FIC: The Best Laid Plans (3/3): Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw (World of Warcraft)
Chapter one here, chapter two here or whole thing here on AO3.
Chapter Three
“Good afternoon, Captain Fairwind,” came a voice from over Flynn’s left shoulder.
Flynn turned away from Trylla with a yelp, drawing his pistol instinctively as he turned around to see, of all people, Tess Greymane.
“For tides’ sake, warn a man!” he grumbled, returning his weapon to his belt.
“Now, where would be the fun in that?” Greymane asked with a smile. “Besides, I thought SI:7 had you all trained up. You really should be more aware of your surroundings.”
“Look, you’re on my bloody ship,” he started, before remembering who he was addressing and the endless hours Mathias had spent having him work on diplomacy. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “My apologies, your majesty. What can I do for you?”
“No need to stand on ceremony, Captain. I’m here to work with you,” she said, with a smile that made him suspicious.
He gestured over to Trylla, whose diminutive goblin form was practically swamped in sailcloth. “Well, right now we’re trying to decide whether this storm jib can be patched or if I have to throw some gold at a new one, so unless you’re particularly handy with a needle and thread, I don’t see how I can help you.”
“I’m quite accomplished at stabbing things repeatedly, if that's any good?” she replied, gesturing at the daggers at her waist. “Though there are fewer poisons involved in sailmaking, I suspect.”
“Not necessarily,” Trylla muttered, and Flynn tried not to smile. Find a good crew, and they would even threaten royalty for you. Unfortunately, that had almost gone sideways at various points in his past, so he hoped that it was all talk this time round.
He just shook his head, and Greymane pretended she hadn’t heard. “Nothing sinister, I can assure you, Captain Fairwind. I’ve a contract for you, if you’re interested. Resources that need to be shipped up to Silverpine Forest for the Gilnean resettlement effort. I have my proposal here, if you would like to retire to your office and review it?”
Flynn nodded briskly and led the way below deck, sweeping the door of his cabin open with a flourish. “Apologies for the mess,” he said, watching as her eyes surveyed the room, doubtless taking in everything, from the pile of maps to the drinks cabinet to the S.E.L.F.I.E. of him and Mathias tacked up next to the bunk.
“If this is what passes for a mess, then Shaw is clearly rubbing off on you,” she said with a glint in her eye.
Flynn bit back his instinctive innuendo and watched as Greymane made her way around the small space.
“I wonder if it will be even more evident when you’re married,” she continued deliberately, holding his gaze.
“For tides’ - is there anyone on Azeroth who minds their own business?!” Flynn asked, throwing up his arms in frustration.
“I’m afraid SI:7’s aren’t the only eyes on you,” she replied, “but we are sometimes one step ahead.” Her hand slipped minutely, and he saw a glimpse of a familiar insignia.
Flynn sat down hard in his chair. “Tidemother save me from bloody rogues,” he growled.
Greymane laughed, but not unkindly, and took the seat across from him. “There are a lot of people with a vested interest in your future husband’s wellbeing. This can’t be a surprise to you.”
“Yes, but your lot only come out of the shadows when he’s in mortal peril. I hardly think me blundering my way through a marriage proposal fits the bill.” Flynn leaned forward, trying to look stern and not at all shaken. He wasn’t sure how good a job he was doing, especially with such an alert pair of eyes on him.
Greymane clearly picked up on his agitation, and attempted to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Captain, we’ve no plans to intercede,” she said, sitting across from him and laying a comforting hand on his elbow. “Everyone agrees that you’ve been good for our Spymaster. Even Tethys, and he’s -”
“A complete and utter arsehole?” Flynn finished. He’d done a lot of bad things at sea and seen even worse, but the Bloodsail still made him shudder.
Greymane laughed softly. “Well, I was going to say he’s not the biggest fan of former pirates, but you’re not wrong.”
Flynn folded his arms, trying to regain control of the interaction. “Not that I don’t relish discussing my personal life with rogues and royals, but may I please take a look at the details of what you’d like shipped to Gilneas?”
“Here you go, Captain Fairwind,” she said, handing him some scrolls. “That is why I’m here, after all.”
“Of course it is,” he muttered, unrolling the first scroll and glancing over the proposed cargo manifest. “This all looks very doable. What sort of timescale are we looking at?”
“A week from now? I’ve been visiting with our craftspeople and they’re finishing up the commissions, so it should all be ready to go shortly.”
“I’ll need a little longer, unfortunately. A few minor changes to the crew, and maybe that new storm sail. Is two weeks okay?” Flynn was glad to be able to talk shop, and got stuck into negotiating costs and timings with relish; though he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Greymane was cataloguing his every action.
Eventually she stood, satisfied with either their contract, her observations, or both, and Flynn got up to shake her hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you, your majesty,” he said politely, and she grinned.
“Do you mind if I throw in some friendly advice?” she asked as she moved towards the door.
He suppressed an eyeroll. “And what might that be?”
“Stop overthinking this proposal,” Greymane said gently. “My people are pretty sure he’s going to say yes.”
Flynn froze. “Wait, pretty sure? What does that mean?”
“You’re unprecedented, Captain,” she replied firmly but sincerely. “Valeera is the only one of us who saw you coming, and no one saw you staying this long: I’ve known Shaw since I was a girl and still can’t quite believe it. We can reckon with certainty on threats to his life, but we’re rather without a map when it comes to personal matters. You know him better than anyone on Azeroth, so our estimation means nothing, really.”
“Pretty sure,” Flynn repeated, feeling more off-balance than he did after a whole bottle of rum.
Greymane gave him one last look, somewhere between amusement and pity, patted him on the arm, and took her leave. Flynn just stood there in the middle of his cabin, dazed.
Of course Mathias wanted to marry him. Flynn knew it, otherwise he wouldn’t even be considering the whole thing. He wouldn’t take a gamble like this with anything less than sure odds.
All right, Mathias had never outright said it, but he never said he wanted a pet either, and Flynn had been certain of that.
It was in the small things: the birdcalls, the scraps for Scythe, the charitable donations not only to the Stormwind orphanage but also to the pound. The way he treated the tabby cat which had followed them through the Hillsbrad Foothills; the sorrow when he described coming home to an empty house while Flynn was away.
Flynn tried to catalogue the evidence that Mathias wanted to get married, but his mind was blank. He loves me, he thought. We’re building a life together. But then his mind went unbidden to how Mathias could barely keep from pulling away from public displays in Stormwind, and he was overcome by doubt. If you didn’t mean anything to him, he wouldn’t even bother trying, Flynn rationalised.
He tried to conjure the memories of them kissing in the inn in Darkshire, walking hand in hand through Eversong Woods, Mathias’s steady presence at his side during Lor’themar and Thalyssra’s wedding.
“Flynn Fairwind, you’re being ridiculous,” he announced firmly. He turned back to his desk, trying not to look towards the liquor cabinet because he knew what could happen when he got in a mood like this. Instead, he would take a leaf from Mathias’s book, and bury himself in work. “Far more healthy,” he said, taking a seat and reaching for the most boring of all the tasks he’d been putting off.
~~~~
Flynn pushed his hair back off his face with a sigh. It had been a long day, and immersing himself in the more tedious aspects of his job had been a welcome distraction from the chaos in his head.
Latimer’s wife was due to give birth any moment, which meant the Arva would be without a tidesage for the foreseeable future unless he got round to completing the tedious paperwork, but until today he hadn’t actually managed to force himself to sit down and do it.
Flynn knew he was lucky to have a loyal crew who signed on for more than just a voyage at a time, and more casual company who always looked him up when they were in port, but tidesages were formally assigned to different vessels, and it was a particularly frustrating amount of faff to arrange an interim replacement. By the time he’d finished drawing up the petition documents for the Admiralty, his insecurity had been smothered by his boredom, and he decided it was high time to visit Mathias and free him from his own desk for a while.
When he walked through the archway into the courtyard of the SI:7 complex, he was surprised to find Mathias there, stabbing and slicing away at a target dummy with intent.
Flynn shrugged off his coat and tightened his ponytail, making as much noise as possible to telegraph his presence as he walked over.
“What’s got you in a mood, then?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.
Mathias stood upright and wiped the sweat off his brow. “I can’t tell you yet.”
Flynn leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Can’t or don’t want to?”
“Can’t,” Mathias replied, with an apologetic tone. “Some intel's come in from Dalaran, and it's eyes-only.”
Flynn knew that had to be a bad thing, and sent a quiet prayer to the Tidemother that it wouldn’t tear Mathias away from Stormwind for months on end. “Let me guess, it's not good?” he asked anxiously.
Mathias shook his head in irritation, eyeing up the training dummy as if to assess how much more stuffing he could beat out of it, and Flynn decided he had a better idea.
“You got another couple of rounds in you? I could use the workout as well. I’ll tell you what, the only thing I miss about freebooting is the total lack of bureaucracy.”
Mathias gave a small smile, and wordlessly flipped one of his daggers towards Flynn, just as Flynn offered him a cutlass. It made for a much fairer fight, and also more fun, at least from Flynn’s point of view. It was a bit of a pain not to be able to rely on having greater reach, but the joy of seeing Mathias break from his perfect but rigid form and fight more freely was immense.
The sun had almost fully set by the time Flynn lost his third bout - narrowly, of course - and they walked in companionable silence into the building, slipping behind the bookshelf into Mathias’s private office.
Ruby jumped up from her bed, which was a permanent fixture now, and nipped at their ankles playfully. As Mathias deftly dodged her and slid into his chair, she came at Flynn, but could clearly sense that he was too tired to play and gave a small huffing bark, settling back down deliberately on the only other seat in the room.
He laughed and scratched her behind the ears, before coming round the desk and lowering himself onto Mathias’s lap.
“I was hardly going to sit on the floor, was I?” he said with a gentle elbow to Mathias’s ribs, and felt more than heard Mathias sigh as he wrapped his arms around him.
“There’s always going to be something, isn’t there?” Mathias said eventually.
Flynn knew the best way to get Mathias to keep talking was to just let him, so he made a questioning noise and pressed a kiss to his head, encouraging him to continue.
“We’ve been spoiled since the return from the Shadowlands. With my resources occupied looking for the King I haven’t been spread too thin, and Wrathion’s Blacktalon were far more useful in the Dragon Isles than our people - not that we would ever tell him that,” Mathias added with a warning in his voice.
Flynn mimed sewing his mouth shut.
Wrathion and Mathias had precisely two things in common: the ability to run a successful spy network, and the desire to find Anduin Wrynn. Each seemed to think the other knew more about the King than they were letting on, and their regular meetups to “exchange information” always devolved into a pissing contest. Flynn wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t find it weirdly arousing to watch his man squaring up to a dragon (and winning most of the time, in his definitely unbiased opinion).
“It’s been nice to divide my time between Valdrakken and Stormwind and have a chance to run this place rather than being out in the field for months on end. I would never have thought about getting a pet, or decorating my house. Before you, I might have resented the mundanity of it, but now it feels like the closest thing I’ll ever get to peace is coming to an end, and there’ll be naught to look forward to but the next mission.”
In that moment, Flynn was struck with the certainty that Mathias did want a life with him. The Uncrowned, and SI:7, and his crew, and the entire tidesdamned Alliance could keep their opinions to themselves. Greymane was right: no one knew him like Flynn did. No one else was allowed to see the tiredness around his eyes, or believe that might be happiest whittling by a fireplace, or know that he actually preferred his coffee with cream and sugar, but went without so he could detect poisons more easily.
Flynn wanted so badly to say, “What about having a wedding to look forward to?”, but Mathias deserved more than a spur-of-the-moment proposal on a crappy day, and that kind of pressure probably wasn’t called for right now.
He took a second to take in Mathias’s expression. Contrary to popular opinion, Flynn was absolutely capable of being solicitous if the situation required: it was just that nine times out of ten, he didn't bother to make that assessment before the first wisecracks slipped out. It was awful, the kind of exceptions he made for this man.
“This is our lives, love,” he started softly. “It’s what we do. We’ve been lucky so far that the Tidemother, or the Light, or whichever of the gods looks to the shadows, has brought us back to each other relatively unscathed. One day, I’ll be too arthritic to run the rigging and your knees will creak too loudly for you to pull off stealth for very long, and we will finally retire and spend our days gardening, and making love, and swapping the same old stories of our youthful heroics. Until that point…”
“The job’s not done yet,” Mathias finished with a heavy sigh, tightening his arms around Flynn’s waist. “I’m sorry for being so miserable.”
Flynn shook his head. “With the kind of shit that comes across your desk every day, it’s hardly a surprise. Honestly, I’m amazed you smile as much as you do.”
“I didn’t, before you,” Mathias admitted, and Flynn pulled his head up to meet his gaze.
“Then I shall continue to do my level best to keep dazzling you with my sparkling wit.” He pressed a kiss to Mathias’s mouth. “And my indefatigable cheer.” Another kiss. “And my - by all reports - irresistible charms. Of which there are many.”
He could feel the start of a smile against his lips at that point. “Okay, which of my charms is catching your fancy right now? I’m all yours.”
Mathias actually laughed at that, and it made Flynn feel lighter. “I’ve nothing left in me today but a quick dinner and a long sleep, I’m afraid.”
Flynn breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the tides; I’m exhausted and don’t think I could get it up right now if a parade of your clones marched in here and did a striptease.”
“That's what does it for you?” Mathias asked with a raised eyebrow and a disbelieving smirk.
Flynn kissed him again. “The only thing about you that doesn't do it for me is the insecurity, so let's nip that in the bud, shall we?”
Mathias looked up at him with wonder, and shook his head in assent. “Aye, Captain,” he said dryly, pulling Flynn as close as he could manage.
“Now, that was hardly convincing, love. Do you need me to go through the list?”
Mathias kissed the side of his neck, but didn't say no, which was fine by Flynn because he saw it as his personal mission to raise the man's flagging self-esteem.
“All right, where should I begin today?” He pulled back slightly, surveying the man in his arms. “Your body is like a finely honed weapon - I know you're an old man by assassin standards, but you keep every muscle as primed and polished as your blades.” Flynn ran an appreciative hand down Mathias’s arm, grasping his bicep. “I mean it; it's beautiful - if utterly exhausting - to watch you train, not to mention rather humiliating to be the one you’re sparring against.”
“You don't actually need to do this,” Mathias protested with a blush, but Flynn was on a roll now.
“Your hair,” he continued, “is like a glorious fiery beacon, and I've no idea how you've stayed hidden all these years. I love the grey bits, too, because they show how long you've managed to survive. If you'd gone out in a blaze of ginger glory, I would never have met you.”
Mathias chuckled. “I'm fairly sure you relish giving me new grey hairs,” he pointed out.
“Yup,” Flynn said, popping the p gleefully. “Every moment I've driven you to despair, documented around your temples. A point of personal pride, that.”
Mathias huffed, but there was no bite to it, and he rolled his eyes fondly. Flynn grinned back, feeling just as affectionate, and let the stress of the day melt away in Mathias’s arms.
“Where next… ah, your face. Your fiddly moustache, which you think hides your smiles but just draws more attention to that lovely mouth. The way that your eyes can be warm and soft and so, so expressive, and that I'm one of the only people alive who gets to see it. Tides, Mathias, when you're happy you just… light up.”
He found himself overcome for a moment, and forced himself to move on before Mathias called him out on it.
“I'm afraid I'll have to get to what's below the belt a bit later, when I've more energy - I feel like those parts require a more practical demonstration of my appreciation.” He wriggled slightly in Mathias's lap to make his point, and Mathias laughed.
Flynn grasped his hand, and decided for once not to say what he was thinking. Mathias wouldn’t notice if he didn’t catalogue every single piece of him, but Flynn thought it anyway. I’m a little obsessed with your hands. The way the callouses from knives and lockpicks are so similar to mine, but without years of working the ropes your palms still feel so soft. These hands have mastered traps and treasures and every inch of my skin. They’re so much more delicate than mine, but we still fit together perfectly. He tangled their fingers with a small smile that couldn’t be helped. I can’t wait to see them with rings on.
~~~~
On the last leg of the voyage back from Silverpine Forest, Flynn stood at the bow of the Bold Arva, watching the city of Stormwind get closer and closer at what felt like an agonisingly slow pace.
The joy of seeing Gilneas transformed from what it had been when he and Mathias toured the Kingdoms buoyed Flynn’s spirits, and his good mood had lasted the whole way back as they sped down the coast, tailwinds in their favour for once.
“Nearly home!” Aimee called down from the crow’s nest excitedly. “I’m gonna eat so much pumpkin pie!”
Flynn grinned for a moment before a sudden panic seized him. They would be docked within the hour, he’d be home by sundown, and then… today was the day. He had contacted Alison at the Gilded Rose about their table for dinner, a frequent enough habit that he knew SI:7 would think nothing of it, and his hand went to his pocket unbidden at least once an hour to make sure the ring was still there.
“You comin’ for pie with us, Cap’n?” Aimee piped up again, suddenly atop the railing beside him.
Flynn jumped and she giggled. “I regret teaching you about stealth,” he declared.
“Puh-lease, you told the Queen of Gilneas I’m an ‘asset to the crew’,” she quoted with a broad grin.
“That you are, sprat, but I’m afraid I won’t be coming out for pie tonight. I have plans.” He turned the ring over in his pocket again.
“With your boyfriend?” she asked. “I suppose he can join us. I like him, even though he says I’m too young for knife training.”
“I refuse to perpetuate Pathonia’s practices,” Mathias had announced, but he had been willing to show her how to whittle with a small, safe blade, and Aimee was instantly enamoured.
Flynn smiled fondly and ruffled Aimee’s hair, which she shook back into place with a glare. “So? You comin’ or what?”
“I’m afraid tonight we’re having a… special date. We’ve a lot to talk about, just the two of us.”
She jumped down and leaned against the railing beside Flynn, watching him salute as they passed the lighthouse and following suit without question.
“But you can come ’n’ get pie after you’ve talked?” she asked eventually.
He laughed. “We’ll see, Aimee. Now, don’t you have some work to do while we take her into port?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not working!”
“As captain of this vessel, I have earned the right to stand here and look dashing, thank you very much.”
She stuck out her tongue at him, but hopped onto the rail and into the rigging as Flynn turned his gaze back to the harbour, scanning for the familiar glints of red hair and stabby pauldrons.
Flynn could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as he spotted Mathias leaning against a barrel at the Arva’s berth, eyes trained on their approach. Inexplicably, he was out of uniform - though Flynn could guess at the location of at least three concealed weapons at first glance - in tan breeches, tall boots, and a loose embersilk shirt which Flynn had a particular weakness for. The shirt blew in the wind, leaving Flynn a tantalising glimpse of one pale collarbone, and he couldn't help licking his lips.
Their final approach felt like forever, with Mathias looking more and more devastating with every yard they covered. It took everything in Flynn to allow his crewmates off first, but he was blind to their reunions as he strode over to his almost-fiancé.
Mathias pushed off the barrel and drew closer to Flynn. “Welcome home,” he murmured.
“I was barely away long enough for you to miss me,” Flynn teased. He reached out to clasp Mathias by the arms, resisting the urge to lick that tempting collarbone. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you showing up looking like this,” he added with a leer. “Suspicious, if you ask me. What’s going on?”
“I’m off duty today,” Mathias assured him, but that only served to make Flynn anxious.
“Are you okay? Have you been to the Healers?” His appraisal of Mathias’s body became clinical, searching for signs of injury or poison.
“I’m fine, Flynn. I’ve just taken a… personal day.”
Flynn’s frown deepened. “Pull the other one, mate! You haven’t taken a personal day since you were ten!”
“Twelve,” Mathias corrected playfully. “And I have today. I - I need to talk to you.”
Flynn’s heart dropped, mind already racing as the worst case scenarios flew in unbidden. Was Mathias leaving indefinitely for a dangerous mission? Was Ruby okay? Was he about to get unceremoniously dumped with an engagement ring sitting in his pocket? He cleared his throat. “Oh, um… all right, then. Shall we head up to my cabin?”
“Flynn.” Mathias brought his hands up to Flynn’s shoulders firmly, a welcome anchor. “This is important, but it’s not bad, I promise. We can talk right here.”
“Really?” asked Flynn, casting his gaze at the hustle and bustle around them.
Mathias steeled himself. “Yes.”
“Are you sure about that?” Flynn raised a sceptical eyebrow.
“Not at all,” Mathias said with a small shake of his head, “but I owe it to you to try.”
Flynn frowned. “Not this again. Look, you’re trying really bloody hard, but you’re about to have a panic attack, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want your agents seeing that.” He took Mathias by the shoulders and steered him towards the Arva, nudging him up the gangplank.
“This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” Mathias ground out, clenching his fists and glaring at the harbour proper.
“Ironforge wasn’t built in a day,” Flynn said softly. “This is hard for you, and that’s okay.”
Mathias smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not okay, Flynn. I know that it hurts you that I’m not very… demonstrative. I am trying, every day, to show how much I care about you; to be the partner you deserve.”
“Okay, first off-” Flynn started to argue, but Mathias put a finger to his lips.
“Please, let me do the talking for once. I truly believe you deserve more than I can offer. But, for some reason, you choose to be with me, and again and again you find ways to show me how much you care. It’s in the way you remind me to eat when I’m working, the pet I didn’t know I wanted, the remarkably well-encrypted love-letters from abroad, your indefatigable desire to surprise me. But what you're too busy scheming to realise is that you surprise me every day.”
His hand moved from Flynn’s lips to cup his cheek, and Flynn couldn’t help leaning into the touch. “By staying with me, by being so patient, by making me feel things I thought impossible. Even after years with you, I still find myself… overcome. I never thought I’d get used to sharing my life with someone, but whenever you’re at sea I find myself, well, at sea,” he finished with a wry smile. “I know we’ve vowed to always return to one another, but I was hoping that, maybe, we could make those vows official.”
At that, Mathias drew in a shaky breath and dropped down to one knee, pulling a jewelcrafter’s pouch from his belt.
Flynn could have sworn the whole ocean fell silent at that moment; his heart beating out of his chest the only sound. His voice came out a whisper. “Mathias, love, what are you doing?”
“Captain Flynn ‘responsible is my middle name, I swear’ Fairwind,” Mathias started, with a wink. “You have given me so much already, but I have one more indulgence to ask of you. Will you do me the great honour of becoming my husband?”
Flynn froze, certain he must have been gaping like a fish. “You… are you serious? Of course you are; you’re always serious.” He all but fell to his knees in front of Mathias, reaching for him with sweating palms.
“Never thought anyone would want to make an honest man of me,” he choked out past the lump in his throat.
“I think we both know that’s never going to happen,” Mathias replied fondly, taking his hands.
“Tides, wait, I'm doing this all wrong,” Flynn muttered. “What I meant to say is yes, obviously I'll marry you, please don't change your mind because I'm being an idiot right now.” He tugged their clasped hands to his chest and pressed a kiss to Mathias's knuckles.
Though he knew full well that Mathias wouldn't have asked if he wasn’t sure of the outcome, Flynn still relished the look of joy and relief that crossed his face.
“I will never change my mind,” he replied quietly but firmly, tugging Flynn forward so their heads rested together. “If that means I spend the rest of my life vanishing into the shadows to avoid your more embarrassing outbursts, so be it.”
Flynn laughed, though he felt he could just as easily have burst into tears as Mathias relinquished his grip to slide a sturdy platinum ring onto Flynn’s finger. It was lustrous, glowing with a fresh enchantment, and Flynn couldn’t help but stare at the way the inlaid band of Leviathan’s Eye caught the light.
“I can't believe you asked me first,” he grumbled eventually, no real irritation in his soft voice, “I've been planning to do this for ages.” With trembling hands, he took out the ring Latimer had made and held it out to Mathias, who took it reverently and put it on, running a thumb over the twined strands of storm silver and truesilver, braided together like rope.
“Getting spliced?” he asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
Flynn grinned. “I knew you'd get it; you always listen to me.” He paused for a moment. “That was the first thing I really noticed about you, you know? I’m always blathering on, but you hear every single word, from Kul Tiran slang to favourite books to… family history.”
Mathias placed a steadying hand on Flynn's shoulder. “I’m a spy, Flynn. It’s my job to listen to all the details.”
Flynn shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Besides, I could name a few people you like to ignore whenever possible, so I must be doing something right.”
“Well, you’re certainly more interesting than-” Mathias stopped short. “Perhaps this is a conversation for just the two of us?”
Flynn laughed and looked around to find his crew huddled around the gangplank, and beyond them a good number of dock workers, all pretending to look utterly disinterested while clearly hanging on every word. “You chose the time and place, not me,” he pointed out, jumping to his feet and holding out a hand to help Mathias up. “I had my own plans.”
“Your plans don’t start until nightfall, so we can still make them happen,” Mathias said with a smirk.
“How do you always do this?!” Flynn exclaimed. “I worked so hard to keep it a secret!”
“You work hard, but SI:7 works harder,” Mathias deadpanned, and Flynn guffawed helplessly, utterly charmed.
“I’m not sorry,” Mathias said, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s waist. “If I hadn’t found out, I wouldn’t have realised how important it was for me to do this. I needed to be the brave one this time.”
Flynn looked at him for a moment, overcome by the way the warm afternoon light reflected off the water to illuminate Mathias’s soft, private expression. “You remain the bravest man I’ve ever known, and also the biggest spoilsport.”
“But you love me,” Mathias pointed out, not one bit of self-consciousness overshadowing the joy on his face.
“Aye,” said Flynn, “more than anything.”
Mathias just smiled, and, without a hint of hesitation, leaned in and kissed him.
The End
Chapter Three
“Good afternoon, Captain Fairwind,” came a voice from over Flynn’s left shoulder.
Flynn turned away from Trylla with a yelp, drawing his pistol instinctively as he turned around to see, of all people, Tess Greymane.
“For tides’ sake, warn a man!” he grumbled, returning his weapon to his belt.
“Now, where would be the fun in that?” Greymane asked with a smile. “Besides, I thought SI:7 had you all trained up. You really should be more aware of your surroundings.”
“Look, you’re on my bloody ship,” he started, before remembering who he was addressing and the endless hours Mathias had spent having him work on diplomacy. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “My apologies, your majesty. What can I do for you?”
“No need to stand on ceremony, Captain. I’m here to work with you,” she said, with a smile that made him suspicious.
He gestured over to Trylla, whose diminutive goblin form was practically swamped in sailcloth. “Well, right now we’re trying to decide whether this storm jib can be patched or if I have to throw some gold at a new one, so unless you’re particularly handy with a needle and thread, I don’t see how I can help you.”
“I’m quite accomplished at stabbing things repeatedly, if that's any good?” she replied, gesturing at the daggers at her waist. “Though there are fewer poisons involved in sailmaking, I suspect.”
“Not necessarily,” Trylla muttered, and Flynn tried not to smile. Find a good crew, and they would even threaten royalty for you. Unfortunately, that had almost gone sideways at various points in his past, so he hoped that it was all talk this time round.
He just shook his head, and Greymane pretended she hadn’t heard. “Nothing sinister, I can assure you, Captain Fairwind. I’ve a contract for you, if you’re interested. Resources that need to be shipped up to Silverpine Forest for the Gilnean resettlement effort. I have my proposal here, if you would like to retire to your office and review it?”
Flynn nodded briskly and led the way below deck, sweeping the door of his cabin open with a flourish. “Apologies for the mess,” he said, watching as her eyes surveyed the room, doubtless taking in everything, from the pile of maps to the drinks cabinet to the S.E.L.F.I.E. of him and Mathias tacked up next to the bunk.
“If this is what passes for a mess, then Shaw is clearly rubbing off on you,” she said with a glint in her eye.
Flynn bit back his instinctive innuendo and watched as Greymane made her way around the small space.
“I wonder if it will be even more evident when you’re married,” she continued deliberately, holding his gaze.
“For tides’ - is there anyone on Azeroth who minds their own business?!” Flynn asked, throwing up his arms in frustration.
“I’m afraid SI:7’s aren’t the only eyes on you,” she replied, “but we are sometimes one step ahead.” Her hand slipped minutely, and he saw a glimpse of a familiar insignia.
Flynn sat down hard in his chair. “Tidemother save me from bloody rogues,” he growled.
Greymane laughed, but not unkindly, and took the seat across from him. “There are a lot of people with a vested interest in your future husband’s wellbeing. This can’t be a surprise to you.”
“Yes, but your lot only come out of the shadows when he’s in mortal peril. I hardly think me blundering my way through a marriage proposal fits the bill.” Flynn leaned forward, trying to look stern and not at all shaken. He wasn’t sure how good a job he was doing, especially with such an alert pair of eyes on him.
Greymane clearly picked up on his agitation, and attempted to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Captain, we’ve no plans to intercede,” she said, sitting across from him and laying a comforting hand on his elbow. “Everyone agrees that you’ve been good for our Spymaster. Even Tethys, and he’s -”
“A complete and utter arsehole?” Flynn finished. He’d done a lot of bad things at sea and seen even worse, but the Bloodsail still made him shudder.
Greymane laughed softly. “Well, I was going to say he’s not the biggest fan of former pirates, but you’re not wrong.”
Flynn folded his arms, trying to regain control of the interaction. “Not that I don’t relish discussing my personal life with rogues and royals, but may I please take a look at the details of what you’d like shipped to Gilneas?”
“Here you go, Captain Fairwind,” she said, handing him some scrolls. “That is why I’m here, after all.”
“Of course it is,” he muttered, unrolling the first scroll and glancing over the proposed cargo manifest. “This all looks very doable. What sort of timescale are we looking at?”
“A week from now? I’ve been visiting with our craftspeople and they’re finishing up the commissions, so it should all be ready to go shortly.”
“I’ll need a little longer, unfortunately. A few minor changes to the crew, and maybe that new storm sail. Is two weeks okay?” Flynn was glad to be able to talk shop, and got stuck into negotiating costs and timings with relish; though he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that Greymane was cataloguing his every action.
Eventually she stood, satisfied with either their contract, her observations, or both, and Flynn got up to shake her hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you, your majesty,” he said politely, and she grinned.
“Do you mind if I throw in some friendly advice?” she asked as she moved towards the door.
He suppressed an eyeroll. “And what might that be?”
“Stop overthinking this proposal,” Greymane said gently. “My people are pretty sure he’s going to say yes.”
Flynn froze. “Wait, pretty sure? What does that mean?”
“You’re unprecedented, Captain,” she replied firmly but sincerely. “Valeera is the only one of us who saw you coming, and no one saw you staying this long: I’ve known Shaw since I was a girl and still can’t quite believe it. We can reckon with certainty on threats to his life, but we’re rather without a map when it comes to personal matters. You know him better than anyone on Azeroth, so our estimation means nothing, really.”
“Pretty sure,” Flynn repeated, feeling more off-balance than he did after a whole bottle of rum.
Greymane gave him one last look, somewhere between amusement and pity, patted him on the arm, and took her leave. Flynn just stood there in the middle of his cabin, dazed.
Of course Mathias wanted to marry him. Flynn knew it, otherwise he wouldn’t even be considering the whole thing. He wouldn’t take a gamble like this with anything less than sure odds.
All right, Mathias had never outright said it, but he never said he wanted a pet either, and Flynn had been certain of that.
It was in the small things: the birdcalls, the scraps for Scythe, the charitable donations not only to the Stormwind orphanage but also to the pound. The way he treated the tabby cat which had followed them through the Hillsbrad Foothills; the sorrow when he described coming home to an empty house while Flynn was away.
Flynn tried to catalogue the evidence that Mathias wanted to get married, but his mind was blank. He loves me, he thought. We’re building a life together. But then his mind went unbidden to how Mathias could barely keep from pulling away from public displays in Stormwind, and he was overcome by doubt. If you didn’t mean anything to him, he wouldn’t even bother trying, Flynn rationalised.
He tried to conjure the memories of them kissing in the inn in Darkshire, walking hand in hand through Eversong Woods, Mathias’s steady presence at his side during Lor’themar and Thalyssra’s wedding.
“Flynn Fairwind, you’re being ridiculous,” he announced firmly. He turned back to his desk, trying not to look towards the liquor cabinet because he knew what could happen when he got in a mood like this. Instead, he would take a leaf from Mathias’s book, and bury himself in work. “Far more healthy,” he said, taking a seat and reaching for the most boring of all the tasks he’d been putting off.
~~~~
Flynn pushed his hair back off his face with a sigh. It had been a long day, and immersing himself in the more tedious aspects of his job had been a welcome distraction from the chaos in his head.
Latimer’s wife was due to give birth any moment, which meant the Arva would be without a tidesage for the foreseeable future unless he got round to completing the tedious paperwork, but until today he hadn’t actually managed to force himself to sit down and do it.
Flynn knew he was lucky to have a loyal crew who signed on for more than just a voyage at a time, and more casual company who always looked him up when they were in port, but tidesages were formally assigned to different vessels, and it was a particularly frustrating amount of faff to arrange an interim replacement. By the time he’d finished drawing up the petition documents for the Admiralty, his insecurity had been smothered by his boredom, and he decided it was high time to visit Mathias and free him from his own desk for a while.
When he walked through the archway into the courtyard of the SI:7 complex, he was surprised to find Mathias there, stabbing and slicing away at a target dummy with intent.
Flynn shrugged off his coat and tightened his ponytail, making as much noise as possible to telegraph his presence as he walked over.
“What’s got you in a mood, then?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.
Mathias stood upright and wiped the sweat off his brow. “I can’t tell you yet.”
Flynn leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “Can’t or don’t want to?”
“Can’t,” Mathias replied, with an apologetic tone. “Some intel's come in from Dalaran, and it's eyes-only.”
Flynn knew that had to be a bad thing, and sent a quiet prayer to the Tidemother that it wouldn’t tear Mathias away from Stormwind for months on end. “Let me guess, it's not good?” he asked anxiously.
Mathias shook his head in irritation, eyeing up the training dummy as if to assess how much more stuffing he could beat out of it, and Flynn decided he had a better idea.
“You got another couple of rounds in you? I could use the workout as well. I’ll tell you what, the only thing I miss about freebooting is the total lack of bureaucracy.”
Mathias gave a small smile, and wordlessly flipped one of his daggers towards Flynn, just as Flynn offered him a cutlass. It made for a much fairer fight, and also more fun, at least from Flynn’s point of view. It was a bit of a pain not to be able to rely on having greater reach, but the joy of seeing Mathias break from his perfect but rigid form and fight more freely was immense.
The sun had almost fully set by the time Flynn lost his third bout - narrowly, of course - and they walked in companionable silence into the building, slipping behind the bookshelf into Mathias’s private office.
Ruby jumped up from her bed, which was a permanent fixture now, and nipped at their ankles playfully. As Mathias deftly dodged her and slid into his chair, she came at Flynn, but could clearly sense that he was too tired to play and gave a small huffing bark, settling back down deliberately on the only other seat in the room.
He laughed and scratched her behind the ears, before coming round the desk and lowering himself onto Mathias’s lap.
“I was hardly going to sit on the floor, was I?” he said with a gentle elbow to Mathias’s ribs, and felt more than heard Mathias sigh as he wrapped his arms around him.
“There’s always going to be something, isn’t there?” Mathias said eventually.
Flynn knew the best way to get Mathias to keep talking was to just let him, so he made a questioning noise and pressed a kiss to his head, encouraging him to continue.
“We’ve been spoiled since the return from the Shadowlands. With my resources occupied looking for the King I haven’t been spread too thin, and Wrathion’s Blacktalon were far more useful in the Dragon Isles than our people - not that we would ever tell him that,” Mathias added with a warning in his voice.
Flynn mimed sewing his mouth shut.
Wrathion and Mathias had precisely two things in common: the ability to run a successful spy network, and the desire to find Anduin Wrynn. Each seemed to think the other knew more about the King than they were letting on, and their regular meetups to “exchange information” always devolved into a pissing contest. Flynn wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t find it weirdly arousing to watch his man squaring up to a dragon (and winning most of the time, in his definitely unbiased opinion).
“It’s been nice to divide my time between Valdrakken and Stormwind and have a chance to run this place rather than being out in the field for months on end. I would never have thought about getting a pet, or decorating my house. Before you, I might have resented the mundanity of it, but now it feels like the closest thing I’ll ever get to peace is coming to an end, and there’ll be naught to look forward to but the next mission.”
In that moment, Flynn was struck with the certainty that Mathias did want a life with him. The Uncrowned, and SI:7, and his crew, and the entire tidesdamned Alliance could keep their opinions to themselves. Greymane was right: no one knew him like Flynn did. No one else was allowed to see the tiredness around his eyes, or believe that might be happiest whittling by a fireplace, or know that he actually preferred his coffee with cream and sugar, but went without so he could detect poisons more easily.
Flynn wanted so badly to say, “What about having a wedding to look forward to?”, but Mathias deserved more than a spur-of-the-moment proposal on a crappy day, and that kind of pressure probably wasn’t called for right now.
He took a second to take in Mathias’s expression. Contrary to popular opinion, Flynn was absolutely capable of being solicitous if the situation required: it was just that nine times out of ten, he didn't bother to make that assessment before the first wisecracks slipped out. It was awful, the kind of exceptions he made for this man.
“This is our lives, love,” he started softly. “It’s what we do. We’ve been lucky so far that the Tidemother, or the Light, or whichever of the gods looks to the shadows, has brought us back to each other relatively unscathed. One day, I’ll be too arthritic to run the rigging and your knees will creak too loudly for you to pull off stealth for very long, and we will finally retire and spend our days gardening, and making love, and swapping the same old stories of our youthful heroics. Until that point…”
“The job’s not done yet,” Mathias finished with a heavy sigh, tightening his arms around Flynn’s waist. “I’m sorry for being so miserable.”
Flynn shook his head. “With the kind of shit that comes across your desk every day, it’s hardly a surprise. Honestly, I’m amazed you smile as much as you do.”
“I didn’t, before you,” Mathias admitted, and Flynn pulled his head up to meet his gaze.
“Then I shall continue to do my level best to keep dazzling you with my sparkling wit.” He pressed a kiss to Mathias’s mouth. “And my indefatigable cheer.” Another kiss. “And my - by all reports - irresistible charms. Of which there are many.”
He could feel the start of a smile against his lips at that point. “Okay, which of my charms is catching your fancy right now? I’m all yours.”
Mathias actually laughed at that, and it made Flynn feel lighter. “I’ve nothing left in me today but a quick dinner and a long sleep, I’m afraid.”
Flynn breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the tides; I’m exhausted and don’t think I could get it up right now if a parade of your clones marched in here and did a striptease.”
“That's what does it for you?” Mathias asked with a raised eyebrow and a disbelieving smirk.
Flynn kissed him again. “The only thing about you that doesn't do it for me is the insecurity, so let's nip that in the bud, shall we?”
Mathias looked up at him with wonder, and shook his head in assent. “Aye, Captain,” he said dryly, pulling Flynn as close as he could manage.
“Now, that was hardly convincing, love. Do you need me to go through the list?”
Mathias kissed the side of his neck, but didn't say no, which was fine by Flynn because he saw it as his personal mission to raise the man's flagging self-esteem.
“All right, where should I begin today?” He pulled back slightly, surveying the man in his arms. “Your body is like a finely honed weapon - I know you're an old man by assassin standards, but you keep every muscle as primed and polished as your blades.” Flynn ran an appreciative hand down Mathias’s arm, grasping his bicep. “I mean it; it's beautiful - if utterly exhausting - to watch you train, not to mention rather humiliating to be the one you’re sparring against.”
“You don't actually need to do this,” Mathias protested with a blush, but Flynn was on a roll now.
“Your hair,” he continued, “is like a glorious fiery beacon, and I've no idea how you've stayed hidden all these years. I love the grey bits, too, because they show how long you've managed to survive. If you'd gone out in a blaze of ginger glory, I would never have met you.”
Mathias chuckled. “I'm fairly sure you relish giving me new grey hairs,” he pointed out.
“Yup,” Flynn said, popping the p gleefully. “Every moment I've driven you to despair, documented around your temples. A point of personal pride, that.”
Mathias huffed, but there was no bite to it, and he rolled his eyes fondly. Flynn grinned back, feeling just as affectionate, and let the stress of the day melt away in Mathias’s arms.
“Where next… ah, your face. Your fiddly moustache, which you think hides your smiles but just draws more attention to that lovely mouth. The way that your eyes can be warm and soft and so, so expressive, and that I'm one of the only people alive who gets to see it. Tides, Mathias, when you're happy you just… light up.”
He found himself overcome for a moment, and forced himself to move on before Mathias called him out on it.
“I'm afraid I'll have to get to what's below the belt a bit later, when I've more energy - I feel like those parts require a more practical demonstration of my appreciation.” He wriggled slightly in Mathias's lap to make his point, and Mathias laughed.
Flynn grasped his hand, and decided for once not to say what he was thinking. Mathias wouldn’t notice if he didn’t catalogue every single piece of him, but Flynn thought it anyway. I’m a little obsessed with your hands. The way the callouses from knives and lockpicks are so similar to mine, but without years of working the ropes your palms still feel so soft. These hands have mastered traps and treasures and every inch of my skin. They’re so much more delicate than mine, but we still fit together perfectly. He tangled their fingers with a small smile that couldn’t be helped. I can’t wait to see them with rings on.
~~~~
On the last leg of the voyage back from Silverpine Forest, Flynn stood at the bow of the Bold Arva, watching the city of Stormwind get closer and closer at what felt like an agonisingly slow pace.
The joy of seeing Gilneas transformed from what it had been when he and Mathias toured the Kingdoms buoyed Flynn’s spirits, and his good mood had lasted the whole way back as they sped down the coast, tailwinds in their favour for once.
“Nearly home!” Aimee called down from the crow’s nest excitedly. “I’m gonna eat so much pumpkin pie!”
Flynn grinned for a moment before a sudden panic seized him. They would be docked within the hour, he’d be home by sundown, and then… today was the day. He had contacted Alison at the Gilded Rose about their table for dinner, a frequent enough habit that he knew SI:7 would think nothing of it, and his hand went to his pocket unbidden at least once an hour to make sure the ring was still there.
“You comin’ for pie with us, Cap’n?” Aimee piped up again, suddenly atop the railing beside him.
Flynn jumped and she giggled. “I regret teaching you about stealth,” he declared.
“Puh-lease, you told the Queen of Gilneas I’m an ‘asset to the crew’,” she quoted with a broad grin.
“That you are, sprat, but I’m afraid I won’t be coming out for pie tonight. I have plans.” He turned the ring over in his pocket again.
“With your boyfriend?” she asked. “I suppose he can join us. I like him, even though he says I’m too young for knife training.”
“I refuse to perpetuate Pathonia’s practices,” Mathias had announced, but he had been willing to show her how to whittle with a small, safe blade, and Aimee was instantly enamoured.
Flynn smiled fondly and ruffled Aimee’s hair, which she shook back into place with a glare. “So? You comin’ or what?”
“I’m afraid tonight we’re having a… special date. We’ve a lot to talk about, just the two of us.”
She jumped down and leaned against the railing beside Flynn, watching him salute as they passed the lighthouse and following suit without question.
“But you can come ’n’ get pie after you’ve talked?” she asked eventually.
He laughed. “We’ll see, Aimee. Now, don’t you have some work to do while we take her into port?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not working!”
“As captain of this vessel, I have earned the right to stand here and look dashing, thank you very much.”
She stuck out her tongue at him, but hopped onto the rail and into the rigging as Flynn turned his gaze back to the harbour, scanning for the familiar glints of red hair and stabby pauldrons.
Flynn could have sworn his heart skipped a beat as he spotted Mathias leaning against a barrel at the Arva’s berth, eyes trained on their approach. Inexplicably, he was out of uniform - though Flynn could guess at the location of at least three concealed weapons at first glance - in tan breeches, tall boots, and a loose embersilk shirt which Flynn had a particular weakness for. The shirt blew in the wind, leaving Flynn a tantalising glimpse of one pale collarbone, and he couldn't help licking his lips.
Their final approach felt like forever, with Mathias looking more and more devastating with every yard they covered. It took everything in Flynn to allow his crewmates off first, but he was blind to their reunions as he strode over to his almost-fiancé.
Mathias pushed off the barrel and drew closer to Flynn. “Welcome home,” he murmured.
“I was barely away long enough for you to miss me,” Flynn teased. He reached out to clasp Mathias by the arms, resisting the urge to lick that tempting collarbone. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you showing up looking like this,” he added with a leer. “Suspicious, if you ask me. What’s going on?”
“I’m off duty today,” Mathias assured him, but that only served to make Flynn anxious.
“Are you okay? Have you been to the Healers?” His appraisal of Mathias’s body became clinical, searching for signs of injury or poison.
“I’m fine, Flynn. I’ve just taken a… personal day.”
Flynn’s frown deepened. “Pull the other one, mate! You haven’t taken a personal day since you were ten!”
“Twelve,” Mathias corrected playfully. “And I have today. I - I need to talk to you.”
Flynn’s heart dropped, mind already racing as the worst case scenarios flew in unbidden. Was Mathias leaving indefinitely for a dangerous mission? Was Ruby okay? Was he about to get unceremoniously dumped with an engagement ring sitting in his pocket? He cleared his throat. “Oh, um… all right, then. Shall we head up to my cabin?”
“Flynn.” Mathias brought his hands up to Flynn’s shoulders firmly, a welcome anchor. “This is important, but it’s not bad, I promise. We can talk right here.”
“Really?” asked Flynn, casting his gaze at the hustle and bustle around them.
Mathias steeled himself. “Yes.”
“Are you sure about that?” Flynn raised a sceptical eyebrow.
“Not at all,” Mathias said with a small shake of his head, “but I owe it to you to try.”
Flynn frowned. “Not this again. Look, you’re trying really bloody hard, but you’re about to have a panic attack, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want your agents seeing that.” He took Mathias by the shoulders and steered him towards the Arva, nudging him up the gangplank.
“This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” Mathias ground out, clenching his fists and glaring at the harbour proper.
“Ironforge wasn’t built in a day,” Flynn said softly. “This is hard for you, and that’s okay.”
Mathias smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s not okay, Flynn. I know that it hurts you that I’m not very… demonstrative. I am trying, every day, to show how much I care about you; to be the partner you deserve.”
“Okay, first off-” Flynn started to argue, but Mathias put a finger to his lips.
“Please, let me do the talking for once. I truly believe you deserve more than I can offer. But, for some reason, you choose to be with me, and again and again you find ways to show me how much you care. It’s in the way you remind me to eat when I’m working, the pet I didn’t know I wanted, the remarkably well-encrypted love-letters from abroad, your indefatigable desire to surprise me. But what you're too busy scheming to realise is that you surprise me every day.”
His hand moved from Flynn’s lips to cup his cheek, and Flynn couldn’t help leaning into the touch. “By staying with me, by being so patient, by making me feel things I thought impossible. Even after years with you, I still find myself… overcome. I never thought I’d get used to sharing my life with someone, but whenever you’re at sea I find myself, well, at sea,” he finished with a wry smile. “I know we’ve vowed to always return to one another, but I was hoping that, maybe, we could make those vows official.”
At that, Mathias drew in a shaky breath and dropped down to one knee, pulling a jewelcrafter’s pouch from his belt.
Flynn could have sworn the whole ocean fell silent at that moment; his heart beating out of his chest the only sound. His voice came out a whisper. “Mathias, love, what are you doing?”
“Captain Flynn ‘responsible is my middle name, I swear’ Fairwind,” Mathias started, with a wink. “You have given me so much already, but I have one more indulgence to ask of you. Will you do me the great honour of becoming my husband?”
Flynn froze, certain he must have been gaping like a fish. “You… are you serious? Of course you are; you’re always serious.” He all but fell to his knees in front of Mathias, reaching for him with sweating palms.
“Never thought anyone would want to make an honest man of me,” he choked out past the lump in his throat.
“I think we both know that’s never going to happen,” Mathias replied fondly, taking his hands.
“Tides, wait, I'm doing this all wrong,” Flynn muttered. “What I meant to say is yes, obviously I'll marry you, please don't change your mind because I'm being an idiot right now.” He tugged their clasped hands to his chest and pressed a kiss to Mathias's knuckles.
Though he knew full well that Mathias wouldn't have asked if he wasn’t sure of the outcome, Flynn still relished the look of joy and relief that crossed his face.
“I will never change my mind,” he replied quietly but firmly, tugging Flynn forward so their heads rested together. “If that means I spend the rest of my life vanishing into the shadows to avoid your more embarrassing outbursts, so be it.”
Flynn laughed, though he felt he could just as easily have burst into tears as Mathias relinquished his grip to slide a sturdy platinum ring onto Flynn’s finger. It was lustrous, glowing with a fresh enchantment, and Flynn couldn’t help but stare at the way the inlaid band of Leviathan’s Eye caught the light.
“I can't believe you asked me first,” he grumbled eventually, no real irritation in his soft voice, “I've been planning to do this for ages.” With trembling hands, he took out the ring Latimer had made and held it out to Mathias, who took it reverently and put it on, running a thumb over the twined strands of storm silver and truesilver, braided together like rope.
“Getting spliced?” he asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
Flynn grinned. “I knew you'd get it; you always listen to me.” He paused for a moment. “That was the first thing I really noticed about you, you know? I’m always blathering on, but you hear every single word, from Kul Tiran slang to favourite books to… family history.”
Mathias placed a steadying hand on Flynn's shoulder. “I’m a spy, Flynn. It’s my job to listen to all the details.”
Flynn shook his head. “Don’t sell yourself short, love. Besides, I could name a few people you like to ignore whenever possible, so I must be doing something right.”
“Well, you’re certainly more interesting than-” Mathias stopped short. “Perhaps this is a conversation for just the two of us?”
Flynn laughed and looked around to find his crew huddled around the gangplank, and beyond them a good number of dock workers, all pretending to look utterly disinterested while clearly hanging on every word. “You chose the time and place, not me,” he pointed out, jumping to his feet and holding out a hand to help Mathias up. “I had my own plans.”
“Your plans don’t start until nightfall, so we can still make them happen,” Mathias said with a smirk.
“How do you always do this?!” Flynn exclaimed. “I worked so hard to keep it a secret!”
“You work hard, but SI:7 works harder,” Mathias deadpanned, and Flynn guffawed helplessly, utterly charmed.
“I’m not sorry,” Mathias said, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s waist. “If I hadn’t found out, I wouldn’t have realised how important it was for me to do this. I needed to be the brave one this time.”
Flynn looked at him for a moment, overcome by the way the warm afternoon light reflected off the water to illuminate Mathias’s soft, private expression. “You remain the bravest man I’ve ever known, and also the biggest spoilsport.”
“But you love me,” Mathias pointed out, not one bit of self-consciousness overshadowing the joy on his face.
“Aye,” said Flynn, “more than anything.”
Mathias just smiled, and, without a hint of hesitation, leaned in and kissed him.
The End