A Pirate's Love

Ease

Elenor's POV:

I awoke in a sudden panic, not knowing if everything that had happened was only a dream. I tried to remain calm as I checked the boxes in my head to figure out where I was. My clothes were still on, and I felt a body next to me on the small bed, different from what I was used to with Dan Deranged. I hesitated while peering over my shoulder, fearing it would be the pirate of my nightmares. To my relief, it was Captain Blacksmoke, snoring softly, laying on his back in the bed next to me. Everything that had happened was real. I turned over and curled up next to his arm, listening to his rhythmic breathing. I felt him poke a finger at my knee, then watched as he stirred to wrap his arm around me in his sleep. I shuffled closer to his body as he pulled me in, and I wrapped my arm around his abdomen, holding on tight to make sure I was really living in reality. He suddenly exhaled a groan and held onto my arm with his other hand, his eyes cracking open to look at me.

"My ribs are broken. You're squeezing too tight," he breathed out, in a low whisper.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," I apologized, loosening my grip on him, worried I had caused harm. He smiled as he closed his eyes again, brushing his thumb against my arm affectionately.

"It's okay, I know," he breathed out. I looked up at his profile, his facial hair longer than I last saw him, and his lip scabbed over from a previous injury. I thought back to the last moment I saw him, gagged and being dragged away by evil pirates. I shuddered at the thought, trying to brush it away.

"What happened to you?" I asked, causing a chuckle to rumble in the chest I was laying on.

"Am I more hideous than you remember me?" He asked, jokingly.

"No, no," I said, holding back from continuing the conversation, not knowing if he was comfortable with it. He looked down at me, noticing my hesitation. He inhaled deeply and let it go, trying to wake up from the slumbering state he was in.

"Dan Deranged tossed me into the sea, hoping I would feed the fish, but I survived," he began to explain, "I was marooned, stranded in a place I later figured out was Morocco, and met with the Barbarossa brothers to track him down. Then we found you," he summed up shortly, yet simply, being straightforward. His thumb brushed against my arm once more and then up to my shoulder, playing with the fabric. "Hmm," he hummed, "your shirt is ripped."

"I know, I'm sorry I couldn't keep it intact for you," I apologized again, feeling awkward.

"No need, it's yours," he said kindly, "Things happen. Take it off and I'll mend it for you," he abruptly said, making me stiffen. Then soon realizing what he had asked of me, he changed his tone of voice. "Here," he said with another groan as he sat up. He pulled his own shirt over his head and handed it to me, smiling warmly. "Change into it and I'll mend yours for you," he finished, swinging his legs off of the bed and walking toward a cupboard on the other side of the room. I sat up and changed into it quickly, the fabric loose and worn, with the scent familiar and comforting. I watched as he fished around different drawers, trying to look for something. He paused for a moment after picking something up but didn't turn around.

"Finished," I told him, and he peeked over his shoulder to make sure before fully turning his body toward me. My heart ached at the action, the respect I had been craving for days. He popped something between his teeth and walked over to me, reaching for my ripped shirt. I handed it to him and he turned it inside out, studying the tear.

"Hmm," he hummed again, sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled a thin sewing needle from between his teeth and fished a line of thread through it skillfully. I watched him as he worked on the mend, eyes focused and lungs deeply breathing. I watched his chest raggedly rise and fall beneath the tightly wrapped bandages around his thorax, his stomach slightly sticking out of the top of his trousers. I still couldn't believe he was sitting in front of me.