Our Treasure (Jim Hawkins x Female Reader) [COMPLETED]

One

Another note (sorry): 

The accents may be a little inconsistent/inaccurate, mostly because of auto-correct but also because I kept forgetting to modify the words depending on who's speaking. 

*12 years later*

"What do you think it'll be like?" I ask, aiming a large cleaver at the knife rack.

"I don't know, lassy," John laughs, "but you'd be best to keep quiet about it."

"But everybody already knows," I protest, releasing the knife and watching it sail across the kitchen right where I wanted it to go.

"We don't want the Captain getting wind of it," he cautions. "And don't do that to the knives – you'll blunt 'em." The cook frowns at me, and I roll my eyes.

"Whatever, it's not like you even need them." 

Treasure Planet. I've been dreaming about it since I was a little kid, huddled up under a scrap of fabric in my master's slave dormitory -- if you can even call it that. The loot of a thousand worlds, all there and ripe for the taking. I could pay off any debt a million times over. 

I'm jerked from my thoughts by clanking footsteps on the stairs, and two distinct voices.

"It's my map," someone is saying. They sound about my age, and probably a boy. "And she's got me busting tables!" he continues.

I cast a glance at John, who shrugs and starts whistling a tune. I grab a rag from the bench next to me and go back to drying dishes, minus the knife throwing.

"I'll not tolerate a cross word about our Captain!" Uh oh, Mr Arrow. "There's no finer officer in this or any galaxy! Mr Silver?"

"Why, Mr Arrow Sir!" the cook turns away from his task, smiling broadly at our three visitors. "Bringin' such fine-lookin', distinguished gents to grace my humble galley. Had I known, I'd ha' tucked in me shirt!" He makes a ridiculous show of stuffing his apron and shirt down the front of his trousers, bowing low to Mr Arrow and his companions.

"May I introduce Dr Doppler, the financier of our voyage." The First Officer rumbles, pushing forwards a man in a rather ridiculous suit which looks to be around two sizes too big for him. That would explain the clanking.

"Love the outfit, Doc!" John exclaims, scanning him with his cybernetic eye.

"Well thankyou!" he replies, "Um, love the eye! This young lad is Jim Hawkins." He grabs the other person, dragging him forwards and retreating to Mr Arrow's side.

"Jimbo!" John greets him, extending his robotic arm – knife function engaged, I notice – to shake his hand. "Ah," he laughs, switching to his more hand-like function and trying again.

Jim doesn't say anything, just glares at John from under a curtain of brown hair. I can't make out much through the steam of the kitchen, but he doesn't look particularly friendly. I wouldn't be either if I had a map that could lead to a lifetime supply of treasure, I suppose. 

"Don't be too put-off by this hunk o' hardware," John recovers, stepping away and setting about preparing a few prawns and vegetables. "These gears 'ave been tough getting' used to, but they do come in mighty handy from time to time!"

"Show-off," I mutter as he fries the neatly chopped up food and tips it into the pot in the centre of the kitchen, adding dashes of salt and pepper. He scoops some of the stew into two bowls, holding them out to Dr Doppler and Jim Hawkins.

"Here now," he smiles, "'have a taste o' me famous Bonza-beast stew."

Dr Doppler sniffs it delicately, then laps at it. "Mmm!" he says after a moment, "delightfully tangy, yet robust!"