A Pirate's Life For Me

Mutual Terms

From the window, I can see the guesthouse, the back door of the tavern, and most of the yard. I watch Jackson and Colette crowd the door, looking in the curtained windows, fumbling with the key. This is who I'm stuck with? These are the people who broke into a heavily guarded building to save my ass? Colette turns, her blue eyes scanning the tavern, missing me by a mile and turning back as her boyfriend drops the keys to the ground and kicks the door. It rattles, but doesn't fold. Good to know. At least the outside is steady.

The door across from me rattles and my attention snaps from Colette unlocking the door to the room suddenly growing ten degrees warmer.

"Jesus, Cas," Declan sighs, rubbing his face, shutting the bustling dining room out with thick oak, pulling one of the four chairs from the table in the center of the break room to sit on. "You got some nerve showin' up here again, 'specially with some young 'uns lookin' for help."

"I know," I respond quietly, turning back to the window, watching them debate who will go in first, Colette trying to push past her boyfriend's steady arm. "And I'm sorry, I really am, I just...there's no where else for me to go. At least, here, I know you probably won't sell us out." I can't stop my eyes from flicking to his, then to my hands curled in my lap.

"Come on, Caspian," Declan growls, shifting in his chair angrily. I keep my eyes trained on my fingers, picking at the sleeves of my too-tight shirt. There's no good outcome to this, no way he'll forgive me. "How stupid can you get, boy?"

I shrink into myself.

You idiot. You actually thought you can trust someone? That's pathetic. All you need is me, boy.

"You're family, Cas."

Blink, blink.

"What?"

"I said you're family, goddammit." Declan's whiskers are tweaked in a small smile. "You ain't done nothin' to make me so angry I can't help ya."

"B-But..." My mind trails back to the previous month, where I'd gotten caught in a bar fight I'd started, trashing his store, remembering the fury in his face when he threw me into the street and screamed at me. "I...you threw me out."

"You knocked over me beer!" The outrage in his face is almost humorous. "Come on, boy, you been around me long enough t' know you ain't got no business messin' with a man an' his beer."

I laugh. I can't help it. All the stress, all the incredulity, comes barrelling out in a sharp bark. My chest aches afterwards.

"Anyways," Dec sighs, leaning back in his chair, scratching his nose. "Y' said y'all need a plan?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah. We just need a place to stay until I can think up a plan and-and carry it out. How long can you help us out for?"

"It's not how long," He grumbles. "It's how much. Whatcha need, just a bed? Or meals, hygiene, a goddamn toilet, all the other shit y'all humans need to survive."

I crack a smile. "Yeah, those might help. You don't need a toilet, Dec? How'd you get that to work?"

"I pour all my shit out my piehole, that's how," He snaps back, the anger in his face completely broken down by his wink. "I c'n getcha whatcha need. Regular price won't cut it, though."

Part of me shrivels up and dies inside. "How—What do you want instead?"

"Y'all work for me, just until you get your shit t'gether. Obvious you gon' need some cash, boy, so don't even think 'bout denyin' me pay. Y'all work, garden, whatever I need, plus your usual." He raises an eyebrow at me. "How 'bout it?"