Crimson Blade {inspired by Our Flag Means Death}

What We See When We're Really Looking

Luka slowly spins around, eyes roaming every inch of his new captain's form. The white shirt Theo's wearing billows around him as he ties his hair up in a loose bun on the back of his head, looking painfully and effortlessly beautiful. Words press themselves down heavy on Luka's tongue, but he can't will them to exit his mouth and enter the conversation, and nearly forgets entirely that he was asked a question.

Right at the precipice where the lingering silence becomes awkward, he shakes his head, "L-U-K-A."

"Ah," is Theo's response in its entirety, and that makes Luka's head spin.

The captain's eyes flicker from Luka's flushed cheeks to his hands still holding the journal, and he follows his gaze, "Oh, right." He gently folds over the corner of the page and closes the journal, placing it on the couch where he found it, "Sorry."

Theo pushes off of the wood at his back, spelling his counterpart's name out loud with each step, once again invading Luka's space like it doesn't steal the breath from his lungs, "How'd you get Littleton as a last name?"

Luka's throat feels dry so he clears it, "I'm from a little town in Scotland, and when I told my first captain that, he started calling me Littletown. He spelled it wrong on the ship's log, and I never had the heart to correct him." His voice is laced with so much love, and it feels like someone is squeezing Theo's intestines.

"We could correct it officially if you'd like," he offers, knowing the answer but unable to resist the ask.

Luka smiles to himself, "No, that's okay, Captain."

Theo narrows his gaze, a smirk still toying with the corner of his mouth, "Please don't call me that."

Luka really can't breathe, so he takes a step back, feigning like he's only now realizing that he's half clothed. In truth, there were several opportunities for him to dress between when he woke and Theo's reemergence, but he was hoping he'd be found in this state. Just, not with his new captain's personal journal in hand. It would be well within reason for any captain to string him up and gut him for this kind of privacy breach. And Luka forgets that, has to remind himself that not all captains are like Bellows. He's still unsure what kind of captain he's got on his hands, and he ought be more mindful until he's certain.

"What does your crew call you?"

Theo grins, a beaming thing that reaches his eyes, "Oh, I would be most displeased if you were to refer to me in the manner that those hooligans do."

His captain's smile is contagious, Luka thinks. He can feel it working it's way into his blood and settling in his marrow. It will consume him by week's end.

He scoops up his shirt from where it was discarded on the floor, padding back across the space until he's re-entered Theo's atmosphere, "So what would you have me call you then?"

Theo forces his eyes away from Luka's torso as the muscles stretch and contort to put his shirt on, focusing instead on the rogue curl twisting down across his forehead. That isn't helping. Luka pulls the garment down and tucks it into his pants, finally looking up and noticing the intense brown eyes gazing back at him.

"Theo," his captain finally breathes, "Or T when you're feeling fond."

There's a knock on the door frame just then, and they both turn to see Miles standing in the entrance to the room, biting down hard on their bottom lip in a failed attempt at controlling a shit-eating grin.