The opium dealer stared at you as Arthur dragged you back through the dark streets and to his ship, where Alfred and Francis were waiting, along with a gentler-looking boy about Alfred's age. His hair was similar in style to the Frenchman, but his violet eyes gazed at you with sympathy as you were shoved back on deck. Alfred seemed annoyed at you, but cowered in fear at the glowering of the captain. Francis only flipped his hair and greeted Yao like a close friend.
Subconsciously, you cringed and shuffled towards the new man.
"Hi," he whispered to you with a small smile. His voice was soft and soothing, something you missed the past few days.
Trying not to draw Arthur's attention from the crewmember he was currently yelling at, you nodded politely at the boy.
His violet eyes followed your's and flickered to the captain before widening at you in understanding. His voice stayed low, lips barely moving as he spoke, "I'm Matthew, the ship's cook." You gave him a tight lipped smile.
Just then, Arthur wheeled back to face you. "And you!" he shouted, causing your to flinch away. Something in his emerald eyes softened and he looked at Alfred, "Take her back to my cabin."
He seemed tired and defeated until Francis touched a hand to his shoulder, then he was his old self again. The sympathy you had felt for a moment vanished as he stomped around the deck, growling for the cook standing next to him to show his face. You only saw Matthew sigh before reaching the heavy door of the captain's quarters.
With an embarrassed smile, Alfred opened the door for you. "I'm really sorry about this," he told you.
You sighed and ducked into the room you had awoken in. "It's fine. Sorry for getting you in trouble."
A loud laugh filled up the room, "No worries! Old Bushy Brows would've yelled at me anyways!"
Stifling a laugh, you watched the happy blonde bow dramatically at you. In an attempt to keep your composure you only nodded at him. The two of you shared a grin as he closed the door.
Alone again, you sighed and began searching around the room. Books, maps, a dining table with six matching chairs. And a large bed. Sighing, you collapsed on the soft mattress, taking up as much space as possible before you allowed yourself to drift into sleep again.
When Arthur came in, however, your defiance did not go unnoticed.
Groaning, he shoved you to a side of the bed, waking you up. You glared at the Brit and pushed back.
The two of you struggled for a while over bed space before the pirate shifted slightly, causing you to slip. You gasped as your hand slid over his cotton shirt to the other side of him, your body draped over his firm chest. Grunting indifferently, he shifted you slightly and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, behaving as though he owned you.
You huffed and tried to claw your way out of his grasp, but he only held you tighter. Squeaking in discomfort, you forced yourself to go limp in his arms so that he would loosen his hold at least enough for you to breath, preferably so you could wiggle out.
But no such luck. He kept you firmly in his grip with his chest flush against your back. Puffing out your cheeks and crossing your arms over your chest, you tried to remain awake. But with soft bed, the stress from the day, and the warmth coming off of the sometimes-sweet pirate behind you, you felt your arms slip and your hands rest on his. Your eyelids felt heavy and drooped, you weren't even aware that you were wiggling your way closer to the man, eventually twisting so you faced him.
You rested your head on your curled up hands, feeling safe tucked up close to the man with his large hands firmly pressing your lower back ever closer to him.
But why did you feel so safe with the man you hated?