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“What do you think really happened with Buttons?” Roach asks one afternoon when he’s alone in the galley with Frenchie.
Frenchie is chopping vegetables for the stew Roach is making. He shrugs. “Like Blackbeard said. Turned into a seagull.”
Roach knows Frenchie has been through a lot with Blackbeard. He’s refused to talk about it, though. Fortunately for Roach, that new girl, Archie, is happy to tell him what life on the Revenge was like under Blackbeard. Roach is still insulted that Blackbeard marooned him, but he hasn’t mentioned that to Frenchie. “And do we think that’s Blackbeard-speak for ‘murdered him in cold blood’?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” Frenchie keeps chopping. “Captain let him back on the ship.”
“He did.” Which means Captain believes it. And Roach thinks that if anyone could turn into a seagull, it’s Buttons. “You know, Blackbeard brought back that bowl he says Buttons used. And that spell Buttons got from Auntie… pretty sure I saw Lucius take it to use as sketching paper.” He grins. “We can try it! Prove it!” If Buttons can turn into a seagull, so can Roach.
Frenchie finally looks up from the vegetables. “You wanna try to turn into a seagull to prove Blackbeard didn’t kill Buttons?”
Roach nods. “And if it doesn’t work, it’s proof he did kill Buttons!”
Frenchie looks hesitant. “I don’t know. You don’t wanna mess with powerful magic like that. There’s no telling what it’ll do.”
“I know.” The more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets. Worst case? He doesn’t turn into a seagull.
And best case?
He gets to shit on his crew mates so hard.
*
When Captain’s going over some maps with Fang, Roach brings them tea, and sneaks the bowl out of the cabin as he leaves. Getting the scroll from Lucius is trickier, because Lucius is weirdly protective of the sketches he did on the back. He only lets Roach take it after drawing over them.
Roach holds the scroll up to the light and can see some vague shapes. There’s a flower in there, and a mop, and what Roach thinks is supposed to be a dog. Why would Lucius want to scribble all over these? Well, it’s a mystery for another day. Roach has a spell to perform.
*
The instructions on the parchment are pretty clear, and he already has the bowl and the right herbs on hand. He drags Frenchie away from chatting to Wee John to witness it, because Roach is a man of science, and science requires witnesses.
“I already told you this is a bad idea.” Frenchie still lets Roach lead him back to the galley. “You’re messing with things you don’t understand.”
“Actually, I understand perfectly,” Roach informs him. “I read that scroll three times!”
Frenchie looks unsure, but he stays to watch as Roach chants and burns herbs and wears a bowl on his head.
The spell isn’t just for seagull transmogrification. According to the instructions, Roach should focus on the animal he wants to turn into. Roach tries to think of seagulls, although he lacks the bond Buttons has with them. He glances at Frenchie and thinks of his fear of cats. While Roach doesn’t believe cats steal children’s breath, he agrees they have knives in their feet, which he’s always been kind of jealous of.
Cats are great. They can squeeze into small spaces and hide. They can bite and scratch and defend themselves. They can make themselves useful as mousers and get fed, but no one expects them to obey commands like they do with dogs. They have tails and soft fur. They have nine lives.
Roach realises he’s been thinking about cats more than seagulls. Whoops. He focuses on seagulls again, on how Karl used to perch on Buttons’s head. Hopefully, it’s enough. They’ll find out soon, because from what Blackbeard said, Buttons’s transformation was pretty instantaneous.
“Are you finished?” Frenchie sounds worried.
“I think so?” Roach throws the herbs through a porthole, then takes the bowl off his head and puts it on a table. “Am I a seagull yet?” He studies his hands. Definitely still human. He starts when Frenchie pokes his arm.
“No,” Frenchie replies. “Are you sure you said the words right? Very important, that.”
“I thought you said I shouldn’t mess around with magic at all!” The top of Roach’s head itches, but that’s probably because of what was left in the bowl before he took it. What’s weirder is that his lower back itches as well, just above his ass. He scratches at it idly. “What if it failed? I wanted to know what it’s like to fly!”
“You wanted to know what it’s like to shit on people.”
“That too!” The itching won’t go away, and scratching only seems to make it worse. “Can you check my hair for anything weird?”
“Like feathers?” Frenchie deadpans, but when Roach lowers his head, Frenchie comes closer and carefully slides his fingers through Roach’s hair.
Roach stops scratching his lower back, but the itching is driving him crazy. Perhaps Frenchie’s right. Perhaps he said the words wrong, and the itching is a side-effect. He can’t believe the scroll didn’t warn him about that. Then Frenchie’s fingers brush against something. Something that isn’t his hair and sends a pleasant shiver down his spine.
Frenchie pulls his hands away as if burned and he jumps back, his eyes wide. “Roach…”
“What?” Roach brings his hand to his head, trying to find the spot. The itching is decreasing, at least. He gasps when he feels something furry and when he tugs on it, he winces in pain. “What is it?”
Frenchie edges back even more, grimacing as he looks away. “Bad news.” His shoulders hunch and his nervous eyes dart over to Roach. “I think you’ve got cat ears.”
*
On closer inspection that Frenchie refuses to stick around for, Roach definitely has cat ears. They’re mostly obscured by his hair, but he can feel them. They’re so soft, and he smiles at how good it feels to stroke them. The itching above his ass has gone too, and now there’s a tail. He had to tug his waistband down to free it and he spent some time turning in circles to get a better look.
The tail is thick and fluffy, the fur mostly black but with some brown patches and a light brown tip. Roach stares at the tip as it sways in the air without any input from him. The tail—his tail—is beautiful. He brushes the palm of his hand down his tail and marvels at the softness. But is this all there is to his transformation? Cat ears that hardly anyone can see and a gorgeous, fluffy tail? He can’t believe Frenchie ran away before he got a chance to see it.
His tail lashes behind him, and it hits the bowl on the table. He whirls around in a panic as it falls, his reflexes fast enough to grab it before it shatters on the floor. His tail hangs low now, but Roach can feel it sway in the air. He’ll have to learn to control it.
Well, that settles it, then.
Blackbeard was telling the truth. Buttons turned into a seagull.
*
He stays in the galley as he practises with his tail, figuring out how to make it move and make it stay still, but also learning that it moves instinctively sometimes. When he hears the voices of Wee John and Lucius drift in through the porthole from where they’re standing by the railing, his tail perks up and rises as if in greeting. When there’s a sudden bang from outside, his tail presses between his legs and the fur puffs up.
He can’t stay here forever, and besides, he wants to show off his tail. And his new ears, even if people can’t see them. He tries to flatten his curls so they’re more noticeable, but isn’t sure how successful he is.
When he runs up on deck, he turns around immediately. “Look!”
“I told you!” Frenchie shouts. “I told you Roach turned into a cat, didn’t I?”
“He’s only got a cat’s tail,” Archie points out.
Roach whirls around at that, tail swishing behind him in annoyance. “And ears!” They twitch when he notices everyone looking at him. It’s making him nervous, and he wants to run and hide in the galley again, where it’s safe. Which is ridiculous, because this is the Revenge. His crew. He’s safe up here, and yet his tail is low to the ground, swishing left to right as he takes everything in.
“It is a very pretty tail.” Fang smiles at him from where he’s sitting on a crate next to a knitting Wee John. “Can I pet it?”
Roach likes Fang. He has some great stories and a soft heart. “Just don’t pull on it,” he warns, walking over. He hears more murmuring as people get a better look at his tail. He notices the ball of yarn in Wee John’s lap and he has the strange urge to bat it away and chase after it.
Fang gasps at the suggestion and looks offended. “I would never pull on a cat’s tail!”
It’s nice to know some people on the ship don’t mind that he’s now part cat. He looks around when he stands next to Fang, but Frenchie has made his way to the quarterdeck, to the wheel, where he’s hiding behind Izzy. It hurts to have his friend avoid him. He wants Frenchie to ask to stroke his tail as well.
Still, Fang offered, so Roach plops down into his lap, one arm around Fang’s neck and facing Wee John and his knitting. The move gets him a surprised gasp from Fang, and his ears swivel as he catches Lucius sniggering from where he’s smoking by the railing. His tail curls into his lap.
“Are you comfy?” Fang has one hand around Roach’s waist, his arm above his tail. His other hand hovers awkwardly in the air, only a few inches away from his fluffy tail. The tip twitches.
Roach looks at the quarterdeck again, where Izzy shoves Frenchie away from the wheel while Frenchie gestures at Roach. Roach huffs. “Yes, Fang, I am very comfy in your lap!” He raises his voice to make sure Frenchie can hear. “And I’d love for you to pet my soft, beautiful tail!”
“No need to shout,” Fang mutters, but he gasps when his hand first brushes against Roach’s tail.
Roach watches it twitch by reflex as Fang runs his hand from the middle down to the tip. It’s not as nice as when Frenchie stroked his ears, but it’s all right. “Must be a cat thing.”
Fang hums in agreement. He keeps looking at Roach’s tail while he strokes it. “Yes, cats can definitely get loud! You’re right, Roach. It’s a lovely tail.”
Roach hums, his eyes drifting to the ball of yarn again. Which is fine. He’s comfortable in Fang’s lap. Except.
Except he needs to shove it out of Wee John’s lap.
He lunges forward, startling Fang, and hits the ball with one hand. It rolls onto the deck, and Roach crouches down next to it. His tail swishes low and his eyes narrow, ears pricked forward. He bats the ball away and goes after it to grab it in both hands. It’s his now.
“What the fuck?” Lucius exclaims.
Wee John sighs. “Give me the yarn back.”
Roach hisses at Wee John, then frowns. Why did he do that? He gets up, still confused as he hands it to Wee John. “Must be a cat thing.” He rubs at his face. There’s that itching again, but this time, it’s inside his mouth. He feels it start down his chest and stomach as well.
“Are you all right?” Fang sounds worried.
His tail tucks between his legs as the itching continues, and Roach sits down on the deck, closing his eyes and tilting his face toward the sun. The warmth feels soothing.
“Maybe you should lie down.” Fang tells him. “I bet turning into a cat really takes it out of you.”
“He’s only got that tail. He isn’t a proper cat,” Archie says, sounding unimpressed.
Roach hisses in her direction. Lying down sounds nice, so he does, rolling onto his side to get more comfortable. He tucks his legs in slightly and rests his head on his arm, eyes closed. His tail presses against the back of his legs as he basks in the sun. The itching subsides, and he stretches his arms over his head. Oh yes, that’s what he needed. A proper stretch. His shirt rucks up as he does.
“Is his tummy furry?” Fang’s whisper is loud.
Or maybe Roach’s ears are more sensitive, but he frowns at Fang’s comment. His stomach isn’t hairy. He rolls onto his other side, and with the sun on his back, he opens his eyes and pulls up his shirt.
There is fur.
Mostly black, but there are patches of dark and lighter brown, just like his tail.
“Holy shit,” Lucius mumbles. “It looks so soft.”
Roach pets it. It’s as soft as it looks, and he strokes it a few times.
“Oh, can I have a go?” Fang asks. “Please? Can I pet your tummy?”
Roach grins, then winces when something cuts his lip. He runs his tongue along his teeth and his eyes widen when he feels fangs.
“What is it?” Fang settles down next to him.
Roach opens his mouth. Better to demonstrate.
“Are those new?” One of Fang’s hands cup Roach’s chin. He leans in and frowns. “Or did they come with the tail?”
Roach awkwardly shakes his head. “New.” He carefully closes his mouth. Fangs will take some getting used to.
Fang smiles at him. “I wonder if that means there’ll be more changes?”
Roach wonders the same thing and isn’t sure how he feels about that. He shifts closer to Fang, and Fang’s fingers drift down until they’re under his chin.
Fang starts scratching him there. “How’s this?”
Roach closes his eyes and smiles. Oh, that’s good. He tilts his head back so Fang has more space. His fingers are amazing. There’s a low rumble coming from somewhere, though. That’s weird.
“Is he purring?” Lucius exclaims.
“I think so!” Fang replies cheerfully.
Roach freezes at the realisation that the low rumble is coming from him, and the sound abruptly stops. “I did that!”
“You did.” Fang lowers his hand and smiles, making his eyes crinkle. “I can do it again? Or pet you elsewhere? Like your tummy, maybe? Check your nice new fur?”
“Oh yes, good point,” Lucius says. “Roach should definitely take his shirt off so we can all check his new fur.”
“He should, yeah!” Archie adds happily. “I wanna see if he’s more of a cat now!”
Roach looks around. His ears swivel at all the excited murmuring. Frenchie is at the top of the staircase, eyeing Roach warily.
It’s unfair. Just because he’s part cat doesn’t make him any less Roach. He huffs, frustrated with Frenchie. He pulls the shirt over his head and drops it on the deck. He looks down at his chest, surprised at how much fur there is.
It’s a thick patch across his chest and it runs down his stomach before disappearing under his waistband. It’s kind of disorienting, if he’s honest. It’s his body, so familiar, and yet not. He scrunches his nose, then stretches his arms over his head, arching his back. That feels better.
“Big stretch,” Fang murmurs.
Roach smiles at that. At least Fang likes him. Still seated, he lowers his arms and rests his hands behind him on the deck, back arched slightly. He looks at Fang expectantly, tilting his head as his tail swishes behind him. Fang mentioned wanting to pet his tummy. Roach watches Fang watch him, daring him to reach out.
“Go on, Fang!” Lucius shouts. “Touch his tummy! Tell us if it’s as soft as it looks!”
Roach grins, and he knows his fangs are showing. Fang leans forward, reaching out carefully. His eyes dart from Roach’s tummy to his face and back. Roach sits still, only the tip of his tail twitching as he waits for Fang’s fingertips to bridge the gap.
“Oh!” Fang gasps when his fingers brush the soft fur. “It is! It’s—Ow!”
Roach has grabbed Fang’s forearm and curls up so he can bite. His teeth don’t pierce the skin—Fang’s reflexes are too good for that, and he’s too strong. He pulls out of Roach’s grip and frowns as he cradles his forearm to his chest.
“Roach!” Fang says firmly. “No biting!”
Roach huffs and gets up. Doesn’t Fang understand? He touched Roach’s tummy. Of course Roach was going to bite him! His tail lashes in the air as he strides off and back to the galley. Fine, he didn’t want to be here, anyway.
He sits down behind a crate with his arms around his legs and his chin resting on his knees. His tail is curled up around him, covering his feet. It’s nice, but not as nice as having Fang scratch him under his chin or Frenchie stroke his ears.
Roach sits there for a long moment, staring down at his tail. His ears swivel as he hears talking on deck. He sighs and does his best to ignore it.
Being a cat is a lot harder than he thought.
“Roach?”
He lifts his head at the sound of Frenchie’s voice. “Yes?” Frenchie came to look for him?
Frenchie grimaces as he stops by the table, keeping his distance. “You all right, mate?”
Roach huffs, resting his chin on his knees again. “I’m fine.” He won’t admit to Frenchie that he isn’t. That maybe he regrets his experiment. That he misses being near Frenchie and laughing with him.
“You don’t look fine.” Frenchie is silent for a bit. “If I come closer, do you promise not to steal my breath?”
“I promise,” Roach mutters. Frenchie is being ridiculous. Roach can’t steal anyone’s breath. “Just don’t pet my stomach.”
“Oh yeah, no, course not. Everyone knows that’s a trap.” Frenchie comes closer, but stays on the other side of the crate. “You wanna come out of there now?”
“Kind of comfortable here, actually.” He keeps his eyes on his tail, and his ears swivel as the crate creaks when Frenchie sits on it.
“It does look like a very comfy spot, yeah.” Frenchie puts a hand on his shoulder. “D’you wanna check the parchment and see if we can reverse the spell?”
“I mean,” Roach says slowly. Carefully. “I suppose we could. After all, this was an experiment. Everyone knows experiments don’t need to last forever.”
“Well-known scientific fact.” Frenchie pats him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna check if your ears have grown, all right? Just curious since you suddenly grew fangs.”
Roach sits still when he feels Frenchie’s fingers against his curls, gently brushing some out of the way to get a better look. “Well?”
“Might have to touch ‘em, mate. To be sure.”
Roach’s heart skips a beat as he remembers how it felt when Frenchie first did that. “Good idea.” His mouth is suddenly dry.
“Right, don’t bite me if it hurts,” Frenchie mutters.
Roach closes his eyes when he feels fingertips stroke the back of his ear. He shivers in pleasure and leans closer, tilting his head back for more. He looks up at Frenchie pleadingly.
Frenchie smiles as he keeps stroking Roach’s ear, then rubs the tip between index finger and thumb. “Maybe I was wrong,” he says softly. “Maybe humanoid cats are all right and not, y’know, terrifying.”
Roach smiles, squinting up at Frenchie. “No, I’m incredibly terrifying. The most terrifying!”
“Yes, you are!” Frenchie grins as he keeps rubbing the tip of Roach’s ear.
Roach sighs happily. Maybe being part cat a little longer isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s kind of nice. He finds himself purring again and Frenchie’s hand jerks away. “Don’t stop!”
Frenchie still looks startled. “Were you purring?”
“Yes!”
Frenchie eyes him suspiciously. “Because I was fondling your ears?”
“Yes!” Roach sits up. Maybe if his head is closer to Frenchie, he’ll get the hint. “Do it again.” Although… “Or, in the interest of scientific experimentation, you can fondle me elsewhere and see if that makes me purr?”
“Fondle you,” Frenchie says, frowning slightly, “elsewhere?”
Roach nods eagerly. “Yes! Before we try to reverse the spell, you should definitely fondle me in different places. For science.”
“Oh, well.” Frenchie grins. “If it’s for science, I guess I can do that.” His eyes dart down to Roach’s bare chest. “Not your tummy, though.”
Roach sighs. Dammit. “Fine.” And when Frenchie reaches out to stroke his ears again, Roach just closes his eyes, smiles, and lets out a contented purr.