eglantine_br (eglantine_br) wrote,

I Think We're Alone Now

Title: I Think We're Alone Now

Author Eglantine_br

Rating G

Word Count 470

Spoilers None

Disclaimer I made Amy up

I Think We're Alone Now

Will had always had a berth of his own.

As a child he had been the only boy. He had had a whole room, with a
window full of stars, and a tree to scratch at it when the wind blew.
His sisters had had to share. When he was 12, and childhood was done,
he had been given his own hammock, with his own number on it. Nobody
ever touched him there, except to bump him by accident. He could at
least pretend he was alone.

It was not that he minded the other
midshipmen. It was just that his thoughts right now were like sharp
shards, pressing against the inside of his skin. Amy. Her mouth, and
that moment when his hand had known just how to touch her, Will's
hand on her breast. She had leaned closer to him then, all down the
swollen front of him. He had tasted her mouth as she smiled.

And now there was a pressing lower that
he needed to ease. He could not do that here. Alone in a hammock was
different. Everyone did it. Everyone pretended not to know. He missed
the ship. He rolled to his side, drew up his knees and cupped the

Well, that was a mistake. Worse now. No

way he was going to sleep. He had the edge of the bed at least.
Hamilton against him, snoring, and Smith against the wall. Smith
smelled like feet. Will slithered to the floor, soundless as he was
able. Little Hamilton lifted his head “Wzzt?” He said.

“Back to sleep, Ham.” Will
whispered. The boy sighed and put his head back down.

Will found his discarded shirt and

trousers, and swarmed into them. Shoes didn't matter. At sea, in the
summer he wore them for inspections mostly. Barefoot he was agile as
a monkey. His feet were tan, and tough as his palms.

He padded down the stairs and through
the darkened breakfast room. Beyond that was the inn kitchen. The
cook fire was banked to coals, red and silent, providing no light. He
passed through the kitchen, light as a ghost. He opened the kitchen
door and went out.

There was a little stairway there,

sloping down to the hedge where Amy had drawn him into the kiss. It
was a shrubby low shape in the darkness. It did not look like much,
but Will Bush would remember it always.

The stone was cool under his feet, and
he breathed deeply. The night air was cool, but the heat inside Will
was not diminishing. He would have to--

A noise his feet made him jump. He

brought his eyes down from the stars in a hurry.

“Hello Will,” said Amy.

Tags: bush, fiction, pre-canon story

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