#Chelle Ivanov & Smokes Abram

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

"While I appreciate that you did that for me, I don't appreciate the fact that you nearly died because of it." 

Using this prompt list.

Chelle woke with a groan. Her head felt heavy, the world swimming even before she dared open her eyes. But the brief glimpse of the world she’d got assured her she was back in the safety of the ship. A stream of sunlight had cut through a crack in the curtains. An assurance that she was in Smokes’s cabin; that it was no longer the middle of the night as she thought it should have been.

‘You’re awake.’ Smokes’s voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, but even with that she could hear the relief behind his words.

‘How long have I been out for?’ she asked, the words scratchy in her own throat. She tentatively peeled an eyelid open, and found the world didn’t give her an immediately stark headache.

Cautiously, she opened the other.

Smokes was silent as he moved from his vast desk chair and towards her. Where some people seemed to rock with the boat as they moved, he always seemed to be at one with it. If anything, he wobbled more on dry land than when walking his ship. But there was an uneasy look behind his eyes. Dark circles clung to his tanned skin like bruises.

‘Smokes?’

He shook his head ever so slightly and perched on the edge of the bed. His bed, she realised. ‘While I appreciate that you did that for me,’ he told her, voice still low, slightly strained as if he were leashing his emotions lest they tumble out of him in a crashing wave that might drown them both, ‘I don’t appreciate the fact that you nearly died because of it.’

‘How long?’

A tick of annoyance seemed to jump in his jaw, but Smokes had shuttered the look from his eyes before she could try reading into it further.

‘Two days,’ he told her, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘It would have been worse, if not for...’ She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. ‘You could have just given me the antidote rather than downing it and then my drink.’

‘It might not have worked on you.’

‘It might not have worked on you!’ His eyes blazed as he stood, looming over her for once. It was the first time she’d ever really appreciated how terrifying he could have been to his enemies. Even in the early days of knowing him, there had been something that didn’t scream violence to her. Sure there was danger there, but he hid it behind charm and promises in silky voices that wrapped threats like gifts.

‘There was no chance of it failing for me,’ she told him evenly. If there was one thing her father had been good at, it was protecting his children from any real outward injury. He couldn’t protect their hearts, but protecting them from possible murder attempts was something he did without blinking.

Smokes loosed a shaky breath before dropping back onto the bed beside her. ‘Never try to save me like that again.’

‘No promises,’ she told him.

There was a flicker of mild irritation behind his eyes, but she could have sworn there was something like affection underpinning it as well.

‘Well then, it looks like I owe you a debt.’

‘Already paid,’ she told him, offering a small smile. Smokes might not have realised it, but he’d saved her by letting her onto the ship that first day. Even if he hated her then, even if he’d threatened to ransom her off, he’d saved her from a drawn out death she wasn’t sure she could handle.

He offered her the briefest of smiles before placing a very quick kiss against the top of her head.

‘Rest,’ he ordered. ‘Otherwise I’m a pair of hands down on deck for even longer, and who knows what trouble that could cause.’

‘Aye, Captain,’ she chirped as he stood, hoping she would be back on deck sooner rather than later.