#flint finally realizing he's made a little freak out of silver

[dlsintegration]

#JOHNSILVER: let him cook!

[blackmissfrizzle]

City Boy and His Country Girl- Part 2

Read Part 1

Characters: Erik Stevens x black!reader

Summary: Erik takes the reader to the shooting range and learns some interesting things.

Warnings: Language, a dash a violence, Fuckboi!Erik but mostly softboi!Erik, and mentions of smut

A/N: I’m loving this series, so I hope y’all enjoy!

Hanging out with Erik was a total shock. Back home you were used to people talking shit by dressing it up and making it seem like a compliment, but Erik, but Erik Stevens didn’t have no trouble speaking his mind.

If he didn’t like an idea you had for work it wasn’t a ‘Oh, it could be better.’ It was a ‘Texas, that shit fucking sucks. If you wanna beat them colonizers you need something better. Wake me up when you have something better.’

He had no filter on some of your outfits. “Y/N/N stop dressing like you about to go to the hoe down! This is New York City, dress like it!”

Sometimes you wanted to gouge his eyes out, but then you remembered whenever one of your coworkers insulted you, you didn’t break down and cry in the restroom, because Erik was already thickening your skin. You even found yourself snapping back at your coworkers when they tried you.

Then the self-defense training was a whole another beast! Erik was ruthless.  He trained you like you were gonna join the ghost operation, he was a part of in the Navy. It didn’t matter if you just threw up, your ass better be ready, his words, not yours.

Also, it was pure torture, but not because of the physical pain. It was because somehow someway Erik always ended up naked. His raised scars were a little jarring at first, but once you got used to them, it added to his appeal.

Erik was an Adonis, a Greek statute in the living flesh. Half of the time you got knocked on your ass because you were too busy gawking at his body. Sometimes it felt like he knew you were staring because he would just smirk at you.

And then those damn gym shorts he’d be wearing, do nothing to hide his dick print. And what you could tell from it was that it was nothing to play with.

Today he was teaching you a new lesson: how to shoot. Little did he know that you had expert marksmanship. Daddy-daughter bonding with your dad was spent hunting, fishing, and shooting. Erik Stevens was in for a surprise.

“Texas, you need to keep your legs shoulder width apart and keep your feet planted,” Erik instructed, sticking his leg in between yours, forcing you into the stance.

Having him this dangerously close to you made you tremble. His scent was intoxicating and having his hard body pressed against you made you want to lean back into him and stay there.

“Damn girl! You shaking like a damn leaf, you scared or something?” Erik joked, knowing him pressing himself against you had you shaking like that. Every time he trained you, he noticed the lust in your eyes. That’s why he always took off his shirt and wore his grey sweats. One time he caught you looking at his print when you thought he wasn’t paying attention and he made his dick jump to mess with you. The little gasp you made in reaction almost had you flat on the mat while Erik had your ankles up to your ears and deep in that puss.

“No,” you said, snatching the gun off the counter. “Can we start now,” you asked, annoyed at how easily Erik affected you.

Erik raised his hands in surrender. “Damn, my bad. Remember if you miss more than five, you gotta cook me some of your bomb ass fried chicken.” Erik reminded you of the bet before pressing the button.

The targets popped up instantly and for the first time in a while you felt like you were home. Effortlessly, you hit each bullseye, leaving you wanting for more.

Facing Erik, he was standing there slacked jaw. This was the first time you had him at a loss for words and you were gonna enjoy it. “Huh, you quiet now, Oakland,” you cuffed your hand around your ear. Teasing him some more you began crunk dancing in his space. “I can’t hear you, Stevens!”

Erik was doing his best not to laugh at your silliness. He still wanted to pretend that he was mad at you, but it was proving to be harder by the minute. “Girl calm your silly ass down! You had me go through all that, just for you to breeze through like you were the one in the military. What about my fried chicken? You know a nigga hungry!”

“Boy, stop being a cry baby,” you smacked your lips. “That’s what you get for assuming shit and I wasn’t gonna leave you hanging. I know them hoes ain’t feeding your greedy ass.”

Digging for his keys in his pocket, Erik grabbed your hand and rushed the two of you out the building. “Shit lets go then! A nigga hungry!”

“Ole greedy ass,” you mumbled, letting Erik shove you into his loud ass yellow, McLaren 570s.

--

Erik was tearing into his plate. The only time he got a home cooked meal was with Y/N or with his aunt and cousins, which was traditional Wakandan food. So when he got some soul food he had to savor it.

“So, Texas, tell me why you so good at shooting?” Erik asked you, when he finally stopped eating to drink some sweet tea.

“My daddy used to take me out back all the time and we practiced shooting. You should see me with a shotgun.”

“Makes sense,” Erik nodded his head, thinking on how you were raised in the south. “Y/N, lemme ask you something. Its been on my mind for a while.”

Dropping your fork of mashed potatoes, you responded with worry at the seriousness of Erik’s tone, “What is it, Erik?”

“You call anyone else daddy besides your dad?”

It took awhile to catch his drift, but when you did you threw a roll at his face, which he caught with his mouth. “Ewww, no! What the hell is wrong withch yo nasty ass?”

Erik busted out laughing, causing the roll to fall out of his mouth. He had inkling that you never did before, but he loved messing with you. “Awww, c’mon on ma, you ain’t have a nigga give you some dick that you couldn’t call him nothing but daddy?” He asked, licking his lips and tilting his head looking at you curiously.

You couldn’t handle the warm feeling Erik was causing to your little bundle of nerves, so a quick diversion was needed. Resorting to your old childish antics, you stuck a finger in each of your ears and yelled, “La la la la la la la la la la.”

Taking hold of each of your wrists, Erik pulled your fingers out of your ears. “Girl grow up! Why you always shying away from talking about sex?”

“Because it’s unlady like and you not my man, Mr. Stevens.” Talking sex was a regular with your friends on girl’s night and it could get graphic, but something told you talking about sex with Erik was whole another thing.

Off rip, Erik sensed you were an undercover freak, you just needed the right person to bring it out. “Man, I don’t need to be your man to give you that good daddy dick,” Erik said, smiling, clasping his hands behind his head so you could admire his biceps.

Rolling your eyes, you got up from your seat and grabbed both of y’all plates and went to the sink. “My mama warned me about men like you, Erik Stevens.”

Getting up from his seat, Erik crept behind you, caging you in between him and the sink. “Princess, I promise there ain’t no men like me,” Erik whispered.

“Shit, Erik! Stop scaring me like that!” You yelled at him, trying your best to calm your nerves.

“My bad, ma.” Erik apologized while he took the dirty plate out your hand and bumped you with his hip to move you out of the way so he could finish the dishes.

Taking this blessing you jumped on the counter besides Erik to keep him company. At this angle you had the perfect view of his profile. Erik had the most beautiful skin, smooth and rich. He was probably one of those lucky niggas who only used soap and water on his face while you had to use fifty-eleven million products just not to get one pimple.

Right now, studying him you didn’t realize how attracted you were to his jaw. Your favorite thing was when he was deep in concentration like now or when he was annoyed, his jaw would clench, and you swore you do anything for that man.

Feeling you stare at him, but wanting to lay off on the teasing, Erik asked you a question. “So, what type of men like me did Mrs. Y/L/N warn you about?”

“Silver tongued devils that make women lose all common sense.”

Flicking his tongue suggestively, Erik answered, “I gotta admit this tongue is talented.”

Smacking him on the back of his neck, you mumbled, “Nasty ass.”

“All you gotta do is ask, ma. You don’t have to revert to elementary days to show that you like me,” Erik joked, rubbing the back of his neck with a sudsy hand.

Ignoring his comment, you changed the subject before you do something stupid and ask him to show you how talented his tongue is. “Enough talking about me. How’s the work project going?”

“Oh, it’s dope, Texas! I feel like a slacker with the kids coming up with all the ideas. All I’m doing is the actual production of the filtration system.” Erik face lit up as he went on to explain how the kids at the Outreach Center were coming up with ideas for a water filter for Flint.

The way Erik got hyped about the kids he was helping, told you he’d be an excellent father. Before your brain could dream up what you and his nonexistent children would look like his phone pinged.

Since he was busy washing dishes, Erik asked you to get it. “Oooooo, it’s a text from Ashley.”

“Which one,” he asked absentmindedly.

Rolling your eyes, you forgot that Erik had a roster of girls. “She’s got a diamond emoji next to her name.”

“Ohhh, Anal Ashley. What she want?”

Shaking your head at his fuckboy tendencies you read the text in a ditzy but sultry tone. “Daddy, I need you.”

At the sound of your voice saying daddy, Erik almost broke the glass he was washing. He would have to remember that for a later date. “See, you can call a nigga daddy. And tell her I’m busy.”

“No, I can’t. I was just getting into character. And nigga, no you not!”

Erik finished washing the last dish and then dried his hands with a towel. “I’m hanging out with my bestie. Ain’t that doing something?”

Even though you didn’t want him to go, you needed him to go. Or those feelings you were ignoring were gonna grow deeper. “You can hangout with me anytime. Go see one of your hoes. You know you get cranky when you haven’t had sex in awhile.”

There was no way Erik wanted trade time with you with some random girl for meaningless sex and meaningless conversation. But he also had a painful erection since he heard you read that text and he didn’t want to push up on you that hard.  A poor substitution would have to do. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m about to watch Real Housewives of Atlanta guilt free without you judging me.” Whenever you put it on, Erik would grumble and complain about you watching trash tv.

Grabbing his keys, Erik walked to the door and you followed. “A’ight, imma head out. Lock this door as soon as I head out.” Erik commanded you, knowing you had a tendency to forget to lock your door.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can you go now? Nene is calling my name.”

Before leaving, Erik kissed your cheek and bid you goodbye. Taking in that he kissed you, you floated to the couch, daydreaming about the man, forgetting to lock the door.

“Y/N, LOCK THIS DAMN DOOR!” Erik furious voice broke your daydream.

“Go away, Erik! Nobody’s gonna rob me while I’m here.” You yelled back, not moving an inch from your couch.

“I’m not leaving until you get your country bumpkin ass up and lock this door, deadass!”

Grumbling you got up and locked the door. “Happy now?!”

“Thank you! Imma hit you up when I’m done.” Erik told you.

Returning to your couch, you turned on your tv and tried not to think about how Erik was having sex with some one other than you.

—

“It happens to everyone, Daddy. Let’s watch some tv.” Ashley suggested, reaching for her remote with one hand and stroking his arm with another.

Erik couldn’t believe he couldn’t get it up. Especially with help from the henny.

Ashley was a beautiful girl, no doubt. A redbone version of Naomi Campbell with the attitude to match for no apparent reason, but that never stopped him before.

The thing was she wasn’t you. When Erik had his eyes closed, he could pretend it was you sucking him up, but once his eyes opened and he saw Ashley he instantly went soft.

“Nah, imma head out instead,” Erik said, lifting up from the couch.

Tugging his arm, Ashley pulled Erik back to his seat. “No, stay.”

“Listen, Ash, to be honest I don’t think this,” Erik motioned between him and Ashley. “is gonna work. I’m ending this tonight.”

Ashley’s mood changed.  “It’s because of that cow you’re always posting on your snap, huh?” She said, referring to you.

Lunging across the couch, Erik’s hands wrapped around Ashley’s throat. His hands choked her tight enough to let her know he meant business but not too tight to do any damage.

“Don’t you ever fucking disrespect her like that again!” He warned through gritted teeth.

“Now Killmonger wants to come out to play! Get your crazy ass out my house!”

Erik shoved her into the couch before he hopped up. “Lose my fucking number too! I don’t wanna hear from your ignorant ass anymore.”

“Nobody wants a limped ass dick nigga anyway! Good riddance!” Ashley shouted as Erik slammed the door.

While he was walking to his car, Erik texted the one person who he knew still be up.

MSG ERIK: Hey, I’m on my way over so get ready because we ain’t watching that RHOA shit. We watching The Godfather.

MSG Y/N: Already??? Damn Oakland, I didn’t know you were a minute man 😂 and who tf you think you are??? This my house and we’ll watch whatever I want PERIODT!

MSG ERIK: Girl, don’t play with me before I have to make an example of you 💪🏾 and like I said we watching The Godfather.

MSG Y/N: 🙄🙄🙄 whatever. I’ll leave the door unlocked.

MSG ERIK: Y/N KEEP THAT DOOR FUCKING LOCKED!

You read his message but didn’t reply. Erik hated being left on read. Happily, you skipped to unlock your door, knowing that was one more thing to piss off your bestie.

Sliding into his driver’s seat, Erik double checked his phone to see if he was reading it correctly. It said you read his last message, but you didn’t reply.

“This little girl really left me on read. Imma get her ass and that door better be locked when I get there,” Erik mumbled to himself while securing himself.

Soon as the car roared to life, Erik sped down the streets of New York rushing to get to the one woman who made him want to pull his hair out and cuddle her at the same time.

Tagging: @fd-writes @raysunshine78 @momobaby227 @thickemadame @twistedcharismaaa @marvelmaree @ladydragonpurplefire @l-auteuse @thehomierobbstark @titty-teetee @nerd-lovely @soufcakmistress @chaneajoyyy

[silverflintdaily]

ARTIST CLAIMS ARE NOW OPEN!

Please read all the summaries below the cut and fill out the form with your top 5 picks.  If you have questions about some of these fics before signing up and want us to follow up with the authors, please send us an ask or shoot Mel an email.  SUBMIT CLAIMS BY APRIL 25  - artist claim form here

1. running is a victory Skeleton Island holds the greatest and most ancient treasure the world’s ever known—not that anyone’s ever actually seen it before. Captain Flint and his crew sail through treacherous seas full of English ships, freak storms, and at least one large monster lurking in the deep, desperate to find the island and obtain the Urca gold. That all seems simple compared to dealing with the charming yet duplicitous John Silver and the alleged Urca curse. [Black Sails meets Pirates of the Caribbean!] 2. A Ship is a Republic Flint and Silver train relentlessly on the cliffs of Maroon Island. Silver begins to realise how much he enjoys obeying Flint's instructions. Swordplay gives way to foreplay. 3. Elijah's Violin "A mage, a sorcerer, and a warlock walk into my bar,” says a woman behind the counter. “Have you heard this one before?”

The city of Venice is in turmoil: someone has been turning people to stone. Years after the events that landed them both in hot water and separated them, Flint and Silver are thrown together to solve a dangerous magical mystery. They are joined on their mission by Thomas (who may or may not have a pet Hellhound). The three magicians must work together (and try not to kill each other) before the Carnival of Venice devours them as well. 4. title tbd Or, James Flint, state park employee and firebrand, discovers that someone who broke his heart is back in his life, and that someone is miserable. That this someone is miserable makes James Flint very happy! Except for how it really does not make him happy, whoops. Modern au, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, happy ending. 5.  Don't Say I Didn't Warn Ya John's a drag king, making friends with Thomas and his drag queen troupe. They all perform at the bar that Flint and Gates own and run together - The Frigate.

Trans!Silver, Poly!Flint. ships: silverflint, established flintgates & flinthamilton, possible eventual silverflinthamilton (if I have it in me to write that far) 6.  call to war When the Maroon Queen gets a letter from Woodes Rogers indicating that Madi is alive, she makes the executive decision to have Flint rescue her without telling Silver. When Flint does find Madi, she tells him not to tell Silver she is alive--so that he will want to continue to fight the war he so desperately hates, all so Madi's "death" wasn't for nothing. Against his own judgment, Flint agrees, leading to a series of events that spiral out of control, bringing Flint and Silver closer together, even as Flint is wracked with guilt over his deceit. A s4 canon divergence, heavily focused on Madi, Flint and Silver, as well as the Maroons.

7.  the life that we chose All of Silver's schemes and machinations screech to a halt when he locks eyes with Captain Flint across the deck of the Walrus and the world explodes into color. Flint's cold and indifferent behavior towards him in the weeks that follow makes no sense until he learns that the captain first saw colors ten years ago, in London.

(Flint's been able to see color since he first met Thomas, it's true, but - has Billy always had blue eyes? Was the spine on that book always such a deep green?)

note for artist claims: silverflint au where when you meet your soulmate you can see color. thomas and silver are both flint's soulmate: he saw most colors when he met thomas, but once he meets silver he can finally see the full spectrum. of course he doesn't realize this because ANGST 8. To Be Rid of Temptation “What would you suggest we do instead, then?”

Maybe it was the way he said it, the way Flint was sitting with his knees sprawled out, or the secrets he guarded so closely; Silver didn’t know what it was, but somebody’s Devil took ahold of his tongue then and he said, “I think we should fuck.”

Set around the start of season 3, *spoilers* they do fuck. 9. Chasing Sea Foam Once upon a time, there was a pirate Captain whose moods controlled the seas and whose grief over his missing Lord drove him to wreak havoc in the West Indies.

Once upon a time, there was a merperson who saved the pirate Captain from drowning and who longed to be a part of his world. One day he was faced with a terrible decision: to see his Captain bring death and destruction onto the world and himself, or to stop him and reunite him with his missing Lord. The merperson made his choice and disappeared into the sea.

Years after his Happily Ever After, Flint sets out to find answers about Silver guided only by tall tales and a longing in his heart.

supernatural AU (not a Supernatural the show AU, it just has supernatural elements), features Flint/Thomas and Silver/Flint/Thomas as secondary ships, and past Silver/Madi)

10.  the long waves crawl Nassau sang with magic in a way that Silver hadn’t felt since his childhood, not unlike the hazy memories of a tiny house crowded with herbs and all sorts of books that smelled of cedar smoke and sage.

Only here he was not hidden, nor was he safe. He darted through the streets, avoiding the hungry looks that other magic users gave him. Felt their eyes on his skin and knew they could smell the magic in his blood.

In which Silver is a witch, and in an already complicated world magic is a dangerous thing. 11. Fire Light Silver is a new University professor who starts his job by stealing research out from under Flint’s nose. To get access to the research, Flint steals Silver.

12. Birds Of A Feather A Black Sails/Pride and Prejudice crossover, featuring John Silver as a victim of Mrs Bennet's match making escapades and James McGraw as a lieutenant on sick leave who just wants some peace and quiet.

13. the whole estate of mortal man Silver has a limited memory, an unlimited lifespan, and a need for human souls. He spends four seasons trying to buy Flint's.

14. "On the Banks of the Lethe" Waking after a head injury with no memory of the past two years, Flint finds himself a stranger in a strange land. Faced with the politics of a war he doesn’t remember, and a Walrus crew he hardly recognizes, Flint must reconcile what he knows with what has transpired: Gates’ betrayal; the discovery of the Urca gold; the aftermath of Charles Town. All preceded by the rise of a quartermaster he doesn’t trust—a quartermaster he only knows to be a liar and a thief. Uncertain of his newfound loyalties, Flint suddenly finds himself standing in the shadow of a monster of his own inadvertent making: Long John Silver, Nassau’s newly christened Pirate King.

Amnesia!fic. Set right before Season 4. Angst. Confusion. Gross abuse of tropes. Stupid men in love (even if one doesn’t quite remember). AKA: What if Season 1 James Flint met Season 4 John Silver.

15. a beautiful, sinuous thing; a terrible, treacherous thing Driven by grief, James Flint leaves the city behind to become the caretaker of a lighthouse in a small coastal town. But despite his desire for solitude, he finds himself drawn to a man who seems to have simply strolled out of the sea one day. Silver expects the new lighthouse keeper on his shores to be easy prey - quiet, isolated, sad. But he may have more on his hands than he expected. Modern fantasy au influenced by works like Daisy Johnson's Fen and Victor LaValle's The Changeling 16. The Return of John Silver Seven months after leaving Savannah and the war behind, Flint and Thomas are doing their best to leave the past where it belongs. But the past is never quite past. When the arrival of a wounded pirate on their doorstep threatens to shake what little foundation they've managed to build together, Flint finds himself at a familiar crossroads. Does he allow himself to admit that John Silver belongs in his life, (and in Thomas's) or will he continue to deny the truth even to himself? 17. gonna need a bigger boat The not-quite-Jaws AU where Flint is a perpetually irritated sea captain, hired by a perpetually irritating quasi-con man Silver, both to hunt a shark that has supposedly killed seven people in the last few months. Only they stumble upon a crime in action, end up trapped on a small boat in the middle of an ocean, and they figure out that they're going to have to work together to stay alive and collect that shark bounty somehow. (Featuring the use of thinly veiled shark metaphors, shark fun facts, and two people who cannot believe that their relationship is hurtling towards - something). 18. Loose Lips Sink Ships Rewrite of Black Sails S4. Billy Bones tries to kill Silver, fails, and Silver starts his revenge quest. Woodes Rogers is dead, Nassau is in chaos, and Silver finds his whole world changed. Mostly silverflint and it does become silverflintham. Happy ending! Very, very violent beginning.

[scribomaniac]

Prompt (kinda): Okay I know we will probably never know about Silver’s exact backstory, but can please someone write a fic, of Silver having been in Bedlam? And Flint finding out and thinking of Thomas and kinda freaking out… and Silver is like “That is the reason why I didn’t want to tell you!” 

For @arzani92  

Flint sighed before taking another healthy gulp from his bottle filled with rum. He had started the night drinking from a cup, but as Thomas and Silver joined him they quickly forwent those in favor of drinking straight from the source. His body felt warm and fuzzy, and his cheeks were flushed a hot pink as his buzz set in. Looking to the men on either side of him, Flint came to the realization that if red coats suddenly burst through the door of their small home and shot him dead, he'd die a happy man. Laughter bubbled out of him like a fresh spring at something Thomas said—or, more specifically, how he said it—and Flint wondered at how lucky a man he was. Years ago, after discovering—mostly in part and thanks to Silver—that Thomas was alive and hidden away in Savannah, the red headed pirate thought he was the luckiest man alive. That God himself had deemed him worthy and had blessed him with a second chance at happiness. Then, just a few years after their reunion, when Silver had reappeared on their shores with stories of the sea and its adventures, and, most importantly, with love and hope in his eyes, Flint had thought he must've died. For there was no way a scoundrel such as himself could be so fortunate as to have both his loves in his life. Thomas, his truest love, and Silver, his fiercest.

Drawing a hand down Silver's bicep and firmly squeezing the muscle there, Flint figured it was only fair that he could only keep one of them for any long period of time. After freeing Thomas from the camp his father had stashed him in, Flint had been spoiled with the man's constant presence—something he wouldn't take for granted any time soon. Silver, however, drifted in and out of their home like the tide. He did have other obligations, after all, and had to split his time between their home in Savannah and Nassau, where he and Madi had planted roots of their own and settled down. Then there were the men, too, who even to this day vied for his attention, for his praise. They'd never be appeased with Long John Silver's retirement. And, as Flint suspected, neither would Silver. But Silver was here with him, now, and Flint thought he'd never stop feeling grateful.

The retired Walrus captain watched contentedly through heavy, half lidded eyes as Silver and Thomas animatedly debated their opinions on a book they had both read. It was a cheap, popular little thing that Silver had found on one of his prizes, and his first gift to Thomas as a partner. Flint assumed it was meant as a joke, not to be taken seriously, as it was a superfluous, easy read that would be forgotten in a decade or so. Thomas had cherished it, though, and read it immediately. And finally, after a full year of long winded promises and halfhearted evasion, Silver had finished the book himself and had stepped foot on the Savannah beach with a thing or two to say about it. Flint, in his fuzzy state, wasn't much for conversation, but merely enjoyed basking in the presence of both his loves and listening to their voices. Keeping his grip on Silver's arm, Flint leaned over and rested his head on Thomas's shoulder, fully intending on taking a nap.

He was just on the precipice of sleep when suddenly, without warning, Thomas slammed his hand on the wooden table in front of them, jerking Flint into wakefulness. “Aha!” Thomas cheered, his eyes bright and almost gleeful. “I figured it out!”

Quirking a dark brow, Silver carefully asked, “Figured what out?”

“Where I recognize you from!” Thomas's body hummed with excitement. “We've met before—in Bethlem.”

Head snapping towards Silver, Flint found his head suddenly clear and his eyesight focused as he growled, “What?”

An easy smile overcame Silver's face and his eyes crinkled in a way Flint hadn't seen since his days as his Quartermaster. “Beg pardon?” To anyone else, it looked like Silver was politely confused, yet interested in where this was going.

“Yes, yes,” Thomas nodded his head vigorously and leaned forward across the table to reach out and cup one of Silver's hands with his own. “It was years ago, after my father had left me at the asylum—before he brought me to Savannah,” his words were coming out fast, rushed. He was excited at the prospect of having met Silver before he was, well, Silver. “We shared a room for a time.”

Bringing his free hand to soothingly rub Thomas's forearm, Silver apologized, “I think you're mistaken, Thomas. I've never been to Bethlem—or London for that matter.” He looked so sincere, so honest that no one else would have blinked twice at the man before them. Anyone else—Thomas included—would have taken Silver for his word and assumed it was a case of mistaken identity. Flint wasn't anyone, though. He knew Silver's mind, his ticks, his tells. Flint knew him. He saw the muscles in his throat working hard to swallow, even though the man's mouth was probably drier than the desert. He saw the slight twitch in his left eyelid, so quick you had to know to look for it. And he saw the tension in his back, no matter how hard Silver tried to remain loose and casual. Flint saw.

Thomas's brows furrowed and his mouth puckered just so. Flint knew that face as well, it was a face that shouted insecurity and indecision with just a pinch of stubbornness. Internally Thomas was trying to figure out if he was mistaken when he knew he wasn't, but was also wrestling with the fact that he had been locked away in Bethlem and then in a labor camp for a decade and wondering, self-deprecatingly, if that had somehow compromised his memory—his mind. Flint hated that look. He knew nothing was wrong with Thomas, physically or mentally, but he couldn't fight the taller man's demons for him. Flint could only support him, and reassure him against those doubts that plagued him. Resting his gaze on Silver, however, Flint decided he could fight him. “Silver,” he hissed, his upper lip twitching as he restrained a snarl. “Help me outside for a moment, won't you?”

Silver stroked his beard, his lips tugging down into a frown. Flint could see the gears turning behind his eyes as he tried to think of a way to escape Flint's wrath. For as much as Flint could read Silver, Silver could also read Flint. Once, a man had suggested that the two of them had grown so close, they could read each other's thoughts. Preposterous, of course, but in moments like these it was a close thing. Eventually accepting his fate, Silver clenched his jaw for a just a fleeting moment before putting on his best, charming smile—mostly for Thomas's sake—and nodding, “Of course.” Standing slowly and reaching for his crutch, Silver led the way out of the house.

Once they walked passed the threshold and were out of Thomas's ear shot, Silver turned and huffed, “Well? What have I done this time?”

“Why the fuck did you just lie to Thomas?” Flint stepped closer to the dark haired man, so close their breaths, hot and coming out fast, began to intermingle.

“Beg pardon?” Silver's face locked down, not showing anything, which just proved to Flint all the more of the lie.

Snarling, he fumed, “Don't try and pull that shit again. It didn't work in there,” he jerked his chin towards the house, “and it isn't working out here. So, I ask again, why the fuck did you just lie to Thomas? You know how insecure he is about his past—how self conscious he is about his own mind—”

“I know!” Silver cut him off, his own snarl overcoming his face as he looked away and towards the dark road before them. “I—I know,” his voice drawled off, barely audible to Flint's ears.

Shaking his head, not understanding, Flint asked, “Then why'd you do it?” He reached out, tenderly placing his hand against the side of Silver's neck.

“Because then I'd have to think about it—to remember it,” Silver's voice croaked with more emotion than Flint had ever heard from him. He stepped back, pulling away from Flint, from his touch. “Those were some of the worst days of my life,” he confided, his eyes flashing up to Flint's and then away again.

“What?” Flint whispered, more to himself than to Silver. He felt his hands and feel grow cold of a sudden as understanding hit him like a canon ball. Wincing, Flint realized his error. He'd been so caught up in the fact that Silver had lied that he didn't stop to wonder why he had done so. He'd been so preoccupied with protecting Thomas—Thomas, his beautiful, strong, and tortured Thomas—that he hadn't considered Silver may need protecting, too. Silver, his brutal, resourceful, clever Silver. The feared Pirate King was always so independent, always so adamant to deny any offered help—Flint wondered, abruptly, if the man even remembered how to ask for it anymore. Looking at Silver's hunched shoulders and white knuckled grip on his crutch, he realized he hadn't been a very good partner these last few minutes. He'd forsaken Silver for Thomas—something he swore to himself he'd never do—and placed him in this position.

Then, once the guilt had properly settled in and he registered Silver's words, and the words preceding it, Flint's mind realized something. “You—you were in Bethlem?” For such an intelligent, observant man, Flint realized he was being rather obtuse. “You were,” he started again, slower this time. “In Bethlem. With Thomas.” That was two of his lovers, now, that place had taken prisoner. “How?” he found himself asking.

Silver, still not looking at Flint, shrugged off the question. “What does it matter?” His voice was so small, so broken, it made Flint want to whimper. “It's irrelevant.”

Suddenly, Flint remembered another conversation with Silver. One that took place under the sun instead of the moon, with swords in hand, and a mix of curiosity and disappointment running through his veins. “You've told me that before,” he swallowed thickly, slowly stepping closer to Silver until he could feel the man's body heat radiating from him. “Years ago—that your past was irrelevant. That you'd absolved yourself of it,” his lips barely moved, the words coming out in a murmured hush, but he knew Silver was listening intently. He could tell by the way his eyes narrowed just so. “Now it seems to me,” he drew his fingers up Silver's back, catching slightly on the bones of his spine. “That is not the case. Why didn't you tell me?”

“After what you'd told me?” Silver challenged halfheartedly, tilting his head so he could meet Flint's gaze. “About the man you loved enough to start a war in his memory? About how he'd been taken from you? Thrown into the very place I refused to ever think of again.” Silver shook his head and snorted through his nostrils.  “I knew what pain the mere mention of that place caused you. I thought, if I could spare you just that bit of pain, then I'd do it.”

“You were—you were trying to protect me?” He asked, bewildered. Flint remembered that day on the beach so vividly, and remembered how stubborn Silver was to tell Flint of his past. He hadn't understood it at the time. How could one man's past be that irrelevant? Especially when that man was John fucking Silver. But it wasn't irrelevant at all. Flint wondered how he would have reacted back then if Silver had told him of his past. Would he have even taken the man seriously? Or just assumed he was telling another lie? Memories of Thomas would've been dredged up to the surface, after he'd so carefully locked them away, it could've been the ruin of their friendship. It could have compromised him—made him distracted from the way, made him look weak in front of the men.  It could have been his downfall.

Warm hands were in his hair, tugging at the roots gently, and Flint blinked, “—int. Flint!” Silver chanted, his face suddenly directly in front of his. He was so close that Flint could see the pale sprinkle of freckles over Silver's nose and cheeks. “Flint—dammit—this is why I didn’t want to tell you!” Silver growled. Flint's eyes flickered to his, and whatever Silver saw in them made him calm down, made the muscles in his face relax and his fingers unclench in his hair. “For fuck's sake,” he whispered hoarsely, leaning forward to bury his forehead in the crook of Flint's neck. “Don't fucking do that. Don't disappear on me like that—not again.”

Wrapping his arms around Silver, Flint held the man tightly to his chest and placed a forceful kiss to the crown of his skull. “Never,” he promised. “Never again.” Silver shifted, letting go of the crutch and leaning more of his weight against Flint's solid form before wrapping his own arms around the red headed man. His body trembled slightly, and for a long time the two just stayed like that—unmoving, and focused entirely on the feel of the other. “Thank you,” Flint's voice eventually broke the silence. Silver's head tipped up just a bit, signifying that he was listening. “For trying to protect me,” he placed a kiss to his brow. “Thank you, Silver.”

“I love you, James,” Silver said in response, making Flint's chest grow warm and fuzzy. It always made his heart soar whenever the black haired man called him by his Christian name. In the beginning, Flint had wished Silver would use it more, but after a few uses, the red haired man realized Silver only used it when he was feeling truly, and deeply in love. He was being his most genuine when he used it, and after realizing that, Flint would never have it any other way.

“I love you, too, John,” he replied, giving the man a solid squeeze.

The door to the house opened slowly, and Flint looked up to see Thomas nervously poking his head out from behind it. Catching the taller man's eye, Flint silently beckoned Thomas over. Smiling softly, he padded softly down the porch steps and the few feet until he was beside his two partners. Arms open wide, Thomas brought both men into his embrace. He didn't need words, he didn't need to understand, he just needed to be there. With Silver, with Flint. The three of them had been through so much pain, so much suffering, all alone.  Never again, Flint silently vowed, echoing his words to Silver.  They'd never have to go through the horrors of this world alone ever again.  Come hell or high water, they'd face it---together.