From Countess to Cabin Boy, Act Two of Four
Act One
ACT TWO
A hidden cove, where a mysterious vessel is docked...
"Jon!" Greta hisses, looking around to see if she can spot him.
"Here," Jon says from behind her, and she whirls around. He's alone.
"Oh, sweetie," she says, aching to give him a hug but not sure if he would accept it. Jon's generally good with being used for cuddling purposes, but that doesn't mean he always wants it, especially not when he's just suffered what she imagines is a pretty crushing disappointment. "Can I ask what happened?"
Jon shakes his head minutely, gesturing at The Hush Sound Is... "You know they're only going to ask, too. I'd rather only explain once."
"I can tell them," Greta offers, feeling like she's swimming in uncharted waters. She doesn't know anything about Jon's relationship with this girl, except that he's got Spencer and Ryan and he's still thinking about her, so she must be something pretty damn special. "If you don't want to deal with so many people right now."
Jon sighs and acquiesces; she can tell by the way he lowers his shoulders. You can't be on a boat with someone for so long without learning some of their tells. It makes poker games a lot less interesting, unless you're playing with Gabe. "She just wasn't there, and I couldn't find out where she had gone. It's like she disappeared."
Why do so many girls seem to be disappearing recently? Especially ones who cause so much trouble. "I'm sorry," Greta says, and Jon shrugs.
"It was a long shot anyway. She's probably married already, or something; I know her parents would want to have it arranged by now." He smiles at Greta, who doesn't buy it in the slightest. "It's not a big deal. I have Spencer and Ryan, and the ships. I just hope she's happy."
Greta just nods and resolves to get Jon settled in a cabin as soon as possible, away from pitying eyes. She'll make sure to tell the crew not to bring it up. If Jon doesn't want to talk about it, they won't talk about it.
The Black Parade, the most dangerous pirate ship still sailing
Ryan loves the new cabin boy. Not only does he help Ryan choose which hat to wear every day, he plays the guitar like he's a professional musician, and he fits in the crew. Ryan may, according to Spencer, occasionally be a moron about other people, but he knows when someone works with his crew, and Brendon works. He's cheerful and exuberant enough to keep up with Frank on his insanely energetic days, he works hard enough to suit Spencer, he isn't phased by Gabe's occasional bizarreness, and he's just mouthy enough to fit in, when he isn't rambling.
His never-ending cheerfulness did give Ryan momentary pause, but he got over that when he noticed Brendon's ass. Brendon has a fantastic ass.
What? You can't blame a guy for looking, okay.
"Ryan," Spencer says after Ryan's just spent a very enjoyable five minutes asking Brendon to bend over and get the hatboxes on the bottom shelves.
"What?" Ryan asks innocently, trying to bat his eyelashes. Spencer looks unimpressed, so it must not work as well as Ryan had hoped it would.
"You've already chosen your hat for today. That was totally unnecessary."
"I could be thinking ahead," Ryan protests. Spencer raises one eyebrow, and Ryan weakens. Spencer crosses his arms and cocks his hips, and Ryan folds completely. Spencer knows the effect the arm-hip combo has on him, damn it. Ryan makes a face that could absolutely not, in any sense of the word, be called a pout, as he says, "Fine, it was a little unnecessary."
Spencer's hips are still cocked.
"Fine, completely unnecessary," Ryan amends, "but!" Ooh, this is a good point. Ryan is not only a genius, but an observant genius. "You didn't have to stand there watching him get the boxes."
Spencer's stance shifts slightly, which Ryan is going to take as a win.
"You enjoyed it too," he says triumphantly, crossing his own arms and leaning back. "So there."
"Ryan, Brendon's here to work, not to get hit on," Spencer reminds him.
"I wasn't actually going to make a move," Ryan complains, frowning. He doesn't like it when Spencer impugns his character like that. "I'm not Jon, okay, I'm perfectly happy with the three of us." Ryan isn't bitter, no. Not even a little bit.
Why would he be bitter that Jon is apparently so unsatisfied with their relationship that he needs to go and try to kidnap some girl? Some girl that he hasn't even talked to in more than three years, even. Ryan has no reason to be bitter that Jon has been pining over some girl for longer than he, Spencer and Ryan have been together.
Spencer sighs and lets himself slump, sitting down next to Ryan. "Yeah, I know. I'm not thrilled either, but this is important to Jon." A moment passes, and he adds, "And maybe he won't find her."
Ryan looks away guiltily. "Does it make me a bad person to hope that he doesn't?"
Spencer rests his head on Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan feels their bodies align. "Probably. But at least you're not alone."
They sit for a moment, contemplating how they feel guilty for not feeling guiltier about being terrible people. Ryan does, at least. Then he asks, "Does this mean I can keep on asking Brendon to get things off the bottom shelves?"
Spencer reaches out a hand and smacks him lightly. "Limit it to once a day," he orders after a thoughtful moment. "And only do it when I'm around."
"No problem," Ryan agrees, smiling. He loves it when Spencer's bossy. It's one of the best things about being a pirate.
*
Being a pirate is awesome. Brendon knows it down to the very bottom of her soul, okay. It's just a fact of life.
"Hah!" she shouts as she manages to stab Frank in the shoulder. "I rock!"
Admittedly, "stab" has a variable definition. In this case, it means that she manages to lightly poke Frank's shoulder withe the blunt edge of a wooden stick.
He swerves behind her quickly and slaps her ass with his own stick, cackling maniacally as she whips around and glares at him. "No, I rock," he tells her, which is kind of true. Frank is one of the rocking-est people she knows. "And what did I tell you about talking during a swordfight?"
"Shouting random words in French makes you sound more legit to people who don't know anything about French or fencing!" she repeats dutifully, shaking sweat out of her eyes as she smacks his pole with her own. "Touche!"
Brendon does actually know how to speak French. She's not quite fluent, because she never paid enough attention during her lessons, but she knows enough to make conversation. So far she's managed not to let on that she knows more than the occasional phrase, though, because that might invite questions and if questions are invited into the house, she's not sure she can keep the answers from escaping once the door is opened. And answers, of course, are dangerous, because the answer to the question, "Oh, how did you learn French, Brendon?" is, "Funnily enough, my parents arranged for my tutor, M. Lautrec, to travel to our manor from his home in Toulouse, since according to the nobility the only proper way for a countess-to-be to learn French is with a native speaker."
Normal people don't have tutors imported from France. Normal people just know the occasional word that they can yell out in an overexaggerated French accent. Like, say, Frank is doing.
"En garde!" he shouts as they battle across the deck, not doing much more than letting their poles hit each other with loud, cracking sounds. It's much more interesting than proper fencing, which apparently doesn't factor into The Black Parade's style of piracy at all. After all, if you actually duel someone else, one of you could potentially get hurt.
However, Spencer insisted that if Brendon wants to join the crew on their next distraction-providing adventure, she has to be comfortable enough with a sword that she wouldn't stab herself trying to get it out of the sheath. Frank promised that by the time they dropped him and Jamia off at another port in a week and a half, Brendon would be an expert at waving a sword around.
...Plus, it's really fun.
"Bonjour!" Brendon yells, gripping her stick with both hands and subjecting Frank's stick to a sudden barrage of blows. She makes a few half-hearted stabs in his direction, but never really bothers following through.
"Merci!"
The rest of the crew is scattered around the deck, laughing and staying out of their way. Frank already has a reputation for being occasionally over-exuberant with his sword-waving, and Brendon isn't much better.
"Toujours!" Brendon tries not to look at Spencer and Ryan too much, but she occasionally glances over to see if they're enjoying the show. Just because, you know, they're the captain and the first mate and she doesn't want her antics to annoy them. Obviously that's the only reason.
"Escargot!" Frank shouts, and when Brendon starts laughing, he quickly - seriously, Frank moves faster than the speed of light or something, it's ridiculous - jumps forward and skewers her.
Well, he drives his stick into the space between Brendon's arm and her stomach, which totally counts as a killing thrust. Accordingly, Brendon gives a convulsive gasp, dropping her "sword" to the deck with a clatter. Frank looks appropriately triumphant as she falls to her knees, clutching her side and breathing heavily.
"You -" she wheezes desperately, reaching out to him with one clawing hand. "You will pay for this -"
Abruptly, she slumps forward, still reaching out, and falls face-first on the deck. She's just in the middle of spasming her way through an absolutely fabulous death scene when Alex Marshall climbs halfway down the rigging and asks, "Hey Bren, could you grab my notebook from belowdecks?"
"Dying here!" she yells back, getting back to the business of convulsing properly. A decently epic thrash flips her over, and she shudders into stillness, letting her eyes fall open glassily.
After a moment, she gets her feet under her and springs up in a single movement, bowing to her audience. They burst into respectful applause, and Frank gives her an approving high five.
"Nice job," Jamia says, grinning at Brendon, who smiles proudly.
"I do what I can." Performance done, she looks at Marshall. "What was that, Marsh? Now that, you know, you're not interrupting the middle of my awesome death?"
"My notebook?" he asks winsomely. "Since, as cabin boy, you're supposed to run errands and everything?"
"Yeah, right," she snorts. "Sisky already told me I shouldn't do anything you guys ask."
"Seconded," Spencer yells out, and she gives him a much more bashful smile than the one she awarded Jamia.
"But," she continues, because she likes Marshall, "I will be happy to escort you, if you're afraid of the big bad belowdecks. Because I am just that awesome."
She loves the Alexes, all of them. They apparently made some sort of group decision to adopt her that first day on The Black Parade, showing her the basics of travel on the high seas and dragging her up to the crow's nest for mini-parties which mostly involve a lot of giggling. In return, Brendon actually makes an effort to call them all by their own names, which they seem to appreciate.
"I don't know," Victoria says dryly, raising her eyebrows. "I don't trust any of those boys alone with you, Brendon."
Also they hit on her a lot, which Brendon's sure is just a joke, because really, they've already got the five of them. It's funny, though, so usually she plays along.
"Alex Marshall!" she gasps, looking up at him. "I am not that kind of girl!" Whoops, she meant to say "boy". Oh well, hopefully they'll all just take it as part of the joke. "Thank you, Victoria, for protecting my virtue."
"Anything for a fellow lady," Victoria tells her casually, nodding.
Okay, there's another thing. Brendon has a sinking suspicion that Victoria and Jamia have already guessed about her being a girl, since sometimes they drop these sly hints that everybody else takes as jokes. She tries not to think of that, though, since she's really not ready for her cover to be blown. It's not that she doesn't think the rest of the crew wouldn't accept her as a girl, since she's pretty sure Victoria, Jamia and Greta would all kick their asses out of their ears. She just doesn't want to go back to being Brendon Urie, runaway noblewoman. She's kind of enjoying being just Brendon.
And sure, just Brendon happens to be a boy, but you know, on this ship, it's not as hard to fake being a boy as she thought it would be.
Marshall, still hanging from the rigging, frowns. Brendon wonders momentarily if he's annoyed at her, despite none of the Alexes ever having gotten annoyed at Brendon before, until he says, "Hey, is that a ship?"
Spencer reaches for the spyglass he keeps hooked to his belt and lifts it to his eye. "It's The Hush Sound Is...," he announces after a second.
Gabe immediately bounces to his feet, striding to the railing in seconds as if just being those few yards closer to the other ship will somehow enable him to touch William. He's been pining. It's been kind of depressing. "Bilvy!" he yells across the waves.
"Is that a flag?" Ryan asks excitedly, poking Spencer in the side.
When separated, The Hush Sound Is... and The Black Parade communicate through an elaborate system of mirror flashes and flag waves. They call it flashing, and everyone on the ship is fluent except Brendon, who hasn't had a chance to learn it yet.
"No, I think that was one of William's bandannas," Spencer says, and Ryan droops.
"We need to train pigeons," he mutters, slumping against the rail.
"You tried," Nate remarks from the steering wheel. He's one of their main navigators, which Brendon finds priceless simply because the steering wheel is almost as big as he is. "You and Jon. It failed."
"Are you sure Andy won't let us steal any of his, Spencer?" Ryan asks, looking at Spencer with his biggest, most pleading eyes.
The effect is wasted when Spencer doesn't even turn to look at him as he says, "I'm sure." Brendon smiles a little, then snaps to attention as Spencer continues, "Now I see a flag. Brendon, run down and grab the chest with the mirrors and the flags."
He doesn't even make it into a question, which Brendon really should not love as much as she does. She ran away because people were telling her what to do, after all. Somehow it's just different with Spencer.
She finds the chest and runs back up the stairs as quickly as she can, but she's already missed hearing Spencer's translation of the first part of the message. All she can tell is that Spencer and Ryan look awfully relieved.
She carefully sets down the chest where Spencer can reach it and scurries back a few steps. "What happened?" she whispers to Ian, who's the most reliable of the Alexes.
"Jon's errand didn't work," he whispers back. Jon's errand, right - all Brendon knows is that he was trying to find someone, and there was something about love in there. She never attempted to find out the specifics; thinking about people named Jon lead to thinking about one person named Jon in particular. "And we're not supposed to talk about it, which I think Spencer and Ryan will be fine with."
Brendon sees a flag wave on the other ship and nudges Ian. "What's going on now?"
"That's William talking," he explains, staring across. Brendon watches the breeze play with his curls. While they're not quite as hypnotizing as Sisky's hair, and she's not as afraid of any sudden moves they might make while she doesn't have her eyes on them, they still combine into a pretty impressive mop of hair. "He says - Spencer, they're not close enough for me to see clearly. What's he saying?"
"He wants to know if Gabe was yelling his name a few minutes ago, since nobody else on his ship heard it and now they're mocking him," Spencer says with a hint of a smile. It's a good look for him, Brendon thinks, before remembering to shut down that line of thinking.
"Hah!" Gabe cries victoriously, reaching into the chest and grabbing a mirror, which he turns this way and that. Brendon assumes he's sending a message along the lines of, 'Yes, I did, and you can tell those deaf jerks that nothing, not even miles of ocean, can impede our love.'
"Gabe, put down the mirror," Spencer orders firmly, and Brendon tries not to swoon sideways into Ian. From the looks of it, Ryan is having a similar reaction, since he's leaning on the railing and smirking. It's the expression of someone who has been in bed with Spencer in an order-giving mood, and is looking forward to repeating the experience sometime very, very soon. "You know you're not allowed to flash anymore."
"It was one time!" Gabe complains, setting the mirror back in the chest. He crosses his arms over his chest. "And it's not like you and your two amantes haven't been graphic over flash when you've been separated."
Huh. Brendon really wants to hear both those stories. In detail. Very, very heavy detail.
Spencer shakes his head and focuses on his spyglass again. "He says that since we're dropping off Frank and Jamia, they're going to detour and let Mike visit Kevin -"
"Booty call!" Cash shouts, pumping his fists in the air and running around the deck.
"- because Mike is soft and mushy and misses his one true love and it's painful to watch him moping."
If Brendon squints, she thinks she can see a tall figure on the other ship suddenly get tackled to the deck.
"Okay," Spencer says. "Alex, grab the flags and tell them ship-kiss in two weeks." Alex Johnson shrugs and complies. "If we haven't gotten pigeons from Pete by then, we'll figure something out."
Brendon sits on a bench nearby, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back as she soaks in the sun. She doesn't need to see this; she's not going to understand it, anyway. She's perfectly willing to just sit here, listening to Spencer.
She hears a rustle and looks over to see that Ryan has joined her at the bench. "Hey," she says, and he looks up, away from her throat.
"Hey," he says, the corner of his mouth starting to turn up. "I figured I didn't need to stand there watching, either."
"But what if they need your help to decide something?" she asks, even though her time on both ships has taught her that for someone who's supposedly captain, Ryan doesn't really do much in the way of running the ship. According to Nate, Ryan's liable to get distracted by a pretty sword or a brightly-colored bird, and then spend the rest of the morning painting or writing bizarre, metaphor-laden prose. Or porn. Apparently he writes a lot of porn.
Ryan laughs, and Brendon catches herself swaying towards him almost subconsciously. "No captain of The Black Parade has ever really been the one making decisions. It's all about the first mate. Gerard always let Brian and Bob handle everything."
"So what does the captain do, then?" she wonders curiously.
"We're in charge of going to taverns, pretending to be weird, artsy strangers, and spreading wild stories about The Black Parade," Ryan explains. Somehow he's shifted closer on the bench, so their shoulders are brushing. Brendon tries not to think about it. "And we get to wear the awesome hats. That's how Gerard convinced me to take on the job."
"Sounds fun," Brendon says, grinning. "Almost as fun as being a cabin boy."
"They both have their perks," Ryan agrees solemnly, looking at her, one lone curl hanging almost in his eyes, and wow, isn't that annoying for him? You know, as a good employee, Brendon really should reach out and brush it away. A cabin boy has to do the little things for his (or her, whatever) captain, it's really in her job description -
"Brendon!" Spencer calls over, turning to look at her with one hand propped on his waist. Brendon jerks her head up and almost falls off the bench. "Everyone you met says hi, and William and Ryland say they can't wait to meet you."
"I can't wait to meet them either," Brendon says, swinging her feet happily and not quite daring to look over at Ryan yet. "And tell Sisky I'm glad he came up to me in that tavern!"
"Is he the reason you won't give in to our advances?" Cash demands, frowning at Brendon. "Do I need to duel with him for your affections?"
"Nah," Brendon assures him. "I totally love you guys best." When she peeks over at Ryan, he's smiling.
*
"Brendon, I left a map in the cabin. Could you grab it for me?" Spencer asks, his hands lightly resting on the steering wheel. Brendon grins and gives him a thumbs up before bouncing off. Spencer thinks he could really come to appreciate having a cabin boy who actually does his job; Sisky tended to reply to requests with variations on, "Nah, I'd really rather not." He's better off as one of the general crew, who never really seem to do much of anything until swords need to be waved.
When Brendon comes back, map in hand, Spencer says, "Stay and talk to me for a minute." Brendon's been spending a lot of time with Ryan recently, after all, talking very seriously about hats, scarves, and poems. Brendon says he isn't a huge fan of poetry; Ryan is trying to change that with some sort of cunning plan to start with Beowulf and lure Brendon in.
Spencer's willing to admit that the increasingly-frequent sight of Brendon and Ryan lying on their stomachs on the captain's bed, pointing at various lines in a book, has made him think that he should try to get to know Brendon a little better.
It's not that Spencer doesn't approve of Brendon; if he didn't, The Black Parade would have made an unplanned stop at a convenient port to drop off a minor annoyance. But besides his brief interrogation of Brendon, the two of them haven't really had a conversation.
If Ryan were listening to Spencer's internal monologue, he would probably make some sort of comment at this point about Spencer just wanting to talk to Brendon because Brendon is hot, which isn't true. Mostly. Except for the bit about Brendon being hot, obviously, but, seriously, every member of the crew on both ships is hot. That doesn't mean anything.
"Sure," Brendon agrees cheerfully, only looking slightly wary. "What about?"
"How's everything going for you so far?" Spencer wonders.
"Great!" Brendon bounces up and down on his toes, smiling excitedly. "Everyone has been so nice. And being a pirate rocks! I don't know why anyone would want to be anything else."
"Better than whatever you left?" Spencer asks, even though he told himself he wouldn't ask. He's incredibly familiar with people who just want to keep their pasts behind them - hell, he's sleeping with one of those people. Ryan would be happy if he never had to think about his family again.
And then, on the other hand, he's also sleeping with Jon, who loves his past so much that he had to go try to kidnap it so he could bring it into his present. Spencer doesn't mind acknowledging the past every so often, but honestly, that seems a little extreme.
Brendon is clearly the exact opposite of Jon, because all his energy suddenly seems to drain when Spencer asks that question. "I - yeah," he says, interrupting himself and watching Spencer cautiously, the smile gone. "I'd, um. Rather not talk about it."
"Okay," Spencer agrees, trying to keep an eye on Brendon without being too obvious about it. He thinks Brendon might be hiding something - not a bad something, so figuring it out isn't a priority, but. Spencer likes to know what's going on on his ships, and he doesn't want Brendon to feel like he has to hide anything from them. "So. Your sword-waving lessons? How are those going?"
Brendon brightens minutely. "Pretty well," he says, his mouth starting to quirk into a smile again. It's a very nice mouth. "Jamia's helping too, now. Do we really have to drop her and Frank off? Couldn't we just keep them here?"
Spencer laughs. "I think we've all asked them that at one point or another, but they have their own things to get back to. Also, if you try to keep Frank anywhere for too long, he starts jumping around like a caged monkey." Brendon slants Spencer a skeptical look, glancing down at where Frank is currently getting his kicks climbing up the rigging and jumping off, and Spencer corrects, "Okay, more like a caged monkey. It's not pretty."
After a second, Brendon laughs, too. "Fine. I -" He breaks off, making a confused face. Spencer follows his line of sight down to the deck, where - surprise, surprise - Cash is waving his arms around, trying to signal to Brendon. It looks like he's playing a game of dirty charades, although to be fair it probably only looks dirty because it's Cash, and not because of the signals involved. "What?"
Cash sketches out a square with his hands, and then makes a roof shape above his head. Then he points frantically at Brendon.
"Oh!" Brendon says in sudden comprehension. He looks at Spencer, smiling wryly. "I think Cash wants me to ask you if the Alexes can have a cabin. Apparently they really want me as their cabin boy."
"Not a chance, Cash!" Spencer shouts down. Cash makes a face, and Spencer turns his attention away.
"Not ever?" Brendon wonders innocently, his face completely straight. "You haven't ever thought about quarantine?"
Spencer can appreciate a sense of humor like that. "We're pretty sure it's not contagious," he tells Brendon solemnly. "Although you should probably be extra careful, with the way the Alexes surround you."
It's really none of his business if the ship's resident fivesome wants to absorb Brendon and become a sixsome, although for the life of him Spencer can't work out the logistics of it. Six people in a bed just seems like a tangle of limbs. Really, though, not his business, which is why he isn't asking about it.
But, you know, if Brendon decides to respond to his completely rhetorical joke, he won't complain.
"I think they're joking?" Brendon asks, sounding like his voice can't decide whether it wants to be amused or uncertain. It settles on bemused. "I mean, you'd think that once you've already got that many people, you wouldn't need to add in anyone else."
"You'd think," Spencer murmurs.
You'd think that once you've got a good thing going, you wouldn't feel the need to convince someone else to join, but Jon's got that fixation on his teenage sweetheart, and Spencer's pretty sure that Ryan wouldn't object at all if Brendon wanted to join the three of them one night.
It would have to be the three of them, of course; they couldn't just make a decision like that without Jon, even if Brendon were to sneak into Spencer and Ryan's room in the middle of the night and -
Spencer realizes suddenly that Brendon, his eyes wide, is staring at Spencer's hands, which have apparently started caressing the handles of the steering wheel completely of their own volition.
He jerks his hands off the wheel and Brendon snaps his gaze up, both of them blushing and looking away from each other.
"Anyway!" Brendon says, his voice high. "So, uh. Alexes."
"Alexes," Spencer agrees, shaking his head resignedly. There are very few circumstances, he thinks, which would ever lead to him admitting that he finds the Alexes entertaining - or, god forbid, that he actually likes having them around. Maybe if he's really, really, really drunk. Or high. Or if he or one of the Alexes were in some sort of imminent doom situation. Even then, though, it's a bit of a stretch.
In fact, there's a higher probability of his admitting that he's somewhat attracted to Brendon, and Spencer's pretty determined not to admit that under pain of death, so.
After a moment of silence, Brendon relaxes, slumping forward with his elbows resting on the railing that overlooks the main deck. Spencer can see Brendon's partial profile and the line of his back, and Brendon can see... whatever it is the crew is getting up to. Spencer doesn't think he wants to know.
"Alexes," Brendon laughs fondly. "You said they stowed away on the ship? Why am I not surprised?"
"Probably because you've spent more than five minutes in their presence," Spencer says wryly. He knows that the Alexes do, in fact, have distinguishing features - Ian has the hair, Johnson is surprisingly efficient, Deleon looks kind of like a girl, Marshall is quiet, and Cash is crazy and has the terrible tattoo - but really, it's easier to just think of them as one unit. It's not like you generally got one without the others, anyway.
"Seriously, though, five teenagers? Creeping aboard the scariest pirate ship ever?" Spencer catches the glance that Brendon sneaks at him, just a quick look sideways and up through dark lashes. "And you guys, what, just didn't notice?"
Spencer's voice is as dry as possible when he says, "Let's just say that Ryan is never allowed to be the only one standing guard again."
Those days seem so far away, two years ago when William was dragging Spencer off to vet potential recruits, and they thought that leaving the ship in a cove so deserted it wasn't on any map they had ever seen would make up for Ryan's inefficiencies as a guard - and really, Spencer means that in the most loving way possible. It's not even that they'd overestimated Ryan's abilities; they'd just underestimated the Alexes' adventure-detection skills. It's like they have some sort of compass that points directly to where they can get themselves in the most trouble.
Brendon laughs again and flips himself around, his elbows still on the rail but in an entirely different direction. It's easier for Spencer to look him in the eyes now, which might but also might not be a good thing. "So, they snuck in. I got personally recruited by Sisky in a tavern. Do you hire anybody normally?"
"At this point, I'm not even sure what normal is." Spencer matches Brendon's grin with a small smile of his own, continuing, "Besides you guys, we got all of the crew through mutual friends. Pete brought some, William knew a bunch of people, and Gabe dragged a few more in."
William and Gabe brought their friends first, actually; it was only when the ship started getting crowded, and they came upon the idea of getting a second ship, that Pete suggested Greta, Chris, Bob, and Darren. Spencer doesn't mention that his and Ryan's own contribution - Brent - is indirectly the reason that Brendon has a job right now. If Brent hadn't left, after all, there wouldn't have been an empty position left for Siska to fill, and he might have stayed a cabin boy.
"And who brought Gabe?" Brendon wonders, twisting to look over his shoulder at Gabe and fighting to hold back snickers. Spencer looks, too, although he still has absolutely no idea what Gabe is doing. It involves rope, obviously, as well as Ryan, Marshall, an old crate, and a large bottle of syrup. "Or was he a gift from the Cobra?"
"Just a gift from William. We weren't allowed to leave without him, because they're soulmates or something." That was actually how William had introduced him, if Spencer remembers correctly - and he's pretty sure he does, since an introduction like that is hard to forget. 'Spencer, Ryan, this is Gabe, we're pretty sure we were destined to fall in love.'
Spencer can't decide if he's just imagining the wistfulness in Brendon's voice when Brendon says, "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Spencer tells him, nodding. Maybe Brendon is just a hopeless romantic. It would explain a lot about his friendship with Ryan. "It's pretty epic, according to them."
Brendon is quiet for a moment, and Spencer looks over to find that he's got a shit-eating grin on his face. "You know," Brendon muses dramatically, "Ryan's been teaching me about epic poems, and he said that most of them were written to be sung."
Cash might not be contagious, but Spencer's beginning to worry that Ryan is. He raises his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" he asks dubiously.
"You sound like you don't think I can do it!" Brendon exclaims. "I'm insulted, First Mate Smith." He doesn't sound insulted. He sounds delighted.
"I don't know..." Spencer trails off, trying to keep a straight face. It's not that he cares one way or another if Brendon actually does this, of course. He's just... indulging Brendon to keep up crew morale. Yeah, that sounds about right. "You really think you can write a song about Gabe and William?"
"Are you challenging me?" Brendon demands, his eyes gleaming. "Because I want you to know, I can totally do it."
Spencer meets his eyes. "Prove it," he says, smirking.
Almost before Spencer is done speaking, Brendon flies down the stairs to the main deck, where he heads over to Cash and punches him in the shoulder. "What'd you do with my guitar, asshole?" Cash points to Alex Deleon, who points to Brendon's guitar case, which someone tied to the mast. Spencer has absolutely no clue who or why. It could have been any of the crew; they're all pretty crazy, after all.
Guitar in hand, Brendon dashes back up to Spencer, who stares at him with amused patience. "Okay, so," Brendon begins, slightly out of breath, "I've already got one in mind, do you want to hear?"
"Sure," Spencer says slowly, like his voice is trying to make up for how quickly Brendon was speaking.
"Are you positive?"
"Yes."
"You think you're ready for this?"
Spencer tries not to laugh. "Play the damn song!" he orders.
"If you're sure..."
"Brendon!"
With one last muted laugh, Brendon begins strumming. The melody is vaguely familiar, but Spencer doesn't really recognize it until Brendon starts singing, "Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world -"
Spencer takes his hands off the steering wheel so that he can poke Brendon in the side repeatedly. It's a generally effective tactic when he uses it on Jon and Ryan, and it works like a charm with Brendon, who immediately stops singing, too busy squirming away and breaking into peals of laughter.
"Okay, okay!" he protests, breathless, and Spencer relents, giving him a warning look. "No more, I promise. Just my songs, from now on."
"You'd better," Spencer threatens. "Or else."
"Or else what?" Brendon challenges cockily, smirking.
Spencer raises his eyebrows. "Or else I'll make you scream," he promises, which... comes out slightly differently than he intended. He and Brendon stare at each other for a moment before they both cough and look away quickly.
"So!" Brendon says. "Song. Tell me how they met and I will set it to music."
Spencer clears his throat - it's become dry all of a sudden - and begins.
*
With a sigh, Brendon slips down into her hammock, stretching and shifting slightly to get comfortable. The hammock sways, but she's used to it, now. She's used to a lot of things now, like the way the boat is always rocking under her feet ever so slightly, and the constant, light spray of sea water when she sits within five feet of the rails. Life at sea is easier than she thought it would be, and she has no idea why; after all, she grew up in a family that, in general, stayed as far away from water as possible. It's how she knows that Cash is wrong when he insists that she must have been born on a ship, she's picking up ship life so quickly.
Cash. He still hits on her ten times a day, on average; the rest of the Alexes do it too, if not nearly as frequently. She's still pretty sure they aren't serious, but even if they are, she already knows she can't give in. After all, it probably wouldn't take them long to discover that she's lacking... parts that are important when you're a man.
(Honestly, she's surprised she hasn't given herself away already; she just blesses every god she can think of that so many people on The Black Parade value privacy, and that she doesn't have to worry about a certain monthly event most women do. She has no idea how her parents managed to arrange a marriage for her, considering that she can't have children. It must have been an older man, maybe a widower who already had heirs of his own and just wanted a young wife he didn't have to worry about knocking up. Good riddance to him, then, but her infertility does make life easier. Divine plan, seriously.)
She has given the offer thought, though - more thought than she really wants to admit. Here's the thing, though: she likes sex. She's pretty sure it hasn't been so long since she had sex - since Jon - that she's forgotten. She remembers those weeks - those two, great, awesome weeks - like they were yesterday.
She likes sex and she misses sex and everybody else on the damn ship is having sex, which is really unfair. She's heard the Alexes going at it - hard to miss, when they all sleep in the same room - and she knows Nate and Victoria took advantage of their brief stay in Jersey when they dropped Frank and Jamia off. (Plus, she's seen enough of Victoria's discreet attempts to seduce Nate, and Nate's equally subtle attempts to seduce Victoria, to know that the two of them will probably have an onboard sex life in a little while.)
Gabe might not be having sex right now, but he'll see William in a little while, and anyway, it's only been two weeks. Brendon hasn't had sex in almost four years.
Yeah. Four years. She's pretty sure that she can be excused for finding the idea of five guys and one her more than a little tempting.
Not so tempting that she's going to give in, of course. Besides, if she was going to have sex with anyone on the ship, it would be - oh, god -
Apparently, they're a little behind schedule, so Spencer was extra bossy today, ordering everyone around and trying to make up time. Brendon and Ryan found themselves sharing smiles for most of the day, secret, fond, "Oh, Spencer," looks, and Brendon's not sure if it was her imagination or what, but Ryan's smiles seemed to get more and more sly as the day went on.
Sly, or maybe even inviting.
Brendon dares a brief peek around; everyone is lying calmly in their respective hammocks. She doesn't think anyone pays attention to her as she lets her head fall back into her pillow.
Anybody on the ship -
Oh, she would let Spencer boss her around in a heartbeat. He could boss her right up against a wall, or into that huge bed in the captain's quarters, the one she almost trips over every time she enters the room. And all the time, Ryan would be smiling like he was today, except he wouldn't be so far away this time, out of arm's reach when she's just aching to touch. He would be right beside her, that sly smile pressed into her skin, only dropping when he kissed along her neck or whispered dirty suggestions into her ear.
So, so dirty - fucking her over the rail so she swallows sea spray with every gasp, making her moan loud enough that they could hear her all the way down in the hold, tying her to the headboard with one of his ever-present scarves.
And she would gasp and press herself even harder into Spencer, who would be right there, his thigh between hers, reaching over her shoulder to draw Ryan into a deep, possessive kiss, like the one she saw a few days ago when she stumbled across them in the galley. This time, though, she wouldn't have to back away quietly, hoping they hadn't noticed; this time, she could watch, and then let Spencer draw her into a kiss of her own, and then spin her around so her ass pressed into his crotch as she and Ryan kissed.
Their hands, she thinks dreamily, would span almost across her waist, and she could just let herself melt bonelessly, sure of being caught between them. And then one of them would reach under her shirt - Spencer, she thinks, Spencer would smooth his hands up her sides and then reach to get his knife and cut away the binding over her chest without even scratching her. She'd make them take off their shirts, too, luxuriate in all that skin; it's been so long since she's stripped someone naked, run her hands and lips over every part of his body.
They could all go inside the cabin, she thinks, pressed together all the while, and -
She stifles a gasp, her eyes flying open as she looks around again. It doesn't look like anyone is awake, but then, it's fucking dark in here. Anybody could be lying in their hammock and listening to her. Fuck, Cash could be listening, and he'd never let her hear the end of it.
She tries to force her heart to stop pounding. It doesn't work.
It's too good of an idea to ever come true, but also too good to resist. The only way it could be better was if their Jon was her Jon, if when Spencer and Ryan walked her inside the captain's cabin he followed, kicking the door shut and watching the three of them with the darkened eyes she remembers so well. She'd reach out to him, wordlessly invite him to join them, and he'd walk over -
No. No. That isn't real, it never will be, and if she keeps on dreaming and fantasizing and wishing any longer then it's just going to be even more painful when she has to come back to earth.
Spencer and Ryan aren't hers and aren't interested in her. They don't even know she's a girl. And they've already got a third person, got an apparently amazing relationship with Jon, their Jon, who is not and never will be her Jon.
Her life is good as it is. It's better than she could have ever imagined it would be, back home. She should learn to be happy with the great things she already has and stop sitting and waiting and wishing for things she's never, ever going to have.
But if she could...
Act ThreeAct Four
ACT TWO
A hidden cove, where a mysterious vessel is docked...
"Jon!" Greta hisses, looking around to see if she can spot him.
"Here," Jon says from behind her, and she whirls around. He's alone.
"Oh, sweetie," she says, aching to give him a hug but not sure if he would accept it. Jon's generally good with being used for cuddling purposes, but that doesn't mean he always wants it, especially not when he's just suffered what she imagines is a pretty crushing disappointment. "Can I ask what happened?"
Jon shakes his head minutely, gesturing at The Hush Sound Is... "You know they're only going to ask, too. I'd rather only explain once."
"I can tell them," Greta offers, feeling like she's swimming in uncharted waters. She doesn't know anything about Jon's relationship with this girl, except that he's got Spencer and Ryan and he's still thinking about her, so she must be something pretty damn special. "If you don't want to deal with so many people right now."
Jon sighs and acquiesces; she can tell by the way he lowers his shoulders. You can't be on a boat with someone for so long without learning some of their tells. It makes poker games a lot less interesting, unless you're playing with Gabe. "She just wasn't there, and I couldn't find out where she had gone. It's like she disappeared."
Why do so many girls seem to be disappearing recently? Especially ones who cause so much trouble. "I'm sorry," Greta says, and Jon shrugs.
"It was a long shot anyway. She's probably married already, or something; I know her parents would want to have it arranged by now." He smiles at Greta, who doesn't buy it in the slightest. "It's not a big deal. I have Spencer and Ryan, and the ships. I just hope she's happy."
Greta just nods and resolves to get Jon settled in a cabin as soon as possible, away from pitying eyes. She'll make sure to tell the crew not to bring it up. If Jon doesn't want to talk about it, they won't talk about it.
The Black Parade, the most dangerous pirate ship still sailing
Ryan loves the new cabin boy. Not only does he help Ryan choose which hat to wear every day, he plays the guitar like he's a professional musician, and he fits in the crew. Ryan may, according to Spencer, occasionally be a moron about other people, but he knows when someone works with his crew, and Brendon works. He's cheerful and exuberant enough to keep up with Frank on his insanely energetic days, he works hard enough to suit Spencer, he isn't phased by Gabe's occasional bizarreness, and he's just mouthy enough to fit in, when he isn't rambling.
His never-ending cheerfulness did give Ryan momentary pause, but he got over that when he noticed Brendon's ass. Brendon has a fantastic ass.
What? You can't blame a guy for looking, okay.
"Ryan," Spencer says after Ryan's just spent a very enjoyable five minutes asking Brendon to bend over and get the hatboxes on the bottom shelves.
"What?" Ryan asks innocently, trying to bat his eyelashes. Spencer looks unimpressed, so it must not work as well as Ryan had hoped it would.
"You've already chosen your hat for today. That was totally unnecessary."
"I could be thinking ahead," Ryan protests. Spencer raises one eyebrow, and Ryan weakens. Spencer crosses his arms and cocks his hips, and Ryan folds completely. Spencer knows the effect the arm-hip combo has on him, damn it. Ryan makes a face that could absolutely not, in any sense of the word, be called a pout, as he says, "Fine, it was a little unnecessary."
Spencer's hips are still cocked.
"Fine, completely unnecessary," Ryan amends, "but!" Ooh, this is a good point. Ryan is not only a genius, but an observant genius. "You didn't have to stand there watching him get the boxes."
Spencer's stance shifts slightly, which Ryan is going to take as a win.
"You enjoyed it too," he says triumphantly, crossing his own arms and leaning back. "So there."
"Ryan, Brendon's here to work, not to get hit on," Spencer reminds him.
"I wasn't actually going to make a move," Ryan complains, frowning. He doesn't like it when Spencer impugns his character like that. "I'm not Jon, okay, I'm perfectly happy with the three of us." Ryan isn't bitter, no. Not even a little bit.
Why would he be bitter that Jon is apparently so unsatisfied with their relationship that he needs to go and try to kidnap some girl? Some girl that he hasn't even talked to in more than three years, even. Ryan has no reason to be bitter that Jon has been pining over some girl for longer than he, Spencer and Ryan have been together.
Spencer sighs and lets himself slump, sitting down next to Ryan. "Yeah, I know. I'm not thrilled either, but this is important to Jon." A moment passes, and he adds, "And maybe he won't find her."
Ryan looks away guiltily. "Does it make me a bad person to hope that he doesn't?"
Spencer rests his head on Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan feels their bodies align. "Probably. But at least you're not alone."
They sit for a moment, contemplating how they feel guilty for not feeling guiltier about being terrible people. Ryan does, at least. Then he asks, "Does this mean I can keep on asking Brendon to get things off the bottom shelves?"
Spencer reaches out a hand and smacks him lightly. "Limit it to once a day," he orders after a thoughtful moment. "And only do it when I'm around."
"No problem," Ryan agrees, smiling. He loves it when Spencer's bossy. It's one of the best things about being a pirate.
*
Being a pirate is awesome. Brendon knows it down to the very bottom of her soul, okay. It's just a fact of life.
"Hah!" she shouts as she manages to stab Frank in the shoulder. "I rock!"
Admittedly, "stab" has a variable definition. In this case, it means that she manages to lightly poke Frank's shoulder withe the blunt edge of a wooden stick.
He swerves behind her quickly and slaps her ass with his own stick, cackling maniacally as she whips around and glares at him. "No, I rock," he tells her, which is kind of true. Frank is one of the rocking-est people she knows. "And what did I tell you about talking during a swordfight?"
"Shouting random words in French makes you sound more legit to people who don't know anything about French or fencing!" she repeats dutifully, shaking sweat out of her eyes as she smacks his pole with her own. "Touche!"
Brendon does actually know how to speak French. She's not quite fluent, because she never paid enough attention during her lessons, but she knows enough to make conversation. So far she's managed not to let on that she knows more than the occasional phrase, though, because that might invite questions and if questions are invited into the house, she's not sure she can keep the answers from escaping once the door is opened. And answers, of course, are dangerous, because the answer to the question, "Oh, how did you learn French, Brendon?" is, "Funnily enough, my parents arranged for my tutor, M. Lautrec, to travel to our manor from his home in Toulouse, since according to the nobility the only proper way for a countess-to-be to learn French is with a native speaker."
Normal people don't have tutors imported from France. Normal people just know the occasional word that they can yell out in an overexaggerated French accent. Like, say, Frank is doing.
"En garde!" he shouts as they battle across the deck, not doing much more than letting their poles hit each other with loud, cracking sounds. It's much more interesting than proper fencing, which apparently doesn't factor into The Black Parade's style of piracy at all. After all, if you actually duel someone else, one of you could potentially get hurt.
However, Spencer insisted that if Brendon wants to join the crew on their next distraction-providing adventure, she has to be comfortable enough with a sword that she wouldn't stab herself trying to get it out of the sheath. Frank promised that by the time they dropped him and Jamia off at another port in a week and a half, Brendon would be an expert at waving a sword around.
...Plus, it's really fun.
"Bonjour!" Brendon yells, gripping her stick with both hands and subjecting Frank's stick to a sudden barrage of blows. She makes a few half-hearted stabs in his direction, but never really bothers following through.
"Merci!"
The rest of the crew is scattered around the deck, laughing and staying out of their way. Frank already has a reputation for being occasionally over-exuberant with his sword-waving, and Brendon isn't much better.
"Toujours!" Brendon tries not to look at Spencer and Ryan too much, but she occasionally glances over to see if they're enjoying the show. Just because, you know, they're the captain and the first mate and she doesn't want her antics to annoy them. Obviously that's the only reason.
"Escargot!" Frank shouts, and when Brendon starts laughing, he quickly - seriously, Frank moves faster than the speed of light or something, it's ridiculous - jumps forward and skewers her.
Well, he drives his stick into the space between Brendon's arm and her stomach, which totally counts as a killing thrust. Accordingly, Brendon gives a convulsive gasp, dropping her "sword" to the deck with a clatter. Frank looks appropriately triumphant as she falls to her knees, clutching her side and breathing heavily.
"You -" she wheezes desperately, reaching out to him with one clawing hand. "You will pay for this -"
Abruptly, she slumps forward, still reaching out, and falls face-first on the deck. She's just in the middle of spasming her way through an absolutely fabulous death scene when Alex Marshall climbs halfway down the rigging and asks, "Hey Bren, could you grab my notebook from belowdecks?"
"Dying here!" she yells back, getting back to the business of convulsing properly. A decently epic thrash flips her over, and she shudders into stillness, letting her eyes fall open glassily.
After a moment, she gets her feet under her and springs up in a single movement, bowing to her audience. They burst into respectful applause, and Frank gives her an approving high five.
"Nice job," Jamia says, grinning at Brendon, who smiles proudly.
"I do what I can." Performance done, she looks at Marshall. "What was that, Marsh? Now that, you know, you're not interrupting the middle of my awesome death?"
"My notebook?" he asks winsomely. "Since, as cabin boy, you're supposed to run errands and everything?"
"Yeah, right," she snorts. "Sisky already told me I shouldn't do anything you guys ask."
"Seconded," Spencer yells out, and she gives him a much more bashful smile than the one she awarded Jamia.
"But," she continues, because she likes Marshall, "I will be happy to escort you, if you're afraid of the big bad belowdecks. Because I am just that awesome."
She loves the Alexes, all of them. They apparently made some sort of group decision to adopt her that first day on The Black Parade, showing her the basics of travel on the high seas and dragging her up to the crow's nest for mini-parties which mostly involve a lot of giggling. In return, Brendon actually makes an effort to call them all by their own names, which they seem to appreciate.
"I don't know," Victoria says dryly, raising her eyebrows. "I don't trust any of those boys alone with you, Brendon."
Also they hit on her a lot, which Brendon's sure is just a joke, because really, they've already got the five of them. It's funny, though, so usually she plays along.
"Alex Marshall!" she gasps, looking up at him. "I am not that kind of girl!" Whoops, she meant to say "boy". Oh well, hopefully they'll all just take it as part of the joke. "Thank you, Victoria, for protecting my virtue."
"Anything for a fellow lady," Victoria tells her casually, nodding.
Okay, there's another thing. Brendon has a sinking suspicion that Victoria and Jamia have already guessed about her being a girl, since sometimes they drop these sly hints that everybody else takes as jokes. She tries not to think of that, though, since she's really not ready for her cover to be blown. It's not that she doesn't think the rest of the crew wouldn't accept her as a girl, since she's pretty sure Victoria, Jamia and Greta would all kick their asses out of their ears. She just doesn't want to go back to being Brendon Urie, runaway noblewoman. She's kind of enjoying being just Brendon.
And sure, just Brendon happens to be a boy, but you know, on this ship, it's not as hard to fake being a boy as she thought it would be.
Marshall, still hanging from the rigging, frowns. Brendon wonders momentarily if he's annoyed at her, despite none of the Alexes ever having gotten annoyed at Brendon before, until he says, "Hey, is that a ship?"
Spencer reaches for the spyglass he keeps hooked to his belt and lifts it to his eye. "It's The Hush Sound Is...," he announces after a second.
Gabe immediately bounces to his feet, striding to the railing in seconds as if just being those few yards closer to the other ship will somehow enable him to touch William. He's been pining. It's been kind of depressing. "Bilvy!" he yells across the waves.
"Is that a flag?" Ryan asks excitedly, poking Spencer in the side.
When separated, The Hush Sound Is... and The Black Parade communicate through an elaborate system of mirror flashes and flag waves. They call it flashing, and everyone on the ship is fluent except Brendon, who hasn't had a chance to learn it yet.
"No, I think that was one of William's bandannas," Spencer says, and Ryan droops.
"We need to train pigeons," he mutters, slumping against the rail.
"You tried," Nate remarks from the steering wheel. He's one of their main navigators, which Brendon finds priceless simply because the steering wheel is almost as big as he is. "You and Jon. It failed."
"Are you sure Andy won't let us steal any of his, Spencer?" Ryan asks, looking at Spencer with his biggest, most pleading eyes.
The effect is wasted when Spencer doesn't even turn to look at him as he says, "I'm sure." Brendon smiles a little, then snaps to attention as Spencer continues, "Now I see a flag. Brendon, run down and grab the chest with the mirrors and the flags."
He doesn't even make it into a question, which Brendon really should not love as much as she does. She ran away because people were telling her what to do, after all. Somehow it's just different with Spencer.
She finds the chest and runs back up the stairs as quickly as she can, but she's already missed hearing Spencer's translation of the first part of the message. All she can tell is that Spencer and Ryan look awfully relieved.
She carefully sets down the chest where Spencer can reach it and scurries back a few steps. "What happened?" she whispers to Ian, who's the most reliable of the Alexes.
"Jon's errand didn't work," he whispers back. Jon's errand, right - all Brendon knows is that he was trying to find someone, and there was something about love in there. She never attempted to find out the specifics; thinking about people named Jon lead to thinking about one person named Jon in particular. "And we're not supposed to talk about it, which I think Spencer and Ryan will be fine with."
Brendon sees a flag wave on the other ship and nudges Ian. "What's going on now?"
"That's William talking," he explains, staring across. Brendon watches the breeze play with his curls. While they're not quite as hypnotizing as Sisky's hair, and she's not as afraid of any sudden moves they might make while she doesn't have her eyes on them, they still combine into a pretty impressive mop of hair. "He says - Spencer, they're not close enough for me to see clearly. What's he saying?"
"He wants to know if Gabe was yelling his name a few minutes ago, since nobody else on his ship heard it and now they're mocking him," Spencer says with a hint of a smile. It's a good look for him, Brendon thinks, before remembering to shut down that line of thinking.
"Hah!" Gabe cries victoriously, reaching into the chest and grabbing a mirror, which he turns this way and that. Brendon assumes he's sending a message along the lines of, 'Yes, I did, and you can tell those deaf jerks that nothing, not even miles of ocean, can impede our love.'
"Gabe, put down the mirror," Spencer orders firmly, and Brendon tries not to swoon sideways into Ian. From the looks of it, Ryan is having a similar reaction, since he's leaning on the railing and smirking. It's the expression of someone who has been in bed with Spencer in an order-giving mood, and is looking forward to repeating the experience sometime very, very soon. "You know you're not allowed to flash anymore."
"It was one time!" Gabe complains, setting the mirror back in the chest. He crosses his arms over his chest. "And it's not like you and your two amantes haven't been graphic over flash when you've been separated."
Huh. Brendon really wants to hear both those stories. In detail. Very, very heavy detail.
Spencer shakes his head and focuses on his spyglass again. "He says that since we're dropping off Frank and Jamia, they're going to detour and let Mike visit Kevin -"
"Booty call!" Cash shouts, pumping his fists in the air and running around the deck.
"- because Mike is soft and mushy and misses his one true love and it's painful to watch him moping."
If Brendon squints, she thinks she can see a tall figure on the other ship suddenly get tackled to the deck.
"Okay," Spencer says. "Alex, grab the flags and tell them ship-kiss in two weeks." Alex Johnson shrugs and complies. "If we haven't gotten pigeons from Pete by then, we'll figure something out."
Brendon sits on a bench nearby, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back as she soaks in the sun. She doesn't need to see this; she's not going to understand it, anyway. She's perfectly willing to just sit here, listening to Spencer.
She hears a rustle and looks over to see that Ryan has joined her at the bench. "Hey," she says, and he looks up, away from her throat.
"Hey," he says, the corner of his mouth starting to turn up. "I figured I didn't need to stand there watching, either."
"But what if they need your help to decide something?" she asks, even though her time on both ships has taught her that for someone who's supposedly captain, Ryan doesn't really do much in the way of running the ship. According to Nate, Ryan's liable to get distracted by a pretty sword or a brightly-colored bird, and then spend the rest of the morning painting or writing bizarre, metaphor-laden prose. Or porn. Apparently he writes a lot of porn.
Ryan laughs, and Brendon catches herself swaying towards him almost subconsciously. "No captain of The Black Parade has ever really been the one making decisions. It's all about the first mate. Gerard always let Brian and Bob handle everything."
"So what does the captain do, then?" she wonders curiously.
"We're in charge of going to taverns, pretending to be weird, artsy strangers, and spreading wild stories about The Black Parade," Ryan explains. Somehow he's shifted closer on the bench, so their shoulders are brushing. Brendon tries not to think about it. "And we get to wear the awesome hats. That's how Gerard convinced me to take on the job."
"Sounds fun," Brendon says, grinning. "Almost as fun as being a cabin boy."
"They both have their perks," Ryan agrees solemnly, looking at her, one lone curl hanging almost in his eyes, and wow, isn't that annoying for him? You know, as a good employee, Brendon really should reach out and brush it away. A cabin boy has to do the little things for his (or her, whatever) captain, it's really in her job description -
"Brendon!" Spencer calls over, turning to look at her with one hand propped on his waist. Brendon jerks her head up and almost falls off the bench. "Everyone you met says hi, and William and Ryland say they can't wait to meet you."
"I can't wait to meet them either," Brendon says, swinging her feet happily and not quite daring to look over at Ryan yet. "And tell Sisky I'm glad he came up to me in that tavern!"
"Is he the reason you won't give in to our advances?" Cash demands, frowning at Brendon. "Do I need to duel with him for your affections?"
"Nah," Brendon assures him. "I totally love you guys best." When she peeks over at Ryan, he's smiling.
*
"Brendon, I left a map in the cabin. Could you grab it for me?" Spencer asks, his hands lightly resting on the steering wheel. Brendon grins and gives him a thumbs up before bouncing off. Spencer thinks he could really come to appreciate having a cabin boy who actually does his job; Sisky tended to reply to requests with variations on, "Nah, I'd really rather not." He's better off as one of the general crew, who never really seem to do much of anything until swords need to be waved.
When Brendon comes back, map in hand, Spencer says, "Stay and talk to me for a minute." Brendon's been spending a lot of time with Ryan recently, after all, talking very seriously about hats, scarves, and poems. Brendon says he isn't a huge fan of poetry; Ryan is trying to change that with some sort of cunning plan to start with Beowulf and lure Brendon in.
Spencer's willing to admit that the increasingly-frequent sight of Brendon and Ryan lying on their stomachs on the captain's bed, pointing at various lines in a book, has made him think that he should try to get to know Brendon a little better.
It's not that Spencer doesn't approve of Brendon; if he didn't, The Black Parade would have made an unplanned stop at a convenient port to drop off a minor annoyance. But besides his brief interrogation of Brendon, the two of them haven't really had a conversation.
If Ryan were listening to Spencer's internal monologue, he would probably make some sort of comment at this point about Spencer just wanting to talk to Brendon because Brendon is hot, which isn't true. Mostly. Except for the bit about Brendon being hot, obviously, but, seriously, every member of the crew on both ships is hot. That doesn't mean anything.
"Sure," Brendon agrees cheerfully, only looking slightly wary. "What about?"
"How's everything going for you so far?" Spencer wonders.
"Great!" Brendon bounces up and down on his toes, smiling excitedly. "Everyone has been so nice. And being a pirate rocks! I don't know why anyone would want to be anything else."
"Better than whatever you left?" Spencer asks, even though he told himself he wouldn't ask. He's incredibly familiar with people who just want to keep their pasts behind them - hell, he's sleeping with one of those people. Ryan would be happy if he never had to think about his family again.
And then, on the other hand, he's also sleeping with Jon, who loves his past so much that he had to go try to kidnap it so he could bring it into his present. Spencer doesn't mind acknowledging the past every so often, but honestly, that seems a little extreme.
Brendon is clearly the exact opposite of Jon, because all his energy suddenly seems to drain when Spencer asks that question. "I - yeah," he says, interrupting himself and watching Spencer cautiously, the smile gone. "I'd, um. Rather not talk about it."
"Okay," Spencer agrees, trying to keep an eye on Brendon without being too obvious about it. He thinks Brendon might be hiding something - not a bad something, so figuring it out isn't a priority, but. Spencer likes to know what's going on on his ships, and he doesn't want Brendon to feel like he has to hide anything from them. "So. Your sword-waving lessons? How are those going?"
Brendon brightens minutely. "Pretty well," he says, his mouth starting to quirk into a smile again. It's a very nice mouth. "Jamia's helping too, now. Do we really have to drop her and Frank off? Couldn't we just keep them here?"
Spencer laughs. "I think we've all asked them that at one point or another, but they have their own things to get back to. Also, if you try to keep Frank anywhere for too long, he starts jumping around like a caged monkey." Brendon slants Spencer a skeptical look, glancing down at where Frank is currently getting his kicks climbing up the rigging and jumping off, and Spencer corrects, "Okay, more like a caged monkey. It's not pretty."
After a second, Brendon laughs, too. "Fine. I -" He breaks off, making a confused face. Spencer follows his line of sight down to the deck, where - surprise, surprise - Cash is waving his arms around, trying to signal to Brendon. It looks like he's playing a game of dirty charades, although to be fair it probably only looks dirty because it's Cash, and not because of the signals involved. "What?"
Cash sketches out a square with his hands, and then makes a roof shape above his head. Then he points frantically at Brendon.
"Oh!" Brendon says in sudden comprehension. He looks at Spencer, smiling wryly. "I think Cash wants me to ask you if the Alexes can have a cabin. Apparently they really want me as their cabin boy."
"Not a chance, Cash!" Spencer shouts down. Cash makes a face, and Spencer turns his attention away.
"Not ever?" Brendon wonders innocently, his face completely straight. "You haven't ever thought about quarantine?"
Spencer can appreciate a sense of humor like that. "We're pretty sure it's not contagious," he tells Brendon solemnly. "Although you should probably be extra careful, with the way the Alexes surround you."
It's really none of his business if the ship's resident fivesome wants to absorb Brendon and become a sixsome, although for the life of him Spencer can't work out the logistics of it. Six people in a bed just seems like a tangle of limbs. Really, though, not his business, which is why he isn't asking about it.
But, you know, if Brendon decides to respond to his completely rhetorical joke, he won't complain.
"I think they're joking?" Brendon asks, sounding like his voice can't decide whether it wants to be amused or uncertain. It settles on bemused. "I mean, you'd think that once you've already got that many people, you wouldn't need to add in anyone else."
"You'd think," Spencer murmurs.
You'd think that once you've got a good thing going, you wouldn't feel the need to convince someone else to join, but Jon's got that fixation on his teenage sweetheart, and Spencer's pretty sure that Ryan wouldn't object at all if Brendon wanted to join the three of them one night.
It would have to be the three of them, of course; they couldn't just make a decision like that without Jon, even if Brendon were to sneak into Spencer and Ryan's room in the middle of the night and -
Spencer realizes suddenly that Brendon, his eyes wide, is staring at Spencer's hands, which have apparently started caressing the handles of the steering wheel completely of their own volition.
He jerks his hands off the wheel and Brendon snaps his gaze up, both of them blushing and looking away from each other.
"Anyway!" Brendon says, his voice high. "So, uh. Alexes."
"Alexes," Spencer agrees, shaking his head resignedly. There are very few circumstances, he thinks, which would ever lead to him admitting that he finds the Alexes entertaining - or, god forbid, that he actually likes having them around. Maybe if he's really, really, really drunk. Or high. Or if he or one of the Alexes were in some sort of imminent doom situation. Even then, though, it's a bit of a stretch.
In fact, there's a higher probability of his admitting that he's somewhat attracted to Brendon, and Spencer's pretty determined not to admit that under pain of death, so.
After a moment of silence, Brendon relaxes, slumping forward with his elbows resting on the railing that overlooks the main deck. Spencer can see Brendon's partial profile and the line of his back, and Brendon can see... whatever it is the crew is getting up to. Spencer doesn't think he wants to know.
"Alexes," Brendon laughs fondly. "You said they stowed away on the ship? Why am I not surprised?"
"Probably because you've spent more than five minutes in their presence," Spencer says wryly. He knows that the Alexes do, in fact, have distinguishing features - Ian has the hair, Johnson is surprisingly efficient, Deleon looks kind of like a girl, Marshall is quiet, and Cash is crazy and has the terrible tattoo - but really, it's easier to just think of them as one unit. It's not like you generally got one without the others, anyway.
"Seriously, though, five teenagers? Creeping aboard the scariest pirate ship ever?" Spencer catches the glance that Brendon sneaks at him, just a quick look sideways and up through dark lashes. "And you guys, what, just didn't notice?"
Spencer's voice is as dry as possible when he says, "Let's just say that Ryan is never allowed to be the only one standing guard again."
Those days seem so far away, two years ago when William was dragging Spencer off to vet potential recruits, and they thought that leaving the ship in a cove so deserted it wasn't on any map they had ever seen would make up for Ryan's inefficiencies as a guard - and really, Spencer means that in the most loving way possible. It's not even that they'd overestimated Ryan's abilities; they'd just underestimated the Alexes' adventure-detection skills. It's like they have some sort of compass that points directly to where they can get themselves in the most trouble.
Brendon laughs again and flips himself around, his elbows still on the rail but in an entirely different direction. It's easier for Spencer to look him in the eyes now, which might but also might not be a good thing. "So, they snuck in. I got personally recruited by Sisky in a tavern. Do you hire anybody normally?"
"At this point, I'm not even sure what normal is." Spencer matches Brendon's grin with a small smile of his own, continuing, "Besides you guys, we got all of the crew through mutual friends. Pete brought some, William knew a bunch of people, and Gabe dragged a few more in."
William and Gabe brought their friends first, actually; it was only when the ship started getting crowded, and they came upon the idea of getting a second ship, that Pete suggested Greta, Chris, Bob, and Darren. Spencer doesn't mention that his and Ryan's own contribution - Brent - is indirectly the reason that Brendon has a job right now. If Brent hadn't left, after all, there wouldn't have been an empty position left for Siska to fill, and he might have stayed a cabin boy.
"And who brought Gabe?" Brendon wonders, twisting to look over his shoulder at Gabe and fighting to hold back snickers. Spencer looks, too, although he still has absolutely no idea what Gabe is doing. It involves rope, obviously, as well as Ryan, Marshall, an old crate, and a large bottle of syrup. "Or was he a gift from the Cobra?"
"Just a gift from William. We weren't allowed to leave without him, because they're soulmates or something." That was actually how William had introduced him, if Spencer remembers correctly - and he's pretty sure he does, since an introduction like that is hard to forget. 'Spencer, Ryan, this is Gabe, we're pretty sure we were destined to fall in love.'
Spencer can't decide if he's just imagining the wistfulness in Brendon's voice when Brendon says, "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Spencer tells him, nodding. Maybe Brendon is just a hopeless romantic. It would explain a lot about his friendship with Ryan. "It's pretty epic, according to them."
Brendon is quiet for a moment, and Spencer looks over to find that he's got a shit-eating grin on his face. "You know," Brendon muses dramatically, "Ryan's been teaching me about epic poems, and he said that most of them were written to be sung."
Cash might not be contagious, but Spencer's beginning to worry that Ryan is. He raises his eyebrows. "Are you suggesting what I think you are?" he asks dubiously.
"You sound like you don't think I can do it!" Brendon exclaims. "I'm insulted, First Mate Smith." He doesn't sound insulted. He sounds delighted.
"I don't know..." Spencer trails off, trying to keep a straight face. It's not that he cares one way or another if Brendon actually does this, of course. He's just... indulging Brendon to keep up crew morale. Yeah, that sounds about right. "You really think you can write a song about Gabe and William?"
"Are you challenging me?" Brendon demands, his eyes gleaming. "Because I want you to know, I can totally do it."
Spencer meets his eyes. "Prove it," he says, smirking.
Almost before Spencer is done speaking, Brendon flies down the stairs to the main deck, where he heads over to Cash and punches him in the shoulder. "What'd you do with my guitar, asshole?" Cash points to Alex Deleon, who points to Brendon's guitar case, which someone tied to the mast. Spencer has absolutely no clue who or why. It could have been any of the crew; they're all pretty crazy, after all.
Guitar in hand, Brendon dashes back up to Spencer, who stares at him with amused patience. "Okay, so," Brendon begins, slightly out of breath, "I've already got one in mind, do you want to hear?"
"Sure," Spencer says slowly, like his voice is trying to make up for how quickly Brendon was speaking.
"Are you positive?"
"Yes."
"You think you're ready for this?"
Spencer tries not to laugh. "Play the damn song!" he orders.
"If you're sure..."
"Brendon!"
With one last muted laugh, Brendon begins strumming. The melody is vaguely familiar, but Spencer doesn't really recognize it until Brendon starts singing, "Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world -"
Spencer takes his hands off the steering wheel so that he can poke Brendon in the side repeatedly. It's a generally effective tactic when he uses it on Jon and Ryan, and it works like a charm with Brendon, who immediately stops singing, too busy squirming away and breaking into peals of laughter.
"Okay, okay!" he protests, breathless, and Spencer relents, giving him a warning look. "No more, I promise. Just my songs, from now on."
"You'd better," Spencer threatens. "Or else."
"Or else what?" Brendon challenges cockily, smirking.
Spencer raises his eyebrows. "Or else I'll make you scream," he promises, which... comes out slightly differently than he intended. He and Brendon stare at each other for a moment before they both cough and look away quickly.
"So!" Brendon says. "Song. Tell me how they met and I will set it to music."
Spencer clears his throat - it's become dry all of a sudden - and begins.
*
With a sigh, Brendon slips down into her hammock, stretching and shifting slightly to get comfortable. The hammock sways, but she's used to it, now. She's used to a lot of things now, like the way the boat is always rocking under her feet ever so slightly, and the constant, light spray of sea water when she sits within five feet of the rails. Life at sea is easier than she thought it would be, and she has no idea why; after all, she grew up in a family that, in general, stayed as far away from water as possible. It's how she knows that Cash is wrong when he insists that she must have been born on a ship, she's picking up ship life so quickly.
Cash. He still hits on her ten times a day, on average; the rest of the Alexes do it too, if not nearly as frequently. She's still pretty sure they aren't serious, but even if they are, she already knows she can't give in. After all, it probably wouldn't take them long to discover that she's lacking... parts that are important when you're a man.
(Honestly, she's surprised she hasn't given herself away already; she just blesses every god she can think of that so many people on The Black Parade value privacy, and that she doesn't have to worry about a certain monthly event most women do. She has no idea how her parents managed to arrange a marriage for her, considering that she can't have children. It must have been an older man, maybe a widower who already had heirs of his own and just wanted a young wife he didn't have to worry about knocking up. Good riddance to him, then, but her infertility does make life easier. Divine plan, seriously.)
She has given the offer thought, though - more thought than she really wants to admit. Here's the thing, though: she likes sex. She's pretty sure it hasn't been so long since she had sex - since Jon - that she's forgotten. She remembers those weeks - those two, great, awesome weeks - like they were yesterday.
She likes sex and she misses sex and everybody else on the damn ship is having sex, which is really unfair. She's heard the Alexes going at it - hard to miss, when they all sleep in the same room - and she knows Nate and Victoria took advantage of their brief stay in Jersey when they dropped Frank and Jamia off. (Plus, she's seen enough of Victoria's discreet attempts to seduce Nate, and Nate's equally subtle attempts to seduce Victoria, to know that the two of them will probably have an onboard sex life in a little while.)
Gabe might not be having sex right now, but he'll see William in a little while, and anyway, it's only been two weeks. Brendon hasn't had sex in almost four years.
Yeah. Four years. She's pretty sure that she can be excused for finding the idea of five guys and one her more than a little tempting.
Not so tempting that she's going to give in, of course. Besides, if she was going to have sex with anyone on the ship, it would be - oh, god -
Apparently, they're a little behind schedule, so Spencer was extra bossy today, ordering everyone around and trying to make up time. Brendon and Ryan found themselves sharing smiles for most of the day, secret, fond, "Oh, Spencer," looks, and Brendon's not sure if it was her imagination or what, but Ryan's smiles seemed to get more and more sly as the day went on.
Sly, or maybe even inviting.
Brendon dares a brief peek around; everyone is lying calmly in their respective hammocks. She doesn't think anyone pays attention to her as she lets her head fall back into her pillow.
Anybody on the ship -
Oh, she would let Spencer boss her around in a heartbeat. He could boss her right up against a wall, or into that huge bed in the captain's quarters, the one she almost trips over every time she enters the room. And all the time, Ryan would be smiling like he was today, except he wouldn't be so far away this time, out of arm's reach when she's just aching to touch. He would be right beside her, that sly smile pressed into her skin, only dropping when he kissed along her neck or whispered dirty suggestions into her ear.
So, so dirty - fucking her over the rail so she swallows sea spray with every gasp, making her moan loud enough that they could hear her all the way down in the hold, tying her to the headboard with one of his ever-present scarves.
And she would gasp and press herself even harder into Spencer, who would be right there, his thigh between hers, reaching over her shoulder to draw Ryan into a deep, possessive kiss, like the one she saw a few days ago when she stumbled across them in the galley. This time, though, she wouldn't have to back away quietly, hoping they hadn't noticed; this time, she could watch, and then let Spencer draw her into a kiss of her own, and then spin her around so her ass pressed into his crotch as she and Ryan kissed.
Their hands, she thinks dreamily, would span almost across her waist, and she could just let herself melt bonelessly, sure of being caught between them. And then one of them would reach under her shirt - Spencer, she thinks, Spencer would smooth his hands up her sides and then reach to get his knife and cut away the binding over her chest without even scratching her. She'd make them take off their shirts, too, luxuriate in all that skin; it's been so long since she's stripped someone naked, run her hands and lips over every part of his body.
They could all go inside the cabin, she thinks, pressed together all the while, and -
She stifles a gasp, her eyes flying open as she looks around again. It doesn't look like anyone is awake, but then, it's fucking dark in here. Anybody could be lying in their hammock and listening to her. Fuck, Cash could be listening, and he'd never let her hear the end of it.
She tries to force her heart to stop pounding. It doesn't work.
It's too good of an idea to ever come true, but also too good to resist. The only way it could be better was if their Jon was her Jon, if when Spencer and Ryan walked her inside the captain's cabin he followed, kicking the door shut and watching the three of them with the darkened eyes she remembers so well. She'd reach out to him, wordlessly invite him to join them, and he'd walk over -
No. No. That isn't real, it never will be, and if she keeps on dreaming and fantasizing and wishing any longer then it's just going to be even more painful when she has to come back to earth.
Spencer and Ryan aren't hers and aren't interested in her. They don't even know she's a girl. And they've already got a third person, got an apparently amazing relationship with Jon, their Jon, who is not and never will be her Jon.
Her life is good as it is. It's better than she could have ever imagined it would be, back home. She should learn to be happy with the great things she already has and stop sitting and waiting and wishing for things she's never, ever going to have.
But if she could...
Act ThreeAct Four