High Seas & Low Blows: Not A Toy

[churbooseanon]

Summary: There are those on the ship who think they know what they can get out of Locus. They are wrong.

 

Not A Toy

    Life at sea was worse than the dreams recalled for him. The issue wasn’t in the fact that he was expected to work hard, that was something Locus knew well. His life was based on hard work, harder than he’d ever thought was air, but it seemed like he wasn’t the only one that worked hard on the ship. When he was on the ship learning how to mend lines he was doing it beside people who would spend hours putting in the hard work needed to get them repaired. He watched with rapt attention as men climbed the riggings and he watched them strain to trim the sails fitting to Felicio’s orders. Even the chef worked hard to prepare meals and keep the crew happy, would roll up his sleeves and help Locus scrub the pots. No matter where he went people worked hard, provided there was work to be done. At night they were full of laughter, full of energy, and full of a sort of joy in their work that he could respect.

    No, the problem was everyone on the ship knew what he was. What he had been. Maybe he wasn’t anymore, Felicio had been very clear about his freedom, but people thought it anyway. They knew what his old owner had used to sell him for. One Locus even recognized as having bought his company their first night in port, before Felicio had made it quite clear that such behavior wouldn’t be accepted. There were whispers that followed him, eyes that lingered on his shirt, his pants, on every and any part of him they could find. Why his hands should be so interesting he didn’t know or care to find out. Besides, they had all learned the lesson of the crewmate that Felicio had killed, had they not?

    The answer he found one day as he went down to the rope locker to fetch a length that was demanded of him by one of the crew members. Locus saw no reason to disobey, these were the people teaching him how to be a sailor. If nothing else they were skills he could put to use after he was free of the pirate crew. When they sent him on tasks he obeyed. They didn’t have to teach him what they knew. He could pass the whole time until he was on the shore again cleaning in the galley for the chef. He could serve as the captain’s servant, did most nights. But he wanted to leave this with more than that and the clothes on his back.

    If he was even allowed to have those.

    Perhaps he took their willingness to teach too much in stride. Perhaps Felicio had ordered it of them. Perhaps a lot of things. But when Locus went into the small storage room dedicated to keeping their extra rope and chains, he didn’t think twice about the door opening and shutting behind him. There were always those members of the crew who would make time to help him in the small tasks. The friendly crew members who didn’t mind his inexperienced company sometimes helped him on harder tasks, not that he thought was a hard task.

    When Locus cast his gaze back over his shoulder he found it was infact one of those crew members who was willing to work with him when he needed help. He was one of the more charming members of Felicio’s crew, one of the men who often sat next to Locus whenever meals were served. A man who told Locus tale of the daring of the pirate crew. The man who had made sure his crewmates made space for Locus to hang the hammock the dead man Raks had left behind and that Felicio had given him.

    “Baris,” he greeted the man, “I’ve got this.”

    “Didn’t think you needed help,” Baris agreed, moving forward. Locus turned to face him and within seconds he knew he didn’t like what he saw. The way those eyes roved over him, the way Baris kept advancing with clear intent. He knew that look, recognized what it meant. Which was more than simply worrying.

    “I think you do,” Locus countered, keeping his voice low. Not the old subservient low, but the annoyed sort of tone that he heard the chef use before threatening to turn someone into sharkbait. “And I don’t want the help you’re offering.”

    “Oh come on, Locus, we both know you want my ‘help,’” Baris countered, frowning. “Admit it, you’ve been begging for it from me for a long time now. I’m just here to provide.”

    “Back the off or I’ll bite your ear off,” Locus snapped, backing away. Backing away was a problem, though. There was a level he understood that on. In the past it had made the people his time was sold to more focused on him, more intense, more… Backing off wasn’t the best choice. It only made Baris advance on him.

    “Playing coy?” the man answered, advancing on Locus, practically pinning him against a wall. “Cute, but we all know you put out all pretty for someone that helps you out. You owe me.”

    Seriously? How dare the man assert that?

    “I have nothing to do with you or your kind, unless I’m forced to it.”

    “And I’m forcing the issue,” Baris answered, reaching for him. “If the Captain can have ya for buying you from your owner, I think I earned it for all the help I’ve…”

    Baris started to pull at his shirt as Locus realized that this time he didn’t have to stand still. He didn’t have to take this and get a beating if he didn’t. None of this had to happen to him because he didn’t want it to. He was free. Felicio reinforced the idea of that every night when he brought the man meals in his cabin. Reminded Locus of it when Locus was invited to dine with the captain on nights here his right hand wasn’t there. He was free, he belonged to him.

    The fist felt good when it formed. Felt better colliding with the side of Bari’s head. His foot slamming into the man’s side was even better. And nothing could compare to spitting in the face of the asshole before he grabbed the length of rope that had been requested of him and walked easily from the room, head held high.

    The eyes on him were different as he marched his way to the man who had sent him on the task. For the first time, Locus thought, he could see a glimmer of respect. An acceptance.

    Apparently all he had needed to do was prove he had a place here. Locus smiled to himself, just a little, as he dropped the rope to the feet of the crewman who had asked for it. “Promised cook I’d help clean pots. Deal with it yourself.”

    That didn’t mean, though, that he didn’t need to withdraw to recover from all that had happened. But next time, though, he’d be ready.