Assassin's Creed Drabbles

↳two prizes

in which Edward Kenway, drunk off rum and victory, kisses you as the keys swap their earnings and losses over a harmless bet

Edward Kenway's Jackdaw and your Dove rock side by side in the calm swells off the coast of La Florida under an indigo sky dotted with stars. The two ships lay anchored and lashed together, rollicking revelries spanning the decks after taking a Spanish prize. The merchantman's hold had been filled with rum, sugar, coffee, chocolate, tobacco, and several small chests overflowing with gold and silver. More than enough to split the spoils and keep the crews sated.

Lanterns sway from the yardarms in the breeze and waves, casting the decks in pools of warmth against the cool moonlight and shadows. Pipe tobacco smoke, spilled rum, and the lively ditties of fiddles and flutes sweeten the air. And with the drink flowing, the rough voices of your and Edward's crew join in song.

Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack. You dip your silver cup in the barrel of grog for a refill, lifting it high with a smile. Long we've tossed on the rolling main, now we're safe ashore, Jack.

Across the deck, Edward is singing along, a half-empty bottle of rum in one hand, the other clasping the shoulder of one of his mates. You catch his eye as you perch on an overturned crate near the Jackdaw's larboard rail, cheeks flushed from drink and victory, clapping along to the jolly raucous. Don't forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Edward's hand closes around yours with a crooked grin when he comes up, his blue eyes shining with affection, but hazy. "Up you get, dove," he says—words slurring together—tugging you off the crate and onto your feet. "Won't do to have the finest prize of the night sitting idle while the rest of us make fools of ourselves."

You laugh, stumbling when he gives your hand another tug. "Edward," you protest, catching yourself against his chest. He offers no reprieve as the fiddle quickens, and he spins you beneath his arm into the open space near the main mast. Almost losing your footing, you brace a hand on his shoulder.

"Steady, dove." Edward smiles, giddy, tugging you closer before you can knock into anyone else. He adjusts his grip on your hand, fingers curling loosely around yours, and his other hand settles on your waist. The deck rolls gently underfoot. Light flickers across his face, catching the gold of his hair and the flash of his smile. Around you, the crews stomp and clap and sing and laugh.

It's a clumsy reel Edward leads you through, off tempo and with no practiced steps, turning and spinning with you so the stars and lanterns wheel overhead. It's easy to melt into his warmth and strength when he drags you up against him—a rumble in his chest when he chuckles after you step lightly on his toe and swear under your breath. The tune swells as you both sway across the deck, coming apart and then back together.

Your foot catches his—or maybe his catches yours—and the deck tilts, tumbling together in an undignified tangle of limbs. You land hard on the Jackdaw's deck with Edward's weight braced over you on bended forearms near your head. Golden, disheveled hair falls loose from its tie—the ends tickling your jaw—his breath hot against your mouth.

And the world seems soft-edged and bright when you find his blue eyes. One of his shoulders drops, bringing him closer. His gaze dips to your mouth and a slow, lazy smile curves at his lips. A scoundrel through and through, he cannot pass up the opportunity presented to him. "Kenway," you warn, and little good it does.

He kisses you.

"Pay up," Adéwalé laughs from the quarterdeck, holding his hand out toward your first-mate. The old graybeard sailor grumbles through his smile, passing off a pouch of silver. He won't be the only one losing coin tonight over a bet.

Edward's mouth is warm, wind-burned lips a touch rough, but tender and insistent with the taste of rum and salt on his tongue and the sweetness of pure elation. The press of his lips sends a wave of warmth through you, fueled by the scrape of his beard's stubble and the brush of his nose against yours. The whole of your world narrows to Edward Kenway and the way he kisses you as though there's all the time in the world—the music, laughter, and hoots fading to muffled noises in the back of your mind.

You kiss him back, fingers sliding into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, drawing him down until his weight's almost fully upon you. Edward makes a quiet, pleased sound against your lips. You tilt your head, pressing up against him. It lasts no more than a handful of fleeting seconds before you remember yourselves—and that two ship's company are watching, swapping cheers and coin purses.

Breathless, you break away. Edward blinks at you—nose brushing yours as he leans in again, content to kiss you again and again with no mind for the audience. You plant your hands against his chest and push—firm, playful.

Edward rolls with the motion, flopping onto his back beside you with a solid thump. A breathless laugh escapes him, arms spread wide as he looks up past the furled sails to the stars beyond. You sit up and turn your head in time to see his crooked grin return. "Worth it," he declares, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. Two prizes in one day.

Someone shouts a toast, and the fiddle strikes up again. You reach for an empty cup rolling on the deck and throw it at his chest. "You bastards were betting on us?" Wagers on who would be the first to kiss the other, they announce—the sorry louts.

Edward points lazily toward you, still sprawled out on the deck and smiling like a triumphant fool. "You kissed me back."

You bite down on your bottom lip, already thinking fondly of what his kiss tasted like. "Aye," you admit, hand curling around his on the deck, "I did." And if either of you remember come the morning, Edward Kenway will be insufferable.