left out in the sun

When Krista had shuffled him into the car on his birthday, magical mystery tours had seemed all too bloody overrated. Get behind the wheel, drive God only knew where and then no matter what you ended up facing, be happy about it, or else. Within minutes, his mind set very much changed. A man could get used to that part of it, especially if Krista always kept it up as long as she had. After that he’d be bloody grateful and didn’t even have to squash the urge to shut her back up again when she followed it up by yapping all the way to ... wherever she’d picked out.

Part of him had been expecting another giftbag full of blood this year. He’d been getting the majority of it from the vein since she’d pitched such a hissy fit over him trying to dine out. It’d been as close to a diet as he’d ever been on, hunger pangs curbed by his work snacks, his meals eaten on a schedule that fitted into both of their lives. It was downright virtuous if you asked him. Watching Krista put the cooler in the back seat of the car he’d wondered if she’d planned on letting him feast today, but it had probably been stuffed with things to keep her going, so she could give the biggest bang possible on his special day.

Krista might not’ve believed he deserved anything special on his birthday since he was the world’s worst boyfriend – ungrateful and rude – but she’d still gone out of her way to plan all of this. For probably just the second time in her life she’d managed to keep completely schtum about it. He’d frowned at the address as she’d plugged it in, but he hadn’t been able to put Norfolk together with anything in his head, certainly anything he thought Krista might’ve known about. Who knew if she’d stuck ‘vampire celebration Virginia’ into Google and come up with some cheesy vampire themed pizza joint in Norfolk that definitely didn’t cater to his sort.

Hazel eyes swept the road ahead, flicking to Krista on and off as she’d babbled about what she was gonna get up to when school let out for the year – when she was crawling up his arse twenty-four hours a day instead of just the half dozen she got to at the moment. Her excitement about it all filled the car like the scent of her shampoo as they got further out of Mystic Falls, slowly bleeding into him by vampire bond osmosis until he was actually engaging in the conversation, trying to wring some clue out of her about where they were going.

The road that they turned off onto in the end carried them towards the flash of blue water he’d caught time and again beyond the trees that separated the road from the coast. Mal craned forward, his brows knitting as he tried to see what lay ahead. Maybe it’d been ‘pirate celebration’ she’d lobbed into Google instead. Some bloke dressed up like that Captain Jack Sparrow ponce was gonna bounce out of one of the buildings ahead, yelling ahoy me maties and swinging a fake hook around to welcome them to his seafood restaurant for the freshest crab cakes around.

”It’s mean not to give a bloke a hint you know,” Mal muttered as Krista sprung out, already snickering in a way that had worry working its way through him. He sighed, getting on his side and taking Krista’s hand without any complaint. As though his muscle memory had lasted the better part of 200 years, he was already squinting out at the water as Krista approached some bloke standing there. An inkling was starting to tinkle in the back of his mind – if she’d hired some bloke to take them out on a fishing charter he might just have to spend the next couple of hours biting his fist.

As Krista looked up at him like he’d psychically glean exactly what she’d planned through their emotional link, Mal’s frown deepened. She looked like he was about to give her the world. They both knew he was practically incapable of that, but glancing at the boat again as she found her voice, he thought she might’ve just given him a good sized chunk of it. ”You got me a boat?” He puffed out a breath, a smile started to creep over a face that’d become more attuned to smirking these days. So he wasn’t gonna have to stand there and put up with someone else making a bloody bodge job out of steering a boat.

Beatific wasn’t a word that would’ve been associated with him too often, but his face lit up that way as he studied the boat from the dock. Other than the jolly boats they used to get in and out of the port, it was probably the smallest he’d ever have stepped foot on, but for the next couple of hours at least, it was his - theirs.

More muscle memory had him hopping lightly on board. The boat rocked beneath his weight, but as though he hadn’t gone a day without being out on the water in the last two hundred years, he kept his balance. ”Not even one of them little park pond row boats?” Mal extended his hand towards her, his gaze drifting from her freshly bared shoulder, down to the dip at the collar of the blouse she was wearing over the hello.

”Mm-hmm,” he hummed, plucking the cooler from her other hand. He dumped it down on the deck before he pulled Krista on board. One hand found her waist, steadying her, the other gathered her hair at the nape of her neck, like he was drawing it back in the wind. The corners of his mouth remained high as he lowered his head. ”Gonna call me Captain Mal, eh? Let me shiver your timbers out on the waves?” God, he was turning into the ponce he’d thought would be floating around a place like this. Krista’s excitement, his, bleeding into one another until he was feeling giddy as he tugged her back towards the ropes that tied the boat to the dock. ”Hold on to me love, gonna cast us off.” Slipping Krista a lifejacket probably would’ve been a smart move, but what did she need it for when she had him?

Tagged: KRISTA MAY * Word Count: 1049

Would he have been satisfied with the gift he’d been given in the car if they’d just ended up driving straight back to town after? Maybe. It wouldn’t have been all that special, but he’d have gotten out smiling almost as much as he had now. Krista woulda gotten a thank you in the motel room in return. This was gonna take more than ten minutes work to repay though – and he was sodding capable of it, even if it didn’t always seem like it.

How long’d it been since he was out on the water? Mal puffed out a breath, feeling the pull of it like there was salt water in his veins (maybe there was since he couldn’t claim any knowledge of his mother and father in ‘em). He grinned at her, not sure if Krista’s excitement was adding to his own, it was definitely her who got emotional over all this stuff. ”Wouldn’ta last ten minutes with anyone else handling the lines,” he told her, drawing in a deep breath of the brackish, salty air. ”Can bet they’re landlubbers, just pissin’ about out here at the weekends.” Wouldn’t know a Cunningham from a Forestay if they wrapped themselves around his neck. As a boy he’d have been up ‘em like a squirrel up a tree, always the youngest and lightest sent the highest when there was a problem.

Looking up at the mast, Mal imagined something 60 or 70 feet taller stretching overhead. There were plenty of bad memories attached to the memories, but those fell away like land in the wake of Krista’s gift. If things hadn’t worked out with the Doc he could’ve ended up back there. These days it wouldn’t have been half as fun, too much metal, too clinical and noisy. After so many years on land he might’ve lost it, but the moment the deck shifted beneath his feet, Mal found his balance again.

Gripping her hand, Mal drew Krista into him. She’d find her feet soon enough, especially on a ride that’d be smooth as glass. He clucked his tongue lightly as she admitted she was an absolute virgin when it came to being out on the water. ”It’s a shame,” he muttered lightly. As though he hadn’t spent most of his first decade on land and hadn’t spent days at the start of that first cruise puking his guts up. ”There ain’t nothin’ like it.” At the distance of a couple hundred years, you could forget the worst of it: nothing but hard tack and dried salt pork you coulda used to knock a hole right through the side of the boat, weeks when they hit the doldrums and the ship barely moved an inch, risking getting a cannon ball to the face every time you came across another ship.

If they’d been out in town, having lunch at some poncey little bistro for lunch, and Krista had tipped her head up to bump noses with him like that he’d have cringed, but out here it was different. Mal hummed lightly, nuzzling into her cheek before he pressed a grinning kiss to it. ”Definitely,” he promised, his voice low and rumbly. He let out a little growl of satisfaction, dipping his head to nip at her jaw. He liked the sound of that.

With Krista holding onto his shirt, Mal led Krista from line to line, working the central lines free first, then the front line. Reaching out with one foot, he kicked them lightly away from the deck before he worked his way down to the back and did the same again. The sails were likely to catch this close to the dock, but they were drifting slowly into open water now. Krista’d yelped and he’d made a soothing noise, reaching back to pay her hip. ”You’ll get used to it, love,” he promised. Maybe. He felt Krista let go of him, and watched, his lips tugged into a smirk, as she rushed towards the seat at the back of the deck. Somewhere stable for her to – hello. Working automatically to get the sails angled to catch what wind there was while he let his gaze slip over graceful limbs and the extra slice of chest he could see with the buttons opened further on Krista’s blouse. His grin was broad, warmth, like the sun slipping out from behind the clouds washing over him. Once they were on a more stable course and he could step away for a few minutes, he’d have that blouse off of her, fingers tracing the lines of the bikini beneath as he kissed the salt from the chips and the sea off of her lips.

Mal hitched the main halyard a little tighter before he adjusted the angle of the main sail. ”Thanks, love,” he murmured. He hummed lightly again as he slid them past the last ship at the dock, the boat picking up a little speed now. ”Dozens of times bigger,” he promised. Jerking his chin up towards the mast, Mal chuckled lightly. ”The mast on the Argonaut was close to 100ft. Had 700 men on her at full compliment.” All crammed in with no luxuries. There was no such thing as showers, no cushy feather beds. You put up with the dirt and stink, all for the decent pay day if you managed to take a prize. ”All the time at first,” he muttered. ”The sickness wasn’t as bad as the injuries. You ever seen a cannon ball? Toss a few dozen of them through the side of the ship and pepper the whole thing with grape and chain shot … it’s a blood bath.” As he’d found out himself. He’d had just enough experience to know how fucked he was when his time had come.

Catching the wind as it shifted, Mal hauled on the lines, ducking as the boom swept overhead. He mighta been impervious to aches and pains now, but Mal felt his muscles work, that old familiar tug. He grinned at her as he tied the line off again, pride filtering into his smile as he caught sight of the bite. ”I guess it was the easier transition, yeh. Made it easy to feed before I ‘ad you. A little snifter of blood ‘ere and there.” In perfect position to get what the Docs needed. Put on a white coat and nobody suspected what else you did. He weren’t about to tell Krista that bit though. ”You mean was it ‘ard to fit in when I ‘ad to feed from them ‘stead of on the hard tack? Mm. A bit, but we were at war. There was plenty of cover.” And work to do. ”They ever teach ya what was goin’ on then at school or was it all fuck the King, let’s learn about Independence instead?” The Americans hadn’t exactly been neutral in what was going on. They’d happily sided with the French often enough that there’d been a target on their backs too.

Tagged: KRISTA MAY * Word Count: 1169

That little hitch in his chest as Krista repeated the words had to be her. As a kid, probably just three or four, scrawny and grubby, he’d stared open mouthed at the ships as they’d sailed close to the harbour. Even at a distance they’d been impressive, great hulks that seemed to spit out men for hours as the jolly boats worked back and forth from them to the dock. By the time he’d been old enough to understand that his father had probably been one of those arseholes, heading back to the ship the minute his pockets were empty, the shine had entirely worn off. A handful of years later it’d been worse. He’d hated every sodding inch of the thing when he’d been dragged aboard.

Mal frowned faintly at the sensation. He didn’t wanna get nostalgic about the whole thing, but Krista had him feeling that way all the same. It was the boat, the feel of the waves rolling under him. That was all. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon later and he was steering them back with Krista shivering and tired of it all, the shine would wear off again. ”That weren’t even the biggest of them. You could get over a thousand on some of yer first rates. All packed in like sardines.” Sickness could rip through ‘em all if it got aboard and there was sod all to be done about it sometimes. In the worst circumstances they’d just set fire to the ship, better to let it slip to the bottom of the ocean with its compliment of dying men than to let the infection reach the port where it could wipe out your entire navy.

That feeling was back in his chest as Krista became the first one ever in his life to tell him she was glad he was alive. Most cursed his existence instead, lamenting that it hadn’t happened before he’d bought his own plague into their lives. The corners of his lips kicked up in a fond smile at her. ”’m glad I’m here too, love.” Feeling like he had in those rare moments of actually enjoying sailing, like he was tilting his face up to the sun as the wind tossed his hair back from his face.

Krista returned his grin and the feeling intensified for a moment before she seemed to go still. They hadn’t had to deal with land mines and all that modern shit in old George’s navy, but now he felt a little like he’d nudged one with his toe. Mal squinted at her, waiting for her to blow as he mentally eased away from it. If she had been about to explode at him for having had a sip from anyone else, it eventually faded.

The um was probably warning enough that the lines in Krista’s head were running out of control. Who knew what would be spat out when they finally caught. Mal worked the sheets, fingers deftly tying them off again as the sails refilled with wind, sending them surging forward. He glanced sidelong at her, dark brows drawing together until she started telling him what she had learned at school. Panic over, for the most part. ”That’s the polite way of sayin’ it,” he cackled. ”Georgie weren’t exactly makin’ friends anywhere. The French were more than happy to side with the Americans against us. Fuckin’ turncoats, always snivellin’ to someone in the end.” Cowards. Everyone one of ‘em.

Watching her practically melt at the idea, Mal puffed out his chest and worked his way closer to her. His gaze ticked constantly to the sails and then down at her, taking in the adjustments needed. Working lines free when necessary, falling back on what had been as natural as breathing at one time. ”It weren’t all bad,” he admitted. ”War has its moments.” The ones that were grimmer than Krista could probably picture. Mopping guts up after a battle, watching another mate get sewn inside his hammock before they were committed to the waves. When the cannon balls had started tearing through the hull of the ship, he’d pictured himself in the same state. How many men were gonna be left to give them a send-off? Would the French just dump them overboard?

Swallowing hard, trying to get rid of that ache in his throat, Mal knotted off another line. He looked down at Krista’s extended hands before his gaze flicked back up to her face. ”She’s good for a while,” he promised, answering the easier question first. If the wind shifted he could be back at the lines in a second but for now they were gliding smooth as you liked over the water.

He worked his way back to her, his lips twitching faintly as he saw her bikini top shift – a man couldn’t feel too miserable with a view like that. ”I’ll take a juice to wet me whistle while I tell ya,” he rumbled softly. Mal’s lips pinched together faintly, but he was taking those last few steps towards her. Settling beside he patted her thigh lightly in reassurance and slumped back on the seat. This might sour her appetite, but it’d only stoke his later as he tried to chase the memory out of his head with a little drink straight from the vein.

”We didn’t know we had a vampire on board,” he muttered softly, his brow furrowing as he cast his memory back. ”We’d got our arses kicked with Nelson at Trafalgar, but we’d dropped the injured off in Portsmouth and got ourselves patched back up. We headed for Malta, figuring we might find ourselves a prize, but instead ended up with one of our new masts snapped clean in two by a storm. Woulda taken us a good week to get to Malta in that state, longer when the sickness hit.” Now he knew it’d been his sire, picking his way through the crew with a little too much gusto, but then none of them had a clue what it was.

Mal smiled wanly glancing over at Krista. ”Sailors are a supernatural bunch, they thought it was a Jonah – someone who brought bad luck.” He knew it’d just have been another Barney situation if he left it there. ”We definitely had enough of it. Didn’t get halfway to Malta before a French ship came along and shot the guts out of us. Our blokes held on, got off a lucky shot that sank ‘er, but by then the captain’s cabin had already been blasted to smithereens. Rochester, our surgeon, was dead, I was good as. Splinter,” he explained, extending his other arm to show the length of it. ”Right in me chest. Was sure I was dead, ‘specially with Rochester already dead. The Jonah came to the rescue though. He told me what he was, what he could do for me and, well, I wasn’t stupid enough to say no.” His grin brightened a little, a chuckle running out of him as he explained how Josiah, his sire, had wrangled him into learning how to do things right. He still taste his first blood, the memory blurred by time, but enough to warm the pit of his stomach now.

Tagged: KRISTA MAY * Word Count: 1209