The Jackdaw Ch6

Edward Kenway x Reader

It had to have been the next day when you finally pried your eyes open again. The loud creaking of the door pulled you from sleep, the banging of boots hard against the wooden floorboards quickly following. "Kenway!" His voice was deep, gruff, and incredibly loud. "What the devil are you doing, boy?"
Edward stood, whispering with bitterness, "Jaysus. Keep it down, Thatch."
"Your men told me you were hold up in a bakery fondling over some boy who got wounded." Thatch's eyes peered passed Edward, his dark tanned skin fitting well with the blackness of his beard.
You tried not to grin but the shocked expression he wore was priceless. It wasn't that he was simply shocked, rather he hadn't been expecting it. You were curled up on the bed to keep most of your wounded back from touching too firmly against anything, your hair tossled about around you.
"Ah, a lady?"
"She's... that boy on my crew." Edward shifted, slowly dropping back down into his seat next to the bed. "They don't know." He lifted a hand to his forehead, fingers pressed into his temple.
Thatch gave a rough, gravelly laugh. "Sure as hell explains a lot, Kenway." He moved across the room, steps still loud and reverberating, his weaponry clattering from their holsters and sheaths. "Your crew's starting to think you've lost your pirating touch. Right now, the rum and the ladies are keeping them occupied. But they'll hunger for more gold, Kenway."
"I know," muttered Edward, eyes resting on yours and you could see that he hadn't slept for some time. You weren't even sure he had eaten anything in the past few days.
You attempted a weak smile, attempted to keep your voice level and even, "Go get me some rum, Captain. Drink a few for me while you're out there."
He was frozen, examining your expression for any signs that might convince him to stay. And you damn well hoped that none of the pain you were feeling registered across your face. You put every effort and thought into smoothing out your brows and softening your lips.
"She's right, you know." Thatch smacked a hand into his chest. "Drink a few with your men. Sing a few cheers. Then you can hightail it back up here to your dearest sweetheart." He threw you a wink and another rusty laugh.
Edward stiffened but he got up onto his feet. "I'll send Adé up here to check on you."
You huffed a laugh, the pain it caused becoming unbearable. You nodded your head, desperate to keep your expression smooth. You didn't want to alarm Edward to your sudden dose of agony. You couldn't speak, there wasn't enough air in your lungs.
Thatch grabbed Edward by the arm and half-pulled him out of the bedroom. He was laughing loudly again, saying something to him that you hadn't really picked up on. You were just glad to finally cringe in pain, let out a quick sob before a gasp. Whatever medicine the doctor had given you earlier was wearing off. Medicine and rum, that is. And you'd kill to have either one in your system.
Your whole body trembled with it, a fiery agony that devoured its way across your skin. Each small wound amassed into a greater pain, a bed of pins and needles. A brush of cloth and a flex of muscle, all accumulated together into discomfort. You curled into a ball, knees against your chest, avoiding any movement that might flare up the pain across your side.
It felt like hours before the door creaked again. You stifled your sobbing and pressed your mouth into the fisted covers with hopes to keep back any sounds. However, you wouldn't be able to cover up your reddened eyes or the streaks of tears quite so easily.
Ade's brilliant smile came into view, his dark skin glistening from the Carribean heat. He strided across the room, glancing you over and letting his smile fade. "You been crying?"
You stiffly shook your head, clenching your eyes shut when the small gesture shot a pain down your back. You sunk your teeth into the cloth that covered your mouth.
"Damn it, girl. You're in pain, aren't you?" His shoulders stiffened as he leaned over across the bed and felt your forehead. "Fever, too. Tsk. Should have known you wouldn't tell anyone. You and that damn Kenway..." He spun on his heel and stampeded back towards the door. "I'll fetch the doctor."
Once Adé was gone you let out the breath you'd been holding. It was never easy to ask for help, especially not as a thief. It was survive or die and the world was cruel to both women and thieves. But you had grown to trust your fellow crew members. And for some reason it made burdening them all the more agonizing.
Perhaps it was hours later before anyone else came into the room. It was impossible to tell. You had been asleep for some of it. Unconscious, more the like. The doctor was at your side by the time you woke up, mind dizzy with adrenaline and pain, maybe even fever. You swallowed whatever god-awful, bitter tea he provided and suffered through the redressing of wounds.
By the time it was all over, you had regained your senses but none of your pride.
Adé threw a quick flash of a smile, leaning forward in his chair with hands clasped tenderly before him. "You're looking better, child."
You attempted a smile in reply. "I feel better," you somewhat lied, rolling your eyes over to the doctor who was packing away his supplies.
The bedroom door was half-kicked open, wood smashing against the wall. Edward stumbled in, a bottle of rum clutched in one hand, the other supporting his weight against the doorframe. "Lass?" He lifted it up as if holding it into view before swishing around its contents. "Someone... told me they saw... a doctor come this way..." He was drunk, it was obvious in his slurring words and his shaky stumbles towards the bed.
"It's nothing. I'm bright as rain," you tell him, trying to sound both reassuring to him and to yourself.
"A fever," barked Adé. "Don't even bother lying to the man. He won't remember any of it anyhow."
Edward gave a lopsided grin, leaning forward over the bed until he was inches away from you. "I brought you some rum, love." He sort of giggled before pressing his lips down onto yours, the sweetness of his drink coating his vigorous tongue. You muffled a moan against his mouth, hardly expecting the kiss. He pulled away, half-falling onto the bed until he was sitting rather sloppily on the edge.
Adé shook his head, slapping a hand onto his captain's arm. "Poor girl don't need your drunken flirtations, Kenway. She needs rest."
Edward pressed the bottle of rum towards the doctor. "That's for her."
The doctor took it a little hesitantly, eyeing the bottle and then Edward.
You let a laugh skitter free, enjoying this side of Edward. "I think you might need to lie down for a bit, Captain."
"She is recovering nicely," informed the doctor. "Whoever dressed her wounds, did an excellent job. They knew what they were doing that's for sure." He stood up and placed the bottle onto the small bedside table. "I shall be on my way."
Adé stood diligently. "Thank you, doctor. I'll send for you if anything changes."
The doctor nodded his head before walking out of the room.
Edward gave a slight groan, leaning forward until he somewhat fell down face forward onto the small space next to you. He muttered something but you just couldn't make out any of the words. He shifted, moving until his head was tucked up underneath your chin.
Adé sighed heavily. "I'll be sure to check up on you two later." He gave another hard slap against Edward's back. "You hurt that girl while I'm gone, Kenway, and I'll break your legs in six places, bradda."
Edward rolled onto his back, somehow snatching up the bottle of rum from the table. "Rum! We need more of it." He turned his eyes onto Adé just as the pirate was heading towards the door. "Adé, mate! You should... join us! We're... drinking?" He examined the bottle a little more closely, drawing a small bit of laugh from you.
Edward rolled his eyes, grinning flashing off those gorgeous teeth and those smiling blue eyes. He rolled over onto his side, face mere inches from yours. "You... My, love, you..." His eyes began to drop a little, smile wavering and tugging back to life.
You whispered, nearly giggled again, "Get some sleep, Edward."
He began muttering along to some shanty, the words almost understandable. It was a song about a woman, of course. Pirates and their women. But Edward began to sing it in another language, something European, before laughing wholeheartedly and finally uncorking the bottle in his hand.
"Edward." You grinned and placed a weak hand onto the side of his face, rough blonde stubble beneath your fingertips. "I need that rum, remember?"
He grumbled wordlessly, a sluggish nod of his head before setting the bottle down between the two of you. "I almost lost you..." He hiccuped, turning back onto his side and leaning forward until he could tuck his head back under your chin. He took down a deep breath, moaning something about "smelling good" before settling into silence.
You sighed, the medicine the doctor had given you thankfully was enough to drive back most of your pain. You rummaged around the bed, snagging the cork from underneath Edward. You took a good swallow of the cool liquid, letting it tingle it's way down to your stomach before corking it and setting it aside.
Damn, if you didn't care about him so much, you'd have convinced Adé to take him back to the ship. But it was comforting to have Edward around. Even if that meant you'd be stuck babysitting him. "Edward," you muttered it, shaking his shoulder just a little until his eyes somewhat pried open. "You might need to take off all of those guns."
He moaned sleepily, muttering a few foreign words before unbuckling holsters and belts. He tossed them recklessly to the floor, movements harsher than they usually were. "Thatch... always--always going on 'bout 'is beard." He shimmied out of his jacket, angrily smacking it into the floor. "Where's.... Where's the rum, darling?"
You laughed, attempting to stifle it behind your hand.
He gave a floppy, drunken grin before falling back onto the bed, turning onto his side so that he could curl up next to you. Those gorgeous blue eyes were on you, gazing softly into yours. "Darling, you're... brilliant." His eyelids grew heavy, sliding over his vision, until finally he drifted into whispered breathing.
You sighed into the bed, sighed against his warmth, resting a sore arm around his shoulder. At least now, the both of you could sleep comfortably and you wouldn't have to worry about a pistol going off in the night.
Edward grumbled in his sleep, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you on top of him as he rolled backwards. You gasped, at the shock and at the small amount of pain he caused. But once you were there, head against his chest, it was a relief. The pain along your back seemed to dissipate and the gentle strokes of his fingers along your arm helped lull you into sleep.