Benedict comes, and Silver keeps stroking him for a few moments before picking up his own speed--his hips snap with each thrust, a thin layer of sweat on his brow, and after a few more thrusts the pirate comes inside of Benedict with a shudder, barely holding himself up as he rights the waves of pleasure. He winds up lowering himself, nearly ontop of Benedict entirely, their faces inches apart as he tries to calm his beating heart.
Finally, and he's not sure why, he leans over to brush a bit of Benedict's perfectly mussed hair away from his face before sitting up with a grunt and reaching for the basin of water on the nightstand next to the rum. He grabs the cloth next to the washbasin and dips it in water, squeezing it out, handing it to Benedict wordlessly, grabbing the bottle of rum for himself. It's only after a swig that he decides to talk, voice hoarse.
"You'll want to avoid horseback riding for a day or two."
The last few strokes and thrusts keep Benedict in a state of blissful release. It's not until Silver moves away and Benedict's skin suddenly feels the slight chill of air that he comes back to his senses. He takes the cloth wordlessly but puffs out a laugh when Silver finally breaks the silence.
"Yes," he says, still a bit breathless, "I think I shall."
He shifts himself a bit so he's propped up a bit against the wall behind him before wiping himself clean.
Benedict looks breathless, and wide-eyed, and maybe Silver is reading far too into things but he seems, just for a moment, that he's truly alive. Silver takes pleasure in that, cleaning himself next.
Perhaps the other is nervous about what comes next. Perhaps he isn't--Silver doesn't quite care after the mind-blowing orgasm he's just had. What he does care about is offering the rum to Benedict and taking careful note of the bruises and marks on his neck.
Admittedly he's a bit uncertain as to what happens now. Should he take his leave? The thought of getting dressed in all those layers in a hurried manner seems daunting, and usually the women desire to languish a bit. He's uncertain of the protocol when with another man, and how it differs, or why it should differ at all.
Either way, Benedict gladly accepts the rum and takes a much heartier drink than before, needing something to help himself regain composure.
"Well - This has been a very ... Enlightening evening, Mr. Silver." Benedict decides maybe he ought to go. Silver doesn't strike him as the cuddling sort, so he pushes himself up a bit more properly as he moves to stand.
Silver's carefully moved himself so his bare back is against the wall, both of his legs on the mattress, languid, still breathing somewhat heavily, taking the bottle from the other as he rises.
The flustered sort. Of course. Silver's lips curl into a half-smile, watching the other and tilting his head to the side. He knows it's enlightening--he knows that even if Benedict is for some reason only curious about other men, that he'll remember it for a while.
That's all Silver really needs. As much as he'd love for the other to stay. "There's a girl next door," he says after a moment. "Knock on her door. She'll escort you out."
"Will she, or is it some sort of entrapment you've had planned for me all along?"
Benedict looks amused as he gathers up his clothes. He's joking, of course, though now he's said it out loud he wonders if maybe that's true. It seems like an awfully long game to play when Benedict could have easily been overthrown, but also, really, if Silver can get more than just money out of it then why not? But something about Silver strikes Benedict as too upfront for something like that. Maybe not entirely honest - one can't likely survive the pirate life for too long with honesty - but if it was money they were after, then there were women (and men) decorated with far more expensive things than Benedict himself.
Silver glances down at his leg--he's naked, and if Benedict wants to go, he's not going to spend 20 minutes trying to get dressed in front of him.
"Anne Bonny will be the only one saving you from entrapment," he says simply, and chuckles to himself. It's not an entire lie--she heard her bounding up the stairs while they had been fucking, a distant yell at some crew member in the distance.
"Unless you'd prefer to take your chances with Rackham's crew below on your own?" He's teasing. Mostly.
He wonders if Silver would mind if he dropped his clothes and crawled back on to the bed. Would they go a second round or just drink and talk until falling asleep? Regardless, Benedict’s cheeks flush a bit at the thought so he continues to dress, layering each article of clothing.
“No, I suppose I’d rather not.”
Would they threaten him, knowing he’s just been with Silver? Not a risk worth taking. Benedict pauses once his hand is at the door handle, wondering if he should offer some opportunity to see one another again.
“I do hope you enjoy the rest of your time in London.”
"A bit too cold for my liking," Silver answers honestly, "but I assure you I will try my best." He hopes to see the other again, though he doubts it. He's not sure the other would be prepared to, and he's not sure how long this fucking trip will take, anyway. What he wants is to be back in Nassau.
A shame Benedict is done.
Benedict, following Silver's advice, gets a door yanked open and an incredibly annoyed woman--the same one that was glowering at them earlier in the bar--opens it, clearly unimpressed.
"Fuck you want?" She says plainly, and then glances at the room Silver's in, sneer widening the moment it's explained that Silver told her to. "Lazy piece of shit," she mutters, and without waiting does what she's told, walking him downstairs and not saying an entire word.
To her credit, she waits until the other's safely aboard a carriage.
Benedict is taken aback, out of his depth and worried she's going to run him through. But she (begrudgingly) escorts him out, and while some of the men in the tavern jeer at him, the woman seems to keep them at bay. Benedict thinks that Eloise would love her.
The next couple of days pass. There are other parties, and Benedict makes it a point to attend them, only to be disappointed to not see Silver there. He sees his female friend - not the one who'd shown him out of the tavern, but the other, and he thinks he sees her speaking to his mother on one occasion. He thinks, too, about going back to the tavern. Were Benedict bolder, he'd do it.
But he's not. So he resigns himself to the reality that he will never cross paths with Silver again, and maybe that's for the best.
Tonight there's no party. Instead, there's to be something of a dinner party, his mother positively excited over their guests. (She mentions, too, that it's glad that Benedict's apparent reaction to something has cleared up - though he wasn't about to tell her it was his face being rubbed by stubble and whiskers.) The marks still mottle his neck, though, and he can't help but feel some pride over them as he hides them away. It's not until he hears the arrival of their guests that he makes his way down the stairs, only to stop at the top of them and stare in disbelief.
Of all the people for his mother to invite for dinner, she has to invite Max and Silver.
He composes himself quickly and introduces himself properly to Max before offering a quick, "A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Silver." At his mother's behest, Benedict shows them into the parlor as supper isn't quite ready yet and to keep Gregory and Hyacinth from overwhelming their guests before they've even had a chance to relax.
Rackham and Anne are doing something Silver has purposely chosen not to acknowledge--mostly because it sounds an awful lot like they're dealing with something on their own. A blowout, perhaps? A crewmeber falling out of line? Silver's quite content to not get involved with any of those things, not when it involves Anne in the inn with a knife coming close to stabbing someone else if Rackham hadn't spotted it first.
It's why Max asks him to go, hovering in the doorway where he's been perfectly content to drink and read one of the books Flint had left behind. Perhaps he's reminiscing, too.
"Come," she says, and Silver looks over.
"To further my detest off the aristocracy?" he asks, and his laugh is musical. "There far better entertainment in this work of fiction than there is in a stodgy place where they will do nothing but look at me in disgust."
"Then let them look, and prove them wrong."
He's still not sure how she did it, convincing him to be her date, though as they drive up to a house he can only describe as insufferable, he realizes it's because it's unbecoming of Max to not have a male companion, like Benedict had stated those few nights ago. The wealth, it drips down like the lilacs and the flowered vines, and he's acutely aware of the beggar boy he's seen just down the alley.
The servants give him looks as he limps in, and he purposely ignores them--he notices one of the children eyeing his missing leg with wild curiousity and a touch of fear, and Silver finds he minds that the least.
What he's not expecting is Benedict.
Those Bridgertons, it seems. He nods at the other's short, curt words. "I should hope so," He says simply, keeping eyecontact with the other. "How's your neck?"
"What's wrong with your neck, Benedict?" asks his youngest sister while she follows him. "Is it to do with your allergies?"
"Yes," Benedict replies, "and it's quite better, thank you." He says it to both, but rather pointedly to Silver.
There are plenty of places to sit in the parlor, mostly because the home is massive and there are really endless places to put furniture, but Benedict likes to think that the Bridgerton house is rather tasteful. He makes sure Max is comfortable before taking a seat beside Silver. With Colin still on his European tour, and Anthony running late as usual, it's up to Benedict to keep an eye on things while his mother likely fusses with the maids over the lay of the table.
Luckily, Eloise and Francesca immediately gravitate to Max, both entranced by the idea of a self made woman. But before Benedict can say anything to Silver, his youngest brother has to ask, "How did you lose your leg? Was it in a fantastic fight, via canon ball?"
"Gregory," Benedict admonishes (though quite fondly), "we musn't be rude."
The place is huge, far bigger than the Guthrie estate-turned-opium-den-turned-Rackham's salon, and what's more is that everything's clean. That's the true cultural difference, as it were--that there's no sand, no heat, but everything is actually in a place annd undamaged.
Max seems to be living it up, in her own calm and restrained way, although Silver swears he sees just the tiniest bit of resentment. It's gone the moment the crowd around her, and she answers their questions calmly and honestly, not holding back. Silver isn't one for kids but he knows what he was like at that age, much-preferring honesty. Not that he's had that luxury.
Ah. That's what it is. Silver resents luxury, even if he doesn't resent Benedict. Currently, the other is a sight for sore eyes, despite the teasing--and mostly that had been to get a rise out of conservative Benedict without the others knowing.
He's pleased when the other sits next to him, even moreso when someone hands him tea, though what he really wants is rum. He feels awkward even holding a small cup like this, something that would have been traded for a song back in Nassau.
It's the small child that peers up at him, curious, that gets Silver's attention. The pirate king looks at the child--Gregory, it seems--and leans down so he's as eye level as he can be, looking the other dead in the eye.
"Are you quite sure you're prepared to hear tale?" He asks, and while he seems deathly serious, there's a glimmer of playfulness in the corner of his eyes, the way he seems to barely hiding a smile.
He does love to tell a good story, and what better audience then children?
Of course Gregory is excited. He's had his brothers play pirates with him plenty of times. Even after he heard there were pirates in London, Benedict's spent the last day taking up their fencing practice swords (no points, thank God) and sailing the imaginary high seas. He'd been terribly jealous when he'd heard that the rest of his family had actually met the pirates - and now he has one over for dinner!
At first, Benedict is a bit nervous at Silver's readiness to indulge Gregory. But he catches the quirk at the corner of the man's mouth, and the playful tone to his words, which relaxes him a bit. With his own tea in hand, Benedict leans back on the sofa, his one arm slinging over the back of it.
"Have you heard of the Captain Charles Vane?" Silver himself is leaning forward, though his good leg is gently next to Benedict's, tea placed to the side. Charles Vane, the legendary pirate captain responsible for the death of many--including almost an entire colony. Executed only to spark the movement of a resistance, a perfect pirate martyr. Silver leans forward, glancing exaggeratedly at Max and the girls, as if this is a tale that can't reach delicate feminine ears. It's more to amp up the excitement, more to make Gregory feel special.
"It just so happened that his crew didn't take kindly to ours in Charles Town," he says simply, "nor were they particularly fond of the fact that I sabotaged the ship they tried to steal from us. I hid below deck, snuck up, cut their topsail, but once Vane's crew discovered me... Well. Punishment was due."
His brows lift. "A cannonball would have been far more merciful than the axe Vane's quartermaster had." He omits how painful it was, of course--how being forced to stay still while a man hacks away at your leg can stay with you, about how he still has nightmares. About how it still hurts somehow, especially on rainy days.
"I survived, lost far too much blood, and the doctor aboard the ship had to amputate once we won the ship back."
Gregory is enthralled, but Benedict sits up a bit again, because he shouldn't be encouraging his youngest brother to hear stories of getting legs hacked off by axes.
"Gregory, perhaps you and Hyacinth can play some cards until mother calls us in for dinner, hmm?"
Gregory is, of course, ready to protest, but he sees the way Benedict's eyebrows are raised and understands that Benedict must be listened to, so he walks off (sulking a bit) to go entertain himself in other ways.
"Now he'll be pretending he hasn't got a leg for days, I'm sure." Though the gaze Benedict lets fall on Gregory across the room is full of love and fondness. "I'm certainly not looking forward to carting him around on my back because of it."
Silver spares a glance over at Benedict, mostly to see if he's crossed a line, but it seems to be less of that and more some sort of social propriety angle. It's enough that he leans back, having no desire to finish his tea, watching as the boy all but sulks.
"I'll be sure to tell him about the intense pain one feels when moving it improperly," he says solemnly, and it's hard to tell if it's serious or not. "Or perhaps I should mention the difficulty getting into carriages."
He doesn't seem too upset about it. There's a twist of something he does feel when he looks at Benedict. Envy, or something close to it. Not for money or fame--he has fame, even if it's infamy--but for family. For bonds.
He's been very careful to keep to himself after Flint. He should probably say something, though. How much time has passed? Is it awkward now? Silver's much better at this whe it's not high society.
Benedict can't really deny the way he looks a bit proud at the compliment, whether or not it's a sincere one or just something Silver is saying to make small talk. He sips at his tea.
"Thank you. We have our little fights, but at the end of the day, we're all quite close. Normally, the children would have already eaten and been sent to bed, but mother quite enjoys spoiling them."
He turns his gaze to Silver, his smile becoming more amused.
"I have to admit, I hadn't been certain our paths would cross again, much less in these circumstances."
"I wasn't sure you wanted us to," Silver says simply, no malice in his voice--just a simple fact. Benedict's collar, he realizes, has bees on them. Sharply embroidered, something Jack would wear for a few days before it gets utterly destroyed by piracy and other acts.
But Benedict was yearning. That's good, and a pleasant surprise from what he'd intend.
"I'm not one for all of this," Silver agrees. "I'm a simple man--this is beyond me." He's not ashamed to admit it.
"I imagine it's quite different from what you're used to."
There's no judgement in Benedict's voice. It's no different, he thinks, than him feeling out of place in Silver's world. He'd likely find it much harder to adapt, honestly, than the pirate is, because Silver is a man conditioned to adapt while Benedict is not.
Before they can continue the conversation, Anthony is arriving home and they're all being called in for dinner. The table is laid out marvelously and each place has a name with it, and Benedict wonders how many times his mother has switched seating assignments. He's equal parts glad and flustered to find that Silver has been seated beside him. Glad because he doesn't have to stare into Silver's eyes the entire night, but flustered to have Silver so close. It turns out he has a right to be flustered, because part way through, Silver's hand goes to his knee and rests there. But the dinner, as a whole, is as lovely as any. It's hard not to be caught up in the charm of both of their guests and their manners are quite lovely.
After Dinner, Gregory and Hyacinth are sent to bed, and everyone returns to the sitting room, as is usual for dinner parties. There are small drinks passed around and conversation eventually turns to Francesca playing something for them on the piano and that the Bridgerton sons are quite adept at singing. And since no young man can really deny their mother in front of company, Anthony and Benedict reluctantly have their sister accompany them while they sing a lively tune.
Afterwards, Benedict takes a sip of his drink.
"I think I'll excuse myself a moment for some air," he says, hoping perhaps that Silver will wish to accompany him so that they might be alone for a moment.
Silver charms. Not as much as Max, but they both have a way with words, and it's an unwritten rule that they behave. Silver has no interest in being rowdy just because he can, and Max has an agenda. He makes conversation, hates it, and somewhere along the line puts a hand on Benedict's knee to weigh himself through the absolute tedium. Mostly, he feels strange jealousy about it all.
He's thankful for the drinks afterward, although the glasses are far too small. He winds up drinking his in nearly one go and refuses to be repentant about it, though his need to say fuck it and leave is gone the moment the brothers sing. It's beautiful--so much so that Silver is genuinely taken aback. He finds himself smiling genuinely, and even Max is sincere when she compliments them.
It's at the need for air that Silver rises as well, reaching for his crutch. "I shall accompany you," he says simply. "Please--Max, I know you have some endeavors you were meaning to ask the Bridgerton family."
Max nods, and Silver follows the other, keeping at a surprisingy steady space. He speaks only when they're alone. "You want for nothing," he says at last, and there's the barest trace of bitterness in his voice. "And a beautiful singing voice? I should be lucky to know you."
The air outside in the garden is warmer than it has been recently, for which Benedict is thankful. He puffs out a laugh as he pulls some cigarettes from his pocket.
"I want for nothing only because I happened to be born to a viscount and through no feasible effort of my own," he says. He detects that touch of resentment. He can't entirely blame Silver. Benedict is alarmingly aware of his charmed life - even among society, the Bridgertons seem to be a notch about the rest. Making an acquaintance with Silver has really shown him just how fortunate he truly is. "But you flatter me about the singing."
He slips a cigarette between his lips and offers one to Silver.
Silver decline is with a polite shake of his head, curls bouncing as he does so.
"At least you're aware of it," he muses, and wonders if perhaps he's coming across as too harsh. He doesn't mean to, it's just a completely different world--one he finds both entranced with and abhorred by at the same time.
Benedict, though, Benedict is a beacon. A soft, polite light who's aware of his privilege and, smoking that cigarette, looking positively ravishing.
"I suppose it's useful, one being able to have a skill one can drag out at gatherings." He's talking as he moves, making his way to a railing and sitting. The crutch is leaned next to him, and he grunts as he gets a little more comfortbale. "Damned entrancing."
Benedict lights up his cigarette and moves to join Silver, leaning back to exhale smoke and stare up at the sky. He's more comfortable now with Silver, knowing that there's nothing expected of him in the other's company.
"It must seem so quaint to you, but properly entertaining guests is something we're taught to do from a young age. Truthfully, the duty falls to the woman of the house, but my mother always felt it important for her sons to be skilled in something beyond riding horses and shooting hares."
"I'm not so sure quaint is a word for it," Silver confesses, and there's a hint of a smile on his face, though. There's no need to be a dick to someone who doesn't deserve it. Besides, Benedict's pleasant company.
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Finally, and he's not sure why, he leans over to brush a bit of Benedict's perfectly mussed hair away from his face before sitting up with a grunt and reaching for the basin of water on the nightstand next to the rum. He grabs the cloth next to the washbasin and dips it in water, squeezing it out, handing it to Benedict wordlessly, grabbing the bottle of rum for himself. It's only after a swig that he decides to talk, voice hoarse.
"You'll want to avoid horseback riding for a day or two."
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"Yes," he says, still a bit breathless, "I think I shall."
He shifts himself a bit so he's propped up a bit against the wall behind him before wiping himself clean.
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Perhaps the other is nervous about what comes next. Perhaps he isn't--Silver doesn't quite care after the mind-blowing orgasm he's just had. What he does care about is offering the rum to Benedict and taking careful note of the bruises and marks on his neck.
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Either way, Benedict gladly accepts the rum and takes a much heartier drink than before, needing something to help himself regain composure.
"Well - This has been a very ... Enlightening evening, Mr. Silver." Benedict decides maybe he ought to go. Silver doesn't strike him as the cuddling sort, so he pushes himself up a bit more properly as he moves to stand.
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The flustered sort. Of course. Silver's lips curl into a half-smile, watching the other and tilting his head to the side. He knows it's enlightening--he knows that even if Benedict is for some reason only curious about other men, that he'll remember it for a while.
That's all Silver really needs. As much as he'd love for the other to stay. "There's a girl next door," he says after a moment. "Knock on her door. She'll escort you out."
...But also, he could be a bit of a prat, first.
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Benedict looks amused as he gathers up his clothes. He's joking, of course, though now he's said it out loud he wonders if maybe that's true. It seems like an awfully long game to play when Benedict could have easily been overthrown, but also, really, if Silver can get more than just money out of it then why not? But something about Silver strikes Benedict as too upfront for something like that. Maybe not entirely honest - one can't likely survive the pirate life for too long with honesty - but if it was money they were after, then there were women (and men) decorated with far more expensive things than Benedict himself.
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"Anne Bonny will be the only one saving you from entrapment," he says simply, and chuckles to himself. It's not an entire lie--she heard her bounding up the stairs while they had been fucking, a distant yell at some crew member in the distance.
"Unless you'd prefer to take your chances with Rackham's crew below on your own?" He's teasing. Mostly.
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“No, I suppose I’d rather not.”
Would they threaten him, knowing he’s just been with Silver? Not a risk worth taking. Benedict pauses once his hand is at the door handle, wondering if he should offer some opportunity to see one another again.
“I do hope you enjoy the rest of your time in London.”
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A shame Benedict is done.
Benedict, following Silver's advice, gets a door yanked open and an incredibly annoyed woman--the same one that was glowering at them earlier in the bar--opens it, clearly unimpressed.
"Fuck you want?" She says plainly, and then glances at the room Silver's in, sneer widening the moment it's explained that Silver told her to. "Lazy piece of shit," she mutters, and without waiting does what she's told, walking him downstairs and not saying an entire word.
To her credit, she waits until the other's safely aboard a carriage.
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The next couple of days pass. There are other parties, and Benedict makes it a point to attend them, only to be disappointed to not see Silver there. He sees his female friend - not the one who'd shown him out of the tavern, but the other, and he thinks he sees her speaking to his mother on one occasion. He thinks, too, about going back to the tavern. Were Benedict bolder, he'd do it.
But he's not. So he resigns himself to the reality that he will never cross paths with Silver again, and maybe that's for the best.
Tonight there's no party. Instead, there's to be something of a dinner party, his mother positively excited over their guests. (She mentions, too, that it's glad that Benedict's apparent reaction to something has cleared up - though he wasn't about to tell her it was his face being rubbed by stubble and whiskers.) The marks still mottle his neck, though, and he can't help but feel some pride over them as he hides them away. It's not until he hears the arrival of their guests that he makes his way down the stairs, only to stop at the top of them and stare in disbelief.
Of all the people for his mother to invite for dinner, she has to invite Max and Silver.
He composes himself quickly and introduces himself properly to Max before offering a quick, "A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Silver." At his mother's behest, Benedict shows them into the parlor as supper isn't quite ready yet and to keep Gregory and Hyacinth from overwhelming their guests before they've even had a chance to relax.
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It's why Max asks him to go, hovering in the doorway where he's been perfectly content to drink and read one of the books Flint had left behind. Perhaps he's reminiscing, too.
"Come," she says, and Silver looks over.
"To further my detest off the aristocracy?" he asks, and his laugh is musical. "There far better entertainment in this work of fiction than there is in a stodgy place where they will do nothing but look at me in disgust."
"Then let them look, and prove them wrong."
He's still not sure how she did it, convincing him to be her date, though as they drive up to a house he can only describe as insufferable, he realizes it's because it's unbecoming of Max to not have a male companion, like Benedict had stated those few nights ago. The wealth, it drips down like the lilacs and the flowered vines, and he's acutely aware of the beggar boy he's seen just down the alley.
The servants give him looks as he limps in, and he purposely ignores them--he notices one of the children eyeing his missing leg with wild curiousity and a touch of fear, and Silver finds he minds that the least.
What he's not expecting is Benedict.
Those Bridgertons, it seems. He nods at the other's short, curt words. "I should hope so," He says simply, keeping eyecontact with the other. "How's your neck?"
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"Yes," Benedict replies, "and it's quite better, thank you." He says it to both, but rather pointedly to Silver.
There are plenty of places to sit in the parlor, mostly because the home is massive and there are really endless places to put furniture, but Benedict likes to think that the Bridgerton house is rather tasteful. He makes sure Max is comfortable before taking a seat beside Silver. With Colin still on his European tour, and Anthony running late as usual, it's up to Benedict to keep an eye on things while his mother likely fusses with the maids over the lay of the table.
Luckily, Eloise and Francesca immediately gravitate to Max, both entranced by the idea of a self made woman. But before Benedict can say anything to Silver, his youngest brother has to ask, "How did you lose your leg? Was it in a fantastic fight, via canon ball?"
"Gregory," Benedict admonishes (though quite fondly), "we musn't be rude."
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Max seems to be living it up, in her own calm and restrained way, although Silver swears he sees just the tiniest bit of resentment. It's gone the moment the crowd around her, and she answers their questions calmly and honestly, not holding back. Silver isn't one for kids but he knows what he was like at that age, much-preferring honesty. Not that he's had that luxury.
Ah. That's what it is. Silver resents luxury, even if he doesn't resent Benedict. Currently, the other is a sight for sore eyes, despite the teasing--and mostly that had been to get a rise out of conservative Benedict without the others knowing.
He's pleased when the other sits next to him, even moreso when someone hands him tea, though what he really wants is rum. He feels awkward even holding a small cup like this, something that would have been traded for a song back in Nassau.
It's the small child that peers up at him, curious, that gets Silver's attention. The pirate king looks at the child--Gregory, it seems--and leans down so he's as eye level as he can be, looking the other dead in the eye.
"Are you quite sure you're prepared to hear tale?" He asks, and while he seems deathly serious, there's a glimmer of playfulness in the corner of his eyes, the way he seems to barely hiding a smile.
He does love to tell a good story, and what better audience then children?
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Of course Gregory is excited. He's had his brothers play pirates with him plenty of times. Even after he heard there were pirates in London, Benedict's spent the last day taking up their fencing practice swords (no points, thank God) and sailing the imaginary high seas. He'd been terribly jealous when he'd heard that the rest of his family had actually met the pirates - and now he has one over for dinner!
At first, Benedict is a bit nervous at Silver's readiness to indulge Gregory. But he catches the quirk at the corner of the man's mouth, and the playful tone to his words, which relaxes him a bit. With his own tea in hand, Benedict leans back on the sofa, his one arm slinging over the back of it.
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"It just so happened that his crew didn't take kindly to ours in Charles Town," he says simply, "nor were they particularly fond of the fact that I sabotaged the ship they tried to steal from us. I hid below deck, snuck up, cut their topsail, but once Vane's crew discovered me... Well. Punishment was due."
His brows lift. "A cannonball would have been far more merciful than the axe Vane's quartermaster had." He omits how painful it was, of course--how being forced to stay still while a man hacks away at your leg can stay with you, about how he still has nightmares. About how it still hurts somehow, especially on rainy days.
"I survived, lost far too much blood, and the doctor aboard the ship had to amputate once we won the ship back."
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"Gregory, perhaps you and Hyacinth can play some cards until mother calls us in for dinner, hmm?"
Gregory is, of course, ready to protest, but he sees the way Benedict's eyebrows are raised and understands that Benedict must be listened to, so he walks off (sulking a bit) to go entertain himself in other ways.
"Now he'll be pretending he hasn't got a leg for days, I'm sure." Though the gaze Benedict lets fall on Gregory across the room is full of love and fondness. "I'm certainly not looking forward to carting him around on my back because of it."
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"I'll be sure to tell him about the intense pain one feels when moving it improperly," he says solemnly, and it's hard to tell if it's serious or not. "Or perhaps I should mention the difficulty getting into carriages."
He doesn't seem too upset about it. There's a twist of something he does feel when he looks at Benedict. Envy, or something close to it. Not for money or fame--he has fame, even if it's infamy--but for family. For bonds.
He's been very careful to keep to himself after Flint. He should probably say something, though. How much time has passed? Is it awkward now? Silver's much better at this whe it's not high society.
"You have a lovely family," he says at last.
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"Thank you. We have our little fights, but at the end of the day, we're all quite close. Normally, the children would have already eaten and been sent to bed, but mother quite enjoys spoiling them."
He turns his gaze to Silver, his smile becoming more amused.
"I have to admit, I hadn't been certain our paths would cross again, much less in these circumstances."
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But Benedict was yearning. That's good, and a pleasant surprise from what he'd intend.
"I'm not one for all of this," Silver agrees. "I'm a simple man--this is beyond me." He's not ashamed to admit it.
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There's no judgement in Benedict's voice. It's no different, he thinks, than him feeling out of place in Silver's world. He'd likely find it much harder to adapt, honestly, than the pirate is, because Silver is a man conditioned to adapt while Benedict is not.
Before they can continue the conversation, Anthony is arriving home and they're all being called in for dinner. The table is laid out marvelously and each place has a name with it, and Benedict wonders how many times his mother has switched seating assignments. He's equal parts glad and flustered to find that Silver has been seated beside him. Glad because he doesn't have to stare into Silver's eyes the entire night, but flustered to have Silver so close. It turns out he has a right to be flustered, because part way through, Silver's hand goes to his knee and rests there. But the dinner, as a whole, is as lovely as any. It's hard not to be caught up in the charm of both of their guests and their manners are quite lovely.
After Dinner, Gregory and Hyacinth are sent to bed, and everyone returns to the sitting room, as is usual for dinner parties. There are small drinks passed around and conversation eventually turns to Francesca playing something for them on the piano and that the Bridgerton sons are quite adept at singing. And since no young man can really deny their mother in front of company, Anthony and Benedict reluctantly have their sister accompany them while they sing a lively tune.
Afterwards, Benedict takes a sip of his drink.
"I think I'll excuse myself a moment for some air," he says, hoping perhaps that Silver will wish to accompany him so that they might be alone for a moment.
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He's thankful for the drinks afterward, although the glasses are far too small. He winds up drinking his in nearly one go and refuses to be repentant about it, though his need to say fuck it and leave is gone the moment the brothers sing. It's beautiful--so much so that Silver is genuinely taken aback. He finds himself smiling genuinely, and even Max is sincere when she compliments them.
It's at the need for air that Silver rises as well, reaching for his crutch. "I shall accompany you," he says simply. "Please--Max, I know you have some endeavors you were meaning to ask the Bridgerton family."
Max nods, and Silver follows the other, keeping at a surprisingy steady space. He speaks only when they're alone. "You want for nothing," he says at last, and there's the barest trace of bitterness in his voice. "And a beautiful singing voice? I should be lucky to know you."
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"I want for nothing only because I happened to be born to a viscount and through no feasible effort of my own," he says. He detects that touch of resentment. He can't entirely blame Silver. Benedict is alarmingly aware of his charmed life - even among society, the Bridgertons seem to be a notch about the rest. Making an acquaintance with Silver has really shown him just how fortunate he truly is. "But you flatter me about the singing."
He slips a cigarette between his lips and offers one to Silver.
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"At least you're aware of it," he muses, and wonders if perhaps he's coming across as too harsh. He doesn't mean to, it's just a completely different world--one he finds both entranced with and abhorred by at the same time.
Benedict, though, Benedict is a beacon. A soft, polite light who's aware of his privilege and, smoking that cigarette, looking positively ravishing.
"I suppose it's useful, one being able to have a skill one can drag out at gatherings." He's talking as he moves, making his way to a railing and sitting. The crutch is leaned next to him, and he grunts as he gets a little more comfortbale. "Damned entrancing."
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"It must seem so quaint to you, but properly entertaining guests is something we're taught to do from a young age. Truthfully, the duty falls to the woman of the house, but my mother always felt it important for her sons to be skilled in something beyond riding horses and shooting hares."
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"You were quite entertaining the other night."
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