James frowned at the man’s empty hand. He wanted money.
“Just, uhm, one minute,” James said, holding up a finger.
He went into the room and found his wallet so that he could fetch some of the money he’d made the previous evening working the Smoking Room, though he couldn’t be sure how much the man expected. Cassian had paid the fellow seven or eight American dollars the previous evening. James would have to hope that the equivalent of two or so in mixed currency would suffice instead. After hurrying back over to the door, James handed the man a mess of coins.
“It’s all I made last night,” James said, his brows pinching. “Please.”
The man counted it, moving the coins around in his palm with his index finger, and then nodded.
“Two coffees,” he confirmed, shoving the coins into his pocket.
Once the man left, James carefully shut the door. He exhaled a sigh as he leaned against it. He remained there for the next few minutes, waiting for the coffees while Cassian slept. Thankfully, the steward only made a small barely there knock when he returned. James took the tray from him.
After setting it on the main table, James fixed his coffee, putting in both cream and sugar. When he then brought the mug to his mouth to have a sip, he frowned as the liquid washed over his tongue. He ought to have ordered tea instead. Coffee smelled nice, but he much preferred the taste of tea. Still, Cassian liked coffee. In fact, he almost seemed to require it in the mornings to feel invigorated enough to start the day. And James had thought that it might be nice for them both to have coffee that morning. Next time, though, he’d have tea instead.
James was still preparing Cassian’s coffee when he heard the blankets rustling behind him. He looked over his shoulder.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile, his heart pitter-pattering the moment they locked eyes.
“Do I smell coffee?” Cassian asked, his words coming out slow and thick from sleep.
“I had the cabin steward bring them,” James said. “Don’t worry, though, I’m mixing in the cream myself. I put sugar in mine too. Just, well, the taste is a little bitter to me without it.”
Clinking the spoon on the edge of the mug to clean it off, James smiled proudly at the light-brown liquid swirling inside, confident that he’d made it exactly the way that Cassian liked it. After picking up both mugs, he headed over to the bed. Cassian pushed himself up and kissed James the moment that he sat next to him.
“Such exceptional service,” he purred in between kisses.
James’s stomach fluttered, and he hummed as their lips moved together. After Cassian took the mug from him, they enjoyed their beverages in silence. Soon, Cassian set his hand on James’s thigh, and then James transferred his mug to his left hand so that he could place his other hand atop Cassian’s. Cassian intertwined their fingers. Within a couple more minutes, they both finished their coffees.
“Do youreallyhave to work?” Cassian asked, raising James’s hand to his lips to plant a kiss on the back of it.
“Unfortunately.” James checked the clock. “Not for an hour and a half, though.”
“Good,” Cassian said before kissing his hand twice more. He then unlocked their fingers, giving James his mug the moment his hand was free. “Return these to the table so that I can have the rest of you.”
A blush crept over James’s cheeks as he stood. After setting the mugs back on the room’s main table, he looked over at the little round one near the entryway and considered whether or not he ought to bring the notebook with him. Even seeing it there, with the pen pressed between the pages, James’s hand twitched, the urge to write gnawing at him.
“Do you mind if I write?” James asked. “I can write next to you. In the bed.”
“Not at all,” Cassian replied.
James swiped the notebook off of the entryway table and hurried over to the bed. His entire body thrummed with happiness as Cassian wrapped him up in a backward hug, holding James from behind while he settled back against Cassian’s chest. Cassian began to kiss his neck and cheek.
“Am I really supposed to write like this?” James asked, chuckling.
“Mm-hmm.”
Cassian continued to kiss him. Laughing to himself, James opened the notebook, resolving to ignore it. For the first couple of sentences, he was fairly unsuccessful, and as a result, the prose wasn’t as poetic as he’d have otherwise liked it to be. After a while, however, James found that he was mostly able to balance both things—vaguely enjoying Cassian’s kisses while keeping the thread of the story in the forefront of his mind.
He began to write the scene where the pirate and the sailor first spotted each other, the still-unnamed sailor seeing Frederick through a spyglass. He wanted the sailor to like the look of Frederick, even though the pirate frightened him, too. And so, he started to write about the sailor taking note of his enemy’s appearance in a positive way, admiring the man’s strong jaw and impressive-looking physique.
Cassian caught James’s earlobe in between his teeth, pulling James out of 1700-whenever and back into the present.
“Mmm... so the sailor likes the look of our Frederick, hm?” Cassian asked.
James let out a fast breath through his nose. “How am I supposed to finish even one chapter when you constantly keep pulling me out of the story?”
“I’m not the writer,” Cassian said next to his ear. “That’s for you to figure out.”
