oh captain, let's make a deal where we both say the things that we both really feel

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Two days before

Quackity, the quartermaster, raises his mug. “A toast! To our continued success!”

“Hear hear!” cry the crew, as the waves crash brutally against the thick wooden planks sheltering their little gathering belowdecks. It’s as if the storm is trying to sink the L’Manberg entirely and drown the lot of them. Tubbo glances at Tommy beside him. He’s tall and gangly, lithe and tanned from climbing like a god damned monkey all over the rigging all the time. He’d almost been shot off a few times during the skirmish today, and he seems to have realized that he’s more mortal than he feels. Pale and shaking, Tommy has been putting up a decent face of being fine- but Tubbo’s known him too long to fall for it. 

“Hey,” he whispers at him, “What’s wrong with you, you’re all weird now.”

With his signature winning grin, Tommy shrugs him off. “I’m fine, you worrywart. Just a little tired-”  When Tommy stands and takes his leave, Tubbo watches him. 

The new rigger is watching them out of the corner of his eye, and Tubbo makes his way to his table. 

“Ranboo, right? You’re the rigger nobody knows jack shit about.” He has to look up to make eye contact with him, but Tubbo “Tuberculosis” Underscore survived his mother’s death of… of Tuberculosis, actually, an hour before his birth, and he was not going to be cowed by some tall man with a pretty face. It is a very pretty face though- one of his eyes seems greener than the other, and his hair is just long enough to fit into a ponytail. Tubbo wants to- anyway.

“Um, I guess so, yeah.” Ranboo looks away. He looks… shy. Oh no. He’s blushing. Tubbo shoves the desire to make that happen again under the metaphorical bed, and refocuses on the task.

“Well. I have a question for you, Mister Mystery Rigger. Did anything happen with Tommy during the fight today? He’s acting weird.” Eryn or Fundy would know better, but either would make him do their chores for a month before telling him jack shit, so. New guy.

“Um, I’m not sure, I don’t really know what he’s like, normally. He didn’t fall or get shot, if that helps.” Ranboo ducks his head, avoiding eye contact. “It looked like he recognized the ship we took? Or the fleet? I dunno, sorry.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” Tubbo says. If Tommy didn’t fall or get shot, he’s probably just tired or beating himself up over something small. “Sounds like he’ll be just fine, surely.”

14 hours before

 

Tommy’s at the top of the mainmast, affixing the sail for the speed Eret’s asked for today. He’ll probably stay up here most of the day, part for the view, and part to avoid Tubbo’s questions. Just because his friend wants to help, and just because his friend will probably be right when he says Tommy will feel better if he talks about it- doesn’t mean he has to listen. Maybe he doesn’t want to feel better. Maybe he wants to sit on the mast and pretend he’s on a Fluyt instead of a brig, crewed by thirty-five, rather than a hundred fifty-five. It wouldn’t even be all that hard, what with the thick fog obscuring his view of the ship below. It’s the perfect weather for a ghost ship— the oppressive humidity and heavy fog, the smell of a storm desperate to sink something, anything to the depths— but the Business Bay is gone now, and not coming back, the hole in her hull blasted in by the Antarctic Empire too big for her crew to repair. Enough of them were dead by then that there was no point in trying to stick together- they’d already failed. He can’t help but wonder if maybe that’s his fault- if maybe he should have been able to save them. If maybe he’ll fail to save this ship, this crew, too.

()()()()()

“HEY!” He hears from the side of the mast, “What’s wrong with you lately, you’re all broody .” Eryn pulls himself up beside Tommy and slaps him so hard he nearly falls off the mast to his death.

“ Ay , watch it.”

“Well? What’s with you?” 

Eryn is so lucky Tommy doesn’t wish him ill because it would be so easy to shove the other boy into the fucking ocean. “Nothing. I’m just worried about the fog, is all.” The lie sits heavy in his chest, like he’s betrayed Eryn or something, which is bullshit, but all the same. His heart hurts with it, he knows he can trust Eryn but- but he doesn’t deserve to have to put up with Tommy’s moping. 

“Ah, well. We’ll be alright, Tom, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I know, fuck off ya prick. Get yer own mast.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!”

“Yeah, well, maybe I will.” Eryn doesn't move from where he’s sitting next to Tommy.

 

10 hours before

 

They haven’t moved when the new kid pulls himself up to join them.

“Hey,” Ranboo says, “Tubbo says to come down for dinner, it’s getting late.”
Tommy squints at him. “What else did he say?” There’s no way in hell Tubbo didn’t include some kind of stupid death threat, and Tommy wouldn’t miss that bullshit for the world.

“He also said that if you weren’t on deck by sunset he would pry your teeth out one by one and shove them up your nose until they blocked your breathing and you died.”

Shrugging, Tommy drops down to start the process of climbing down to the deck. “I’d like to see him try.” Tubbo would not only try but succeed and Tommy doesn’t want to die that badly. Not to Tubbo in any case.

()()()()()

He sits with Wilbur during dinner. He knows it’s a little rude to ditch his friends, but he needs the reminder today. There’s something about sitting next to the captain of the ship that reminds him that he isn’t in charge of everyone anymore. It’s not all on his shoulders– he’s not on the Business Bay . As much as he misses the ship- misses his crew, and their communal storage, and- well, as much as he misses the old ship, he doesn’t miss being Captain. He knows he was- well, either he was good at it, or his crew just really liked him, because even as everything fell apart there was never any talk of mutiny. Wilbur is a good captain, he thinks. Not only is he, you know, an adult, but he’s fair and generous, and he cares about his men more than he cares about profit. Tommy knows Wilbur isn’t all that popular, he’s heard the humming and he knows what it means, but he’s grateful for him all the same. 

“Hey,” Wilbur whispers to him, “Are you doing alright, child? You’ve been off since that skirmish last night.”

“AH- I- I mean, you know-” Tommy can’t lie to him, “It’s just the fluyt from earlier. That fleet- the Antarctic Empire ’s fleet- they’re BITCHES, they are. Wronguns. They wriggle around all ‘ohhh we’re just trying to help you ooohhh mimimimi responsibility’ but really they just kill people. Not even for fun, just to prove they’re better than you. ‘S got me on edge, is all, they killed someone close to me once. I guess I just miss Deo or something- don’t worry about it.” He pushes his head into Wil’s shoulder, and Wil scratches his scalp. It’s as comforted as he’s felt in a while.

“Well, don’t worry about me dying, at least. I’m invincible, you know.” Wilbur turns his full attention to Tommy, piercing gaze striking him full-force. “Listen, Tommy, I know you’re up in the rigging all day, so don’t you worry if you don’t know,  but the men have been humming. Do you know if there's any plans for a mutiny and what the lot of them are upset about?”

“Well,” Tommy thinks hard. “Fundy wishes you’d lay off the special little boy thing, but not enough to join a mutiny. And Eryn thinks you’re a bit of a tosser, but Eryn is a bit of a tosser, so, again. Nothing mutiny-related. Are you worried about it?”

“A bit, yeah, but you shouldn’t be. I do need to go talk to Quackity, Eret and Puffy, though, so you run off now.” Tommy nods, and gets up to join Tubbo and- is Tubbo sitting with Ranboo? Are they friends- Tommy gets up to join Tubbo and Ranboob. 

()()()()()

When he sits down, Tubbo looks at him funny, and before Tommy can shut him down, he asks, “What’s wrong with you, big man, I’ve barely seen you all day. You hate me now?” Tommy forces a belly laugh.

“Nah, nah, I’ve been thinking‘s all, and I didn’t want to put up with your nagging.” He socks Tubbo in the stomach and Tubbo smacks him on the head.

“Dangerous! Don’t jinx us, you prick-”

“Wait-” Ranboo juts in, and they both turn to look at him, “Why is it dangerous?”

“Well, you see, I am the biggest man ever and my thoughts are so heavy they will sink this ship and kill us all.”

Tubbo snorts, and shoves his hand in Tommy’s face. “Yeah, sure, nothing to do with you being overwhelmingly stupid- case in point, in fact! You know you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”
Tommy sobers. “I feel fine. I’m not hungry, though, I’m going to turn in, I think.” They wish him good night, and he leaves for bed, empty stomach roiling at the thought of telling anyone- anything.

 

15 minutes before

 

When Tommy wakes up, crawling out of bed and up to the deck to grab some of the pickled beef from when they’d killed the cow last month, he can barely see through the fog. He feels his way to where Sam is doling out servings, and accepts his portion. Poking the meat a bit with his fork, he stabs it and takes a bite. It’s a pity they had to kill Harrison. She was a good cow, and he liked her- she is also good to eat, though, and they were out of literally everything else, so. Eat the cow or starve, and all that. Tommy swallows his bite, and his stomach leaps inside his ribs. Jesus, he’s been eating too much of this shit. He may be the biggest man to ever man, but he can still get scurvy, and he probably shouldn’t test that. Maybe he should see Ponk. 

Tubbo sits down next to him. “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”

Tommy glowers at him. “No. Fuck offf.”

“Well, fine then, I’ll go sit with Ranboo if you’re in a mood-” He stands, and turns to where Ranboo’s eating all- weird, off on his own.

“Wait, no, Tubbo.” He stops and turns back to Tommy. “I’m gonna stay ashore for a few weeks when we dock. Stay with me?”

Tubbo ruffles his hair. “Yeah, man, of course.”

 

0 minutes before

 

“SHIP TO THE WEST, FAST APPROACHING!” Fundy shouts from his perch on the mizzenmast, and when Tommy whips around to see, his breath catches in his throat. He was right- god, how he’d hoped to be wrong, had shoved down the thoughts as they arose, but of course not. The Antarctic Empire emerges from the fog, canons blazing- ready to sink the L’Manberg and finish the job. He is the only survivor of the Business Bay , after all, and the most annoying to the Empire ’s fleet. 

Inhale- no, no, actually, like really inhale, not like that inhale- oh shit he’s hyperventilating. Fuck fuck fuck they’ve come for him and he can’t even breathe this is the day he dies joins his brothers-

“TOMMY!” Wilbur shouts, and Tommy’s snapped to the present, startled into a gasp, a full breath. “SNAP TO IT MAN, WE NEED FULL SPEED SOUTHEAST!”

Tommy shakes himself, shoves the panic deep into his stomach and runs to climb the mizzenmast to join Fundy. He needs to do his job or it won’t just be him dead, and he won’t kill Tubbo and Wilbur the way he killed the rest of them.

 

2 hours after

The L’Manberg barely manages to lose the Empire in the fog, and even as Wilbur tells Eret to put them in the direction of the nearest island- no one else is under any false illusions about fixing this ship for any kind of long-term voyage. They have to run her aground to keep her from sinking during repairs for Christ’s sake, and there are no people on the Isle of Pogtopia. 

None of what’s just happened catches back up to Tommy until he’s helping Wilbur saw a log up for Sam, the only carpenter on board. 

“God, that was awful,” he says aloud. “I thought they were coming for me.”

Wilbur looks at him like he’s gone mad, and Tommy tells him his whole sorry tale. How he’d been the captain of the Business Bay until she sunk one too many Empire fluyts and was sunk. How he’d watched his crew drown, clinging to his log of driftwood and victim to the currents’ whims. How he’d washed up on the shore and taken the rigging position on the L’Manberg a month later, two weeks before Wilbur mutinied the then-captain, Dream.

He cries, and Wilbur presses him into his chest like he could open up his ribs and keep Tommy safe there forever.