The stitches come out near the end of April, and on the first of May, Yixing is awoken by clanging and rattling from the kitchen. Frowning in confusion - Joonmyun’s basically never up before he is - Yixing stumbles groggily into the kitchen in his drawers and leans on the doorway, blinking owlishly at the scene in front of him. Joonmyun’s got the basket in which Yixing’s Christmas dinner was delivered set out on the table, and it seems like every provision in the house is spread out around it.

“Joon?” Yixing asks blearily. Joonmyun looks up, looking rather suspiciously like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh. You’re awake,” he observes.

“Yes,” Yixing says pointedly. “Bit difficult not to be, really.” He waves a hand at the mess. “What’s all this, then?”

“Yes. Well.” Joonmyun shrugs in what he probably thinks is a nonchalant way. “It’s May Day, isn’t it. I thought we should celebrate.”

Yixing blinks. “By emptying the pantry?”

“A picnic!” Is he nervous? It’s hard to tell, Yixing’s not sure he’s ever seen Joonmyun nervous so he has nothing to compare it to. “We spend far too much time in this house. I thought maybe we could hike further up the mountain, find some nice clearing or something and stop to eat.”

Oh. Put like that, it does sound like a nice way to spend the day. “I don’t really like leaving the house for that long,” Yixing says, rather regretfully. “What if a patient comes knocking? It’s bad enough they have to hike an hour just to see me, I’d hate for anyone to come up here for nothing.”

Joonmyun flaps a hand at him dismissively. It’s an unusually effuse gesture for him, and Yixing thinks maybe he is right about the nerves. “It’ll just be for a few hours,” he assures Yixing. “You can leave a note on the door. Out on holiday, will return midafternoon. Please have a seat. You can even leave one of those wooden chairs out front if you’re that concerned.” He crosses the room and braces his hands on the outside of Yixing’s shoulders. “Come on, Xing, you need to get out more. You live in the Caribbean and you’re white as an Easter lily, I’m pretty sure that’s an affront to God.”

Joon’s hands are very warm on Yixing’s skin, drawing his attention to the fact that he is extremely underdressed. Joon is of course paying his ness no mind, but Yixing pulls away, feeling a flush start up his neck. And as Joon just pointed out, he is very pale - any hint of a blush shows far to easily.

“You are not exactly a dark-skinned native yourself, you know,” he points out, rather more snidely than he meant it.

If Joon takes offense, he doesn’t show it. “Not for want of trying,” he says cheerily. “Too much Irish in my blood, I suppose. And I’m still darker than you, my hermit friend.” He lays his arm atop Yixing’s, and yes, he has a bare shade more color to his skin. It’s not really a fair comparison and they both know it, since until a month ago Yixing had been too weak to make the long trip down to the town, and there’s really no other reason to leave the property.

Yixing pulls away, but Joon’s fingers cling, trailing across his skin in a way that sends shivers all up his arm. “Fine,” he acquiesces. “When shall we leave?”

Joon’s grin is brilliant and makes it well worth giving in. “Let me finish putting the basket together first.” He stops as he is pulling away, and his eyes drop down Yixing’s body and back up again. “You may wish to get dressed,” he points out, with a sly quirk of his eyebrow.

Yixing flees before his flush takes over his entire face.


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Despite Yixing insisting that he is perfectly capable of carrying a picnic basket, for Heaven’s sake, Joonmyun both carries the basket and leads the way. The mountain is heavily forested around Yixing’s home, but the forest thins as they climb, the ground steeper and rockier and harder to navigate. After an hour or so, they reach the peak of the mountain, such as it is, and stop briefly to rest.

Yixing leans against one of the few trees that have thrived this far up and looks out over the island. From here he can see the town below, and the port; he can see the plantations on the far western edge of the island and the untouched white beaches on the other side of the mountain, where there is not enough flat space for civilization. They’re high enough, and the island small enough, that from here the deep turquoise of the Caribbean can be seen on the horizon in all directions.

“Beautiful,” Joonmyun murmurs, and Yixing nods, because it certainly is. “See what you miss when you never leave your house?”

Shooting him a playful glare, Yixing murmurs, “I’m sorry, Captain, are you trying to hint at something? You may need to be more explicit, I am a direct man.”

Joon snorts. “Of course, my apologies. I will try to be less subtle in the future.” He sets the picnic basket down and stretches, arching his back until it pops and swinging his arms to loosen them. They’ve both forgone jackets today in anticipation of the heat, and the sun shines right through Joon’s thin white shirt as he arches, highlighting the curve of his spine in silhouette. Yixing’s mouth goes dry and he looks away.

“Are you hungry?” Joon asks. “We could stop here to eat. Or we could continue down the other side and eat there.” He points down the mountain, at a completely undisturbed beach surrounding a small lagoon.

Yixing glances up at the sun. It’s still early, and the beach looks quite inviting. “Let’s keep going,” he suggests. “By the time we’re down there I’m sure I will have worked up an appetite.” He pushes off the tree, scoops up the basket before Joon can realize what he’s doing and starts down the other side of the mountain.

Joonmyun yells after him indignantly, and Yixing grins to himself and starts jogging, then running down the mountainside, gravity aiding him in gaining speed, reaching out a hand to catch himself on tree trunks as he skids past. Pounding footsteps tell him Joon is following, and sure enough within moments strong arms wrap around his waist and they go tumbling back in a heap against the steep, rocky ground. Yixing falls mostly on top of Joonmyun, the basket knocked from his hands and the breath knocked from his lungs.

“Got you,” Joonmyun growls playfully, and Yixing’s giggling so hard he can barely move, but he tries, knowing he is probably crushing Joon into the rocks. Joon holds him fast, and they end up just sort of half-rolling onto their sides. There’s stones digging into Yixing’s hips and ribs but he can’t bring himself to care, because Joon his literally breathing down his neck and it’s sending delightful shivers all down his spine.

They lay together and catch their breath for a few moments before Joon pushes himself up on his elbow, leaning over Yixing’s shoulder to peer at his face. His cheeks are pink with exertion. “You’d built up quite the momentum there,” he points out. “What would you have done had I not caught you?”

An excellent question. “Crashed into a tree, most likely,” Yixing admits with a grin.

Joon rolls his eyes and huffs exasperatedly. “It has been too long since you left the house,” he declares. “You’ve forgotten how nature works.” He pushes up, taking a moment to find his footing on the rocky incline and brush himself off, then reaches down and pulls Yixing to his feet. “Honestly. Acting like a rambunctious boy.”

“You’re the one who chased me,” Yixing retorts, and Joon doesn’t seem to have an answer for that. He gets to the basket first, much to Yixing’s chagrin - that was the point of all this, after all - but does not let go of Yixing’s hand as they start off down the mountain at a more adult pace. It’s surprising, and, if Yixing is honest with himself, quite exciting, but it likely stems from Joonmyun’s exasperatingly protective streak so Yixing tries not to think too much of it. He does, however, turn his hand slightly so their fingers intertwine, purely for the comfort and security of it, understand.

Going down the mountain takes considerably less time than going up it, and even though one or both of them stumbles or falls several times, they make it down to flat ground before the sun reaches its zenith. The trees and rocks give way to white Caribbean sand, to pebbles and shells and skittering creatures. Joon sets the basket down on a flat boulder in the shade of the treeline, yanks off his boots and stockings and runs barefoot into the water without a second glance. Laughing at his antics - you can take the man from the sea, but apparently not the sea out of the man - Yixing settles down on the rock and starts unpacking the basket. The contents are a bit shaken up, but apparently Joon knows very well how to pack provisions so nothing is ruined.

He is uncorking the wine when Joon comes back, breathless and grinning, his sleeves rolled up and his legs bare to the knee and his feet sandy and wet, and he is so handsome Yixing can barely stand to look at him, and hands him the wine bottle wordlessly with his eyes on the basket of food.

“I’m getting you into the water, you know,” Joonmyun says as he takes a swig of the wine. “If I have to throw you in.”

Yixing wouldn’t put it past him. “May I finish my lunch, first?” he asks plaintively. Joon laughs and hands him back the wine, and they dig in.

The day is hot and muggy as always, but here in the shade and with the breeze coming off the water it’s quite pleasant. The bread and meat are warmed from the sun, the cheese soft and easily cut, and after the morning’s exertion the simple food tastes wonderful. They eat quickly and Yixing convinces Joon to sit with him for a while while they digest, but soon the pirate grows impatient and drags him by the wrist into the water.

Joonmyun plays rough, like an oversized and rather excitable puppy, but Yixing is used to it by now and gives back as good as he gets. It isn’t long before they’re both soaked through, the salty seawater stinging Yixing’s eyes and the minor abrasions on his arms from his earlier stumbles, but it’s warm and beautiful and eventually Yixing just flops down in the shallows, the waves crashing over his bare legs, and tips his head back to turn his face up to the sun. Joonmyun is right - he has spent far too much time indoors in the past year.

Stumbling up out of the water with laughter on his lips, Joonmyun falls to all fours and crawls the rest of the way towards Yixing, finally dropping forward onto his stomach with a long exhale of exhausted contentment. He lifts his sandy feet and crosses them in the air, folding his arms in front of him and propping his chin on his wrists. They lay in silence, cooled by their soaking clothes and warmed by the sun.

Eventually, Yixing feels his face beginning to burn and rolls onto his side, intending to suggest they begin the three-hour journey back home. His words die in his throat when he sees Joonmyun is asleep, his handsome face turned towards Yixing and peacefully lax.

Something awful and beautiful and painful and perfect lodges noticeably in Yixing’s throat, and he thinks that this moment has made every horrible thing he has endured in the past ten months well worth it. Salted wetness of a different kind wells in his eyes, and he quickly wipes it away, musing ruefully that he has shed more tears over Kim Joonmyun than he has over the loss of his family, his country, and his freedom combined.

He only has a little over two months left with this man, and he knows he should make the most of it. For now, though, Yixing just scoots closer, angling himself such that his head is pillowed on Joonmyun’s arm, their faces a breath apart, and watches Joon sleep until he falls asleep himself.


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The crash of a cold saltwater wave over their heads brings both men yelling and spluttering awake at the same moment. Yixing pushes wet, sandy hair out of his wet, sandy face with a wet, sandy hand and glares balefully over his shoulder at the Caribbean.

“Good Lord,” he hears, and looks to the side to see an equally drowned and dirty Joonmyun staring at the western sky, which is streaked with pale orange. “How long did we sleep? The sun is setting!”

Still groggy, it takes Yixing a long moment to process precisely why that is important. Then he remembers - the note on his door said back by midafternoon.

“Blast it!” he mutters, and drags himself to his feet. His forearms and calves and the back of his neck all scream at him at the same moment; he looks and sure enough he’s toasted the color of a New England lobster. Instantly concerned, he grabs Joon’s fingers and pulls his arm closer, and yes, Joon’s exposed skin is the same bright red. Thankfully neither of them were idiotic enough to take off their shirts, and their faces were for the most part turned away from the sun, so the damage is limited.

Joonmyun sees what he is looking at and reverses the grip, pulling Yixing’s arm closer to inspect his skin. “You burn as badly as I do, sir,” he mutters. “I hope you have some fantastical remedy for this?”

“I have a cream that will soothe the heat, but it will have to heal on its own,” Yixing says. “We need to get back. I sincerely hope no one has been waiting on me.” Joonmyun nods his agreement and both men start up the beach towards the rock with their leftovers and their discarded boots.

The remains of their lunch are overtaken by ants and likely rancid in any case, so they leave that behind, quickly shaking out their shoes and stockings and brushing off sandy feet as best they can before pulling them on. Yixing finds a tiny crab has crawled into one of his boots; he dumps it out and inspects the leather thoroughly as the crab scuttles away rather indignantly. Joon, who has the better sense of direction, studies the mountain for a moment before choosing his path, and they take off at a brisk pace.

Hiking up the mountain always takes so much longer than hiking down it, and Yixing is glad the last leg of their trip will be downhill. They discuss for a moment attempting to hike around the side of the mountain rather than straight up the peak and back down again, but come to the consensus that it would be too easy to overshoot the house that way and would probably take just as long in any case; this mountain is far wider than it is tall.

Conversation turns to sunburn remedies and how Yixing has been wanting to keep an aloe vera plant in his garden, but as they must be imported from Africa he has yet to have the opportunity. Joonmyun says he’ll bring him one someday, and Yixing falls silent, reminded once again that they have only a limited time remaining together. He listens with half an ear as Joonmyun talks about his crew, about Jongin and Chanyeol and Kris who never seem to have trouble with sunburns, and about Baekhyun and Chen and Kyungsoo who stay belowdecks or wear large hats (mostly Baek with the hats, it seems) to keep from burning. It’s so clear how much he misses them, how he longs to be out there on his ship again, even if he does not come right out and say it, and it makes Yixing’s heart ache, both for Joonmyun and for himself when Joon leaves.

They finally reach the peak of the mountain as the sun begins to set in earnest, sinking into the deep blue Caribbean and streaking both sky and sea with pink and orange and red and purple. They stop for a moment to rest, and Yixing’s darkened mood has him tugging Joonmyun down to sit next to him on the thick trunk of a fallen tree. Ignoring propriety, he wraps his arm around Joon’s still-damp waist and rests his temple against Joon’s. Joonmyun obligingly pulls him close, his fingers closing around Yixing’s shoulder.

“Tired?” he asks, clearly concerned.

“I suppose,” Yixing hedges noncommittally. He’s not, really, though his legs are unused to walking this much and his body will certainly regret all this in the morning. Mostly, though, he just selfishly doesn’t want this day to end, doesn’t want to let Joonmyun go, doesn’t want him to leave. Not today, or in two months, or ever, really.

“I’m going to miss you,” he murmurs.

Joon’s fingers tighten almost painfully into Yixing’s shoulder, but he is silent. Then, after a long moment, he says, “It’s been three years.”

Yixing blinks, pulling away a little so he can see Joon’s face. “Three years of what?”

A smile, close-mouthed and tight at the corners. “Three years since we dragged Chanyeol an hour up the mountain with a broken leg. Three years tonight since I knocked on your door.”

Oh.

Oh.

“You’re sure?” Yixing says wonderingly. “Three years tonight?”

Joon nods. “I remember because it was May Day,” he murmurs. “That was why we were docked; we were on holiday. Chanyeol spotted a man harassing Sandara at the inn, he intervened and got a bottle broken in his chest for his trouble. Next thing I know it’s my crew against the entire damn inn. We got out, and Dara was the one who suggested the doctor on the hill.” His smile softens. “I was skeptical, of course. There are healers and such in the town, and Chanyeol was in no shape to walk up a mountain. But she said there was no more talented doctor on the island and that if I wanted my quartermaster to continue to have use of both legs, I’d best make the trip.”

He’s never heard this story before, and Yixing can do nothing but stare as Joonmyun tells it, for the first time thinking about what that night must have been from the other side.

“You opened the door in your nightshirt and dressing-gown, so obviously having just been roused.” Joonmyun chuckles. “And I thought for a moment I’d gotten the wrong house, that I’d hauled Chanyeol painfully up the mountain for nothing, because how could this handsome, dreamy-eyed man, half-asleep and so young, be the doctor I was looking for? The way you’d been described to me, I was expecting a much older man, stately and stern in powdered wig and frock coat. But you were everything they said and more, and you saved him.” Joonmyun turns his body a little, so that he is facing Yixing, and takes both Yixing’s hands in his own. “That night I accrued a debt to you that I have never managed to repay. Instead I come to you like a beggar, over and over again, and you care for me and mine every time with no thought whatsoever to yourself. Yixing, I…” His eyes flutter closed. “I’m sorry. My debt to you grows with every passing day and I fear I may never be able to repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”

Yixing is not sure he remembers how to breathe. His heart hurts, and his throat is tight, and his eyes burn yet again with tears, and with Joon staring at him like this, looking Yixing in the eyes with the kind of reverent awe one usually reserves for an angel, he finally throws propriety entirely to the wind and finds his voice.

“I love you,” he blurts out.

A blink of shocked silence. Then, slowly and beautifully, Joonmyun smiles, stretching softly across his face as Yixing’s heart threatens to leap out of his chest.

“I know.”

Oh.

Wait.

What?

Yixing stares. “What do you mean, you know?”

“It’s not the first time you’ve told me,” Joonmyun admits. “The first time was months ago, when you were delirious. And you said it again, last month, when you were concussed.”

His stomach drops into his shoes, and shame heats his already sun-flushed cheeks. “You’ve known,” he spits out incredulously. “This whole time I’ve been killing myself with this shameful secret and you knew all along?”

Joonmyun finally picks up on the upset in his tone. His eyes widen, and his fingers tighten in Yixing’s. “Xing, I’m sorry, but what could I say?” he reasons. “You were out of your mind with illness both times, and you never remembered. I didn’t even think you really meant it - for all I knew you were seeing your mother or someone in your mind.”

Yixing yanks his hands away and stands, agitation making his legs move without his input. “Well, now you know,” he snaps. “I meant it. And since you never took it seriously before I suppose that gives me my answer.” He turns his back, intending to start down the other side of the mountain towards home, because he hurts and he can’t even stand to look at Joon right at this moment.

He doesn’t get very far. Strong fingers wrap painfully around his sunburnt wrist and yank him around, and the next thing Yixing knows, Joonmyun’s lips descend upon his own and they’re kissing, and kissing hard.

Yixing has never kissed a man. He has been kissed by women, but that is the extent of it, and this is different. This is very different. Joonmyun kisses the way Yixing thinks a pirate should, with a strong grip around the small of Yixing’s back, holding him tightly and bending him back with the passion of it. Yixing stiffens in shock at first but quickly gives in, because even if he’s upset and he has no idea what’s going on in Joon’s head he wants this. He reaches up to anchor himself on Joon’s shoulders, fingers digging into wet linen, and Joon makes a quiet, hungry noise and presses his tongue gently and insistently in between Yixing’s lips. Yixing whines softly and lets him in, as if he could ever refuse Joonmyun anything, clumsily but eagerly kissing him back.

Joonmyun pulls away with a gasp, dropping his forehead against Yixing’s while he pants for air. “There,” he murmurs breathlessly, “you idiotic man, there’s your bloody answer. I love you. I’ve known it since you first fell sick, and I should have told you the moment you woke up.”

Yixing has questions, he has concerns, he knows it can’t possibly be this easy. But right at this moment, sunburnt and sandy and damp and standing on a mountaintop looking over the Caribbean sea at sunset, he doesn’t want to care. He doesn’t want to be reasonable and responsible. He just wants to keep kissing Joonmyun for as long as the older man will let him.

So he does, balling his hands in the distractingly open collar of Joon’s soaked white shirt and pulling him in. The possessive snarl Joon utters as he immediately turns the tables, pushing Yixing until his back presses against a nearby tree, send a dark and forbidden thrill all down Yixing’s body. He whimpers in a distinctly unmanly fashion and melts, letting Joon ravish his mouth, and then quickly his jawline and ear and neck, teeth and tongue and lips on his skin. He’s hardening more rapidly and completely than he can ever remember, helpless against the onslaught, and though he tries to keep his hips back when he finally gets his head enough to run his tongue up Joon’s salty, sandy and strong neck, Joon’s own hips jerk forward and connect with his. The unexpected shock of heady pleasure has them both crying out, and Yixing stills, staring at Joon with wide eyes.

“You alright?” Joon murmurs, and the overprotective familiarity of it has Yixing’s heart twisting in his chest, like a puppy rolling enthusiastically on sun-soaked grass.

“I’m confused,” Yixing admits, “and a little conflicted. But I want this. I want you.” He bites his lip. “Can we go home?”

He intends it to mean more than the words are saying, and when Joonmyun catches his meaning, his eyes darken noticeably.

“Lead the way,” he murmurs, his fingers sliding into Yixing’s.


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July seventh falls on an overcast and dreary Wednesday morning, and when the knock comes at Yixing’s door, he opens it in his nightshirt and dressing gown with red swollen eyes. Baekhyun is on the doorstep, and behind him what looks to be the majority of the crew. To a man, they look at him in earnest hope.

“I’m sorry,” Yixing says hoarsely. “I thought my last letter would have gotten to you on time, but I see it did not. I’m afraid your Captain relapsed.”

More than half a dozen faces fall as what he is saying sinks in.

“Is he…?” Baekhyun asks, craning his neck to see around Yixing and into the house.

Yixing shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. “It hit too fast,” he whispers, “and there was no more cinchona to be found. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Baekhyun’s face goes white. Jongin, at his elbow, starts to cry; Luhan is not far behind him. They all look devastated, and Yixing can’t take it anymore. He pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“Gotcha, you gullible bastards,” Joonmyun says with a grin.

Dead silence of utter shock. Then they’re all yelling at once, some in jubilation and some in anger, and Jongin’s launched himself forward and is latched around his Captain’s neck, and both Yixing and Joonmyun are laughing so hard they can barely stand.

“You fear-mongering son of a devil, you’re lucky Kris is with the ship,” Baekhyun tells Joonmyun over the din. He yanks Jongin off and pulls his Captain into a hard embrace. “He’d thump you good for a stunt like that. My God, it’s good to see you.”

Yixing backs up, leaving Joonmyun to reunite with his crew, and ducks back into his room to change into proper clothes. He folds his nightclothes and dressing-gown carefully and sets them in his open trunk, the last things he needs for his journey. Closing the lid, Yixing locks it and drops the chain on which the key hangs around his neck.

Joonmyun has extracted himself from his crewmates, and stands in the doorway in full piratical costume, complete with sword and hat. “Are you ready?” he asks, and Yixing nods. Joon pulls him close and presses a sweetly possessive kiss to his lips before calling over his shoulder for his crew.

“Come on, ya dogs,” he yells good-naturedly. “We need to haul the Doctor’s things to the ship.”

Baekhyun ambles into the house, regarding them curiously. “He’s coming with us?” There’s no malice, no judgement in his gaze when he sees Yixing pressed so intimately against his Captain’s side, and Joonmyun had assured Yixing that there wouldn’t be but Yixing lets out a long breath of relief anyway.

“Aye,” Joonmyun says, tightening his grip on Yixing’s waist with a conspiratorial wink to his first mate. “He’s my plunder for this adventure.” Baekhyun’s eyebrows disappear up under his ridiculous hat and Yixing laughs, a little self-conscious but mostly just happy.

Chanyeol’s head pops up over Baekhyun’s shoulder. “I believe this means you owe me twenty shillings,” the quartermaster rumbles with a familiar manic grin, and Baekhyun looks a bit put out by that, but not as put out as Joonmyun.

“Park Chanyeol, were you betting on my love life?”

Chanyeol’s grin widens. “No one knows you like we do, Cap’n,” he points out, and it seems Joonmyun doesn’t have much to say about that, but his grip on Yixing tightens almost painfully, and Yixing knows him well enough to see he is touched. “Now, someone said something about haulin’?”

In the end, Chanyeol and Tao get the chest of books and medical supplies, as it is the heavier of the two, while Xiumin and Jongin take the chest of clothes and personal possessions. Once they are outside and begun down the mountain, Yixing takes a quick turn through his house, checking to be certain he is leaving nothing behind. The majority of the smaller items have been sold down at market over the past few weeks, leaving only the furniture and a few essentials; the house itself has been sold as it currently is to a young Dutch couple who are looking to start a life and a family outside of the bustle and danger of the city below. Yixing locks the door behind him and leaves the key under a rock next to the stoop, right where he told them it would be. This little house has served him well for six years, but it’s time now to move on and start something new.

The crew starts down the mountain in high spirits, singing and talking and laughing, and Yixing and Joonmyun follow, hand in hand.



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IT’S OVER.

You guys, this fic has gotten such an amazing response ;____; I’m so touched by all your wonderful comments, thank you, seriously.

Some of you have asked how I knew so much about malaria/pirates/historical stuff, so if you’re interested, these are the Wikipedia articles I referenced:

Malaria and the historical treatments thereof

Opisthotonus, honey in medicine, necrosis, and maggot therapy (warning, some really gross pictures at those last two links)

Piracy in the Caribbean, Tortuga, and Jamaican sloop ships

Quartermaster (Chanyeol) and Bosun (Kris), because I was under the impression this was the same job under two different names lol. Nope, turns out they’re different!

There will DEFINITELY be more to this universe someday. I have lots of ideas and I can’t wait to show more of how the crew operates. But I prefer not to start posting a fic until it is done being written, so it may be quite a long time - several months, minimum. I have a few other projects in the works that I’d like to post before then, and a couple of unfinished fics I need to finish (looking at you, golden rule.)

I am also thinking I will write an NC-17 side story to this, so keep your eyes open for that.

In the meantime, if you need something to read, check out Let The Wind Blow by this fic’s beta reader, jumpthisship. I’m beta-reading that fic for her and trust me, it’s only going to get better :3

Until next time, my lovelies <3

~bee