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Chapter Text

In every corner of the known world, none boasted a finer company of dogs than the Captain of the Almavivo. Few knew him by name, but to a pirate, a reputation far outweighed the importance of a name.

His was a reputation that stood at odds with the vibrant, rainbow-colored flag of his ship. He never spoke to his enemies, no matter how hard they begged for mercy, nor what torture he himself endured. Some suspected he could not speak at all, that he had severed his own tongue in a morbid vow of silence.

Even when he was just Min-so’s navigator (before her crew forced her off the plank), pirates and reputable sailors alike whispered of the fearsome Silent Wolf, tamer of beasts both foul and fair. He had no need for words, not with his trusty parrot at his side to deny pleas for clemency.

(They didn’t know his parrot’s name was Mambo, nor did they know that her refusal to say anything other than “NO” was not for her master’s lack of trying.)

But, feared though he was, rumors of his inability to keep a human crew were sung loud and far. Thus, Captain Seung-gil Lee found himself undermanned on that fateful summer day when Captain (Seung-gil refused to use the “K”) Katsuki and his marauders stormed the Almavivo.

He was not without defenses: namely, an army of huskies and a blade honed by years of study and regimented practice. Seung-gil wouldn’t risk the dogs, so his only chance was to best the captain in a duel of swords. 

But Katsuki didn’t follow the forms. He moved without logic, dodging every thrust until he had the Silent Wolf at the mercy of his steel. 

“Surrender if ye want yer pups to live,” Katsuki had snarled, leaving Seung-gil no choice.

Now he was in the softer, yet no less strong, arms of Katsuki’s first mate, and it was all Seung-gil could do to remain stoic as his once loyal huskies flocked to Katsuki like he was the one who had raised them from pups. 

Despite never wanting for food, they devoured the meat their new leader offered, and the sight pained Seung-gil far more than the tip of Katsuki’s first mate’s knife jabbing into his back. They lapped up the water Katsuki provided, his chin held high as if fresh water were some sort of feat.

It was, for any other ship, but Seung-gil had his own source: a seawater purification device of his own design. It was the only reason Min-so had taken him on as a feral brat, and now Katsuki had it. Of course, its complexities had earned Seung-gil his keep (along with his knack for navigation), but it didn’t matter. He was doomed to die in chains.

At least they didn’t have his parrot. 

“It was a bluff,” Katsuki’s first mate whispered in his ear, rubbing salt in his wounded pride. Seung-gil didn’t have to turn to know the imp was grinning. “He would never hurt your dogs. You, on the other hand...”

A strange threat, especially coming from someone who only had him in a light hold and wasn’t applying enough pressure to draw blood with his blade. Seung-gil could work with that. If his captor underestimated him, he had a chance. 

With a mere flick of his wrists and a downward jerk, he would escape. Just a stretch and the knife would be his, and he’d still have an arm free to flip Katsuki’s first mate to the floor. He’d put the blade to his captor’s throat and maybe he’d draw blood, maybe he wouldn’t. He’d wait until Katsuki pleaded to decide how charitable he wanted to be.

Or, that’s how it should have gone. 

The instant Seung-gil twisted his hand, his cheek slammed the deck. He should have known none of Katsuki’s seamen would fight by the books. Vision blurred and head throbbing, Seung-gil made a feeble grope for the knife. Katsuki’s first mate bore down, pressing Seung-gil’s arms to the deck with one knee. The more he struggled, the harder his captor pushed, but not until his shoulder threatened dislocation did he cry out. 

“Oh ho!” laughed Katsuki. “It seems the Silent Wolf can bark!”

Losing control was worse than physical pain, but Seung-gil couldn’t even bare his teeth like the wolf they wanted him to be. Desperate howls from his pups were cold comfort as darkness tunneled his vision and he succumbed to the pain. He had failed them. 

Your bird will be fine echoed through his mind, but he couldn’t be sure if he had heard it or thought it before everything went black. 

His throbbing head woke him, but Seung-gil couldn’t see the sky to tell how much time had passed. Gentle rocking told him he was still on a ship, but he didn’t recognize the dark, musty holding cell.

The Vicchan, he thought, spitting the bitter taste from his mouth. Min-so would have hanged him for this embarrassment, but Min-so was in Davy Jones’ locker. This was Seung-gil’s mess alone.

He couldn’t save his dogs, nor his parrot. At least they were being cared for, if Katsuki’s first mate was to be believed. 

The knife. A concussion wouldn’t kill him, but a bleeding wound or the resulting infection certainly would. Standing, he searched his body for cuts (easy to do since he had been relieved of his coat and vest) but found no blood. It appeared he’d escaped both Katsuki’s sword and his first mate’s knife without a scrape.

Quick but soft, the both of them, Seung-gil thought. He wouldn’t forget it. 

Something squeaked at his feet and he cringed. Mice, or worse, rats, carrying an illness that would certainly kill him. He prayed it would be quicker than starvation. Perhaps this was the extent of Katsuki’s mercy, to let him die among animals rather than humans. Resigned, Seung-gil looked to the floor to gaze upon the critter with which he was to spend his final days. 

He wasn’t positive, for he had only seen them in zoological textbooks, but he could have sworn that was a hamster by his toe.

Fluffier than a rat (and prettier, too), his tiny cellmate had a stubby tail and cheeks stuffed full of seed. This rodent was no vermin. It was a pet. 

“How did you get here?” Seung-gil wondered aloud.

“He speaks!”

Seung-gil whirled to face the hidden speaker, hand flying to his thigh to grab for a dagger that wasn’t there. Of course they had disarmed him. 

Katsuki’s first mate—Seung-gil recognized his voice—spoke again. “Sorry about the subjugation.” Stepping out of the shadows to the cell door, he winked and added, “Couldn’t let you get me on my back.” 

Seung-gil answered by spitting what little saliva he could produce in his direction.

“Don’t spit on Arthur!” the first mate cried. “He just wanted to say hello.”

The hamster, Arthur, scurried through the bars and up the first mate’s leg to perch on his shoulder. Despite the ache in his own shoulder, Seung-gil missed Mambo’s comforting weight. He tried not to let it show.

“What’s the expression?” his captor mused. “Katsuki’s got your tongue?” He pulled a slim tankard from behind his back and extended it, and his entire hand, through the bars. The smile never left his face. 

He isn’t afraid I’ll bite him, Seung-gil thought. But he didn’t have the energy to try. Even standing was becoming difficult.

“Thought you might be thirsty.” 

Seung-gil did not take the cup, and after a long pause, Katsuki’s first mate lowered it to the ground. 

“I’ll leave it here in case you change your mind.”

Seung-gil refused to falter until the other man was gone, but still he did not drink. The crew of the Vicchan had gone to an awful lot of trouble taking him prisoner just to poison him, but pride stopped him from succumbing to his baser instincts.

Lowering himself to the floor, he let sleep take him once more, hoping he might die before the thirst became too strong to ignore.

No such luck. Seung-gil’s thirst woke him, and he coughed out a growl so that he might scare any onlookers out of hiding. No response came.

Greedily, he drank from the tankard, tepid, sour ale a panacea to his dry throat.

On an empty stomach, the alcohol hit him hard, and he fell asleep once more. 

When he awoke, barely any more rested than before, not only had someone refilled the tankard, but two hardtack biscuits waited for him on a scrap of cloth. 

His pride was no match for his growling stomach. The biscuits were gone in seconds, and only when his stomach had settled did Seung-gil notice that someone had also left him a chamber pot. If food and drink continued to appear, he just might have something to fill it with, though he wasn’t sure why he bothered with self-preservation. Without his pack and Mambo, what point was there to living?

This time he managed to stay awake long enough to notice peanut shells on the floor. 

“Leave me one next time, Arthur,” he muttered, throat finally moist enough that he sounded like himself. He cursed his lips, loosened by the ale, but no one answered him.

The next time he woke, not only did he find fresh drink and biscuits, but there was a small pile of peanuts as well.

“If you’re listening, Arthur, I also like meat.” 

Perhaps Seung-gil was going mad in his solitude, because he wasn’t sure if he was trying to talk to the hamster or Katsuki’s first mate.

Grimly, he realized that talking to the human was the sadder option, and with that in mind, he lay down to rest once more. As he drifted off, it occurred to him that his headache had finally lifted.

“So,” a voice crooned, rousing him. “I heard you enjoy meat.”

Seung-gil’s eyes snapped open. Katsuki’s first mate sat cross-legged on the other side of the bars. That impish grin was back, but Seung-gil only focused on it for a moment before his eyes drifted to the fine piece of meat hanging between his captor’s legs.

Cured pork—Seung-gil could smell it now, and before he realized what he was doing, he licked his lips. 

“You want it?” Katsuki’s first mate raised his arm, dangling the meat in front of the bars, and Seung-gil barely managed to resist reaching for it. Though Seung-gil was in better shape than when he’d first arrived (undoubtedly thanks to this strange man), he was not at his best. Surely, Katsuki’s first mate would snatch the buccan away before Seung-gil could so much as brush his fingers against it.

“No,” he said.

Katsuki’s first mate’s eyes widened in delight and Seung-gil looked away. He never should have spoken.

“Now I know where your parrot gets it.” In answer to Seung-gil’s unvoiced question, he added, “She’s fine, by the way, as are your dogs.”

Relief washed over him, and that relief cleared his mind; this meat was a bargaining tool. Katsuki’s first mate needed something from him. That’s why they weren’t letting him starve.

The dogs. Seung-gil almost smiled. Keeping huskies at sea was no small task. Unlike Katsuki’s lapdogs, they needed almost constant engagement, and most of Seung-gil’s days were spent devising ways to entertain his pack lest they destroy his ship. 

Narrowing his eyes, he turned back to Katsuki’s first mate. A pure black hamster, different from the mottled specimen he called Arthur, sat atop his shoulder.

“Ah, you’ve seen through me,” the other man said, still smiling. “Then let’s shed all this pretense, shall we? After all, what kind of Silent Wolf speaks?”

Seung-gil snarled, but whether it was sheer nerve or the bars between them that stopped Katsuki’s first mate from flinching, he couldn’t be sure.

“I’ll start. My name is Phichit.” He gestured to the hamster on his shoulder. “This here’s Dubloon. What’s your name?”

Seung-gil flicked his gaze toward the meat but said nothing.

Phichit clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Now, now, I’ll not be giving up my booty for information I can find on my own. If you want my meat, you’ll tell me your parrot’s name.”

Seung-gil knitted his brows. Why did Phichit care about Mambo?

“If you couldn’t tell, Not-So-Silent Wolf, I love animals,” Phichit explained, as if reading his mind. “I’m trying to take care of your parrot, but she keeps nipping my fingers.” 

Seung-gil smirked. Good girl.

“I thought she might warm up to me if I knew her name, but I’ll be damned if I can guess it,” Phichit went on. He extended his hand until the meat was almost past the bars and Seung-gil couldn’t look away. Little scratches, evidence of Mambo’s protest, littered Phichit’s hands, but Seung-gil wanted that meat so badly his mouth watered. 

No. He turned away, as haughtily as he could. It was too late for him, but he would never help Katsuki’s crew take his pack. 

“No?” Phichit taunted. He pulled the meat back and Seung-gil almost reached out for it. “Pity. Well, it was my ration to begin with, I may as well eat it.”

And so he did, letting out a rapturous moan as he swallowed. Seung-gil turned away as Phichit made his way back to the deck, footsteps and squeaks echoing through the brig. 

Only much later did Seung-gil realize that, ulterior motives or not, Phichit had been willing to give up his own meat. 

Chapter Text

The next time Seung-gil saw Phichit, he was sporting a large bandage on one arm and a distinct bruise on the other; the dogs were biting.

Seung-gil smirked, and he almost asked which of his pack had done it. It looked like Yong’s handiwork.

His heart sank when he realized Katsuki had probably renamed them.

“No meat this time, but I’ve something better to offer,” Phichit said, hastily tucking his arms behind his back. Seung-gil stiffened, half-expecting Phichit to whip out a pistol before he realized he was just hiding his injuries.

Seung-gil could use this to his advantage. He raised an eyebrow, not ready to talk, but willing to hear what Phichit had to offer.

“Your dogs are out of control. I see that little smile—you knew this would happen.” He ran his unbandaged hand through his hair in a failed attempt at nonchalance.

Seung-gil frowned as a thought struck him—what if they had hurt his pack?

“Don’t worry,” Phichit said, anticipating his thoughts once more. “No harm has come to your dogs, I promise you. The Kaptain would sooner fall on his own sword than hurt an animal.” 

At least he had some decency. 

Phichit chewed his lip and went on. “But they are tearing up the study”—what sort of pirate ship had a study?—“and the living quarters. Everything, really.” He examined his bite mark, his cheeks turning a faint shade of red. 

Seung-gil turned away. 

“We need your help,” Phichit went on.

Did Katsuki put him up to this?

“The Kaptain doesn’t know I’m here,” Phichit supplied. Seung-gil snuck a peek over his shoulder to find Phichit almost hugging himself, no trace of the ruthless pirate who had immobilized him on the deck. “He thinks his quartermaster is giving you just enough to keep you alive, hoping you’ll beg for more. Won’t admit he’s in over his head with the dogs. He tries to do everything himself, you see. Thinks he’s got something to prove.”

Seung-gil narrowed his eyes. Why was Phichit telling him this? Giving him ammunition against his enemy? Perhaps he was bluffing, trying to probe Seung-gil for information.

“Help me,” said Phichit, barely above a whisper. Whenever one of Seung-gil’s dogs looked at him like that, eyes wide and earnest, he was helpless to their whims. “Please. If you help me, I’ll bring you a dog every day to keep you company.”

Now, Seung-gil’s eyes shot open. Would Phichit really go against his Captain like that?

“Not for very long. I doubt I can get away with more than an hour. But they’re terrorizing my poor hamsters. I…” Phichit sighed. “I’m desperate.”

Seung-gil was the one in the cell, but he had his enemy on his proverbial knees. Not a bad position at all.

He didn’t answer right away, letting Phichit stew and twitch. But even though Phichit was one of the less objectionable humans he had encountered in his life, he longed for the company of his pack. Felt incomplete without them.

“Dog first,” he said, just as Phichit turned away in defeat. “Bring me one of my dogs and I will help you.”

Phichit whirled around to face him again, grinning so brightly the room seemed lighter.

Seung-gil was definitely losing it. A dog was just what he needed for his own sanity.  

“Tomorrow,” Phichit said, tapping a finger to his own nose as if Seung-gil might understand the gesture. “I swear it.”

Against his better judgement, Seung-gil believed him, even found himself looking forward to it. 

Looking forward to seeing his dog, of course. It was the first glimmer of hope since his capture. Maybe he could convince Phichit to tell him how long he had been in holding. 

Seung-gil had never been happier to wake up to a bark. His heart threatened to burst at the sight of bright blue eyes on the other side of the bars. Yong pawed at the floor, just as excited as Seung-gil. He shoved his hand through the bars, burying his fingers in Yong’s thick fur. For a moment, he forgot his audience, smiling from ear to ear as he stroked Yong’s head. 

“He didn’t bite me today. I think he knew I was taking him to you,” Phichit said. A ring of keys jingled in his hand and Yong barked again, drawing back to nip at Phichit’s feet. Phichit looked Seung-gil dead in the eyes. “If you try to escape, I’ll take you down again.”

Seung-gil liked his odds better with Yong at his side, but he was too stunned to move. He expected bars between them for this visit, but Phichit turned the key and Yong bounded into the cell. Seung-gil let his beloved husky tackle him to the ground, not even caring when Phichit turned the lock once more. 

Affectionate words gushed from Seung-gil’s mouth. Not since the last of Min-so’s original crew had abandoned him had he spoken Korean, but he settled easily into his native tongue. 

Yong licked his face, his hands, his arms, and his feet, not caring that it had been ages since his last bath. Yong’s coat bore a healthy shine, and he was no lighter than the last time Seung-gil saw him. Katsuki, it seemed, was true to his word.

Only then did Seung-gil remember he was being watched. He gazed out past the bars to find Phichit looking on with something akin to affection in his eyes. Something that left Seung-gil’s stomach turning circles, and not from hunger, for Phichit had brought with him more rations. 

Don’t be a fool, he chided himself. He carried no torch for this pirate, and he would not delude himself into thinking Phichit gave his well-being any concern.

They both loved animals, and the commonalities ended there. 

Seung-gil turned his eyes back to his beloved pup, stroking him from head to tail as if this was the last chance he’d have.

“Well?” Phichit entreated him. “I’ve lived up to my end of the bargain. I believe it’s your turn, Captain Lee.”

Seung-gil shot upright, mood darkened by the sound of his name. Yong growled and took an aggressive stance. How insulting, to be called Captain when he had no ship, no pack. And where had Phichit learned his name?

“A seaman in the Kaptain’s employ knew one of your old crew. I’ll not be naming names, except for yours, Seung-gil.” 

Seung-gil snarled and Yong followed suit.

“How do you think I got your dog to come down here?” Phichit challenged him. “I only had to drop your name and he reverted to a puppy. Perhaps I don’t even need your help.”

Yong snapped his jaw at Phichit, and this time, Katsuki’s first mate did flinch.

“It’ll take more than my name to bring them to heel,” Seung-gil snarled. Yong’s low, sustained growl rumbled through the brig. “You’ll lose more than your meat if you cross my huskies.”

Phichit raised his arms in a surrender, essentially showing his belly. Submissive. “We already have a deal, Seung-gil. I mean no threat. I only want your dogs to stop chasing my hamsters and destroying the ship.”

Yong’s growl tapered off as Seung-gil’s anger waned. Phichit losing his meat was one thing, but Seung-gil didn’t want hamster blood on his hands.

Finally, he spoke, once more in his native Korean. “Sit.” Yong dropped his haunches to the floor, tail resuming a contented wag. “Lie down.” His dog complied without hesitation.

Phichit’s eyebrows shot up. “What language is that?”

“Theirs,” Seung-gil muttered, switching back to the tongue he shared with Phichit. “Huskies bore easily. Give them nothing to do and they will destroy everything.”

He had given away too much—Phichit hadn’t earned this knowledge. But if it saved a hamster’s life, it was worth it.

“Sit,” Phichit repeated with surprising accuracy. “Lie down.”

“Good,” said Seung-gil in spite of himself. “Make up games for them. Tire them out.”

Phichit swiped his fringe aside so that Seung-gil might see his wrinkled brow. “But how?” 

“You’re clever,” he said, turning back to Yong. “Figure something out.” 

“That wasn’t our deal!” Phichit retorted, jaw falling open.

“Leave Yo—this one with me.” What was it about Phichit that loosened his lips so? “Perhaps I’ll tell you more.”

Phichit shook his head. “The Kaptain will notice if I keep him here much longer. He never forgets a dog. And they are well-fed on deck, so Cook will notice if I take extra food and drink.”

Seung-gil blinked, glad he had only given his face to Phichit in profile. He couldn’t process the news that Phichit was feeding him from his own rations and not just taunting him with his meat?

“I’ll bring you another dog tomorrow,” Phichit promised. 

“The smallest female,” he said nearly cutting Phichit off. Bada. He had no favorites among his pack, but Bada was the one he wanted to see next. 

Phichit chuckled. “Very well.”

Loathe as he was to part with Yong, he couldn’t bear the thought of depriving any his dogs of food and water.

Water.

Had Katsuki cracked the secret of his invention? To keep as many dogs as he did, Katsuki had to have a way of providing fresh water, but it couldn’t be as efficient as Seung-gil’s purification device. 

“And the dogs have water?” Seung-gil asked cautiously.

“Aye,” said Phichit with equal caution. “We’ve enough for another fortnight at sea and then some.” 

Ah. If they had the device they couldn’t operate it, and they’d be making port soon. Two bits of free information. Three, really, though he’d long suspected Phichit was a poor liar. 

“Then take him back,” Seung-gil said, pressing his forehead to Yong’s one last time. They’d be reunited soon enough, because he had the beginnings of a plan.

“No escape attempt?” Phichit said, once he had Yong and the door was locked. “I’m disappointed.”

Where was he going to go? Overboard? But instead of posing rhetorical questions, Seung-gil strode to the bars and looked Phichit dead in the eyes. “Phichit,” he drawled, “why waste the energy when you’re going to let me out?” 

Phichit gasped, his pupils dilating just like Seung-gil knew they would. 

“Is that so?” Phichit countered. But his retort lacked bite. Yes, this plan would work perfectly.

Still, when Phichit swallowed, Seung-gil found himself unable to tear his eyes away from his throat. 

This plan would work, but these were the most treacherous waters he had ever sailed.

And thus it went: Phichit brought the dog he requested each day, and Seung-gil offered a tip here, a bit of Korean there. Soon, Phichit could form sentences and introduce himself, feats that had nothing to do with training dogs.

It was all to build rapport, Seung-gil told himself, even as the sound of his native tongue from Phichit’s lips charmed his ears and stirred his belly. 

He had never felt the need for another’s comfort or company before. Surely it was the captivity playing tricks on his mind. Seung-gil had heard tell of prisoners growing attached to their captors, even consumed it in literature in more private moments. A harmless fantasy and nothing more, he reasoned. Besides, those tales usually involved shackles and there were none here. 

Moreover, he was the one seducing his captor. Phichit brought him books, a blanket, clean cloth to scrub his teeth, and yes, even his delectable meat. Longer and longer his visits stretched until Seung-gil could have almost fooled himself into thinking the two of them friends.

He knew better. Phichit did not leave the cell unlocked and Seung-gil did not trust him.

But he didn’t trust himself, either. Not when his pulse quickened every time their hands brushed while stroking that day’s dog, nor when he and Phichit lingered so close to each other that their thighs touched and the heat sent a thrill down his spine. He didn’t trust himself because he had already taught Phichit every single dog’s name and personality, and because his stomach fluttered every time Phichit giggled. Given Seung-gil’s pitiful attempts to speak Phichit’s native Thai, giggling happened a lot. 

Phichit’s lips were looser, too. He told Seung-gil what day it was, and what time of day, for he visited more than once a day now. Seung-gil knew all 27 of Phichit’s hamsters by name and favorite seed, and he knew that Katsuki was a little too interested in the exploits of the notorious Captain Vik. 

They had drank rum from the same cup and sang shanties until they were sharing breath as well as drink. Phichit had taken his leave before they were too tempted to taste the rum on each other’s lips—but not before Seung-gil had pilfered the dagger Phichit kept strapped to his thigh. 

Phichit wasn’t the only one leaving himself wide open. Touching Phichit’s thigh even to steal a dagger had left Seung-gil too dazed to sleep a wink that night. 

Phichit had to have noticed the missing dagger, but he couldn't stay away. Sometimes it felt like only minutes passed before he snuck down to the cell again to tell Seung-gil one more thing, smile at him one more time, and cast one more longing gaze to the egress. 

“I wish I could take you up there with me.”

Yes, his plan was working, but Seung-gil couldn’t pretend he didn’t enjoy Phichit’s company. 

To make matters worse, Seung-gil trusted himself even less when he was alone. His idle thoughts drifted to Phichit far more than he liked, and he had lost count of how many times his hands had followed his thoughts down that dangerous path, wondering if Phichit was doing the same thing above him, wondering if they might do it together.

Chapter Text

The Vicchan would be making port soon, and when Seung-gil wasn’t consorting with Phichit, he was plotting. Now that the dogs were more active, they’d be needing more water ahead of schedule. Katsuki would do anything for his dogs, and if Seung-gil had calculated correctly, in just two more days he could use his water purification device as leverage to bend the already pliant Phichit to his every whim. The dogs wouldn’t go even an hour without water, and he could escape with his pack and his parrot once they touched land.

Sex would undoubtedly seal the deal, and Phichit would be more than willing. Just that morning Seung-gil had bent over to pick up the length of rope he and Cho had been using for tug of war. Upside down and through his legs, he’d glimpsed Phichit watching him with hungry eyes, parted lips, and curled toes. 

And yet, something held Seung-gil back. Several things. If he didn’t trust himself now, he certainly wouldn’t be of any sounder mind in the throes of passion.

There was also the matter of his inexperience. He had never known another’s touch, and no amount of fantasizing about asking Phichit to be gentle with his virgin loins would teach him anything useful. 

But there was more to it—the biggest problem of all. He couldn’t sleep with Phichit under false pretenses. 

Some pirate he was. More like a sentimental fool out of one of those silly romance serials he’d inherited along with Min-so’s ship—also useless. Seung-gil had never owned a bodice, and though he couldn't be sure, he would wager that Phichit didn’t wear one under his linens, either. 

Moreover, the protagonists of those stories were invariably women, and any knowledge he might have gleaned of female erogenous zones was discarded as unnecessary. Those heroines never seemed to do much to pleasure their strapping male conquerors, so the only practical techniques the books had to offer were those of seduction. 

That left him between a wall and a hard...well, at least Seung-gil knew how he liked to be touched. Phichit couldn’t be that different.

But navigating his moral compass was much stickier.

He would do this without sex. After all, they hadn’t even kissed yet.

And we aren’t going to, he told himself.

He reminded himself again when Phichit showed up with a wink, more ale, and a dry, slightly brown section of lime. 

“Fancy a squeeze?” Phichit asked, twisting to present his ass along with the lime. 

Seung-gil reminded himself once more for good measure. No kissing.

“I’m afraid it’s not terribly juicy,” Phichit said, licking his own finger. “The lime, that is. You’ll have to suck on it. The lime.”

No kissing.

“Suck on it?” Seung-gil repeated.

Phichit grinned, slipping into his cell and leaving it, not for the first time, unlocked. But it was hard to focus on the open door when something he wanted more stood right in front of him. What good would freedom do if they would just throw him back in the brig? That was how he rationalized it. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have any rum,” Phichit said, placing the tankard on the floor. “But I thought we might share the last of the lime.”

This was all there was? Port had to be close indeed, for Seung-gil had sailed long enough to know how to prevent scurvy. He preferred raw fish livers himself, but this gesture made fruit seem delectable. If this was honestly the last of the lime—and it sure looked like it—that meant Phichit was, once again, sharing his precious treasure. His booty.

And Seung-gil desperately wanted a squeeze.

“Are you sure?” Seung-gil asked, gulping in a futile attempt to shrink the lump in his throat.

Phichit nodded, never breaking eye contact. “Things are becoming...tense upstairs. We’re still days out from port.”

“Phichit,” Seung-gil pressed his hand to Phichit’s chest. Never before had he touched anyone so intimately. “I have to tell you something.” 

“Yes?” Phichit glanced down at Seung-gil’s hand, then back up to his lips.

“I have a—”

Phichit cut him off with a passionate kiss, so hard Seung-gil staggered back a step. He’d kissed a man in a tavern before, just a drunken press of lips, but it was nothing like this. Pulling Phichit closer with a hand to his lower back, Seung-gil steadied himself so he could return the kiss with all the vigor Phichit deserved. 

Fisting Phichit’s thin shirt (with no bodice beneath, only tight, tempting muscles) earned him a soft moan, and Seung-gil slid both hands to Phichit’s hips, bringing them flush against his own. Unbothered by the grime and mats, Phichit ran his fingers through Seung-gil’s hair—he’d had no idea his scalp could tingle like that. Seung-gil longed for a bath, but only a bath with Phichit would do, and the fantasy inspired him to tug once more at Phichit’s clothes.

“Hold on,” Phichit gasped, jerking away. “Wait. I need to tell you something, too.”

“Me first,” said Seung-gil, eyes trained on Phichit’s lower lip. “I…”

Phichit inhaled, pulling that lip taut with his teeth, exactly like he had done to Seung-gil’s moments ago. “Yes?” 

They were both pirates, and pirates fought dirty. 

“I don’t like limes,” Seung-gil whispered, still entwined with Phichit.

Lips curling up in a smile, Phichit produced the lime in one hand and said, “I’ve a trick to help you swallow.” He held the lime between his teeth and raised his eyebrows in invitation.

True to his word, citrus did taste better from his lips, especially chased with ale and another kiss. One more drink and Seung-gil might have shirked off the guilt, but the last of the ale on Phichit’s tongue was too potent a reminder.

“What were you going to say?” Seung-gil asked, retreating to arm’s length. 

Phichit’s eyes clouded over with more than lust. “I forgot.” 

They both knew it was a lie. 

It was even harder than usual for Seung-gil to sleep that night, torn between guilt and fantasy. 

Tomorrow. He would tell Phichit about the water tomorrow. 

But when Seung-gil woke, it was not Phichit who waited for him but Katsuki, in full pirate regalia, no less. It might have been more intimidating if Phichit hadn’t confessed that the Vicchan itself was essentially a roundabout love letter to Captain Vik.

“Awfully comfortable for a prisoner,” Katsuki muttered. 

Seung-gil scowled. So this was what Phichit wanted to tell him. He had squealed to his “Kaptain” and now Seung-gil was in for real torture. 

“Crispino,” Katsuki grumbled under his breath. “I told her to keep you alive, not put you up in a damn palace.”

Who the hell was Crispino? Was she the quartermaster Phichit had mentioned?

It didn’t matter. Whether Phichit had spilled or not, Seung-gil would show no weakness. Rising to his full height, almost as tall as Katsuki, he met his glare.

But despite Katsuki’s intimidating posture, concern and not malice filled his eyes. “I need your help.”

The dogs, Seung-gil thought. Katsuki would only ever come to him about the dogs. This wasn’t the plan—the plan was to sway Phichit, and for Phichit to convince Katsuki because Phichit excelled at talking. They had been crossing each other the entire time; had Seung-gil been outmatched?

Katsuki went on, pacing next to the bars with a swagger to his step. “Iglesia tells me you’ve done the impossible.”

Who the hell was Iglesia?

“Aye, I knew your huskies were beautiful, but I had no idea the depths of sublime booty lying in wait on the ample decks of the Almavivo.” Katsuki stopped, turned to face him. “The device.”

Seung-gil cocked one eyebrow, silently asking, What of it?

“Why not take it to market?” Katsuki stroked his chin. “A miracle like that would make you a fortune.”

“I don’t share,” growled Seung-gil, aiming to shock Katsuki with the force of his voice. In truth, he just wasn’t motivated by coin.

“Nor do I,” Katsuki shot back. “But you no longer have a say in the matter.”

“Oh?” Seung-gil folded his arms across his chest. “You know how to use it?”

“You bloody well know I wouldn’t be down here if I did,” snapped Katsuki.

Of course he’d known, but it felt good to make him say it.

“I’m not going to beg, Lee.”

Phichit must have talked, because everyone knew his name now.

“What do I get out of it?” Seung-gil countered.

“Your dogs get to drink fresh water,” Katsuki growled, his nostrils flaring. 

One corner of Seung-gil’s mouth quirked up on its own accord. Katsuki still didn’t see the Huskies as his own.

Katsuki let out a grunt, catching himself. “Slip of the tongue. My dogs.”

The smirk faded. Seung-gil didn’t have the upper hand. He had already given up his ship and his freedom for his pack. Could he really convince Yuuri he might let even one dog suffer?

The Silent Wolf act almost always worked, so he kept his mouth shut and his face stoic.

“You’re in no position to bargain,” Katsuki went on, though the desperate edge to his voice said otherwise. 

Seung-gil did not reply, didn’t even acknowledge him. 

It worked. Katsuki seethed, close to bursting, but Seung-gil revealed nothing.

“If a single dog goes thirsty I’ll slit your throat, so talk!” The word burst from Katsuki’s mouth with all the force of a cannon. He slammed the bars as punctuation, throwing his full weight behind both hands.

Seung-gil spoke, cool and utterly still in the face of Katsuki’s panicked rage. “I will tell you. On the deck. With a guarantee of safe passage to port.”

“You will tell me here!” Katsuki bellowed. “I promise nothing!”

Seung-gil took in a deep breath through his nose. He might be soft around Phichit, but Seung-gil was still a pirate to be feared. Deathly calm, he turned to Katsuki. He spoke in a low voice, jaw held high, eyes narrowed. 

“Release me,” he withdrew the dagger he had stolen from Phichit, “or I slit my own throat.” 

Katsuki froze, and Seung-gil jutted his chin toward the ceiling. He pressed the blade to his neck. The keen edge stung—he’d drawn blood. He should have known Phichit the type to spend hours honing his knife.

“Very well,” Katsuki growled. “You shall have your release.”

Seung-gil lowered the blade, examining the slim trail of blood running from edge to hilt. What would Phichit think?

“But you’ll not be leaving the sight of my most trusted guard,” Katsuki scoffed. “And he won’t hesitate to bring you to your knees.”

With that, Katsuki stormed upstairs, his coat billowing behind him.

So Seung-gil was to be under guard? No matter. He could sneak away when they reached port if Katsuki tried to doublecross him. Getting his dogs out would be another matter, but he’d think of something.

Maybe Phichit would run away with him.

Seung-gil shook off his delusion. No matter how Phichit doted on him, it was all deception. Phichit’s loyalties lay with his “Kaptain” alone, and Seung-gil’s loyalties lay with himself.

That they wanted to lie with each other was irrelevant.

Seung-gil passed the time twirling the knife in one hand, but the wound had long since clotted when the door creaked open once more. 

“I’ve been wondering what happened to that knife,” said Phichit, his voice as warm as Seung-gil had ever heard it. 

Did he know? Was this a normal visit? Was Katsuki’s deal a bluff?

Phichit turned the key and opened the door. “I’ve been charged with an important duty,” he said gravely. “From now on, I’m on you every moment of every day. Everything you do, you’ll do under me…” He winked. “Under my watchful eyes, I mean.”

Seung-gil’s mouth fell open. Phichit was to be his guard? Was Katsuki mad or did he just not know?

“I’ll be taking that,” Phichit snatched the dagger from his frozen hands. But one look at Seung-gil up close erased his smile. “Oh, Seung-gil, tell me you didn’t.”

“What?” Seung-gil raised a hand to cover his own neck. 

Phichit closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He stepped back, widening his stance to make a big show of reholstering his dagger. “I’ll have you know that neck of yours has become rather precious to me.”

Precious? Seung-gil raised an eyebrow. 

“Much as I love your scars—” Seung-gil cut Phichit off with a cough, and he explained, “Your shirt rides up when you wrestle your dogs. But I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to your lovely neck.”

It wasn’t the mention of hidden scars or concern for his neck that shocked Seung-gil.

Love was a word reserved for dogs and meat. Parrots, on a good day. Never people. Not even part of a person.

They hadn’t known each other long enough to like, let alone love.

Deception, all of it. Or so he told himself to quell the storm brewing in his gut. 

Deception, he told himself, as Phichit ran the back of his hand down Seung-gil’s neck, tracing the skin beside the wound. 

Deception, when he pulled Phichit closer for a slow, simmering kiss.

And he almost believed himself.

“We’ve all been staring at your miracle apparatus for weeks,” Phichit began once they broke apart. “And I’m dying to see how you use it.”

Realization shook Seung-gil to his core. He’d soon see the sea, the sky, his pack. His parrot. 

The door creaked. Phichit was three paces ahead, half out of the cell. He turned back and extended his hand. “Come. The horizon awaits.”

Seung-gil took his hand and followed. The first glimpse of sunlight spilled through the hatch, blackening his vision, obscuring everything but Phichit. Fresh sea air filled his lungs and he followed his horizon up the stairs. 

Chapter Text

Once they reached the ship’s surface, Phichit dropped his hand and turned back to whisper, “The Kaptain doesn’t know. Let’s keep it that way.”

Seung-gil nodded. Whether Phichit was lying to him or to Katsuki, he couldn’t be sure, but the ruse made some sense. Katsuki never would have placed him in Phichit’s charge had he known they were fond of each other. Unless he was in on the sham?

But the sea was calling his name and he could analyze no more. Shading his eyes with a hand (he missed his hat), he followed Phichit to the dock. Barking soothed his soul like no balm could and Seung-gil almost shook with happiness, eager for his huskies to come to him.

Except they didn’t.

Phichit called them off with a wave of his hand, heartbreak written in his eyes, and the dogs stayed away, whining softly.

Pride and jealousy spiked in Seung-gil and he turned to Katsuki at the helm. “Well?”

The rest of Katsuki’s crew gasped, perhaps stunned the Silent Wolf could speak. He didn’t turn around to see if Phichit was pretending to be shocked along with them.

Katsuki only jerked his head toward the stern where the purification device waited for him. Phichit led him to the back of the boat and Seung-gil got to work. A few crew members observed his progress, taking notes to guarantee Seung-gil’s obsolescence. He half-expected to be shot in the back when he finished, but the bullet didn’t come. 

“The dogs will have their water by sunfall on the morrow,” Seung-gil reported, his neck and arms surely sunburnt. 

Katsuki nodded once, then addressed Phichit. “Find a way to keep him busy. No dogs.”

“Aye, Kap’n.” Phichit saluted him, then dragged Seung-gil away before any of the crew could ask questions.

Seung-gil cast longing looks at every dog he passed until he found himself in Phichit’s quarters. It contained fewer hamsters than he thought it might, but that wasn’t the only surprise.

“Mambo!” Seung-gil exclaimed in spite of himself. 

His parrot flew from her perch to his shoulder. “NO!” she squawked, nuzzling his cheek affectionately. Seung-gil wiped away a tear from his eye before Phichit could see. He might not have had his pack, but he had a piece of his family.

“So that’s her name!” Phichit said. “You never told me.”

Seung-gil didn’t respond, too busy stroking Mambo’s bright feathers. She seemed well, and affection for Phichit pulsed through his stomach once more.

“She gets plenty of flight time, I promise you. But she seems to like it in here.”

“NO!” Mambo chirped in agreement.

“We’re working on that.” Phichit stepped closer and Mambo returned to her perch, leaving Phichit and Seung-gil standing chest to chest. 

They regarded each other, the room silent except for their beating hearts and Mambo’s soft refrain of “no, no, no.”

“So…” Phichit touched his shoulder, careful to avoid his sunburn. “Kap’n said to keep you busy. Do you want to talk or do you want to—”

“FUCK!” squawked Mambo. Seung-gil frowned, even though she had almost stolen his answer right out of his mouth.

Phichit broke into a grin. “Finally!”

Whether he was referring to Mambo’s new word or the implications behind it, Seung-gil couldn’t be sure, but the moment broke.

“You taught my parrot to swear?!” he demanded.

“Well, I’ve been trying to, but she never said the word until now!” Phichit chuckled. “She must really love you.”

There was that word again. Seung-gil winced. 

“Sorry,” said Phichit, pulling his hand away like his touch had elicited that reaction. “That burn looks pretty bad. How are you so pale, anyway?”

“I used to have a hat,” Seung-gil grunted.

“Right. Yuuri took your feathers off and burned it. But I’ve a salve somewhere.” He turned to rifle through a chest while Seung-gil surveyed his room. No fewer than six hamsters scurried about, meaning there were twice as many he couldn’t see. 

His eyes caught on an interesting vial by the bed—definitely not the salve.

“Here we are!” Phichit produced a small pot and waved his hand at Seung-gil. “Off with that shirt. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you twice.”

That was true; Seung-gil had been in the same shirt for far too long. He lifted it over his head, hissing when the rough cloth brushed the burn. Phichit was at his side in an instant to help him, but a strangled noise escaped his lips the moment the deed was done.

“Shiver me timbers,” he breathed. Seung-gil would have smacked him had Phichit not been staring at his bare torso, slack jawed and nigh drooling.

“Sunburn,” Seung-gil reminded him. 

“Right.” Phichit nodded and opened his salve, hands moving at a snail’s pace. “It’s just, you...your chest.”

Was he filthy? Repulsive? “What of it?”

Phichit dipped a finger into the salve and trailed it down the ridges of Seung-gil’s abdomen, though that part of him hadn’t seen the sun in years. “I want to walk that plank.”

“No.” Seung-gil’s response was automatic, and immediately parroted by Mambo.

Phichit pouted and guilt hit Seung-gil once more. 

“I didn’t mean—” Seung-gil stammered. Phichit wouldn’t have heard about Min-so’s grisly end, and though Seung-gil bore no attachment to his former captain the phrase still rattled him. “Don’t call me a plank.” 

“But I could chip a tooth on you,” Phichit whined, dipping his fingers once more into the jar. “Turn around.” He complied and Phichit groaned, “Oh, just sink me. You’re perfect.”

Seung-gil clicked his tongue. “My skin is on fire.”

“Mine, too,” Phichit murmured. He was standing so close that Seung-gil felt when he sprung out of his trance. “Oh, you meant your back!” And finally, Phichit put balm to burn.

Seung-gil sucked air in through his teeth at the cool sensation and Phichit’s hands trembled. Focus, Seung-gil thought, trying to keep silent. But he was powerless under Phichit’s soothing touch and words began to spill out. “Did you ask Katsuki to free me to your keep?”

“No,” Phichit replied, flattening his palms where Seung-gil’s neck met his shoulders. “I swear it.”

“NO!” repeated Mambo.

“D-did he tell you to flatter me for information in the brig?” Seung-gil gasped out, ignoring his parrot as Phichit trailed gentle fingers over his shoulder blades.

He increased pressure, eliciting another hiss from Seung-gil. Voice strained, Phichit said, “No, that was all me. But don’t tell me your intentions toward me were pure and noble.”

“My intention was to seduce you,” Seung-gil answered. He arched his back, nearly falling apart when he found Phichit just as eager as he was. Torture he could stand, but he was shameless putty in Phichit’s arms and it took all of his composure to keep talking. “I wanted you to promise me anything and everything to earn my allegiance. I wanted you on your knees, begging for my help.”

“I was trying to seduce you for intel,” Phichit admitted, coiling his arms around Seung-gil, so close that he couldn’t be sure if the pounding in his ribs was his own heart or Phichit’s. 

“And now?” Seung-gil had no idea how he formed the words.

Slowly, Phichit lowered his hands to Seung-gil’s hips and started to set a rhythm to their movements. “Now,” he began, with a rasp Seung-gil hadn’t heard from him before, “I just want to make you beg.”

Seung-gil gasped, heat and emotions cresting within him, threatening to burst through the dam he had built up over so many years alone. So many nights in the brig. It was time to let go. “Please, Phichit…”

“Please what?”

“Take me.” Startled by his own desperation but too aroused to care, Seung-gil strung it all together. “Please take me, Phichit.”

“As you wish,” Phichit murmured. His mouth seared the back of Seung-gil’s neck with all the fire of the sun and none of the sting.

Unable to deprive himself any longer, Seung-gil spun around, never leaving Phichit’s arms. He took Phichit’s face in his hands and kissed him, open-mouthed and desperate. All the heat, nay, all the blood in his body rushed his nethers, leaving his pants feeling impossibly tight.

But another matter thrust its way to the front of his mind, and Seung-gil forced a hand between them so that he might address it. Phichit blinked up at him under long eyelashes and Seung-gil nearly swooned at the sight: gray eyes dark as the night sky, face flushed and hungry.

“You should know that I’ve never,” Seung-gil swallowed, “been taken before.”

“More of a taker?” asked Phichit, a glint in his eyes. “A pirate through and through.”

Seung-gil looked away. “I, um, haven’t done that, either.” There it was. Would Phichit think him less of a pirate? Less of a man?

Phichit took a step back, stunned. “You mean...you’ve never scuttled your boat in a tight channel?”

“No,” muttered Seung-gil, eyes narrow and cheeks burning. Was this Phichit’s way of lightening the mood or was Seung-gil’s inexperience a joke to him?

“And no one’s ever pillaged your shores?”

“No.”

“NO!” Mambo echoed. Seung-gil couldn’t believe he had ever missed his parrot, or that he thought Phichit might take him seriously.

Phichit, for his part, was undeterred. “Your treasure remains unplundered?” 

“Stop.” Seung-gil could put up with no more. He tried to walk away but Phichit grabbed his hand. 

“Wait,” Phichit said, his voice softer. He pulled Seung-gil back to him and reached for his chin with tender fingers. “I’m sorry. It’s just...can I tell you a secret?”

Seung-gil answered with a resigned sigh.

Standing on his tiptoes, Phichit raised a shaking hand to brush a lock of Seung-gil’s hair behind his ear. “I’m no captain,” he whispered, “but you’d be my first mate, if you know what I mean.”

Seung-gil did not; Phichit was Katsuki’s first mate. He stared blankly at Phichit, confusion mingling with the ugly clash of lust and humiliation within him.

“Seung-gil.” The way his name dripped from Phichit’s honeyed lips almost made up for all of it. “No one’s ever raided my coffers, either.”

Realization finally dawned on him. Phichit’s ridiculous metaphors were an attempt to mask his nerves because he was just as green and nervous as Seung-gil. “Really?” 

Phichit nodded. “I just assumed, since you were a captain…”

“And you’re a filthy pirate,” Seung-gil countered, still trying to wrap his head around Phichit’s confession.

“Who are you calling filthy? You’ve been in a cell for weeks!”

Seung-gil glared at him. Was he really going there? 

“You’re right, you’re right!” Phichit read his mind once more and raised his arms in defense. “It’s a good thing we’re both filthy pirate virgins.”

When he put it that way, it didn’t sound so bad. Smaller but just as warm, Seung-gil returned Phichit’s smile and laced their fingers together. If Phichit ever tried to quote him, he would deny it, but he leaned in close enough that Mambo wouldn’t hear and asked, “What say we sail these uncharted waters together?”

Phichit pulled back with a wolfish grin and wide eyes. “Well, blow me d–”

Kissing Phichit and ripping off his shirt—much flimsier than a bodice, Seung-gil wagered—shut him up, at least until their hands ventured below deck. Then, sounds and words flowed freer than tavern wine as they navigated the heady seas of passion and pleasure. 

Neither noticed Mambo adding her refrain, but the crew of the Vicchan did.

“Is Phichit torturing the prisoner?” Guang Hong wondered aloud, horrified at the shrieks coming from Phichit’s quarters.

“I’m sure it’s just the parrot,” Leo replied. “Phichit’s been trying to teach her more words.”

Guang Hong listened a moment, then brightened. “Oh, I think she’s saying yes! That’s an improvement!”

“Wow,” Leo remarked. “She really likes that word.” 

“She learned Phichit’s name, too!” Minami piped up. “Says it funny, though. Bit of a stutter.”

The three boys shrugged and returned to their duties.

Back in the first mate’s quarters, Seung-gil had his release just as Katsuki promised. So did Phichit. Whether Katsuki knew of the charade or not, he probably hadn’t meant it that way. 

Still catching his breath, Phichit rolled to Seung-gil’s side. “Silent Wolf,” he scoffed, mock-serious. “I don’t know who was louder, you or the parrot!”

“YES! YES!”

“The parrot,” Seung-gil deadpanned into Phichit’s bunk, post-coital bliss slipping away. He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. “Make her stop.”

“She doesn’t listen to me,” Phichit reminded him. 

Except when he taught her to swear. But Seung-gil turned to face his parrot anyway and issued a firm command. “Mambo. No.” 

“YEEEES!” Mambo shrieked.

Phichit shook his head. “Look on the bright side. She has a bigger vocabulary now.”

That was not the point. “Mambo,” Seung-gil tried again, covering his ears this time. “Phichit and I are trying to sleep.”

“PHICHIT! PHI-PHI-PHICHIT! YES!” 

All of the blood drained from Seung-gil’s face.

“Aww,” Phichit cooed, “she sounds just like you.” His proud, contented sigh turned into a yelp when Seung-gil shoved him off the bed. 

“Hey!” Phichit popped back up, indignant. “What was that for?”

“All that talk of plundering my treasure,” Seung-gil muttered. Never mind that the actual plundering had surpassed all of his fantasies in the brig. 

“And what a treasure it was,” sighed Phichit. “You can plunder mine next time. My booty is still up for the—”

Seung-gil growled through his teeth. “Finish that sentence and I’ll throw you overboard.”

“Brilliant!” Phichit exclaimed. “I could use a bath.” He jabbed a finger into Seung-gil’s ribs as he climbed back into bed. “You should join me. You smell terrible.”

Seung-gil rolled over with a hmph, but he didn’t resist when Phichit slid into bed beside him, nor did he mind when Phichit molded himself to his back. 

It helped that Mambo had gone quiet, and that Phichit’s bed was so much more comfortable than the prison cell floor. 

“Seung-gil?” Phichit whispered, just as sleep began to take its hold. 

“Mm?”

Phichit didn’t answer right away. “What will you do when we make port?” 

For once it wasn’t a euphemism, just a good question, and one Seung-gil was too tired to ponder now. Phichit didn't pry any further, but he did drape an arm around Seung-gil, and only once Seung-gil clasped his hand and squeezed it could he fall asleep. 

Chapter Text

As promised, the dogs (and the crew) had a surplus of fresh water by the following night. Rum flowed with abandon long into the night, so no one noticed when Seung-gil and Phichit slipped away to delight in each other once more.

Phichit made sure to leave the parrot with Leo this time.

Once they had professed their superlatives and Phichit had settled in Seung-gil’s arms, Seung-gil gave voice to the simpler of the two confessions swirling in his mind.

“I miss my dogs.” Watching them play with the crew all day, unable to interact with them himself was almost as bad as being in the cell alone again. 

“Oh,” Phichit whispered. “Of course. I can only imagine.”

He said no more, and Seung-gil’s other confession remained half-finished in his head. 

Not even bone-deep satisfaction lulled them to sleep that night. They lay awake for what seemed like hours, running idle fingers over each other’s skin for subconscious comfort.

“Run away with me,” Seung-gil said, possessed by rum or maybe just by Phichit. “We’ll sail the world together, with my pack and yours.” He was already used to watching for hamsters while he walked. 

“And Mambo?” Phichit asked.

Seung-gil frowned. “Possibly.” Phichit’s scandalized gasp made him relent. “Fine.”

Phichit nuzzled his nose into Seung-gil’s chest—softer now that they had gotten that bath together (and in fresh water rather than in the sea). Moments like these were too good to be true, and Seung-gil knew what Phichit would say before he opened his mouth. 

“You know I can’t do that,” Phichit whispered. “I can’t turn my back on my captain.”

Of course. The bond between lovers was fickle and fleeting, connected for but a moment in time and severed the next, but Katsuki was a proper captain and Phichit his loyal and true first mate. 

Seung-gil was merely a pack leader with no pack. 

“I understand,” said Seung-gil. With a silent sigh, he turned his thoughts back to his plan. “You should know that when we reach port, I’m taking my dogs with me. I’ll make sure it can’t be traced back to you.” 

“What about your device?”

That wasn’t Phichit’s way of begging him to stay. Ridiculous, Seung-gil chided himself, the very idea. Out loud, he said, “Keep it. I can make another.” He might have to stay on land a while first, working odd jobs and stealing coin and materials, but he hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. Perhaps another ship would take him on as navigator, loathe though he was to find yet another crew.

Phichit gazed up at him, dreamy-eyed. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

Seung-gil dismissed the compliment with a click of his tongue. What did it matter?

“I’ll risk it,” Phichit swore, tightening his fist around nothing. “I’ll distract Yuuri so you can escape with your huskies.”

“No.” Seung-gil would not allow Phichit to commit mutiny in his name. Phichit may have saved his captain from the noose years ago, but losing Katsuki even one of his precious pups wouldn’t earn him any mercy and Seung-gil couldn’t bear the thought of any of Phichit’s precious blood on his own hands. 

“You don’t know Yuuri like I do. He’s not some bloodthirsty scourge of the seas. He’s just…” Phichit sighed. “He took it hard when he lost Vicchan. His first dog, I mean. He’s been trying to fill that hole ever since. Surely you can understand. And he still thinks he needs to fill his sister’s boots. But he’s got the best heart of anyone I know.”

Seung-gil couldn’t imagine living in the shadow of the Kat's Paw, and if Phichit trusted Katsuki, he had to have some redeeming qualities. 

“Maybe he should go raid Captain Vik’s coffers,” Seung-gil muttered. “See if that fills his hole.” A proper scuttling had certainly tamed his inner wolf—not that he would say any of that to Phichit.

Phichit already knew.

“That’s what I told him! He’s just so stubborn. But you don’t get to be captain without being stubborn, eh?” Phichit smiled and nudged Seung-gil, like that was supposed to encourage him.

“I wouldn’t know,” Seung-gil muttered. “I was a rotten captain.”

Phichit untangled himself and shifted to a more comfortable position, chewing on that thought. “Look on the bright side,” he offered. “You get another shot.”

But he wasn’t facing Seung-gil when he said it, and Seung-gil didn’t need to see his face to know he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Retiring early meant waking early, but after being locked in the brig, every sunrise felt brand new. Seung-gil had never enjoyed a walk as much as the one he took that morning, next to Phichit, stopping to pet every dog he could get away with. He had to savor these moments while he still could. 

A high voice broke the peace. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s the wee ickle schnookums with the softest fur and the pwettiest eyes?”

Seung-gil could scarcely believe his ears. “Is that—”

“Yuuri,” Phichit whispered. Grinning, he put a finger to Seung-gil’s lips and pointed toward the mast in front of them. They ducked behind it, peeking out to watch as Yuuri and Jimin wrestled. Yuuri scratched behind his ears and Jimin licked Yuuri’s arms, both of them in a state of bliss. In an instant, Yuuri’s euphoria turned to tears and he pressed his forehead to Jimin’s.

“You’re just so beautiful,” Yuuri said, almost too quiet to hear. “Vicchan would have adored you.”

Seung-gil could look on no longer, and he turned back to Phichit, who was watching him.

“You’re not so different, you two,” Phichit said. 

Seung-gil could concede that they both liked dogs and Phichit, but he only hmphed in reply.

Too soon, it was time to drop anchor. Phichit and Seung-gil spent the hours before in Phichit’s quarters, making love until their bodies could take no more. That blessed ache would fade, but nothing would ease the pain in Seung-gil’s heart. He longed to be with his dogs, his family, but losing the only human companion he had ever cared for seemed almost too steep a price to pay.

It wasn’t just Katsuki and Phichit who were good with dogs aboard the Vicchan, he noted as the crew prepared for time on land. On Seung-gil’s previous vessels, the sailors couldn’t disembark fast enough, seeking only the company of drink and flesh during their shore leave. On Katsuki’s ship, most of the preparations went to ensuring the dogs would get the most out of the stay. No one left until all tasks were completed and all dogs were accounted for. Teamwork. Harmony. Strange concepts for pirates.

Grimly, Seung-gil acquiesced that there were far worse ships out there, and far worse captains to ship with.

“Safe passage,” Katsuki grunted when they reached the gangplank. “As promised.”

Seung-gil didn’t answer. 

It had taken creative persuasion, but Phichit kept his promise, too, heading for the tavern well ahead of his captain. Katsuki still knew nothing of their fraternization. As best as Seung-gil could tell, no one knew, barring the parties involved (and Mambo). 

Pieces of his half-baked rescue plan floated through his mind, interspersed with distracting visions of Phichit in rapture both fore and aft, Phichit laughing as he played with Yong, Phichit sharing his precious meat, Phichit and his terrible pirate puns, Phichit, Phichit, Phichit...

Would it really cost him that much pride to keep his dogs and his lover? 

Did it even matter? Katsuki already had a navigator. His deckhands had mastered the water purification system (though Seung-gil wished them luck if it ever broke down), and Phichit was a quick study in dog whispering.

He was useless to Katsuki. Just another mouth to feed. 

Shoulders sagging and sunburn peeling, Seung-gil stepped onto the gangplank. It felt more like walking the plank to his death than to shore.

Seung-gil was no captain. He didn’t understand crew dynamics, loyalty, or fairness, and the one human he had just begun to figure out was about to slip through his fingers. 

A squawk startled him from his melancholy, and Mambo landed on his shoulder. 

“PHI-PHI-PHICHIT!” she shrieked in his ear.

Pride be damned, she was right. He’d stay on with Katsuki even if meant he had to swab the poop deck all day—it would be worth it, to have his dogs and his lover. 

He had to try. 

Picking up the pace to a run, he made for the tavern where Phichit would be staying. Mambo took to the skies, calling his name in her shrill soprano. 

With her help, it didn’t take long to find him. Phichit had only just made it to Ciao Ciao’s tavern, four dogs and an assortment of hamsters in tow. 

“Mambo?” Phichit looked up at the heavens first, his eyes following the parrot until she took her perch on Seung-gil’s shoulder, mere paces away from Phichit. 

The dogs flocked to Seung-gil, nuzzling his open palms until his heart sang, but he only had eyes for Phichit. 

“PHICHIT!” screeched Mambo. “FUCK! YES!”

“What are you doing here?” Phichit asked.

Seung-gil stepped forward and the dogs shuffled to follow him. “I submit to your Kaptain.”

“Shouldn’t you be telling him that?” 

“No,” Seung-gil said. He took a deep breath. Time to make Phichit proud. “I want to share my meat with you. I want to hoist your colors and navigate your storms. I want you to”—saying this one pained him, but it would be worth it—”batten down my hatches and plunder my booty.” 

“Oh, Seung-gil!” Phichit clutched his heart like he was hearing sweet nothings. 

“Aye, me hearty, I don’t care where we sail, so long as we sail together,” Seung-gil went on. “With our dogs, our hamsters, and our Mambo.”

“YES! YES!” 

Mambo and Phichit spoke at once, then Phichit pounced him and Mambo took flight to make room. Phichit threw his arms around Seung-gil’s shoulders, pouring all of his passion into his kiss. Dogs circled their feet and Mambo circled the sky above, letting out cries of joy as Seung-gil let his lips express what his words could not. 

“I have great news,” said Phichit, pulling away. “Just two nights ago, Yuuri was talking about how he wished you would stay and work with the dogs, help navigate, tell him more about your device...”

“What?!” Seung-gil recoiled, doubly dazed. It almost sounded like Katsuki liked having him around, but Katsuki had barely said a word to him.

“Oh, he just does his big, scary pirate act because you intimidate him,” Phichit said with a laugh and a wink. “Rum makes him talkative, not unlike someone I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Seung-gil asked, ignoring the parallel.

Phichit blinked, tears glistening in his eyes, and the sight had Seung-gil close to shedding tears of his own. “I thought you wanted your own ship, with your dogs. I couldn’t keep you to myself just because I’m in love with you.” Lifting his hand to brush his thumb over Seung-gil’s cheek, Phichit finished with, “That’s why I let you go.”

“I…” Seung-gil had never said the words poised on his tongue to any creature before, not out loud. But he had never met another creature quite like Phichit. Admitting his true feelings couldn’t be any worse than talking about his booty. Heart pounding, he covered Phichit’s hand with his own and confessed. “I’m in love with you, too.” 

The tear was halfway down his cheek before he felt it, and Phichit wiped it away. When Phichit smiled like that, Seung-gil couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Well, Seung-gil,” Phichit began, “what say we sail these uncharted waters together?”

As if waiting for this moment, Mambo swooped in, and Seung-gil decided to let her answer for him.

“FUCK!”

“Mambo,” Seung-gil groaned. “Say yes.”

“PHICHIT! PHI-PHI-PHICHIT!”

Before Seung-gil could make another futile attempt to correct her, Phichit curled a hand around the back of his neck and crashed their lips together once more, washing away Seung-gil’s ire even as his parrot squawked obscenities from above. Without (or in spite of) Mambo’s help, Phichit had gotten the message loud and clear. 

Dawn invariably turned to dusk and sunrise to sunset, but never again would Seung-gil lose sight of his horizon.