Chapter Text
The evening sea glistens with the promise of a setting sun, still too ripe to be put to rest. The island of Joaldo was beginning to settle into the night, organized chaos present in the glowing streets. The crew of the Albatross (or Millenium Chipper, pick your fancy) strolls down the entrance of the docks, breathing in the thick scents of burning wood and sea salt. Villagers run up and down the streets, from those trudging along with stuffed knapsacks of groceries to boisterous groups clustered together like schools of fish.
Chip fiddles with the three coins in his pocket while he walks, letting the metal scratch against each other while he skims over the town. He couldn’t help but feel at home in the celebration, longing to slot himself in the growing disarray. It’s where he thrived, lost in the throes of another town saved. He’s earned it anyway; I mean, tearing a sack off the Baron’s head was a lot of work. He deserved a drink or two.
It wasn’t like he had other things on his mind. Definitely not.
Jay sighs, lost in wanderlust at the jovial energy. “Nice to see the town free.”
“It was their destiny,” Gill stares down at his fist, the beads of moisture making his skin glisten.
“Yeah, so what the fuck are we gonna do?” Earl pipes up behind her.
Chip looks at his crew, letting a smirk rise from the corners of his lips. “We’re gonna party, that’s what!” The others follow with a resounding cheer and a confused warble from Ollie, who was standing next to Earl.
Gill scans the neighboring shops, a plan already taking shape. “We are going to paint the town red. Again.”
“Naw, we’re gonna party , Gill,” Chip instinctually wraps an arm around Gill, leaning in and waving his hand past the sights. “Think of Loffinlot, but better .”
“Yes,” Gill says, mentally five shots deep.
Chip scurries in front of the crew, adding the final panache to his announcement. “Now did I say we were going to party or are we going to party ?” Another whoop from the crew, followed by Earl making a sharp right towards the Respite District and Jay begging him to slow down.
Ollie let out a strained groan as he broke away from Earl, his wide eyes growing teary. “Maybe I should just head back to the ship,” he says, his voice a guarded chirp.
Chip stops and rests a hand on his shoulder, taking a knee to create some semblance of privacy. “Hey man, I’m gonna show you how to party like a pirate, alright? And I promise nothing is gonna happen. I’ll make sure of it.” He flashes a reassuring smile, letting a wave of parent-like affection pang at him. Ollie was his kid, after all, somebody worthy of the ropes Chip clung to. It was good for him to take on a life on the seas— or it was good for Chip.
“Oh… okay,” Ollie gives in easily, demeanor remaining cautious and curled into himself.
“I promise,” Chip repeats, giving Ollie an extra pat before pulling himself off from the ground. Ollie only nods, his pout slightly giving out.
Chip turns back to face the town with Ollie at his side, catching Gill watching the two of them with fondness and admiration. He kept his distance, his smile soft like sun-soaked sand but fleeting like the heat at its touch when Chip met his eyes. His cheeks flush red as Gill settles to his empty left, saying nothing.
In the silence, Chip’s thoughts had a chance to shout at him, names and pressures being tossed around like stones on a pond. Lizzie, Ollie, the navy, war, his constant itch to get back on the sea. And all Chip could do was pretend like he had the treasure map of decisions splayed in front of him when in truth his course was uncharted. Maybe a couple of shots and some beers would keep them quiet, give him a chance to think about it later when he was level-headed. And focused.
The trio follows Jay and Earl towards the Knockout Stay while facing the more abundant groups of people. Every shopfront was lively and wild, many gathering in front of windows and flowing in and out of shops. A crowd had circled the center fountain where a quintet of musicians strummed their instruments following the occasional clatter of a coin.
Chip glances to his sides to see Ollie on the verge of clinging to him, but Gill was absent. His pace stops, turning his head behind him to meet Gill’s wrinkled brow and sneered lips.
“No. Not again. Not after… the incident. ”
“It’s okay, it was just water,” Chip whispers to Ollie.
Gill’s eyes snap onto Chip like a shark spying on an unassuming fish. “Just. Water?”
“I mean c’mon man, it was just-” Gill’s death stare makes him rethink. “Very, very important water. You know, that pH thing is really important down… there.” He gestures to the ground beneath him while lightly jabbing Ollie’s side to get him in on the joke. He only let out a stuttered sound of pain and then a chuckle.
“You would think they would know what good water is,” Gill huffs, rolling his eyes in his usual dramatic manner. Chip couldn’t help but chuckle, soon to be cut short by another stabbing glare.
“How ‘bout the… other place then?” Chip asks, definitely not forget the name of the neighboring building patchworked against the tavern, being one of the only places that didn’t have someone drunk leaning against its walls.
Before Gill could pay his compliments to the filter, Jay sprints towards the three of them in a frenzy. “Okay so Earl has decided to get drunk off his ass and I’m not stopping him.” She takes a hurried breath. “So if you wanna babysit him then go ahead. I got Ollie.”
Chip looks from Jay to Ollie, who still looked concerned out of his mind.
“Don’t worry,” she adds, giving him a soft smile before bringing her voice to a whisper. “Better than going off with him.”
“Hey! I—” She wasn’t wrong, was she? Chip wants to drink, tearing at his intent of showing Ollie his lifestyle. It was either be responsible or not, and Chip wasn’t sure he had it in him to be the only sober one there. “Just… keep him safe,” Chip decides reluctantly.
Gill raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
“Yeah. I mean, I got other things to worry about. Shouldn’t get too slammed, just in case,” she says, her nerves picking at her. She gestures for Ollie to come towards her, to which he gingerly pulls himself from Chip and trudges over, who was already making her way towards the docks.
It was lost to Chip why she was anxious in the first place— they just saved another town and that was a hell of a good reason to celebrate. But he wasn’t going to pick at her; they had the morning and the sea ahead of them to talk about anything. Plus she has her priorities straight, something Chip lacked.
“Are you sure we should trust this place?” Gill says, scooting closer to Chip.
Chip rolls his eyes, pushing down the hint of a smirk. “It’s alright Gill, just- don’t drink the water.”
“What makes you think the quality of their other drinks are any better?” Gill’s tone becomes serious.
Chip reaches for Gill’s wrist, already taking steps towards the bustling tavern. “It’s fine man. Just don’t think too hard about it.” He tells himself that too.
Despite some managerial complaints from Gill, Chip manages to coax Gill inside and find Earl camping a table in the far corner, a cup already in hand. The tavern was glazed over with the soft flicker of lanterns and candles, contrasting the shouts of men and the slamming of glasses. Gill and Chip are eyed carefully by a couple of familiar vikings, but the interaction proves brief as Earl’s greeting keeps them out of dodge.
After providing Gill extensive lessons on how the tavern operates (and to not go anywhere near the water), the group dives into rounds of shots, throwing bets on anything they could see, from risking a couple of bar fights to trying dumb tricks. The liquid feels righteous, a good solid distraction from the war and Lizzie and Ollie and the fish man sitting next to him who’s really funny right now. By the time Jay lumbers into the tavern, Chip wears a piece of Gill’s shoulder armor, and Gill sports a single disheveled pigtail.
“I never thought you guys would look more stupid than you already do,” says Jay, huffing under her breath as she pulls a chair to their table and folds her arms atop it. “Ollie wanted to stay on the ship by the way, said he’d be fine on his own.”
Chip’s posture straightens, hit with a whack of unwanted sobriety. “Shit, are you sure Jay? Is anything going to-”
“He’ll be fine. He spent most of his time holed up in his room anyway. Either that or on deck. Didn’t talk too much, that kid,” Earl says, taking another swig of beer.
“Maybe I should-”
“He’ll be fine , Chip.” Jay reaches for Chip’s shoulder. “I’m not gonna stay for too long anyway. Just wanted to make sure you guys weren’t being stupid.”
“Since when have we been stupid? You know I make very logical decisions.”
Jay scoffs. “Tell that to all the mustaches you’ve drawn then.”
“Yeah, tell that to when you scared the shit out of me, fuckin’ bastard.” Earl adds, muttering the curse under his breath.
“Well the night is young!” Gill stands up and extends his arms, his stance flimsy. “I, Gillion Tidestrider, Hero of the Deep…” Gill recites his laundry list of titles, each one driving the others into a deeper eye roll. “And now Paramount Champion is just getting started!” He raises his glass and downs the contents.
“Can you do a keg stand?” Earl points his cup towards the wall of kegs across the room.
“How ‘bout being the keg stand champion?” Chip proposes, remembering why he was here.
Gill gasps, eyes sparkling at the idea of another title.
“Hey, get my friend over here a keg!” Chip shouts to no one in particular, bringing another bout of attention to their table.
Jay groans and mutters something under her breath, already peeling herself from her chair.
The trio dives deeper into drinking, with Jay soon flitting from the tavern to get a decent night’s rest. “If you don’t get your asses back before midnight, I’m letting you sleep on the street,” Jay says, shoving her hands in her pockets.
Chip’s composure is crumbling as he looks up from his cup. “Yeah, okay Moooom.”
It wasn’t too long before Earl taps out, reassuring Chip that he’d make his way back to the ship fine (and throwing a couple of insults in there for good measure). Earl was already far gone by the time Gill came back with full glasses. The two delve into a commentary of the tournament, providing the tavern a detailed and drunk explanation of their fight with La Alma, fully reenacted and performed.
Any concern that once harbors Chip now vanishes, as everything in the room spun and felt warm and nice and teal and Gill. In a feat of obnoxious stealth, Chip drags Gill out of the tavern, abandoning their drinks. The town is sinking into the night, the sky dark and accompanied by the lapping waves of the nearby shoreline. The groups of people had dwindled, but there was still enough action to justify a constant murmur. Gill and Chip are the loudest of all, cackling as Chip dove onto him in a mock fight.
“And then you cut my back like this !” Chip runs his fist down Gill’s back, the armor cool and comforting. Instead of moving to face Gill, he collapses on his back and wraps his arms around his waist in a half-assed hug, letting his cheek press against metal and giving into intent. He could feel Gill chuckling, his body gently rattling him.
“Wow, I really got you good!”
“Yeah, and it fuckin’ hurt!” Chip giggles, peeling himself from Gill’s back and snaking his arm up his shoulder to meet his face. While his blue eyes were muted in shadow, they still managed to be striking, staring back at Chip with equal affection. “God I was so mad. Couldn’t stay mad at you for too long, though.”
Gill laughs in agreement, turning his head to face the sea. “Me too.”
Chip gives his shoulder an extra pat and then pulls away from him, shoving his hands into his pockets to avoid doing something reckless. The spot they stood gives them a perfect view of the ocean, sandwiched in between two buildings for just enough privacy. The view is perfectly empty, with the edges of ships peeking from the docks, a beautiful comfort. Sighing, he turns his attention towards Gill, his own private ocean.
Maybe it was the way the full moon reflects the sea, maybe it’s the alcohol, but Chip couldn’t help but notice the sheen and wave of his hair like seaweed and the way his glowing coral crown frames the top of his head like a halo and the faded training scars down his speckled biceps. The wind rustled the remaining strands of hair off his shoulders, letting Chip take in the gentle arch of his eyebrows and the subtle slits underneath his eyes and the way his constantly moist skin made him look bioluminescent in the night. His lips are set into a kind smile, taking in the sight of his home stretched across the horizon.
Chip didn’t care how long he was staring, how fixated he was on such trivial details. Gill had never looked so enchanting, pulling Chip into the undertow of his riptide. And for once, Chip didn’t fight it.
“You know, what was that kiss about?” Chip blurts, breaking his gaze to turn back onto the sea of dreams.
Gill let out a confused hum, then bringing his head down in remembrance. He looks back up at him, his answer is sure. “It was just to open the door, Chip. It was destiny!” He turns to look back onto the sea, innately taking a half step towards the water.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But like, you know, it could’ve been like a little peck or something. Why was it…” Chip trails off. The moment aged like a fairytale, one that became one of Chip’s favorites yet he seldom read. “Why was it good?”
Gill sighs, letting the answer float between them. “It was an act of love to open the door.” He recites the familiar excuse. His mouth then opens and closes, trapped in hesitation. “I am sorry about that, by the way.”
“Why are you sorry? You said it yourself, we just had to open the door. It was just…” Chip scrambles for anything reasonable to say but instead picks on the obvious. “A kiss. To open the door.”
“It was… ” Gill pauses, proceeding with unusual caution. “Not terrible.”
“Oh yeah, no, yeah! Definitely not terrible,” Chip nods his head curtly.
“Yes.”
Chip couldn’t find it in himself to stop talking. “You know, just fish and chips! It’s… it’s what we do.” He regrets using we , the stupid word giving too much finality to the moment.
“Fish and chips…” Gill trails off, words lost to the wind and gaze never breaking from the sea.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the pairing that clung to him like barnacles on a dock post. Right now he wasn’t regretting much, the two of them spending their night talking about the best kiss of his life. And maybe he wants to talk about it some more.
Chip’s head rolls upward to meet the sky, his composure unraveling. “But why wasn’t it terrible? I mean, you got experience? Someone back… in the Undersea?”
“ No, no, no.” Gill rushes out. “No. I just… I don’t know. It was an act of love . It had to be something…” His volume dwindles to a quieter shout.
“Good.” Chip says, head snapping back to Gill, whose position stays unchanged. “Something good.”
“Yes. And I do love you like a friend.”
Chip ignores the shudder running down his spine. “Oh yeah! Yeah, friends, you know? Friends can… kiss each other…”
“Can they?” Gill asks, turning his head to meet Chip.
“I mean, sure! Like, not anyone I know.”
Gill’s eyes grow wider at the realization, gears already turning and terrifying Chip. “So it’s okay that I kissed you to open the door?”
Oh, the kiss was more than okay. “Yeah! I mean, some people do it as greetings and stuff, but that’s just some people,” Chip pulls a hand from his pocket to look down at it, giving himself some kind of distraction while he stutters. “But no, it’s not out of the ordinary! Just… something people do.” Just something people do. Not us.
A cooler pinky graces the edge of his, wrapping around it like the tail of a seahorse. Chip’s breath hitches at the tenderness, the action leaking into his heart. Chip looks up to see Gill’s face closer than expected, a sizable gap between them but unusually close, too close. And still, Chip did nothing about it, except lock gazes with the twinkling sea glass Gill calls his eyes.
Gill releases a sound of understanding. “Could it be something we do?”
Chip almost chokes. The hazy atmosphere shatters with realization as he restrains the urge to flinch and run straight into the sea in embarrassment. “What do you— I— What—?”
Gill pulls away as quickly as he came, eyes growing wide and face blushing. “Oh… nevermind then.”
Chip’s face matches, trying to save the moment in his drunken state. “No, I’ll just…” Please, please don’t say think about it. “Think about it.”
Gill only hums softly.
Chip’s logical thoughts were sprinting to the docks and sailing so far away. He wasn’t sure how deep he was in with Gill, nor how deep he would go. The only instinct rising was that maybe he shouldn’t run from him this time. Any form of restraint is shattering, any filter dissolving, and he was ready to delve into the trench known as Gillion Tidestrider. Consequences were something he could handle later.
“I am going to go to bed.”
The proclamation threw Chip off, who was already scheming to get Gill’s hand back in his. Maybe it was for the best. “Yeah, uh… you go hit the hay. I’ll be there in a bit.” His hand returns to his pocket.
“What is hay?” Gill asks.
After a rushed explanation, Gill rushes back to the Sprawled Brawlers with a simple good night. Chip doesn’t look behind him.
All his thoughts were stuck on kissing Gill. Even worse, the chance at kissing Gill again. And the worst, he’d like to kiss Gill again. What the hell did he even mean by that? A kiss becoming something they do ? Did he have feelings for him? Was he in a chokehold with confusion like Chip was? What the hell even was that?
Chip turns from the sea to look at the town, Gill absent from the fray. Things were seeming to dwindle, the number of people barely notable. Shops had closed their doors, resting for the next day. He meanders towards the fountain, fiddling with the coins in his pocket. He pulls one out, leaving the choice to fate.
The familiar cat face of the Baron’s coin greets him, mocking him with a glint of moonlight. He flips it between his fingers, reminded of the man who almost damned his fate. At least he had a brain in that head of his, or at least enough of one to get out of that deal.
As Chip circles the fountain, his eyes catch an inscription on the base of it, small enough to be looked over easily but still readable. He leans down to it, brushing his fingers over the words dug into stone:
Heads or tails is quite a gift
Wishing makes a perfect rift
Cryptic, Chip looks from the coin to the words and back again. At the base of the text, a small cat was scrawled, matching the image on the coin.
Wishes were a fickle thing, possessing childhood hopes and dreams all in a simple word. He always held the belief that wishing did jackshit, that a man’s word and action were good enough. Maybe a bit of luck if you give it the chance. But the words winked at him like a taunt, urging him to tempt fate.
What was the worst that could happen? Chip was doubtful that anything could happen, even though the coin was linked to the very man that had enslaved its champion and trapped the island in a lie. The Baron did not indicate that he believed in wishes, just good ol’ business.
Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking. Didn’t seem like too terrible of an idea.
One wish couldn’t hurt .
The main issue was what to wish for. He was smart enough (even in his drunken stupor) to know the more wishes trick wouldn’t work; that would’ve been too easy. Best not to wish for something too extreme, or something he would regret. Chip ponders through recent events, trying his best to brush over anything that would get any of his crew killed. He wouldn’t want to be that much of a bastard.
Gill? Too dangerous. He didn’t want to touch Jay, Earl, or Ollie either.
Lizzie, the war? Too risky.
The town? Too vague.
The tournament?
Now that was a start.
He wasn’t sure if he should call it like he usually does. It would keep the tradition. The inscription mentioned it anyway.
Chip slots the coin on top of his thumb and sighs, watching it gently wobble.
I wish we never won the tournament.
He flips the coin, letting it soar into the fountain with a satisfying plop.
Chip calls heads.
Heads.
Chip reaches into the fountain to check the coin, pulling it out amidst the other smaller coins. When looking up, however, things are a little… different.
Much more of the town has darkened in preparation for sleep, with Chip being the only person still outside. The position of the moon hadn’t changed, nor did his. Everything was quieter, too quiet to be explained in a quick second.
Chip looks behind him back out to the sea, peering towards the dock to see if he recognizes his ship. While he wasn’t able to find it from his distance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He turns back to town, trying to put his finger on anything else.
One of the few bastions of light came from the Sprawled Brawlers, only a couple of rooms still illuminated. Chip decided to scope it out, see if his crew was still there. It wouldn’t make sense if they weren’t; they had gotten their rooms before the tournament anyway.
Chip walks into the inn, being greeted by a small nod of recognition from the receptionist, then turning their head down back to a book sprawled on the table. He maneuvers his way up the stairs, turning into the familiar hallway and standing in front of Jay’s door. Light still poured from the crack beneath it,
He gives it a quick knock, then cups his hands to the side of his mouth as if it would help him speak through the door. “Jay, I’m still alive!”
“Good to know!” She sounds tired, still meeting him with her general annoyance.
“Where’s Gill?”
“He’s been in his room. Still upset about losing the tournament.”
Wait, what ?
It worked.
“What— what do you mean losing the tournament? We won!” Chip tests, still baffled.
The door opens, and he’s met with an unkempt and exhausted Jay. “No, we lost. And bad. You told us to stay and watch the rest of the tournament,” Jay says plainly. “How much did you drink?”
Chip is still in disbelief, eyes wide in shock. “No, no, we won! We fought Fuzzy, and then I made that deal with the Baron, and then we beat the shit out of him!” He turns behind him and points at the steps. “You literally fell down those stairs!”
“I— what—? You’d think I would remember that…”
Chip turns back to face her. “So who won then? ”
“La Alma,” says Jay.
“And who fought him?”
“Lizzie?” Jay folds her arms in front of her and raises her brow. “The Dingleberry Pirates?” She enunciates, trying to jog Chip’s broken memory.
There was no use fighting her. Chip actually changed something. The coin worked. “Oh, yeah!” Chip plays along.
“You said you knew her too,” Jay pries.
“Yeah, um, it’s not important,” Chip scratches the back of his head.
Jay lets out a hum of confusion.
“Yeah, I must just be really drunk. See ya!” He gives her a short wave and walks from the doorway.
“Good night?”
The door clicks shut and Chip stands in the hallway, taking in the conversation. The coin worked . Not only did a stupid piece of metal make a difference, it somehow altered reality. And the Baron kept something like this on him so casually?
He made his way to the neighboring door housing Gill, knocking on the door with more caution. Might as well make sure.
“Gill?”
“Yes?” Gill croaks, his previous energy gone.
“Can I come in?”
No response.
Chip opens the door.
Gill lays sprawled on his bed, watching Pretzel crawl across his palm and wrap herself in between his fingers. He looks up at Chip, his face solemn.
“You good man?” Chip walks into his room, approaching the bed slowly.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Gill says. He’s obviously not fine.
“So we lost?”
“Yes.”
“When was that?”
“Yesterday.” Gill doesn’t miss a beat, not even questioning Chip.
“I mean, don’t you think it’s time to move on?” Chip suggests, throwing shots in the dark.
“Not when I lost being Paramount Champion,” Gill grumbles, chuckling slightly at Pretzel who was now twirling around his finger.
“It’s alright Gill.” Chip reassures, confirming he did in fact change reality, and Gill has no clue what they were talking about minutes before. “Well, good night.”
Gill only gives him a soft hum, still watching Pretzel.
He shuts the door behind him. He pulls the coin from his pocket, looking closer to see if there’s any kind of magical thing about it. But it’s just a cat’s head and tail, nothing weird about it.
Chip rests the coin on his thumb once more, quickly pulling together another wish. I wish everything went back to normal . He calls heads.
Tails. Nothing visibly seems to change.
“Jay?” Chip calls out.
“Let me sleep.”
Chip picks up the coin and tries again. I wish we won the tournament. He calls tails.
Tails. Still no change.
“Gill?”
A sad groan is heard from his room.
Was there a cooldown on it? Was he too vague? Or was it…
The fountain.
Chip sprints down the stairs, paying no attention to the receptionist as he runs outside. Nothing had changed.
He makes his way to the fountain, leaning down by it to read the lines again.
Wishing makes a perfect rift. A rift in time?
So this thing is legit. Chip tries wishing that they won the tournament again. He calls correctly. Nothing changes.
Should he just accept this reality? He tries to think of anything on the island that leads back to them. Let’s see, winning the tournament freed the town, so if Fuzzy won then that means…
He’s still the champion. The Baron’s still in control.
Chip didn’t feel too sure about accepting that. If they accepted the Baron’s deal, it would be a pain in the ass to go back and try to fight him, especially with La Alma in his care. He could just wish that they freed La Alma. I mean, there must’ve been a way to do it without winning the tournament. Or…
Or he could try something different.
Chip had something powerful . Something that can fulfill his deepest desires. He can wish for virtually anything . It would be a waste if he didn’t test something he really wanted. Besides he could figure out a way to twist a wish back to this reality. Or as close as he can get.
His head swirls with possibilities— ideas, people, places. But one stands highlighted, the one thing he’s been searching for. It was easy, so easy to get it back.
He has to try.
I wish for my family back. The Midnight Rose.
Chip calls tails.