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“James Fitzjames,” came a voice brimming with confidence from his right and in the posh English accent Francis had come to associate with trouble. An elegant hand was stuck in his field of vision a few seconds later, as Professor Francis Rawdon Moira Crozier was just about to open his cabin door on a two-week Mediterranean Deluxe Cruise – invitation at the courtesy of the Ross family in honour of their 15th wedding anniversary.He turned and there stood a man, charming smile plastered on his lips – a man that made Francis immediately consider jumping ship and swimming back to England, even though they hadn’t set sails in Mallorca yet.“It seems we are cabin neighbours on this journey, so best to get started on a good foot, eh? How do you do?”And dear God, that James Fitzjames seemed to be the model of posh English breeding, set right on his doorstep so to speak. Lucious wavy hair artfully tousled, tanned skin, strong jawline. A man that seemed to have stepped right out of the cover ad for this very cruise, sitting on a bar, sipping a fruity drink complete with a little cocktail umbrella in his expensive white linen shirt, rolled up to the elbow – a pair of flip-flops rounding up the look to no doubt give it a more casual feel. A man, apparently keen to strike up a cordial acquaintance with all passengers of his ship – otherwise, why the bloody hell would one go around introducing oneself to his cabin neighbours of all people. Francis knew how thin these cabin walls could be – thin enough to not need to know the name of whoever roomed beyond them.Deep breaths, Francis internalized. You are here to relax and have a wonderful time with your dear friend Ross and his lovely family. Not pick a fight with every sociable fool exchanging a civil greeting with you. This thought was immediately followed by a second crossing his mind along the lines of, God please don’t tempt me. Because this man was a posh English bastard, yes, but also an unfortunately handsome bastard. And handsome people had a tendency to set Francis’ nerves on edge.“Professor Francis Crozier,” he finally said with a thin smile, using his title to gain just the tiniest bit of advantage on this fellow. His outstretched hand was immediately grabbed in a firm, but warm handshake.“Capital,” was what left Fitzjames’ mouth next, and Francis wondered in which century people still used that word. “It is lovely meeting you, Francis.” And Franics nearly felt a vein pop in his forehead. Francis, he had said. Did a fine English upbringing not include basic manners anymore? Or was first-name terms just basic mode of operation for this eejit?
“I’m off to explore this beast, but perhaps we might find each other again later.” And Fitzjames made to leave, mimicking pulling his hat in a mock-salute before stalking off on his very long legs – infuriatingly mouth-watering cologne still hanging in the air.Francis watched him go and did indeed hope they would not see much of each other again during this journey. Or only from behind.He breathed a sigh once the door of his cabin closed behind him. It was nice enough, he supposed – all outfitted in a decidedly too cheery yellow. Francis had never been a big fan of yellow. He stowed away his economically packed luggage, opened and closed the bathroom door, sat down on the bed, bounced a bit on the mattress.How bad could this be? He mused.He opened the door to his balcony, took a step outside to have a look at the harbour. Breathed in the warm sea air. Salt on his tongue, a breeze between the strands of his hair, waves rushing through his ears.The ocean, sun, good food, good company. Maybe Ross and Blanky had been right. Maybe he did need a vacation.After all, how hard could it be to just relax for two weeks?
-
Francis could not relax. Five minutes after sitting down in his cabin, he was out and about again – roaming the corridors like a hungry beast. Hungry for what, he was not sure, potentially some excitement but that remained to be seen. Francis wasn’t expecting much from this trip in the excitement department. In the end, he was more of a camping and hiking type of person and decidedly less of a beach galore bloke.He was mainly proven right by the fact that most people who crossed his path ranged from close to his age to tottering senior citizens. There were the occasional couples and families often with a bunch of highly excitable children and less excited teenagers loitering about. And unfortunately, more than just one gaggle of youngish men with prematurely receding hairlines who already seemed too many beers in for their current travel status. Still, everyone seemed in better spirits than Francis, nodding to him in polite greeting while passing him in the tacky corridors. He generally gave them a favourable enough smile, grumbled his assent and moved on; eyes trained on the horizon line swaying over the ocean.For his exploration trip, he started with the lowest deck he had access to and then meticulously made his way up, passing various restaurants, an unnecessary shopping area, pools, a bloody mini golfing course, more restaurants, a gym, bars, some more bars. A wellness area – nice. Some more bars. Another pool. A climbing forest – good Christ, what was this ship? More restaurants. A club. Another bar. A stage – sure why not. James Fitzjames.Francis stopped when spotting the other man. He had by now made his way to the sun deck – and not gotten lost once – standing at the railing to take a deep whiff of sea air. A few meters down the railing leaned the other casually, hair wind ruffled, expensive sunglasses balanced low on his nose. He was amiably chatting with another fellow, tall, well-built, fashionably dressed and hair greying, but a dignified grey. Sophisticated even. Assuring any onlooker that the man had grey hair by choice, to look rugged and handsome, and not because he was growing older. Not like Francis.The two were leaning into each other, sharing some obviously hilarious conversation in hushed tones over the ocean breeze. Francis did not particularly like it – they had the look about them of two people who would ruthlessly gossip behind backs and in front of faces and who might even go so far as to stab that metaphorical knife in deep and hard.No, he did not like them. Francis concluded.Especially when Fitzjames’ eyes – warm and hazel-brown, Francis unfortunately couldn’t help but notice – met his and he laughed. His companion whispering in his ear and James’ laughed.Logic would suggest that they weren’t talking about him, he had just arrived. They were not talking about him, there was no bloody way. But Francis saw these well-dressed, tall, fit, handsome man, and heard their sensible chuckles and knew that he would not get along with these people. And they not with him. It was a mutual decision to always keep at least a minimum of 5 feet distance between them made solely on Francis’ own accord.Then James waved at him, short and inconsequential but still with that depressingly cordial smile of his. Francis’ mouth twisted in a decidedly ungainly fashion. He did not wave back. And James eyes on him narrowed for a split second, smile frozen, before he turned slightly back to his friend – his gaze was still locked on Francis, seizing him up. Smiling, wickedly almost.Francis’ spine straightened under that gaze, an almost automatic and mechanic process. Leave no openings. Give those eyes nothing to focus on or take apart or judge.Their eyes were still locked when a small shape tackled Francis from behind, and he exhaled a surprised grunt.“Uncle Francis,” Thomas squealed, the youngest of the Ross siblings, excitedly tugging at his shirt. Francis turned around, and there they were, the whole family parade of Rosses shambling out on the deck.“There you are, old man,” James Ross called, barely stifling a yawn. He and the missus looked barely tousled by the trip from London with four kids ranging from pre-schooler to teenage rebel, though the heavy bags under their eyes could not be concealed by their contented smiles.A heavy hand landed on Francis’ shoulder in lieu of a greeting, Anne laying a soft kiss on each of his cheeks. Francis gratefully leaned into the both of them, their warmth, the smell of their perfumes, their gentle love – and he smiled, happy to be here for the first time he set foot on this ship.The smallest children – little Andrew and Thomas – did demand hugs and to be hoisted up onto Uncle Francis’ shoulders then, and he had to realise that he was growing too old for this kind of indulgence. He groaned slightly under the weight, his knees complaining. A subdued nod was his only greeting to the teens, a fist-bump maybe, Francis was, after all, the cool uncle. He knew Anne and James Junior found his antics awkward at times, but they did not mind as much as with their parents – and wasn’t that all he could ask for?“How did you find me?” He asked, surrounded by his family, just now noticing the absence of James Fitzjames’ eyes. The other man must have left some time ago – Francis didn’t particularly mind. He hoped to not have another run in for the remainder of the day – hell, the whole trip if at all possible.“It’s a ship, Frank,” Ross said all matter of fact. “I know you’d be wherever you can smell the ocean.”Francis shrugged, a little embarrassed at being known quite so well.“We did spend 30 minutes combing the sun deck, though, after we found your cabin empty” Anne added with a smart twinkle in her eye. “How was your trip?”“Boring and mostly uneventful. So certainly, by far calmer than yours.”
A few pairs of eyes looked at him with something akin to envy, Anne Junior rolling her eyes, and Francis could only imagine how taxing a plane trip with two small, highly energetic boys could be.Andrew started tugging at his shirt then. “Have you seen the pool already, Uncle Francis?”“Oh yes, and you know, there’s even more pools below deck.”The kids’ eyes grew large at that fact. “Really?” Francis just nodded solemnly. “Really,” he said.“Can you show me?”“It’s my pleasure, lad. Thomas, will you join us?” An enthusiastic nod from the boys, a grateful nod from the parents.“Ah but we do need our equipment.” A stifled groan from Ross next to him. “You’re equipment?” Francis asked, eyes on his friend.“Yes,” Ross mumbled in his ear. “We fancy ourselves pirates now. Frank, we had to turn the car around half-way to the airport when Tommy realised, we forgot his costume at home. Can’t go on a boat without the bloody plastic sabre, nearly missed the plane.”Francis had to snort at that.
It seemed both boys were now in their pirate era (which followed their dinosaur obsession, which had followed their cowboy phase – Francis was amazed at children’s capabilities to turn everything into a game). He could work with that.“Aye, aye,” he said. “You landlubbers, get yer equipment, so we can set sail!” The boys bellowed their consent and off they were in direction of the Ross cabin.-A good 15 minutes later, Francis had taken on the role of first lieutenant, after Thomas decided he was a pirate captain, coming to ransack this ship – now equipped in full costume and with plastic sabre in hand.It was all very endearing, and Francis did his darndest, rolling his Rs and scuttling along behind the two boys with a cheap eyepatch, carrying the captain’s second in command, Andrew on his shoulders. By now, they had done about half the tour of the ship backwards again, and the children were still ohing and ahing even at the third pool they had found. There had been a short sword fight intermission in the shopping zone, which garnered them some dirty looks from the clerks. And then Francis could just barely avoid a hostage situation on the playground which involved a little girl, her elephant plushie and a lot of tears Francis didn’t entirely feel equipped to handle.
Now they were off to claim their well-earned treasure – soft ice cream from the restaurant on deck 5 – when just in this moment his cabin neighbour chose to round a corner and run promptly into Thomas’ toy sword.“Dear god, what is this?” James Fitzjames proclaimed loudly. “An armed assault? Mercy, please!” He shouted in falsetto, throwing his hands in the air. Francis wasn’t entirely too sure what to make of it.The children enjoyed it, though, immensely, and wee Thomas was poking at Fitzjames with wild abandon while the man tried to fend him off, swaying this way and that to dodge the clumsy curve of the plastic sword.He laughed after a while, having been successfully poked in the chest and then ruffled the lad’s hair. In a stage whisper, he added “but do be careful with that, yes? Don’t want you to take any eyes out with it.”When he looked up, James’ finally registered Francis behind the child. He first did a double-take and then his eyes glinted with something akin to amusement when spotting the ridiculous eyepatch. Francis felt his face grow a little hot.“Come on, Lieutenant Francis!” Andrew called from atop his shoulders then, impatiently wiggling his feet.“Aye, aye Commander Andrew!” Francis dutifully answered and made to leave with a stiff nod at Fitzjames. The other man just gave him a salute and swaggered off with a cheerful smile.-As it turned out, this memorable encounter should not remain the only instance of Francis running into the man over the course of their first night alone. In fact, Francis was seeing entirely too much of Fitzjames. There were 2500 passengers on this ship. How was it possible that the other man just kept popping up?They had chosen the exact same restaurant to have dinner at this evening – a Spanish Tapas-style place on the upmost deck, number 18. The Rosses plus Francis were seated right next to one of the gigantic panorama windows with a quite stunning view over the island as it slowly dwindled away in the distance, sun going down over the ocean’s wave. They were also curiously sat right next to a table where Fitzjames was loudly laughing about a joke he himself had told, a group of young men and women tastefully chuckling along. There was only a small plastic plant – supposedly an olive tree – separating their tables, and Francis was developing a headache from simultaneously trying to listen to the Rosses family banter while involuntarily eavesdropping on Fitzjames. He only caught snippets of the other tables conversation (“You’ve never been to India? Ah but it is quite lovely. What about China? No, oh I can whole-heartedly recommend it. I went to this restaurant where they had the most amazing roast duck.”) but already felt his ire ticking up. He nearly chewed through a toothpick.When Francis got up to take a short trip to the loo, his eyes met James’ while passing by. The sociable fool smiled at him again, glass raised in a short toast. Francis could just barely bring himself to smile and nod, curt, scarcely civil. His eyes hopefully conveying all the silent judgment he wished to bestow upon the other man and his snazzy laugh. On his way back, their eyes met again, Francis nodded again, James smiled again – and it just felt this bit more forced. Francis took some inner satisfaction from it. It all bust lasted until he sat down, and James started on yet another story about his very extensive travels on the Arabian Peninsula. Grande.Lucky for him, small children were not known to be kept at a dinner table for long and the Ross entourage filtered out just after a second bottle of wine was opened at their neighbouring table.Unlucky for him, when they made their way to one of the numerous bars on deck to have a small celebratory toast to their first night on deck, Francis found himself next to Fitzjames while waiting for the bartender’s attention.Again James Fitzjames.And again, with his seemingly endless stream of mindless small talk – this time directed at said bartender. Francis just wanted a Ginger Ale, for fuck’s sake, not a play-by-play recounting of Fitzjames’ African safari and dangerously close encounter with a cheetah (not that he believed any of this really happened).The bartender laughed, though, nodded along, asked bloody follow-up questions, his hands very slow in mixing what was obviously a Pina Colada – perfect with a little umbrella on top. Francis rolled his eyes. Travel brochure cliché confirmed then, Francis thought glumly.When the drink and the story were finally done, Fitzjames made to leave with a hearty “Cheers, mate,” but unfortunately Francis was not fast enough in evading his eyes.“Ah Francis, lovely to see you again,” he said all too pleasantly.“James,” Francis grumbled, hand lifting to catch the bartender’s eye and promptly being ignored.“Where’s the eyepatch? I thought it looked quite fetching,” it was said with mirth heavy in his voice, the joke obvious. Francis did not appreciate it, not one bit. There was the knee-jerk reaction kicking in, the thought that this fine specimen of English gentleman was not joking with but joking on portly, plain, ruddy old Francis’ behalf. Fetching he had said. Not a word easily associated with Francis.He pursed his lips and swallowed it down.“The colour didn’t fit my complexions, made me look pale,” Francis drawled in his worst attempt at a joke, and to scare of Fitzjames for good. To his utter horror, the other man laughed softly about it.
“Really? I think it was a bold fashion choice that more people should commit to,” James joked back with something of a conspiratory smile between them. Francis was not entirely sure what was happening, so he just nodded, a little dumb founded.Apparently slightly put-upon by his non-answer (and no continued effort to produce one), Fitzjames – after an awkward pause – gave him a smile that once again seemed a little more forced around the edges sauntering off with a “Well, see you later then,” leaving behind confusion, relief and the smell of cologne. And the dwindling hope that they would not encounter each other again, at least in the next hours.-Sitting back down at their table with his hard-won ginger ale, Francis was at last about to embark on a well-deserved rant on his cabin neighbour to Ross and Anne, when the lights in the bar turned off.He sighed.A spotlight illuminated a tall blonde man on the round stage set in the centre of the large bar area. It was rather big for a ship, Francis mused, gigantic screens covering the back wall. And similar to an opera house, balconies stretched out over two additional floors with a rather nice view of the happenings below. They were filled with people, happily chattering on in hushed tones since darkness had descended over them. Instruments were being sat up in the background, Francis could just make out a piano being rolled on to stage.It felt a bit like an opera in the making. Or a musical. Francis hated operas. And musicals.“Oh, a show,” Ross murmured excitedly next to Francis. Naturally, Ross loved operas and musicals.He sighed again.“Dearest guests,” intoned the man on stage. “It is my utmost pleasure to provide your entertainment for tonight – and the next few nights you are joining us on this ship.” He was soft-spoken and talked in a way that might lull you easily to sleep after a few drinks.
“My name is George Hodgsons, and we are the Swimming Swinging Septet.”A polite round of applause followed. Francis made the effort of a slow clap.“But before we start off with a beautiful musical piece, we made it a habit to introduce you to one member of this lovely crew for every night we will spend together on this lovely cruise. And tonight, please give a heartfelt welcome to our very own Captain John Franklin.”Another round of polite applause.Francis didn’t join in.Francis nearly spit out the sip of his ginger ale.Francis then just sat there and stared.Of all the cruise ships sailing the seven seas, he just had to land on the one that was commandeered by bloody John Franklin. And indeed, there up on stage strode none other than the one man, Francis had hoped to never meet in his entire life.And he looked just like the pictures that had lined the walls of Sophia’s tasteful, boho-chic London apartment.“I’ll introduce you one day,” Sophia had said one and a half years into their relationship, and approximately 3 months before the end of their relationship. “I’m sure you will get along. You both love the ocean,” she had said in that placating tone that meant she was very much not convinced they wouldn’t just outright hate each other.And then she had said no. And after the second no, Francis was quite sure he would never get to meet the famed uncle.He wasn’t entirely sad about that part of their relationship ending. Because he was entirely convinced, he would have hated the man. From the stories he seemed like a puffed-up windbag with entirely too much cream filling.And that was the impression the man on that stage gave off in his white uniform, answering to the impromptu interview session that Hodgsons fellow had started.“Oh, I live in a lovely little townhouse with my dear Janey out in Lincolnshire,” he chuckled. It was very complacent. Francis hated the sound.Ross turned to him then, putting a warm hand on his thigh.“Surely, that is not the John Franklin, is it?”Francis gave him a look, and he hoped it conveyed the same amount of suffering Christ had endured upon being nailed to the cross. Certainly, having to listen to Franklin going on about his perfect Sunday afternoon did induce similar pains.“Bloody hell, sorry old man – but what a coincidence, eh?”“My only consolation is that I won’t have to see much of him,” Francis sighed and took another sorry sip.“Ha, yes, that, well “continued Ross haltingly.Francis looked at his friend then, long and hard, while Franklin kept waffling on about his favourite dessert on this cruise.“Spit it out, James,” he threatened. His friend swallowed.“It seems, we were invited to have dinner with the captain, for our wedding anniversary? Small world that, eh?”Francis send a quick prayer up to the heavens and to his dear late aunt Moira to grant him strength.“My only consolation is that he doesn’t know what I look like, I suppose,” Francis finally conceded, and he saw how Ross breathed out a short sigh of relief next to him. “Never been big on my photo being taken – used to drive Sophia mad.” He realized talking about her didn’t quite hurt as much. He hoped it would not change after having to meet her uncle and being violently reintroduced to that part of his life.The hand on his thigh squeezed a little tighter.And then the music finally started after Franklin had been successfully ushered off the stage by his second in command. When the first notes of Memories flooded the bar, Francis realised that praying might not have been enough.-Francis sighed once more, deep and bone-weary, once he closed his cabin door behind him for the night. First day onboard. Check. Potential for disaster? Check. Possibility of him jumping ship? Currently, about 40% but with a strong upwards tendency.Life-vests were for beginners. Francis had long years of experience with drowning. Maybe this time he could try swimming for once.He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, changed into his old, thread-bare Led Zeppelin shirt and buried under the covers with his battered paperback copy of Moby Dick – reading glasses balanced low on his nose.About 1 o’clock after midnight, just around the time he decided to call it a night, he suddenly heard loud, rich laughter from the cabin next door. Low voices were talking, two of them, both male. Francis had a bad feeling about this.For a moment, he just lay there, straining his ears to listen to whatever was being said on the other end of the wall. Not moving a muscle, not making a sound, book still opened on the same paragraph but eyes unseeing. The voices were muffled, low, but entirely too cheery. Then there was silence for a while. Laughter. More silence. Francis fearing what might be happening in this silence. And then there it was, soft, barely reality behind the 10 centimetres of the wall. But he heard it.A moan.He cursed the tendency of his bad feelings becoming true.He cursed the day he agreed to come on this journey.He cursed his cabin number.He cursed his cabin neighbour who was now starting to moan, loudly, repeatedly, and very sexually right behind that darned wall.
Franics covered his face with the well-thumbed pages of Moby Dick.He groaned loudly into the book.Fitzjames groaned loudly on the other side of the wall.Francis lay there for a moment, considering his next move. He could try smothering himself with a pillow, though he would rather smother accursed James Fitzjames. He could bang against the wall and ask for some peace, but he could already feel his face heating at the prospect of having to look the other in the eye again at one point of the journey. He could go to reception and ask for ear plugs, but that would mean getting dressed again.There was dirty talk involved now.Something about faster, and yes, he was also asking for harder. And his partner apparently had such a nice big cock, how quaint Francis thought.He breathed in deep, inhaling the smell of the well-turned pages. Moby Dick – hah – was shut, reading glasses abandoned, covers pulled as far over his head as possible, eyes closed.Francis sighed, one last time for the day. Bone-weary.
And with the bed rhythmically banging against his wall and Fitzjames’ continued screams of yes, yes, yes as his lullaby, Francis surrendered to his fate.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Francis!” James called while leisurely jogging to the open elevator doors. “Hold that for me?”The other man between the closing automatic doors startled slightly, then he gave James a look. A long look that James was not willing to interpret any further, but it seemed distinctly unimpressed, slightly annoyed even, one might consider on closer inspection.And Francis hesitated, only a couple of seconds, but hesitate he did before pushing the button to keep the elevator open. James squeezed inside through the half-opened doors; charming smile plastered on his face. He hoped it to be charming, but with the silence that now descended between them while the elevator ascended to breakfast, it felt a bit forced.“James,” the other greeted and even that sounded unimpressed somehow, as if you could be unimpressed by a name. Not that James Fitzjames was any good as far as names went. It did have a decidedly unimpressive ring to it, didn’t it?“Cheers,” he said. Croaked more like, but he wouldn’t admit to that. His cabin neighbour had for some reason the talent to put James on edge which was an unusual talent to have as far as James’ previous experience was concerned. Though, outwardly, there was nothing to justify this impression.Francis Crozier was as average as a middle-aged man could be – not fit nor fat, not fashionable nor reasonably unfashionable, not precisely attractive but in some abstract way not unattractive either. No, there was something about him, maybe in the straightness of his spine, or the broadness of his shoulders, maybe the blue eyes gazing out over those soft eyebags. Or maybe in the way he held himself that for a bizarre reason had James fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. Because yes, maybe he was not unattractive, not at all.Whatever the fascination was, it certainly had nothing to do with the Birkenstocks, James surmised as he gave the man a hopefully subtle once-over. Nor the black band shirt proudly displaying the logo of Airbourne whoever that might be. Maybe the dark jeans? The dark jeans weren’t bad. Or maybe the salt and pepper beard, that did have a certain appeal, he mused. That man would wear cardigans, wouldn’t he, James considered.He hummed.“So,” he started, and consequently startled Francis, maybe just to get himself out of those strange spiralling thoughts. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”Weather was always a safe conversation starter, wasn’t it? The once again unimpressed side-eye and raised eyebrow did belie that theory. (Though the eyebrow wasn’t bad either, no, not bad at all.)“I suppose,” Francis all but drawled. His accent emerging slightly. (Which was also not all that bad, James supposed.)“Any plans for Valencia today?”“Nothing in particular.”James hummed when nothing else was offered. Neither had he if he was being perfectly honest, but it was also far from his first time in the city, and this vacation was all for leisure after all. Because Captain James Fitzjames of Erebus travels was here for free on this ship he for once didn’t have to man himself. And who would say no to a free vacation if offered by your employer?“I could recommend you some good places to eat,” he tried then. “There is this beautiful restaurant by the sea with a fabulous wine selection.”Francis gave a sigh next to him, and James had to fight a flinch as if a sigh could deal him a physical blow. It felt a bit like one.“No, thank you.”James gnawed at the inside of his cheek. He could for the life of him not remember a time where small talk had felt this much like pulling teeth. Even trying to communicate with people whose language he did not speak on his multiple travels around the globe had never posed as much of a challenge as apparently wringing more than one sentence out of Francis Crozier.People loved his easy charm, didn’t they? Usually, they did.“How do you like the ship then?”“Food’s fine.”It seemed Francis was not usual.James thought silence might be the sensible course of action. Only James had a bit of trouble with silence.So, he talked. If asked later, James wasn’t sure he could remember what he bumbled on about. Probably something related to the quality of the various restaurants on board, their advantages, disadvantages. It felt a bit like verbal diarrhoea if he was being perfectly honest, and Francis, well, Francis just stood there, lips pressed together in a grim line.It wasn’t the most awkward moment of his life, but it bloody well came close to it. Definitely in the top 5 up there.“Oh, and the cabins are lovely.” James blathered on. “Love what they did with the colours, yellow has just such a calming influence, I sleep like a baby. Especially with how wonderfully soft those mattresses are.”Francis snorted.“You would know exactly how soft these mattresses are, wouldn’t you, James?”James blinked at him.“What -?”In just that second of cliché elevator music the doors dinged open again, spilling them into the foyer of one of the multiple breakfast restaurants, low murmurs of conversation filling James’ ear.Francis Crozier bolted the very instead they arrived – James, hot on his heels.“What exactly did you mean by that?” James wasn’t quite sure where exactly he took the motivation from to continue following the man.“Er,” Francis said eloquently. “No, no, nothing,” he offered with a tight-lipped and very obviously forced smile. “And look, there are my travel companions now,” and Francis indicated a table occupied with a family of 6, a rowdy pair of boys loudly play-fighting with spoons.A handsome man of around Francis’ age waved from the table, and an actual smile bloomed over Francis’ face. And oh, yes, that wasn’t all that bad either.
“Who’s your handsome friend then, Francis dear?”Oh, and didn’t James just preen under that greeting. Francis, however, decidedly did not. Instead, another heavy sigh passed between his lips as he took great pains to roll his eyes in what might be considered subtlety.“My cabin neighbour, dear Anne.” He said, and nothing more. No name. No introduction. He just sat down at the one empty seat at the table, leaving James standing there with all eyes on him – some just as unimpressed, mainly the teenagers.James bristled slightly.But no matter – it seemed, all may be lost where Francis was concerned, but he might yet have things to gain with his companions. He mustered a smile and inclined his head.“James Fitzjames, how do you do?”“Ah, another James, how quaint, darling,” said the wife with a warm and open smile.“Indeed,” conceded the husband good-naturedly. “James Ross,” he then introduced himself, hand outstretched in greeting. James took it gratefully. “And here we have my lovely wife, Anne, and our brood, Thomas, Andrew, Anne, and if you want to believe it or not, yet another James.”James Ross chuckled. His son rolled his eyes.“And well, you already have made Frank’s acquaintance, it seems.” Another of Francis’ eyebrows was raised, this one targeted towards James Ross with a flat smile.“Don’t mind him, he is shy,” Ross continued while leaning over the table to clap Francis on the back, the other almost spitting out a sip of tea he had just taken.“Are you travelling by yourself, Mister Fitzjames?” Anne Senior inquired.“James is fine, please. And no, not exactly, but it seems I might have misplaced my companion this morning.”“Then why don’t you join us for breakfast?” Ross asked with another warm smile – James almost did not catch Francis’ wild gaze that might have conveyed panic. But only almost, because there it had been, plain as day. “Another James is always welcome at the table.” Ross continued blissfully unaware.“How kind of you, James,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, smile slyly and maybe a little cruelly directed at Francis. “Let me just get another chair then.”And that is how he found himself spending a rather lovely if also boisterous breakfast with the Ross family. Well, lovely on the side of the table where James had inserted himself next to Ross and his darling wife, who kept asking sensible questions and joking.Boisterous on the end where Francis was seated between the two youngest engaged in a very vital discussion on the advantages and disadvantages of peg legs for pirates – so far looking “extremely badass” was apparently the winning argument. James was only half-listening to Francis recount a story about his friend who does have an actual prothesis, but the kids were awfully engaged and ohing and ahing.The teenagers, though, well, they were teenagers, and James did not entertain any delusions to amuse a couple of approximately 15-year-olds, they were usually a tough crowd. The two of them did seem in a world of their own though, occasionally tilting their phone screens to show Uncle Francis what James could only presume to be hilarious. For the other man – leaning back to squint at the screen, no, not endearing James, he was just old – would scoff, or laugh, replying in kind.“Have you been to Valencia before?” Anne then asked, bringing James back to the actual conversation.“Oh, oh yes, multiple times. I actually must confess, I am a captain of this cruise line in my own right and have been on this route – phew – oh, well over a dozen times.” Francis’ gaze shot to him at this admonition, eyes calculating, appraising, a bit cold. James bit the inside of his cheek, holding the other’s eyes steadfast, though he felt like trembling in his designer flip-flops.“You know John Franklin then?” Francis asked with a voice several octaves deeper than he had heard from him before. James was a bit confused at the question, giving Francis a puzzled look. “Yes,” he started haltingly. “He is somewhat of a mentor to me. Excellent captain. Good friend of mine. Actually, captaining this ship as we speak,” he finished, voice breaking a little over the last specks of admiration he wanted to imbue his words with. Francis’ gaze grew only darker at that, and now James knew exactly why he was intimidated by his cabin neighbour. His eyes. Those unnerving stares. He swallowed.“Working as a cruise captain, how curious,” Anne finally broke the silence, maybe a bit fake, maybe a bit desperate. But James could only relax when his eyes went to her. “You must have a lot of inside information then?”“Nothing I can disclose, I am afraid, or else I might have to kill you,” James answered with a dashing wink, so he hoped. The Rosses chuckled, as expected, Francis rolled his eyes in the background. As expected.“But there was this incident the last time we were in Valencia when a dog had snuck onto the ship and was running rampant in the hallways. We made a bit of a game out of it to see who might catch it first.”“And? Who did?” Anne inquired.“Oh, not me, though I was close at one point. Collided with a closing elevator door instead, hard.”That for some unfathomable reason tickled an amused snort out of Francis, their eyes meeting over the table. The other man quickly tried to hide it with a sip of his tea.“Anyways,” James continued. “Might you be so good as to pass me the milk, James?”“I would be positively delighted to, James.” Ross answered, handing him the little jug with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.“Much obliged, James.”
He said, a smile spreading his mouth.“Oh, James?” Ross started after a short silence.“Yes, James?”“Ach, Ross, no!” Francis grumbled at the same time James Junior grunted something that sounded suspiciously like: “Dad, you are embarrassing.”“I would require the salt, James, would you be a darling and hand it over?”“Surely, James, nothing I would rather do.”“Ah perfect, James, cheers.”Ross was a master at keeping a straight face, it seemed, Francis and James Junior decidedly were not. When most of the utensils around their table had changed hands between one James to another, the teenager had his head on the table, and Francis was rubbing his eyes.“James, I see you have a little bit of butter left on your plate. Any chance you might still need that?”“So sorry, James, I was planning to use it for my last toast.”“Ah, a shame, James, though I understand.”“Bloody hell,” Franics finally snapped. “I’m going to get you that darned butter if you really want some, Ross.” And up he got and off he went.“Hm, I have a sudden craving for strawberry jam. If you’ll excuse me.” James said and followed Francis to the buffet, again attaching himself to the other man’s side. He would not let him get away this easily.“Francis,” he started, while the other was aggressively heaving large chunks of butter on a platter.“James?”“Alright there?”
“Fantastic, James,” he said, now having moved onto shovelling yoghurt into a small bowl. James had never seen anyone display such strong emotions towards dairy products.“So, what exactly was that about me and the mattresses? ““Not sure, I know what you are talking about, James.”He gave the man a shrewd look, realising that Francis was growing a bit hot under his collar.“Never mind, then.” Awkward silence descended once again as both filled their plates with more breakfast foods. James wasn’t particularly hungry anymore, he had never been big on breakfast, but ah, there was one whole-wheat toast left.“Lucky,” he said, snatching the slice from the buffet.Francis gave him the side-eye again. A very aggressive one at that. James was entirely unaware of what he had done now to offend, but it must have been grave indeed.He looked at the toast in his hand, then looked back to Francis.“You wanted that?”Francis then breathed in, breathed out.“Keep it,” he said.“I am sure they have more toast.”“Oh, I am very sure they have more toast, James.” The tone was not very subtle in its testiness.“You sound like you are not entirely happy with that fact,” James countered with a stretched smile, still trying his best to remain civil. “And you know they have a huge variety of other wonderful breakfast foods, I’m sure you’ll find something that tickles your fancy.”“Good lord, James, could you please stop harping on about how excellent this bloody cruise is?” It finally burst out of Francis, the other gripping his little plate and yoghurt bowl in a vice grip.James looked at him, not sure what to say.“You are aware I work for this cruise line?”“I am well aware, thank you Captain Fitzjames,” James didn’t like the sarcastic tone of it. “I’m already on the ship, aren’t I? No need to rattle of the benefits of it like a walking advertisement board.”He bristled at that, drawing himself up to his full height.“What exactly is your problem? You get squeamish? Sea-sick?” He questioned. “I know a lot of people do, though I was assured on boats this big-”“I do not get sea-sick, James. I just don’t like cruises.” Francis interrupted, slightly calmer, a lot colder.There was a tense moment of silence where James could only stare at him, scrunching his nose. Everyone loved cruises. Older people definitely loved cruises. Kids loved cruises. Teenagers occasionally loved cruises. Hell, he loved cruises, and he worked here.“Alright, happy days.” He then mumbled, going back to the exquisite fruit selection on this exquisite cruise.He waited, dithering about the buffet for longer than strictly necessary, only to be sure that Francis had went back to the table ahead of him. Just then James spotted Dundy’s grey mane out of the corner of his eye. It seemed the other finally deemed it an appropriate time to have breakfast and was giving him a jolly little wave. James felt jolly indeed at this.“Ah,” James said when he had made it back to the Ross table. “And there seems to be my company, at last.” He made his voice reflect all the chagrin he currently didn’t feel at the prospect of ridding himself from Francis.“You will leave us then, James?” Ross asked, a look of genuine if slightly amused disappointment on his handsome face.“’fraid so, James.” He said and gave a little bow to the whole table. “It was a lovely breakfast, thank you for the invitation. Fellow Jameses, Ladies, Children, Francis,” was what he landed on last, and James made sure to elongate the vowels of that name as far as they could go just to see that slight eyebrow twitch one final time. James smiled flatly, holding Francis’ gaze, before turning on his heel.“Oh, what a delightful fellow, this James,” he heard Ross say on his strut to meet Dundy at his table by the window.“Oh yes, just delightful,” was Francis’ grumbled response in the aftermath. It was heavy on the sarcasm, and James did not appreciate that, not one bit. He bit his cheek again, hard.
-James was back from Valencia a lot earlier than planned, so he decided to go for a nice refreshing swim in the pool.Armed with a beach towel, a new pair of flip-flops and his favourite pair of tiny tropical flower print swimming pants, he found himself on the sun deck. It was still nice and hot, the sun baring down on them and the nostalgic smell of sunscreen tingling in his nostrils. And there right next to the pool was Francis, still with the Birkenstock, still with the band shirt, still with the perpetual scowl. The reading glasses were new as were the outrageously ugly burgundy swimming trunks – and the sunburn, that was new as well.He was immersed in a book, completely unawares of his surroundings. So, when James passed him by with a jolly “Francis,” he was immensely gratified by the small flinch that induced.“James,” Francis answered with a scathing glare over his reading glasses. James only nodded to the other man, dropping his towel and key card on the beach chair next to the other man.“You mind watching that for me?” He asked the other, who just grumbled his assent behind the cover of his book. Moby Dick of all things. James had to bite his tongue.He was not entirely sure what reason he had to keep pestering Francis – the man apparently loathed him and James the “walking advertisement” (he was still gritting his teeth at that) was akin to untoward advances it seemed. It just vexed him.James hated to leave a bad impression, and James hated when people did not like him. Both were strongly implied in this case, and he’d rather rectify it. Because he was sure if Francis would just get to know him a little better (not too good though, no, never too good), he would certainly change his mind.So, James might have taken his sweet time gathering his hair into a low ponytail, posing this way and that, flexing his biceps. Because it seemed Francis didn’t necessarily like a dressed James, but maybe he would like him with decidedly less clothes on. But his efforts were apparently a lost cause, as a sly little glance in Francis’ direction confirmed that the older man was lost in his own little world of whales and grumpy captains and homoerotic tendencies.Fine then, James would have a wonderful time splashing about in the pool, not thinking about Francis, nay, not caring about Francis’ existence. He stalked off, fighting hard against the impulse to harrumph in the face of such indignity.“Ladies,” James called to the mostly middle-aged woman lining the side of the pool or swimming along, unperturbed, some with adorable bathing caps. “Lovely day for a swim, no?”They giggled, wishing him a “good day, love”.Good day, love!By God, James adored middle-aged women, and they were usually easy to please by handsome younger man and loved gossip. And James would consider himself to be a gossip-loving younger man.So, it was easy enough for him to chat up a lovely lady in her late 50s from Broadstairs in a bold pink and orange flower-patterned bathing suit. They were gliding along the lanes at a pace that was frankly too slow for James, but he was more interested in the story of how her sister Irene had cheated on her husband Gerry with the local gardener.“No,” James said in what might be a slightly overdramatic tone, but Irene was quite the little hussy in his opinion. “She did not!”And so it went on for a while, James enjoying his slow evening until his new acquaintance started to whisper over the splashing of the waves between them.“My goodness, have you seen that tasty morsel?” To James’ only mild surprise, she indicated Francis with a nod of her head. The other now on his side, resting his head on his hand while he was deeply focused on his novel.He did look quite tasty, James had to agree, reclining like this.“Oh, Francis, you mean?”“You do really know everyone, don’t you, Captain Fitzjames?”“We’re just coincidentally cabin neighbours.”“Ah, what I wouldn’t give to be cabin neighbours with all that. Those thighs do things to my imagination.” He and Maureen definitely were of one mind there. Francis had wonderfully substantial thighs, very broad, very manly. James hummed in agreement.“But he might be a bit too young for me, don’t you think?”“Definitely, Maureen, no you are right. Basically jailbait, he is.”“Oh you,” she giggled. “Do you think he is single?”“He is here with friends, and I didn’t see a ring,” James said in a sing-song voice, blinking his eyes at her. And yes, James was embarrassingly aware that he had looked out for that – no ring on Francis’ finger. “The odds might be in your favour, darling.”“Maybe I should give it a try then, love. A little holiday romance, wouldn’t that be exciting? Ah, he is looking over.”And indeed, Francis was throwing them a somewhat puzzled look over his book. And Maureen, bless her heart, gave the man a little wave, wiggling her fingers suggestively. James couldn’t see what exactly she was doing with her face, but the eyebrow raising on Francis’ forehead was telling him all he needed to know.To his credit, Francis gave her a short wave back with a polite smile before his eyes fell to James, who just retorted the look with a shrewd grin. Francis immediately buried himself back into his book.“Oh, and such a sweet smile,” Maureen gushed. “He reminds me of my dear late Ed, God bless his soul.”Now James wasn’t entirely too interested in Maureen’s first husband, so after enduring her tales for another 15 minutes, he excused himself to take a little breather.“Francis,” James said after climbing out of the pool, shaking out his hair.“James,” Francis drawled, once again gaze very strenuously focused on the pages of his book and not anywhere close to James’ dripping person.He might have pouted.“I think Maureen there has an eye on you.” James benevolently nodded into her direction where she was now lounging appealingly with a pair of old-school cat-frame sunglasses.“Aha,” Francis breathed, nothing more.“What say you?”“Er.” Now he did for a moment look up to consider the woman over his thick-rimmed glasses. “Bold choice of swimwear.”“Yup,” James said, popping the p. For a moment, he thought he could feel Francis’s gaze on him out of the corner of his eyes. When he turned, the other was busying himself with putting his glasses away.“Well,” Francis started. “I believe you don’t need anyone to watch your stuff any longer. I’ll be going then.” He heaved himself up with a grunt as man of his age are known to do.“James,” he said again, his accent always surfacing heavily on the name.“Francis,” James responded with a nod and tight-lipped smile. “See you around.”His only response was a grunt as the man shuffled off.James did pout then, outright, flopping down on his beach chair with a wet splat, arms crossed.This could have gone better.
-James fanned himself with one of his hands, sweat cooling on his skin. It was infernally hot in his cabin, and they forgot to turn the aircon on before the fucking started. Never a good idea. He was probably stuck to the sheets at this point.“It vexes me,” he breathed out, his own come unpleasantly cooling on his lower belly.“It vexes you?” Dundy scoffed from the foot of the bed where he was rooting around in his jean’s pockets for a smoke, naked ass wiggling up and down in James’ field of vision. “Pray tell, Jamie, what could possibly vex you right now.”“That he seems to loathe me.” James scrunched his nose at the thought of his cabin stinking of cigarette smoke, starting to clean himself with a ship provided hanky. He would need another shower.“Ah,” Dundy sighed, having produced a lighter but no cigarette.“Your cabin neighbour? For some unfathomable reason, you find him attractive, don’t you?” The other said after a pause in which more rummaging happened.James wasn’t sure if he was happy that Dundy knew him enough to immediately be aware of the identity of the loathsome individual or if he should also be vexed at being so easily figured out.He grunted.“I might.”“Oh, Jamie,” Dundy now mumbled, cigarette between his teeth.“What?”“Your taste in men works in mysterious ways.” The used tissue landed with perfect precision in Dundy’s coiffed hair for that. “Hey!” He called on a laugh.“Yet you are here in bed with me,” James mumbled, poking Dundy in the ass with his big toe.“Touché.”“And no smoking in here! I’ve told you time and again –““Yes, yes.” He flipped the cigarette in James’ direction, where it flopped onto his naked stomach. James just threw him an unimpressed look, before he relaxed his head on his crossed arms, breathing deep. He was getting a bit sleepy at this point.“So,” Dundy mused. “It vexes you that a man who you deem to be attractive does not even do you the courtesy of a, a lingering stare?”“Or even a smile, it should not be that much trouble.” He yawned.“Hm, I wager you he is straight.”One of James’ eyes popped open to regard his friend. “You reckon?”“A man with those outfit choices could be nothing but heterosexual.”James shrugged. His outfits weren’t so bad. Just very plain. He knew plenty of gay men who wore plain outfits. He thought about it. He knew one gay man who wore plain outfits.“Want to bet on it?” Dundy smirked at him over his shoulder.“I’m never betting with you ever again.” Entirely too much of James’ hard-earned money had previously been lost on absurd betting calls between him and Dundy. The other patted him on the ankle in a placating manner.“Maybe he is also homophobic?”James scoffed.“And what gives you that impression?”“His blatant dislike of you? You can be quite-,“ Hands were waved around in the quest to find a favourable adjective, no doubt.“Quite?”“Flamboyant at times.”James huffed a high and dignified breath out from his nose. “I shall take that as a compliment.”“You may, it suits you.”“Hm.”There was a prolonged bout of silence, James having closed his eyes and already starting to drowse when the mattress dipped next to him. He blinked at Dundy who had started to watch a video on his phone – loudly – squished in next to him.“So, were you planning to stay, or?”“Hm?” Dundy asked, transfixed on what sounded like obnoxious reality TV. He laughed.James raised two very obvious eyebrows at him.“Yes, yes,” Dundy sighed, getting up excruciatingly slowly. “Just about to leave, Jamie, as it seems you cannot await to be rid of my company and council.”“You know I adore your company and council, dear Dundy. Just not your abominable snoring.”“Just you wait,” the other called while shimming into his underwear. “I will find a lucky person one day who also adores my snoring.”“Well, good luck with that,” James waved him off, turning around and pulling the sticky covers over himself. “Do please give me advance notice of your upcoming nuptials then, you know I take an awful long time to decide on a suit.”“You’ll be the first one invited.” James received a slap on his arse in lieu of goodbye.“Oh, and Dundy?”“Yes?”“Can you turn off the light when you go?”“Aye, aye, Captain!”