Hansel: Touch

Hansel had missed Calimport.

He hadn't realized it until they'd been pulling into port, and for a moment the ramshackle crew did what he said right for a change, and everything went smoothly as the ship slowed and the anchor stopped them. A familiar lurch. His body swayed automatically to compensate, and one of the passengers stumbled into him, and he caught himself laughing as he stabilized them. They didn't care for that too much.

But he was in a good fucking mood. He didn't think about Crunch's squawking, calling out orders in his voice as she glided through the rigging, replicating the names he called the swabbies to motivate them. Or Elitash smacking his shoulder as she headed over to the gangplank, pencil behind her ear and notebook in hand, headed off to restock the ship's supplies with a small army of grumbling crewmen trailing behind her. Or Serena brushing by him, meeting up with Hunter and heading off with a tiny wave to acknowledge him.

He thought about his captain, who came up alongside him and put a hand on his arm. It seemed like he was about to say something, and Hansel cut him off by sweeping him up, off his feet and into a kiss.

Mishka was pink when Hansel pulled away from him, which he was sure was just because of the harsh Calish sun.

“Successful voyage, Cap'n.”

“Yes, well.” Concern flickered across Mishka's face for a second -- then he cleared his throat and covered it. “I never had any doubt, Granger.”

Hansel wished Serena weren't dead so he could make a crack about her not leading them astray, but he wished she weren't dead for a lot of reasons. He put it out of his mind, sitting Mishka back on his feet and draping an arm around him. Goddamn, Hansel loved picking him up and holding him -- the way he relaxed in Hansel's arms, like he belonged there, like there was nowhere else he could possibly be more at home. He'd missed that. Missed it being easy and casual. They were getting there; he was getting there.

As the civilians filed off the ship, Hansel spotted Goro among them, like he thought he was going to get away without anyone noticing -- or he just intended to get off the ship, and wait for them on the dock. Either way, Hansel swiped him out of the crowd and dragged him over before he could escape, and if he had any complaints Hansel drowned them under another kiss. A little harder than the one he'd given Mishka. To last him -- both of them. It was goddamn adorable how flustered he'd get while still seeming game for anything.

Hansel would test that out later. Give him some time, not have him trapped on a ship. He kept thinking about the way Goro had pulled away in the water, then come back to him.

He set Goro down, next to Mishka, and mussed up his hair. “Have a good vacation, chatichi.”

Then he turned to disembark before Goro could respond -- assuming Mishka was likely keeping his busy anyway and waving over his shoulder.

To Mishka, he called, “Usual place.”

The tavern hadn't changed at all since the last time he'd been there, and he managed to not quite see the ghost of Corven sneering at him when she won at darts for something like the hundredth time in a row. They played every time they were in port. Elitash and Mishka had a regular table where they played cards, where the mirror behind the bar helped them hustle unsuspecting landlubbers out of enough gold for everyone to get completely plastered.

*The secret is to not win all the time,* Mishka had confided, sitting on Hansel's lap, legs crossed daintily, an arm around his neck, studying his cards. *That's when they get suspicious, and you get banned from the bar.*

*Maybe just don't cheat,* he'd suggested.

*We're pirates,* Hans.

He drank alone, for a while. Eyed the dartboard. It was looking dusty.

But everything was dusty in Calisham, and he waited for Mishka outside the tavern, enjoying the sun. Scooped him up into another kiss when he showed up.

“Missed you.”

Mishka grinned at him.

They walked arm-in-arm through the outdoor market, and Hansel bought him a parasol to shade his delicate skin from the sun, which he proceeded to not use because he was a deadly pirate captain, dammit, and Hansel prodded his already-reddening shoulder until he gave in. He picked up a few things for the others, too -- souvenirs, or Candlenight gifts. He hadn't decided yet. Managed to pick up something for Mishka when his back was turned.

As he mulled over what to get Goro, he wondered if it was strange to buy him a gift here, then leave with it. He could track Goro down again. Kind of wanted to anyway. The close quarters on the ship -- sharing a bed -- he'd gotten used to the little shit not being far out of arm's reach most of the time. Kind of missed him.

Same way it'd been with his crew -- not having them there felt like an absent limb. A missing tooth. A missing finger.

But he tugged Mishka against his side and kissed the top of his head and brushed it off. He thought about how goddamn lucky it was that Mishka hadn’t been aboard the Albatross. Hadn't been there that day. Hansel still had him, at least.

And a new crew. Who needed presents. Goro would have to wait for his until he got back to Skyport, because a good commander didn't show preferential treatment. Besides, he'd come here to be alone. He was probably sick of them by now.

Still, Hansel kept thinking about the way Goro would push himself into Hansel's arms. He'd been standoffish the entire time they'd known each other, even grimacing when Hansel moved to shield him from danger in combat, if he got too close. Hansel had never taken it personally. He recognized it. But it'd taken all of a day to break him down and make him want to be closer, to seek out Hansel's warmth, to fold against him in some instinctive way.

Something about the ship. About the adrenaline and fear on the island. Or the ocean itself. Goro wasn't quite acting like himself, and Hansel was going to leave it until he was sure it was … okay. That he wasn't taking advantage of something here.

He kept thinking about Goro looking up at him from leagues away, touching his face, saying he loved him and was going to help him.

Yeah. Not like himself at all. He'd been freaked out by Hansel's panic, like when he'd been hosted and terrified in the Basha warehouse. It was stress. Hansel wasn't going to hold him to the shit he'd said that night, before they'd gone back to bed and Hansel had curled into Mishka's chest, and Goro had slipped up against his back and kissed his shoulder before settling in. He wasn't going to think about it.

He had one night alone with Mishka in Calimport, the two of them close together in a small bed with a thin sheet, the window cracked to let in a breeze. Hansel roused early and kissed his sleeping husband awake, drowsy, still.

For the first time it seemed real. He didn't have that flash of confusion as he realized he wasn't in the past. He knew where he was, and when he was, and the present was fucking good. His crew was alive, if a little scattered, and he was going to see all of them again, but right now the only important thing was that he had Mishka, and he was going to keep having Mishka, dragon be damned.

Getting back to Skyport was jarring -- returning to it all at once, rather than over a long, steady journey. No more ghosts, not on Mishka's estate. Just the two of them, and Roddy and Ripley. Raef was off killing orcs, he assumed, and Larkin was off being a Basha. There was still shit to do, and he managed to keep himself busy and distracted.

He missed Calimport.

Thought about asking Mishka if he wanted to go back. Take their own vacation. Wake up to that arid breeze again. Actually carry his damn parasol and avoid getting sunburnt this time. Hansel would throw him over his shoulder and take him to the beach, toss him into the water and dive in after him, kiss him slow under the waves.

They'd stay out of Goro's hair. Hansel told himself this for two straight days before he realized that the reason he hadn't mentioned teleporting back to Calimport to Mishka was because he knew it wasn't fucking true. There was no chance he'd be able to keep away. Hansel could ignore the ghosts in the city, and he could sleep in Mishka's bed and enjoy Mishka's touch, again -- for a while -- but there was no way he was going to be so close to Goro and pretend like he wasn't.

And Goro wanted to be left alone. He'd crossed a sea to do it. Hansel was going to leave him alone.

He kept himself busy. Asked Roddy to teach him how to play the mandolin, once he'd gotten all of the old notes out and put them somewhere safer. Kept trying to track down Jonn, with no luck. Drank with Ripley. Saw Larkin a few times, in the city, and made himself not bother her -- he wanted to ask how she was doing but he didn't think she'd want to hear anything from him. She and Goro were friends. Maybe she'd come around again once he got home.

When he got home, Hansel wondered if he'd still share their bed. Hansel was eager to be off the estate, whether it was to the castle they were scouting or somewhere else -- anywhere else -- but he still found himself thinking about how nice it'd be to settle in on the couch in the library, prop his feet up, have Mishka against one side and Goro on the other. God, it was good enough to just have Mishka -- better than he'd remembered just to put an arm around him and pull him close and sigh against him contentedly -- but if he could have *both* --

He was being greedy, he decided. Nixie returned home, and it was a goddamn relief to see her safe. He hated himself for having not been there to protect her -- even though Mishka assured him that her family was no one he wanted to tangle with -- had difficulty letting her go once he'd grabbed her. She was so goddamn tiny. He could carry three of her if he had to. And Goro was -- well, he was head over heels for her, you could tell it by looking, and Hansel wasn't going to be the one to get in the way of that.

Some sailors, they had families in port and they had lovers at sea. Trapped like that, sometimes with no privacy to speak of, these things happened. People got desperate and lonely, or just bored, or the romance of sailing swept them up -- it had happened to him before. That was all. That was all. And that was fine -- Hansel had enjoyed the moments as they'd happened, and they were passed now.

Absently, he still thought about Goro looking up at him in the cove, flushed, daring him. How he'd looked underwater with the sun a halo behind him, before diving down to kiss Hansel, to choose to, to wrap around him. Clinging to him like he was dying to be touched once he'd realized it was an option.

If he still -- if he still looked at Hansel like that when he came back, like a starving animal. If he still stood close to him. If he still pushed his way under Hansel's arm and curled against him, like he belonged there and there was nowhere else he could possibly be more at home.

Well, fuck it. Hansel was going to kiss him either way. They'd figure it out from there.