the brunet, his alcoholism became a lot more apparent while he walked, having had time to let everything set in. His body became heavier to drag as he walked, his movements slow and sluggish and somewhat lethargic as he paced across the room.

Murmuring a 'gracias' in response to the drink that was hastily shoved into his grip lest it fall from Elric's and break (that would just be a waste of alcohol). Latching onto the neck of the bottle with his trembling hand, he slowly dragged the weight of it to his lips and tilted his head back to get the disgusting alcohol to slide down his throat, wanting to get the drink out of his mouth before he could taste it much.

Coughing, hacking, and gagging at the taste added to the burning of his throat from the alcohol, the dizzy male held the bottle out as far from himself as possible while trying to push it into the captain's grip. At least the pain relief would ideally make this worth it. Soon, once he'd gotten his coughing and breathing back under control, and the bottle was removed from his grip, he sat back and breathed out softly, one hand on his still burning throat- which didn't quite feel like it was on fire anymore, as opposed to just violently stinging with each breath.

Slowly relaxing and lying back, the lack of ingested food caused the alcohol to filter into his bloodstream within ten minutes and he only needed another half hour before he was asleep. His head throbbing dully at the dehydration that was already taking a slight effect, and his skin was tingling from the blood rush. He got so hot before sleeping that he was now missing his waistcoat- it was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap-, his shirt had three more undone buttons than usual, and he'd pushed the blanket off of his upper body, the cold air being soothing on his hot skin.

He lay still, his breaths steady, soft, and seemed almost rhythmic as he slept, and slowly the gaze of the captain was tugged from the open notebook lying in front of him to the sleeping, fidgeting body of the smaller male lying on the bed. Intentionally, it was only supposed to be a glance in his direction, but then that became a moment. A long moment. A long moment where a small, idiotic and drunken smile slowly surfaced on his lips. During which, he began to study the serene, sleeping expression of the other. He just seemed so... strangely calm and relaxed that it was almost unsettling. Elric disliked it. He was used to seeing the male with a lot more emotion or attitude- seeing him calm just seemed wrong.

But, as the novelty of it wore off, the strangeness of it just became so much more endearing- cute, even. His lips were slightly parted and his clothes a mess from his frequent moving and the sweatiness of his body as his clothes clung onto him, having been worn non-stop for over two days at this point and he would desperately seek new clothes as soon as possible. Well, either that or Lancelot would have to appreciate the shitty salt water pump that his clothes would be washed with, and whatever he'd have to wear as a substitute while it dried.

Stray hairs, messy and matted; tangled and twisted as it had yet to be combed, lay on his face as he moved again. His sleep seemed like such a temporarily perfect state to be in- but it was a lot more temporary than expected as Elric heard him whimper. It was almost inaudible- soft and quiet but no less terrified than it would have been if there were a knife to his throat, his once peaceful dream dying away into a nightmare. A louder whine followed, breaking the almost-silence that was heavy in the room, while Lance's features creased at the fear he was experiencing.

The captain's attention was almost immediately fixated onto the notebook, as he despised the idea of daring to allow himself any sensations of pity or concern for someone he barely allowed himself to trust enough to come into his cabin. If Lancelot wasn't so dramatic about his injury, he swore to himself, he'd have sent him to the crews quarters with someone to clean him up enough for him to live. Elric allowed himself to pour his focus onto the unintelligible handwriting and swimming ink smears that covered the page- but after a long moment of a pounding headache and frustrated curses slipping past his lips, the book was shut and once more at the bottom of the drawer.

Stumbling haphazardly, Elric slowly made his way to the bed, grabbing the neck of the green bottle and bringing it to his lips once more as he threw his head back. As the strong flavour of alcohol flooded his mouth and the bottle was emptied- best not to waste a perfectly good drink or leave a pathetic thimbleful- Elric began unbuttoning his shirt with his free hand. He then wiped his lips with the loose, off-white sleeve of his shirt, shedding it immediately after and leaving it in a crumpled heap on the hardwood cabin floor while hauling his heavy body into bed.

Groaning at the relief of finally being able to relax (it didn't feel as though it'd been this long, but the mood was already beginning to rise) the drunken-minded pirate rolled onto his side- not bothering with the blanket- and closed his eyes to sleep.

And maybe it was the warmth of another (albeit whimpering) person beside him.

Or maybe it was just the alcohol to blame.

But Elric soon found his arms were draped around the body of a brunet, whose loosely clothed back was now pressed against a warm, scarred, bandaged but otherwise bare chest.

And it may have been his drinks that made him think this, but maybe.

Maybe,

That was when the whimpering stopped.