Kissing meme #8 for sappy overwhelmed silverflint or #18+19 for any ship ever
8. being unable to open their eyes for a few moments afterward
Silver isn’t expecting it, the first time Flint kisses him.
It’s not that Flint’s merely caught him off guard or taken him by surprise, either; it simply doesn’t occur to Silver that Flint might want to kiss him until it actually happens. He’s been so caught up in the idea of James McGraw’s great, lost love that he’d never considered Captain Flint might someday have one of his own.
There’s nothing particularly momentous about it, this kiss. There’s no heartfelt baring of emotions preceding it; no heated fight that leads into passionate lovemaking; no one standing below a balcony shouting poetic declarations of eternal love. It’s just him and Flint, bent over a map and chatting about possible courses they could plot to and around Nassau.
Silver makes some inane, self-deprecating joke about using his peg as an anchor and keeping them from moving forward. He only half-means it: Flint’s lessons have done a world of good in helping him regain some self-confidence (not that he’d admit it), but he’s not sure he’ll ever be truly comfortable with his one-legged body.
Instead of merely brushing it off, like he usually does when Silver’s being petty or pathetic about his leg, Flint objects.
“You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that.”
Silver shrugs, unperturbed. He’d rather mock his own shortcomings than listen to others do the same.
Flint sighs. “You still underestimate your own importance. You’re not some - some anchor holding us back. The only person you’re holding back is yourself.”
Silver glances up at him, surprised by the surety in his voice. It’s then that he realizes Flint is much closer than he was before. He feels himself flush, hyper aware of the hair expose by Flint’s open shirt; the freckles dashed across his cheeks and chest; the stern slope of his neck. He forces himself to look back at the map. It’s as uninspiring as ever, but at least Silver won’t make a fool of himself looking at these particular curves and divots.
“You say that, but my hair gets tangled in low hanging branches all the time. I think it’s the trees that are holding me back, really. I should just shave it all off, like you.”
Flint chuckles, and Silver tries not to be too pleased with himself. Silver startles, though, when he feels hand card through his hair, pulling lightly at the tangle of curls. His eyes fall close without his consent as he relishes in the gentle touch.
“It would be a terrible tragedy, losing your hair,” Flint says, and Silver smirks.
“I could say the same about yours. I swear, when I - ”
Flint kisses him then, and suddenly whatever Silver was going to say about the captain’s hair seems unimportant. He can feel his hands begin to tremble, overcome by a sudden rush of nerves and want, and so he fists them at his side. He doesn’t touch Flint, doesn’t throw his arms around the captain’s shoulders and sink into the kiss like he wants to: he’s almost certain that if he moves at all he’ll ruin it somehow, make Flint come to his senses.
Flint pulls back after a moment, cupping Silver’s cheeks and running his thumbs along his cheekbones. Silver doesn’t open his ayes, too overwhelmed by all he’s feeling and too afraid of what he’ll see on Flint’s face.
“Silver…?” Flint asks, hesitant. In response, Silver finally fists his hands in Flint’s shirt, tugging him closer and pressing his face into the other man’s neck to breathe him in.
Flint relaxes into him, wrapping his arms around Silver’s middle, and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It serves to ground him, as all of Flint’s little gestures seem to do, but still Silver does not feel brave enough to look him in the eye just yet. He’s not sure he wants Flint to know the exact depth of this greedy, jealous love he’s tried so hard to hide.
“It’s alright,” he murmurs, rubbing reassuring circles on Silver’s back. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”