5 Times Jeremy's Friends Called Him Out - Chapter 1

One
The large coffee stain spreading across the front of his formerly pristine jacket reminded Jeremy Wilson that the world was actively trying to kill him, almost always. He took a sharp breath, in his nose and out his mouth, as he set down his mug and began to remove the outer layer of his uniform. The Defense Fleet jackets were rugged enough, capable of standing up to endless exposure to wind and salt, but what Jeremy just couldn’t fathom is why they had to be such a hard color to keep clean. Practically anything except water would stain the damned garments, and the amount of blood and gunpowder he’d painstakingly scrubbed out of his uniforms made him want to file a complaint with the admiralty. A direct, loudly delivered complaint. Maybe with a sword.
He hung the tarnished jacket over the back of his desk chair, leaning on it for a moment as he composed himself. This was a minor incident at the end of a tough week, and he was letting it get to him far too much. He hadn’t been this upset when they lost a mark on Tuesday, nor when a storm forced them to spend an extra day at sea with low rations. Surely spilling a cup of coffee shouldn’t, couldn’t make him this genuinely distressed. He forced his white-knuckle grip on the chair to soften under the onslaught of rational thought. The jacket could be laundered or replaced, it wasn’t a problem. One more deep breath in, out.
“Hey, Captain? You in there, J?” an unmistakably informal voice called through his door. Jeremy looked up to invite Sessley in, but she had already pushed the door open and was leaning her upper body through the frame. Jeremy sighed. When had his subordinates decided they could just barge into his quarters? Or, more accurately, when had Sessley specifically assessed that she was acquainted with him to the point where she could practically invite herself in?
“Can I help you, Officer Graham?”
“We’re off duty, Jeremy.”
“Can I help you, Miss Graham?”
Sessley rolled her eyes, though her face remained split by a smile. “Well, now that you mention it, Mister Wilson, I was hoping I could talk to you about- what’s wrong with your jacket?” Her tone changed abruptly and Jeremy looked down in confusion, momentarily forgetting that his jacket was notably absent from his torso.
“My jacket? Ah, I had a bit of a… a bit of an accident. With some coffee.” He shrugged, trying not to appear embarrassed. Truthfully, he hated when his spatial awareness failed him (and it so rarely did), but he couldn’t help but be slightly relieved that this time it had resulted in a coffee stain rather than a bloodstain. He needn’t have worried about Sessley pointing that out, though -- she had a bit more tact than some others he could mention.
Still, she gasped in fake shock. “What? Captain Wilson without his morning coffee? What a dreadful prospect!” She moved forward to grab his elbow, tugging him out of his quarters. “Come, let’s fix that before your grouchiness starts affecting crew morale.”
Jeremy let himself be dragged, as he figured he had little choice in the matter. “I’m not grouchy, Sess,” he protested.
“‘I’m not grouchy,’ he says. Like, you know, a grouch,” mocked Sessley as she linked their arms and continued her march abovedecks. “Just let me buy you a coffee, sir. My treat for getting us a nice long shore leave.”
“Hm. You had something you wanted to talk to me about, right?”
Sessley’s countenance turned ever so slightly serious, and Jeremy’s stomach did something interesting where it momentarily decided it had a penchant for acrobatics. He’d stare death in the eyes before he faced the full brunt of an angry Sessley Graham -- they’d practically be the same thing, after all, and at least Death would likely go easy on him.
“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about something. But let’s get that coffee first. Every conversation is better with a full stomach!” Her usual friendliness returned, and Jeremy finally remembered how to unclench his jaw.
The walk to the coffee house was short and uneventful. Sessley continued to stroll arm-in-arm, as was her peculiar habit with the crewmembers she favored. Jeremy didn’t mind it- he wasn’t averse to being touched as much as others seemed to think- and took the casual affection as a sign that his shipmaster wasn’t angry at him like he feared. The shop they ended up at was one of those avant-garde places that served only coffee, tea, and breads. Jeremy found them a bit ridiculous, but he couldn’t argue that their coffee was leaps and bounds better than the tar-like sludge he brewed on the Hopewell.
Sessley placed their orders with breezy efficiency, threw some coins on the counter, and sat herself and her captain (or, in this case, captive) down at a corner table.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Jeremy,” she said, “and this isn’t coming from me as your shipmaster or your crewmember. It’s from me as a friend. You’re treating Quinn like shit, and you’ve got to cut it out.”
The wind blustered out of Jeremy’s sails as Sessley spoke. He knew she was brash, even while they were both on-duty, but hearing such a… scolding as this was something way out of his expertise. She forged ahead, either unaware or uncaring of his discomfort.
“He’s been appointed for a month now- a whole month at sea, J- and you’ve hardly let him off his leash. If anything, you’re making him act more rash than he would if you just let him do his job! I know he’s young, but hell, you’re younger than me and Margot and Isaac and we don’t let that change how we see you.”
“It’s not his age that’s the problem,” Jeremy muttered automatically, still shaken.
“Oh, so it isn’t? Enlighten me then, sir. Why don’t you let the boy do what he was sent here to do.”
“You think of him as a boy, then?”
The silence that fell over their little table was telling in its length. It was only disturbed by a server approaching and setting large cups of rich, dark coffee before both Jeremy and Sessley. He bowed and pulled a rather hasty retreat away from the suddenly chilly atmosphere.
Sessley pinched the bridge of her nose as she lifted the cup off its delicate saucer. “Listen. I’m not trying to say that he isn’t on the young side for this position. Everyone knows that, even Strong knew when she appointed him. The thing is, for him to be that young and still get appointed to chief officer almost fresh out of training -- that’s gotta mean something about his skills.” She took a sip of the scalding hot black coffee, seemingly content that she had made her point. Jeremy stirred some milk into his cup, considering his response.
“That’s just it though Sess, it isn’t his skills. You haven’t spent as much time in Port Ten Emerit as I have, but if you had you’d know that his family practically owns the place. It’s a trade city, and his parents control a goddamn merchant armada. He’s their only son and heir of the empire, and what does he go and do? Enlist in the goddamn Navy.” He set his spoon down on the table with a decisive clack. “Of course they give him a nice cushy command position after he finishes training. Hell, I’m surprised they even made him enroll in the program before they slapped an epaulet on him and sent him to sea.” The coffee tasted bitter on his tongue as he took a sip, trying to slow himself down before he snapped at his friend.
“Jeremy!” Sessley’s face flushed as she stared at her captain, affronted. “You don’t mean that, surely. You’ve seen him work, he knows what he’s doing! Admiral Strong wouldn’t just appoint him because his parents have money, especially not on the Hopewell. Whatever circumstances got him here, whether he earned it or not, at least let him prove himself. He deserves that much.”
Doubt still darkened Jeremy’s mind when he thought of his fiery chief officer. Sure, he’d done fine at the small tasks Jeremy had delegated him these past few weeks, but Jeremy was wary of the hunger he saw in the boy. Quinn seemed willing to do anything to prove his worth, and Jeremy didn’t care for that kind of self-centered attitude one bit, not when it could put other crewmembers on his ship in danger. He explained his reasoning to Sessley, who continued to frown as she sipped her coffee. After a moment of uneasy silence, she spoke up again.
“You know what, Captain? I don’t think you’re scared of his ambition, I think you’re scared for him. Sit down, you, come on, at least act civilized. He’s young, he’s brave, and a bit naïve, it doesn’t take a genius to see how that combination might play out. But he’s smart, Jeremy, and he wants to be able to show it. Now, I know you’re not that blind, but you certainly seem to be when it comes to Quinn. Try and show him otherwise, huh?” She offered a gentle smile as a peace gesture.
Jeremy, for his part, remained fixed in his seat, back ramrod straight and coffee raised halfway to his mouth. He hadn’t been so thoroughly reamed since his days in training, and he certainly didn’t expect such a speech coming from his usually supportive shipmaster. Still, it wasn’t exactly a secret that Sessley had a soft spot for Quinn, so he really should have seen this coming. That didn’t mean Sessley was right though, thought a stubborn and nasty part of his mind. She doesn’t know how to run a ship like you do. She doesn’t know how dangerous that boy’s attitude can be, how easily he could get himself or others killed.
Across the table, Sessley was still looking at Jeremy with a smile that was equal parts guarded and hopeful. He shook off his dour thoughts and offered a small grin of his own.
“I’ll consider it,” he said, “so long as you consider keeping a closer eye on the quickice box whenever Officer Allen is in the galley.”
Sessley’s expression faltered slightly. “Oh, what? I don’t-uh, rather, he… listen, you and I both know he doesn’t eat enough at meals, he’s only really taking what he hadn’t got earlier. Don’t be heartless now, J.”
“I didn’t say to stop him,” Jeremy inclined his head at her in his approximation of a wink.
Sessley’s beaming grin made his next sip of coffee taste a bit sweeter.