action thread | maggie&morgan | the bunkroom
Maggie spent the entire day after her and Morgan's little encounter over cards studiously ignoring the minstrel. She tried to engineer it so their paths never crossed, and when they did, she looked through him as if he wasn't there. He noticed that she was acting extremely friendly towards the other sailors as well, laughing and joking with them as she worked.
It seemed she couldn't avoid him forever, though - when she pushed her way into the bunkroom that evening she saw him sitting on a barrel, grinning down at the gathered sailors as he tuned his lyre. It seemed they had implored him for an evening of music, a regular enough occurance on long voyages at sea. Maggie ground her teeth together and brushed past, muttering under her breath as she climbed into her hammock.
Morgan noted her arrival with a smile and a polite nod of his head, but nothing more. He plucked a few chords on his lyre to check its tuning, and nodded to himself. "Well, gents, what shall we have tonight? A chanty? A ballad? An aire?"
The men all spoke at once, some suggesting jigs and others odes, and ne'ry a one agreeing with the other. And so eventually Morgan simply began to strum on his lyre, making their decision for them, and one by one they fell into silence, and he began to sing, his high, clear voice cutting through the stale air of the bunkroom.
Morgan continued his song, with the men beginning to join in on the choruses:
Maggie grinned, turning over a bit in her hammock to look over at the group. "Another!" the men called out, banging on barrels and stomping the floor. "Let's have us another, lad!"
Morgan grinned, and launched into a rousing rendition of The Rakes of Mallow. An old sea-dog pulled out his worn concertina - this being one of the few tunes he knew on it, and some of the men began to stamp their feet, several joining in as this was a well-known tune. When that was done, the concertina player went on to play a couple of the other songs he knew, and the men listened contendedly, humming along, giving Morgan a break to rest his fingers and voice.
A few times during the song Maggie found her eyes straying to Morgan, enjoying the sight of him happily playing and singing, revelling in the men's obvious appreciation of his talent. When she caught herself staring she forced her gaze away, scowling at a knot in the wood just to the left of his face. She had to stick her fingers in her armpits to keep from clapping along. It was difficult work, being upset. Even harder than the work she was expected to do during the day, on deck.
If Morgan knew of Maggie's predicament, he didn't show it. After The Rakes, though, he stood, and as the men's attention drifted away from him he himself drifted towards the quieter part of the bunkroom where Maggie lay.
The girl quickly flopped onto her back again, jutting her chin towards the ceiling. Her eyes darted to the side quickly before she shut them tightly, pretending to be asleep.
The was a soft creak of the board as Morgan halted by the hammock. He watched her unmoving form for a few moments, resting his hands on the side. She could feel him draw closer to her as he bent over, his breath on her face. As usual, it smelled of apples. He leant right over her, his breath tickling her ear. Then he spoke softly:
"I know you're awake."
"I am not," she replied, fighting to keep a straight face.
"Oh no? For a sleeping lass you're remarkably coherent and communcative..."
"I'm special like that."
Morgan smiled. "How can I wake you up, then?"
"Who says I want to wake up?" she asked, cracking open an eye and peering up at him. "I was just having the most wonderful dream... one without meddling minstrels."
"Well, seeing as you're asleep I'm not sure you get much of a choice in the matter," Morgan reasoned, drawing back a little to look her in the... well, face.
"That's not very fair," she declared, shutting her eyes again. "Hmph." She lay there silently for nearly a minute, but as Morgan was infinitely more patient than she, it was she who broke first. "Fine," she sighed, opening her eyes again. "I'm awake."
"Amazing!" Morgan marvelled, smiling down at her.
"Mmhmm." Maggie pursed her lips, giving him a look. "What do you want?"
"Just to see your shining dark eyes," Morgan said innocently. "I felt sure I could not sleep before I got to stare into them." He smirked.
The girl snorted most ungracefully. "Oh please. If you start feeding me that tripe I'm liable to be sick, and there's no bucket handy."
"Well, I didn't see much sickness on the part of the men you've been feeding such lines to all day today," Morgan commented.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Maggie said, sitting up. "If you're referring to me and my friends, I don't see why they would be sick in my presence. They seem to enjoy it, actually."
"And you do not like to be addressed in such a way yourself?" Morgan tutted. "It seems you have something of a double standard going, Princess."
"I don't like it when it's insincere, no. Nor would any self-respecting woman."
"Well, how about some sincerity then?" Morgan said more soberly. "You do have beautiful eyes. And I'm sorry that I was... ungentlemanly... last night. And having been ungentlemanly, I'm sorry that I then, uh, withdrew."
"Hmph." She stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to figure out whether he truly meant his words.
Morgan then pursed his lips, running her words over again in his head. "Wait... insincere? Are you implying that your attentions to every young man on the crew today were sincere?"
"What does it matter? It's not like I said anything that should bother the likes of you." A slow smile grew on her lips. "And you wouldn't know any better unless you were listening in... were you?"
Morgan's mouth flattened into a line. "I just don't like double standards, that's all."
"You were listening!" Maggie declared, grinning.
"I don't need to listen when I can see a stroked arm or a false laugh from across the deck," Morgan spat.
"How I conduct myself isn't a concern of yours," the girl said primly, swinging her legs over the side of her hammock. "I was hurt, and they were consoling me."
"Hurt?" Morgan raised his eyebrows. "How so?"
"In case you forgot, you only just now apologized."
"And perhaps if you'd stop fuming for two seconds together you'd tell me how I can make it up to you," Morgan snapped.
"Why should I?" Maggie asked matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I don't know," said Morgan breezily, starting to think this hadn't been a sensible route after all. "The spirit of good-will and second attempts? Peace of mind?" He paused. "Just because you like me?"
"And who says I do at that? I've been known to kiss people I despise. Liquor does crazy things to a girl's head." She swung her legs back and forth contemplatively. "Fine. For the spirit of good-will, whatever that is."
Morgan smiled, flashing those even white teeth that ought not to belong on a sailor. "Well then. What will you have me do?"
"Hmm!" Maggie said, suddenly cheerful again. "That's a good question..."
Morgan folded his arms, arching one eyebrow. "Good God, what have I let myself in for? I was just going to suggest a quiet walk on deck."
"I could do that anytime, with anyone! No, this ought to be special." Her eyes sparkled merrily as she leaned back in the hammock.
"Well, then," Morgan said. "I will do anything that won't either wrench my back or get me thrown off the ship. Within those contraints, you may run free..."
"Oh, you're no fun," Maggie said, grinning. "Fine, fine. You can start by writing a song about me."
Morgan grinned, "Why, that's easy," he said. "I shall do it now!"
He grabbed his lyre from the floor by his feet, and went back over to the assembled men, taking back his spot on the barrel.
"An aire, lads, but bear with me, there may be gaps..." he began to pluck a few simple broken chords.
Eagerly Maggie awaited the song, swinging her feet back and forth in anticipation. When Morgan broke into song, he wove those broken chords around a simple, sweet melody:
This time the girl let her smile show, batting her eyes at the sailors. At the closing verse she raised her fist in the air and waved it menacingly in their direction, a grin on her face.
Morgan again drifted away from the fray to Maggie's side. "So that was the start, then," he said. "I hope it met with your approval."
"I suppose it'll do," she said, beaming at him. "For a start."
"Well, what must I do next?" Morgan asked, raising one eyebrow in a characteristic expression of expectancy.
"Hmm..." Maggie tapped a finger to her lips. "I know. Brush my hair!"
Morgan looked incredulous. "Brush your hair?" he reapeated. Then he shrugged. "Very well, produce a brush..." he said.
"Oh, I will." She grinned at him and rummaged in the dingy collection of rags that served as a pillow. "Ta-da!" Maggie announced, pulling out a gap-toothed comb. "This will have to do."
Morgan tutted and shook his head at the comb. He disappeared to the other end of the cabin for a moment, coming back with a worn but perfectly servicable hair brush.
"You'd better not have lice..." he warned. "Now, either you need to turn around, or I must sit behind you."
"I don't have lice!" Maggie gasped, swatting at him. "How dare you. Just for that, you'll have to sit behind me."
"Oh, the torture," Morgan said dryly. He swung one leg carefully around behind Maggie, maneuvering himself to sit at her back in the hammock, his legs either side of her. It swayed dangerously for a moment, then they regained their balance. They heard a couple of chuckles coming from the men assembled in the more open area of the bunkroom, but knew no one was likely to care to investigate.
Morgan ran his fingers through Maggie's hair, loosening the larger knots in it, and smoothing it.
"Mm," she said, enjoying the feel of his warmth all around her. "It's so hard to keep it nice when you're at sea. The wind gets at it no matter how tight you braid it. Maybe I should just chop it off. Hey - now there's an idea! Do you have a knife?" she asked, twisting around to look at Morgan. "We could do that instead."
Morgan wrapped his fingers around Maggie's hair protectively, frowning. "No!" he protested. "Alajas already went and chopped all her hair off, I'm not having you go the same way." His face softened. "You have lovely hair. We'll find a way to keep it nice."
"Oh, fine," she said, smiling a bit before turning forwards again. "It's nothing but a nuisance, though. Maybe if I had a bigger scarf... but then, we're not likely to get one of those any time soon." She sighed, tilting her head back. "Oh well. Do what you will to it."
He began to brush Maggie's hair gently, starting with the tangled ends, working slowly up towards the roots, pulling at it as little as possible.
The girl occasionally protested if he pulled too hard, jostling him lightly in the ribs with her elbows. Mostly she stayed still, though, feeling shivers run from her head all the way down to her bare toes.
Seemingly finished brushing, Morgan leant forwards, reaching around in front of Maggie to take the battered comb from her. He involuntarily sucked in his breath as his front came into contact with the full length of her back.
A moment later, though, he'd pulled back, and was scraping Maggie's hair into a tight, neat French Braid all the way down the back of her head.
Maggie turned around to look at Morgan curiously the moment he was done, one hand straying to her hair. "Thanks..." she said, raising an eyebrow almost expectantly at him.
"You're welcome?" he answered doubtfully, not sure what he was supposed to say next, what with Maggie's curious expression.
Maggie reached over and plucked the comb from his hand, reaching up to run it through the wispy hair over his forehead. "Too bad your hair isn't long enough to braid..."
Morgan reached a hand to the back of his neck, running it through the hair there. "It was long enough once, but it was too thick to stay well in a braid anyway."
"Unruly, eh? I never would've guessed it," Maggie said with a smirk. "Oh well. It's nice enough the way it is now."
Morgan shrugged, dropping his hands so that they both now rested at Maggie's hips. "I can't say I think too much about it. I keep it above my shoulders and hope it doesn't get in my way." He shook his head vigorously and his dark hair fell across his forhead, almost obscuring his eyes. He grinned from beneath this new shaggy fringe.
"It makes you look mysterious," she remarked with a grin, leaning in. "Who knows what dark secrets lurk in those eyes..." Maggie bit her lip, sidling until she was sitting sideways in the hammock, her legs bumping companionably against Morgan's. "Or it just makes you look like a vagrant."
Morgan smiled and pushed his hair back away from his eyes. He shifted his weight so that his own long legs no longer hung over the side of the hammock. It pitched slightly to one side at this new shift of weight, but steadied again in a moment. "You suddenly look very respectable with your hair up like that," Morgan commented.
"Like a princess ought to look?" Maggie inquired, straightening her shoulders.
Morgan shifted again to face Maggie, and examined her face for a moment. "Not quite," he said, and reached out a hand, placing his thumb at Maggie's lips.
Maggie's eyes widened, though in shock or outrage it was hard to tell. "And why not?" she asked, her lips brushing his thumb.
At that, Morgan pushed his thumb gently between her lips, moistening it. Then he brought it to her nose, wiping off the ever-present smudge there, and drying it with the back of his hand.
"Now you look like a princess," he said.
Her lips quirked into a grudging smile and she fluttered her eyelashes at Morgan. It was a movement she had practiced many a time, though in truth it made her look like she was about to faint. "Very well. Thank you, my loyal subject. Perhaps I shall name you the royal nose-wiper for your gallant deeds."
Morgan smirked at the eyelash move. "I'd be honoured, m'lady." Then he grinned. "Have I paid my due, then?"
"Just about..."
Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Just about? What have I missed?"
"I want another kiss," Maggie stated. "And this time, I decide when it ends."
The lad smiled. "Very well," he answered, in a tone of mock resignation. "I suppose that can be done." He pushed himself up so that he was looking down at Maggie, and lowered his mouth to hers.
She was ready this time, closing her eyes and leaning into the kiss. Her tongue sought his as her cheeks quickly became flushed and warm.
Morgan felt his heart quicken slightly in his chest, and he brought his free hand up to cup Maggie's jaw. He shifted, trying to prevent himself from becoming uncomfortable what with his damned injured back.
"Mm." Maggie wriggled a bit, leaning back in the hammock and tugging on Morgan's shirtfront to pull him with her. She barely broke the kiss as she did so, though she did open her eyes to take in his expression.
Morgan looked cheerful, if slightly bemused, and his smooth cheeks had taken on a slightly flushed hue to match Maggie's. His eyes were open as he slid down carefully with Maggie, bracing himself with one arm to keep the side of the hammock from contacting with his back. Satisfied that this was not going to happen, the young man eyelids fluttered shut as he renewed the force of their kisses.
Maggie grinned and returned the embrace, sliding her arms around his slim waist. She was careful not to let her hands stray too high, keeping them low on his waist. The kisses were even more exhilarating than she remembered, though to be fair she didn't remember the prior night completely clearly. Still, her pulse quickened, racing in her veins as she savored each passionate kiss.
Morgan's own free hand roamed up and down Maggie's side, sometimes cupping her face, or stroking her neck, sometimes finding her shapely hip. His long fingers kneeded and stroked wherever they found themselves. His soft lips didn't leave Maggie's.
Several minutes later she pulled back rather reluctantly, her hands still clasped possesively about his hips. "All right. That's enough."
Morgan himself pulled back also, leaning onto his elbow. He raised an eyebrow. "You credit me with a good deal of self-control."
"You seemed to have enough for both of us last night." Maggie remarked. She curled her fingers, lightly stroking his lower back.
A shiver ran down Morgan's spine and a tiny moan escaped his mouth at the sensation. "Last night I didn't... I wasn't sure how drunk you were," he said finally.
"I'm not drunk tonight."
"...which is why I'm still here," Morgan pointed out.
"Mm, I know." She grinned up at him, wiggling a little in the hammock.
Morgan's hand tightened on her hip as she wriggled. "Don't do that," he said, grinning.
"Don't do what?" Maggie asked innocently, raising her hips slightly. "Hmm?"
Morgan gasped at this. "That, don't..." he dipped his head to the crook her neck - just resting it there.
Maggie grinned and raised a hand, placing it on the back of his neck. "All right, I'm sorry. I won't, tonight at least." She began to lightly carress the nape of Morgan's neck, breathing in the scent of him.
Morgan sighed, relaxing again, his hand un-tensing. "You're really quite provocative, you know," he said. "It must have gotten you in trouble in the past..."
"Nothing I couldn't get out of eventually," Maggie replied. "Sometimes it's as much help getting me out of trouble as in it."
"Mmph," Morgan replied, profoundly, nuzzling under Maggie's chin.
She giggled and bit her lip. "It's very hard not to squrim when you do that," she informed him.
Morgan grinned, though she couldn't see it. "What about when I do this?" he asked, unable to help himself, and he nibbled lightly on her collarbone.
"Oh, stop!" Maggie gasped, arching her back as a tingle ran down her spine. "That's even worse and you know it!"
"Stop what?" Morgan said, voice somewhat muffled still. "Stop being provocative? Oh, no, I think perhaps it's time you had a taste of your own medicine..." he began to kiss her throat, his hand sliding from her hip round to the small of her back as she arched it.
"Morgan, stop!" the girl said, writhing underneath him. "I mean it... this instant..." She swallowed, balling her hand into a fist as she tilted her head back. "Oh, please..."
Morgan immediately drew back, suddenly looking a little hunted. It was obvious from their point of view what was going on, but... "Sssh..." he said. "The men over there will think I'm forcing myself upon you..."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Maggie said, blinking up at him. "Maybe... maybe you ought to go."
Morgan swallowed and slid his hand from around Maggie's waist. "You're almost certainly right," he said. Although he didn't move just yet.
"I hate it when I'm right," she muttered, stroking his neck one last time before withdrawing her hand.
"Well, I shouldn't think you get too used to it," Morgan quipped, grinning a bit as he disentangled himself.
"And perhaps you shouldn't get too used to this," she retorted, making a face at him. "You've a smart mouth, angel. Luckily you've found other uses for it."
"You have no idea..." Morgan murmured, a wicked expression on his face as he slid gingerly out of the hammock.
Maggie laughed and stretched out, wobbling a little before settling down once more in the hammock. "I'm sure I don't."
Morgan met Maggie's eyes with a curious... almost wistful? expression on his face. "Well, this, then, must be our goodnight."
"Indeedit must. I'd say you fulfilled your tasks admirably - I'm not so mad at you anymore."
"You mean you're still a little bit mad?"
"Well you did do the whole... kissy neck thing," Maggie said, fluttering her hands descriptively. "That wasn't fair."
"That won't do. What do I do to make you not angry with me at all, then?" Morgan said, looking amused.
"Sing my song next time we're in port," she said decisively. "In a tavern. I want to be known."
"And so you shall." Morgan bowed deeply, and with one last wink, took his leave.
With a smile and a sigh Maggie curled up in her hammock, wrapping her arms around herself. They weren't nearly as comforting as Morgan's, but the memory of his kisses did much to keep her warm as she drifted off to sleep.
It seemed she couldn't avoid him forever, though - when she pushed her way into the bunkroom that evening she saw him sitting on a barrel, grinning down at the gathered sailors as he tuned his lyre. It seemed they had implored him for an evening of music, a regular enough occurance on long voyages at sea. Maggie ground her teeth together and brushed past, muttering under her breath as she climbed into her hammock.
Morgan noted her arrival with a smile and a polite nod of his head, but nothing more. He plucked a few chords on his lyre to check its tuning, and nodded to himself. "Well, gents, what shall we have tonight? A chanty? A ballad? An aire?"
The men all spoke at once, some suggesting jigs and others odes, and ne'ry a one agreeing with the other. And so eventually Morgan simply began to strum on his lyre, making their decision for them, and one by one they fell into silence, and he began to sing, his high, clear voice cutting through the stale air of the bunkroom.
On yonder hill there stands a creature,"Bloody idiot, stupid song anyway," Maggie grumbled, curling up in her hammock. She considered putting her fingers in her ears but decided against it - she didn't want anybody else to know how she felt about Morgan. As the song went on, she found herself listening almost fondly, closing her eyes and leaning her head back. Just because she was upset with his behavior didn't mean she couldn't enjoy his music... right?
Who she is I do not know
I will court her for her beauty,
She must answer yes or no
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!
On her bosom are bunches of posies,
On her breast where flowers grow
If I should chance to touch that posy,
She must answer yes or no
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!
Madam I am come for to court you,
If your favor I can gain
If you will but entertain me,
Perhaps then I might come again
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!
Morgan continued his song, with the men beginning to join in on the choruses:
My husband was a Spanish captain,As he finished, a scattered applause rang out, and Morgan bowed his head, grinning.
Went to sea a month ago
The very last time we kissed and parted,
Bid me always answer no.
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!
Madam in your face is beauty,
In your bosom flowers grow
In your bedroom there is pleasure,
Shall I view it, yes or no
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!
Madam shall I tie your garter,
Tie it a little above your knee
If my hand should slip a little farther,
Would you think it amiss of me
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!
My love and I went to bed together,
There we lay till cocks did crow;
Unclose your arms my dearest jewel,
Unclose your arms and let me go
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!
Maggie grinned, turning over a bit in her hammock to look over at the group. "Another!" the men called out, banging on barrels and stomping the floor. "Let's have us another, lad!"
Morgan grinned, and launched into a rousing rendition of The Rakes of Mallow. An old sea-dog pulled out his worn concertina - this being one of the few tunes he knew on it, and some of the men began to stamp their feet, several joining in as this was a well-known tune. When that was done, the concertina player went on to play a couple of the other songs he knew, and the men listened contendedly, humming along, giving Morgan a break to rest his fingers and voice.
A few times during the song Maggie found her eyes straying to Morgan, enjoying the sight of him happily playing and singing, revelling in the men's obvious appreciation of his talent. When she caught herself staring she forced her gaze away, scowling at a knot in the wood just to the left of his face. She had to stick her fingers in her armpits to keep from clapping along. It was difficult work, being upset. Even harder than the work she was expected to do during the day, on deck.
If Morgan knew of Maggie's predicament, he didn't show it. After The Rakes, though, he stood, and as the men's attention drifted away from him he himself drifted towards the quieter part of the bunkroom where Maggie lay.
The girl quickly flopped onto her back again, jutting her chin towards the ceiling. Her eyes darted to the side quickly before she shut them tightly, pretending to be asleep.
The was a soft creak of the board as Morgan halted by the hammock. He watched her unmoving form for a few moments, resting his hands on the side. She could feel him draw closer to her as he bent over, his breath on her face. As usual, it smelled of apples. He leant right over her, his breath tickling her ear. Then he spoke softly:
"I know you're awake."
"I am not," she replied, fighting to keep a straight face.
"Oh no? For a sleeping lass you're remarkably coherent and communcative..."
"I'm special like that."
Morgan smiled. "How can I wake you up, then?"
"Who says I want to wake up?" she asked, cracking open an eye and peering up at him. "I was just having the most wonderful dream... one without meddling minstrels."
"Well, seeing as you're asleep I'm not sure you get much of a choice in the matter," Morgan reasoned, drawing back a little to look her in the... well, face.
"That's not very fair," she declared, shutting her eyes again. "Hmph." She lay there silently for nearly a minute, but as Morgan was infinitely more patient than she, it was she who broke first. "Fine," she sighed, opening her eyes again. "I'm awake."
"Amazing!" Morgan marvelled, smiling down at her.
"Mmhmm." Maggie pursed her lips, giving him a look. "What do you want?"
"Just to see your shining dark eyes," Morgan said innocently. "I felt sure I could not sleep before I got to stare into them." He smirked.
The girl snorted most ungracefully. "Oh please. If you start feeding me that tripe I'm liable to be sick, and there's no bucket handy."
"Well, I didn't see much sickness on the part of the men you've been feeding such lines to all day today," Morgan commented.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Maggie said, sitting up. "If you're referring to me and my friends, I don't see why they would be sick in my presence. They seem to enjoy it, actually."
"And you do not like to be addressed in such a way yourself?" Morgan tutted. "It seems you have something of a double standard going, Princess."
"I don't like it when it's insincere, no. Nor would any self-respecting woman."
"Well, how about some sincerity then?" Morgan said more soberly. "You do have beautiful eyes. And I'm sorry that I was... ungentlemanly... last night. And having been ungentlemanly, I'm sorry that I then, uh, withdrew."
"Hmph." She stared at him for a moment, obviously trying to figure out whether he truly meant his words.
Morgan then pursed his lips, running her words over again in his head. "Wait... insincere? Are you implying that your attentions to every young man on the crew today were sincere?"
"What does it matter? It's not like I said anything that should bother the likes of you." A slow smile grew on her lips. "And you wouldn't know any better unless you were listening in... were you?"
Morgan's mouth flattened into a line. "I just don't like double standards, that's all."
"You were listening!" Maggie declared, grinning.
"I don't need to listen when I can see a stroked arm or a false laugh from across the deck," Morgan spat.
"How I conduct myself isn't a concern of yours," the girl said primly, swinging her legs over the side of her hammock. "I was hurt, and they were consoling me."
"Hurt?" Morgan raised his eyebrows. "How so?"
"In case you forgot, you only just now apologized."
"And perhaps if you'd stop fuming for two seconds together you'd tell me how I can make it up to you," Morgan snapped.
"Why should I?" Maggie asked matter-of-factly.
"Oh, I don't know," said Morgan breezily, starting to think this hadn't been a sensible route after all. "The spirit of good-will and second attempts? Peace of mind?" He paused. "Just because you like me?"
"And who says I do at that? I've been known to kiss people I despise. Liquor does crazy things to a girl's head." She swung her legs back and forth contemplatively. "Fine. For the spirit of good-will, whatever that is."
Morgan smiled, flashing those even white teeth that ought not to belong on a sailor. "Well then. What will you have me do?"
"Hmm!" Maggie said, suddenly cheerful again. "That's a good question..."
Morgan folded his arms, arching one eyebrow. "Good God, what have I let myself in for? I was just going to suggest a quiet walk on deck."
"I could do that anytime, with anyone! No, this ought to be special." Her eyes sparkled merrily as she leaned back in the hammock.
"Well, then," Morgan said. "I will do anything that won't either wrench my back or get me thrown off the ship. Within those contraints, you may run free..."
"Oh, you're no fun," Maggie said, grinning. "Fine, fine. You can start by writing a song about me."
Morgan grinned, "Why, that's easy," he said. "I shall do it now!"
He grabbed his lyre from the floor by his feet, and went back over to the assembled men, taking back his spot on the barrel.
"An aire, lads, but bear with me, there may be gaps..." he began to pluck a few simple broken chords.
Eagerly Maggie awaited the song, swinging her feet back and forth in anticipation. When Morgan broke into song, he wove those broken chords around a simple, sweet melody:
There was a lassie I did meetThe other sailors grinned, casting the odd glance over to where Maggie sat, legs swinging.
Upon a Summer's day
Maggie was the lassie's name
My hairt she stole away
Dark brown eyes did Maggie have
And lips red like the rose
Dark brown hair to match her eyes
And soot smudged on her nose
A sailor followed at her heels
A'swearing he was true
But Oh! he'd loo'd anither lass
And she knew what to do-
Dark-eyed Maggie didnae sigh
And dark-haired Maggie didnae cry
Dark-nosed Maggie gave a whoop
And skelped him in the eye - did she -
She skelped him in the eye!
This time the girl let her smile show, batting her eyes at the sailors. At the closing verse she raised her fist in the air and waved it menacingly in their direction, a grin on her face.
Morgan again drifted away from the fray to Maggie's side. "So that was the start, then," he said. "I hope it met with your approval."
"I suppose it'll do," she said, beaming at him. "For a start."
"Well, what must I do next?" Morgan asked, raising one eyebrow in a characteristic expression of expectancy.
"Hmm..." Maggie tapped a finger to her lips. "I know. Brush my hair!"
Morgan looked incredulous. "Brush your hair?" he reapeated. Then he shrugged. "Very well, produce a brush..." he said.
"Oh, I will." She grinned at him and rummaged in the dingy collection of rags that served as a pillow. "Ta-da!" Maggie announced, pulling out a gap-toothed comb. "This will have to do."
Morgan tutted and shook his head at the comb. He disappeared to the other end of the cabin for a moment, coming back with a worn but perfectly servicable hair brush.
"You'd better not have lice..." he warned. "Now, either you need to turn around, or I must sit behind you."
"I don't have lice!" Maggie gasped, swatting at him. "How dare you. Just for that, you'll have to sit behind me."
"Oh, the torture," Morgan said dryly. He swung one leg carefully around behind Maggie, maneuvering himself to sit at her back in the hammock, his legs either side of her. It swayed dangerously for a moment, then they regained their balance. They heard a couple of chuckles coming from the men assembled in the more open area of the bunkroom, but knew no one was likely to care to investigate.
Morgan ran his fingers through Maggie's hair, loosening the larger knots in it, and smoothing it.
"Mm," she said, enjoying the feel of his warmth all around her. "It's so hard to keep it nice when you're at sea. The wind gets at it no matter how tight you braid it. Maybe I should just chop it off. Hey - now there's an idea! Do you have a knife?" she asked, twisting around to look at Morgan. "We could do that instead."
Morgan wrapped his fingers around Maggie's hair protectively, frowning. "No!" he protested. "Alajas already went and chopped all her hair off, I'm not having you go the same way." His face softened. "You have lovely hair. We'll find a way to keep it nice."
"Oh, fine," she said, smiling a bit before turning forwards again. "It's nothing but a nuisance, though. Maybe if I had a bigger scarf... but then, we're not likely to get one of those any time soon." She sighed, tilting her head back. "Oh well. Do what you will to it."
He began to brush Maggie's hair gently, starting with the tangled ends, working slowly up towards the roots, pulling at it as little as possible.
The girl occasionally protested if he pulled too hard, jostling him lightly in the ribs with her elbows. Mostly she stayed still, though, feeling shivers run from her head all the way down to her bare toes.
Seemingly finished brushing, Morgan leant forwards, reaching around in front of Maggie to take the battered comb from her. He involuntarily sucked in his breath as his front came into contact with the full length of her back.
A moment later, though, he'd pulled back, and was scraping Maggie's hair into a tight, neat French Braid all the way down the back of her head.
Maggie turned around to look at Morgan curiously the moment he was done, one hand straying to her hair. "Thanks..." she said, raising an eyebrow almost expectantly at him.
"You're welcome?" he answered doubtfully, not sure what he was supposed to say next, what with Maggie's curious expression.
Maggie reached over and plucked the comb from his hand, reaching up to run it through the wispy hair over his forehead. "Too bad your hair isn't long enough to braid..."
Morgan reached a hand to the back of his neck, running it through the hair there. "It was long enough once, but it was too thick to stay well in a braid anyway."
"Unruly, eh? I never would've guessed it," Maggie said with a smirk. "Oh well. It's nice enough the way it is now."
Morgan shrugged, dropping his hands so that they both now rested at Maggie's hips. "I can't say I think too much about it. I keep it above my shoulders and hope it doesn't get in my way." He shook his head vigorously and his dark hair fell across his forhead, almost obscuring his eyes. He grinned from beneath this new shaggy fringe.
"It makes you look mysterious," she remarked with a grin, leaning in. "Who knows what dark secrets lurk in those eyes..." Maggie bit her lip, sidling until she was sitting sideways in the hammock, her legs bumping companionably against Morgan's. "Or it just makes you look like a vagrant."
Morgan smiled and pushed his hair back away from his eyes. He shifted his weight so that his own long legs no longer hung over the side of the hammock. It pitched slightly to one side at this new shift of weight, but steadied again in a moment. "You suddenly look very respectable with your hair up like that," Morgan commented.
"Like a princess ought to look?" Maggie inquired, straightening her shoulders.
Morgan shifted again to face Maggie, and examined her face for a moment. "Not quite," he said, and reached out a hand, placing his thumb at Maggie's lips.
Maggie's eyes widened, though in shock or outrage it was hard to tell. "And why not?" she asked, her lips brushing his thumb.
At that, Morgan pushed his thumb gently between her lips, moistening it. Then he brought it to her nose, wiping off the ever-present smudge there, and drying it with the back of his hand.
"Now you look like a princess," he said.
Her lips quirked into a grudging smile and she fluttered her eyelashes at Morgan. It was a movement she had practiced many a time, though in truth it made her look like she was about to faint. "Very well. Thank you, my loyal subject. Perhaps I shall name you the royal nose-wiper for your gallant deeds."
Morgan smirked at the eyelash move. "I'd be honoured, m'lady." Then he grinned. "Have I paid my due, then?"
"Just about..."
Morgan raised his eyebrows. "Just about? What have I missed?"
"I want another kiss," Maggie stated. "And this time, I decide when it ends."
The lad smiled. "Very well," he answered, in a tone of mock resignation. "I suppose that can be done." He pushed himself up so that he was looking down at Maggie, and lowered his mouth to hers.
She was ready this time, closing her eyes and leaning into the kiss. Her tongue sought his as her cheeks quickly became flushed and warm.
Morgan felt his heart quicken slightly in his chest, and he brought his free hand up to cup Maggie's jaw. He shifted, trying to prevent himself from becoming uncomfortable what with his damned injured back.
"Mm." Maggie wriggled a bit, leaning back in the hammock and tugging on Morgan's shirtfront to pull him with her. She barely broke the kiss as she did so, though she did open her eyes to take in his expression.
Morgan looked cheerful, if slightly bemused, and his smooth cheeks had taken on a slightly flushed hue to match Maggie's. His eyes were open as he slid down carefully with Maggie, bracing himself with one arm to keep the side of the hammock from contacting with his back. Satisfied that this was not going to happen, the young man eyelids fluttered shut as he renewed the force of their kisses.
Maggie grinned and returned the embrace, sliding her arms around his slim waist. She was careful not to let her hands stray too high, keeping them low on his waist. The kisses were even more exhilarating than she remembered, though to be fair she didn't remember the prior night completely clearly. Still, her pulse quickened, racing in her veins as she savored each passionate kiss.
Morgan's own free hand roamed up and down Maggie's side, sometimes cupping her face, or stroking her neck, sometimes finding her shapely hip. His long fingers kneeded and stroked wherever they found themselves. His soft lips didn't leave Maggie's.
Several minutes later she pulled back rather reluctantly, her hands still clasped possesively about his hips. "All right. That's enough."
Morgan himself pulled back also, leaning onto his elbow. He raised an eyebrow. "You credit me with a good deal of self-control."
"You seemed to have enough for both of us last night." Maggie remarked. She curled her fingers, lightly stroking his lower back.
A shiver ran down Morgan's spine and a tiny moan escaped his mouth at the sensation. "Last night I didn't... I wasn't sure how drunk you were," he said finally.
"I'm not drunk tonight."
"...which is why I'm still here," Morgan pointed out.
"Mm, I know." She grinned up at him, wiggling a little in the hammock.
Morgan's hand tightened on her hip as she wriggled. "Don't do that," he said, grinning.
"Don't do what?" Maggie asked innocently, raising her hips slightly. "Hmm?"
Morgan gasped at this. "That, don't..." he dipped his head to the crook her neck - just resting it there.
Maggie grinned and raised a hand, placing it on the back of his neck. "All right, I'm sorry. I won't, tonight at least." She began to lightly carress the nape of Morgan's neck, breathing in the scent of him.
Morgan sighed, relaxing again, his hand un-tensing. "You're really quite provocative, you know," he said. "It must have gotten you in trouble in the past..."
"Nothing I couldn't get out of eventually," Maggie replied. "Sometimes it's as much help getting me out of trouble as in it."
"Mmph," Morgan replied, profoundly, nuzzling under Maggie's chin.
She giggled and bit her lip. "It's very hard not to squrim when you do that," she informed him.
Morgan grinned, though she couldn't see it. "What about when I do this?" he asked, unable to help himself, and he nibbled lightly on her collarbone.
"Oh, stop!" Maggie gasped, arching her back as a tingle ran down her spine. "That's even worse and you know it!"
"Stop what?" Morgan said, voice somewhat muffled still. "Stop being provocative? Oh, no, I think perhaps it's time you had a taste of your own medicine..." he began to kiss her throat, his hand sliding from her hip round to the small of her back as she arched it.
"Morgan, stop!" the girl said, writhing underneath him. "I mean it... this instant..." She swallowed, balling her hand into a fist as she tilted her head back. "Oh, please..."
Morgan immediately drew back, suddenly looking a little hunted. It was obvious from their point of view what was going on, but... "Sssh..." he said. "The men over there will think I'm forcing myself upon you..."
"Oh. I'm sorry," Maggie said, blinking up at him. "Maybe... maybe you ought to go."
Morgan swallowed and slid his hand from around Maggie's waist. "You're almost certainly right," he said. Although he didn't move just yet.
"I hate it when I'm right," she muttered, stroking his neck one last time before withdrawing her hand.
"Well, I shouldn't think you get too used to it," Morgan quipped, grinning a bit as he disentangled himself.
"And perhaps you shouldn't get too used to this," she retorted, making a face at him. "You've a smart mouth, angel. Luckily you've found other uses for it."
"You have no idea..." Morgan murmured, a wicked expression on his face as he slid gingerly out of the hammock.
Maggie laughed and stretched out, wobbling a little before settling down once more in the hammock. "I'm sure I don't."
Morgan met Maggie's eyes with a curious... almost wistful? expression on his face. "Well, this, then, must be our goodnight."
"Indeedit must. I'd say you fulfilled your tasks admirably - I'm not so mad at you anymore."
"You mean you're still a little bit mad?"
"Well you did do the whole... kissy neck thing," Maggie said, fluttering her hands descriptively. "That wasn't fair."
"That won't do. What do I do to make you not angry with me at all, then?" Morgan said, looking amused.
"Sing my song next time we're in port," she said decisively. "In a tavern. I want to be known."
"And so you shall." Morgan bowed deeply, and with one last wink, took his leave.
With a smile and a sigh Maggie curled up in her hammock, wrapping her arms around herself. They weren't nearly as comforting as Morgan's, but the memory of his kisses did much to keep her warm as she drifted off to sleep.