Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Drunk Dancing, Teasing
Summary: Is James a good dancer? No. Is Thomas a good, merciful husband? Also no.
Notes: It’s been a while since I’ve last written something for them and I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY, OKAY
So, here, have some silly fluff LOL.
Thomas is laughing, loud and bright, and it’d actually be quite a beautiful sight, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s laughing at him.
James glares, and though it’s half-hearted and he’s so damn insecure in his steps that he probably looks like a lightweight, he feels like it should be at least a little bit intimidating. People used to cower in fear at the mention of his name, and Thomas keeps laughing at him.
“Oh—oh my, you’re so terrible,” Thomas says, his cheeks flushed, because that’s what happens when he gets even a spoon of alcohol in his body. That, and a lot of enthusiastic giggling.
Which probably explains why James is standing in the middle of a busy tavern, attempting – and not quite managing, as so delicately pointed out by his lover about fifteen times already – to dance to the upbeat music: it’s entirely too adorable to resist.
They are not the only ones: women and men alike are attempting a few steps, some clearly knowing what they are doing, others not but maintaining some dignity anyway, and a few literally ending up on the ground, way too drunk for coordination. James is actually doing quite alright, in comparison.
“You are a real arse,” he complains. “You are supposed to love me!”
“There are some things that not even love can blind us to, dearest,” Thomas says, actually quite solemnly for the situation. Then, keeping a hold of his hand, he raises his arm in a clear invitation for him to spin.
Which James obviously does, because Thomas is having the time of his life, and he wouldn’t refuse him anything, much less when he’s looking at him with so much careless joy on his face.
The spin leaves him quite dizzy for a moment, though, which makes him stumble and gets another delighted laugh out of Thomas. Bastard.
“I didn’t treat you like this when I tried to teach you how to fence,” he protests, frowning. When he does it, Thomas is known for poking at his forehead, warning that he should be careful not to get stuck with such a sour expression on his beautiful face. “Tried being the operative word. You were absolutely terrible.”
Thomas laughs at the memory, conceding the point with a head gesture. “Yes, but Miranda was doing enough teasing for the both of you.”
“And I didn’t look as ridiculous as you do now.”
“I could argue that. I am arguing that. You were clumsier than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. And this includes drunk pirates attempting to duel.”
Thomas considers him, amused. “That must have been quite the sight.”
James rolls his eyes at the memory, because that kind of situation was more or less guaranteed to happen every other night in Nassau. It’s strange to remember glimpses of the place almost fondly, with time and distance and knowing he is no longer a slave to that life. It leaves him with a sour aftertaste, suspiciously similar to guilt.
“Come on, we can fence tomorrow,” Thomas says then, giving him a nudge to encourage him not to stop moving. “So you can have your moment too and make fun of me in return.”
That sounds fun, though there probably won’t be much fencing involved, which they both know.
Far from James to complain.
He snorts. “Fine,” he says, pointedly. “You menace.”
Thomas gives him a bright smile, launches himself forward to pull him to his chest, and James goes, as happy as he’ll ever be.
theartofmadeline
tangentwithtanner
yousharknotpass
2087
vaporwave
