Fic: You Commandeered My Heart (1/?) (SPN, Dean/Castiel, PG)
Title: You Commandeered My Heart (1/?) - An Officer And A Pirate
Author: anoradh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Pirate!AU, romance
Warnings: Bad Harlequinesque writing, probable factual errors, intentionally stupid plot
Spoilers: None, I think
Word Count:
Author's Notes: I was playing Sid Meier’s Pirates! and dancing with the “beautiful” daughter of a Spanish governor, when it occurred to me how much fun it would be to write a silly pirate romance with Dean as a dashing privateer and Castiel as the rebellious Governor’s daughter. This didn’t quite turn out that way, but I still had lots of fun writing it.
Somehow, this turned into a bit of a cliff-hanger and I have no idea how to continue it (or rather, I have some ideas, but I can't choose which one to go with), so I thought I’d try leaving it up to the reader (if I have any). So if you actually make it to the end of this utter nonsense and you’re mad enough to want to read more, please let me know how this should continue. Cheers!
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the creators of Supernatural. I’ve just commandeered them for a while to play with them and will gladly return them when I’m done.
I’d also like to point out that I have absolutely nothing against the Spanish; I just needed opponents for this story and since English privateers often attacked Spanish ships, it made most sense to make the enemies Spanish. I apologise if this offends anyone, but I would like to point out that so far, only one of the Spaniards in this story is a bad guy. The rest just happen to be unfortunate enough to belong to a nation that opposed the English. Or something...
Summary: Dean is a dashing English privateer, making life difficult for the Spanish. Castiel is an officer in the Navy Royal. They meet at a ball and sparks fly... literally.
Part 1 - An Officer And A Pirate
"Captain! Captain!"
The First Lieutenant's voice was breathless and terrified as he came running up to the quarterdeck. His face was pale and his eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of his skull. This wasn't an uncommon look for him, but today he looked even more frightened than usual.
The Captain of El Fantasma Blanco lowered his spyglass, with which he had been searching the horizon in front of them, and surveyed the Lieutenant coldly. He did not approve of emotions on his ship; he had, in fact, expressly forbidden them, and for his senior officer to disobey his command so brazenly was an absolute outrage. He was just contemplating a fitting punishment, whether the cat o' nine tails was enough or if this called for more drastic measures, when the man continued,
"Captain, the lookout has caught sight of a ship off the starboard stern. It looks like The Impala, sir!"
All thoughts of whipping and keelhauling were driven out of the Captain's head by those words, along with every drop of blood. The Impala! The most infamous pirate ship to hunt these haunted waters; the stuff of nightmares for any Spanish sailor. Captained by the most ruthless man in this hemisphere and crewed by men as immoral and bloodthirsty as he was, it preyed on Spanish trade ships and war galleons alike, slowly bleeding the profits and the honour out of the Spanish navy, drop by agonising drop. No ship caught in its inexorable sights had ever escaped and only a few had survived its scourge.
At least no ship had escaped as of yet. The Captain of El Fantasma Blanco squared his shoulders against the cold grip of terror that clutched his stony heart and made a decision. There was no point in running. The black sloop now visible to the naked eye as a shadow cleaving through the waters in their wake was one of the fastest ships in the Caribbean. Able to cross shallows as well as depths it could cut through shoals that would founder the larger, heavier war galleon. No, if they ran, they would only prove an easier target. No other choice for it then but to,
"Stand and fight!" the Captain concluded aloud.
The First Lieutenant stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Captain?" His voice quivered with uncertainty and an unmistakable hope that he'd heard wrong. If they did survive this, the Captain decided that the first thing he would do would be to have the man thrown overboard to the sharks. Either that or leave him stranded on one of the many still deserted islands in this area. Perhaps he could find some friendly tribe of cannibals willing to entertain a guest for dinner.
With an evil smirk that caused the First Lieutenant's face to turn an ashen grey and his lower lip to tremble, the Captain repeated slowly and clearly,
"We're going to stand and fight! Turn the ship around! It's time we rid these waters of this infernal plague."
*****
"I think they're turning around!"
Sam's voice was amused and he grinned behind the spyglass pressed to one of his eyes. Dean was happy to see that his brother had finally learned to take pleasure in their job. The first year that Sam had spent onboard the Impala, his sad puppy-eyes and wistful smile whenever anyone mentioned port had made it clear that he still longed for the "normal" life he had been forced to give up.
Now, three years later, Sam was almost as eager to hunt down enemy ships as Dean was. The hunt was in his blood and there was no resisting its lure. The rush of adrenaline, the crews' shouts and jeers, the cannons firing, the ships crashing together, the ringing of steel against steel as swords were drawn... It was the biggest thrill in the world!
Of course, it only became better when the other ship decided to face the odds and fight against their inevitable fate. No true hunter found pleasure in killing a sitting duck. No, it was in the challenge of slaying a fierce predator that the honour lay and this time, it looked as though they'd cornered themselves a lion.
"All right, men!” Dean called out. "It's high time to ready to those cannons!"
His command echoed along the deck and the already busy crew almost fell over themselves, hurrying to obey. Dean turned to Sam.
"Prepare to take the helm, Sammy!"
His brother nodded, still grinning widely and for once not objecting to the nickname. Turning around, he went to stand next to the helmsman, ready to take over if necessary. As First Mate, steering the ship was not actually part of Sam's duties, but his unparalleled skill and unfailing intuition has saved them during many a battle. Until their helmsman proved to be as good as Sam was, the First Mate’s place during battle would always be beside the wheel.
As for Dean himself, he made his way onto the main deck, navigating smoothly among the bustling crew and calling out the occasional orders.
"Rufus, round shots to begin with. We don't need to spare the ship. This one is going down."
"Aye, aye, Captain!"
"Bobby, get those kegs moving before I stuff you in one and throw it overboard!"
"I'd like to see you try - erm, I mean, aye, aye, Captain... Idjit... Sir!"
"Gordon, I keep telling you: Save the bundle shots for when we're closer! Listen to Rufus!"
"Aye, aye, Capt’n!"
"Ellen, you keep telling me you can steer this ship as well as any man! Now prove it!"
"Aye, aye, Captain! Then will you ask your giant brother to stop breathing down my neck?"
"Only when you get your fool daughter out from under my feet! Get back down into the galley, Jo! I've no time to protect your cute little behind!"
"Aye, aye, Captain Pig!"
"Bad luck to have a woman onboard, Captain, let alone two!"
"Don't I know it, Ash! You want to try throwing them off?"
"Hell no, Captain, sir!"
"Didn't think so! Keep up the good work, men!"
"And women!"
"Joanna Beth!"
"Aye, aye, Mum! I'm going!"
Satisfied that everyone knew what they were doing, Dean stood back and watched his crew work. He knew that his last-minute orders were largely unnecessary, since after all this time that they had served together the crew was highly autonomous, but he liked to be among them at the beginning of a fight, making himself seen and heard. Years of watching his father run a ship had taught him that few things heightened crew morale as having their Captain present and active when going into battle. It was why they followed him, after all, because they knew he would always be the first one into the fray and the last one to retreat.
His musings were suddenly interrupted by a loud boom and a shout,
"Cannon fire!"
Hurriedly raising his eyes, Dean saw the black balls soar through the air towards them, but before he even had time to react, The Impala swerved, deftly slicing through the waves as though she were a part of them, until they were no longer in the line of fire.
"Nice sailing, Ellen! Men, our friends over there have offered us their salute. Are we really so rude as to not return it?"
Grins broke out across the ship as the men recognised his order to engage. Rufus's cry of "Fire!" echoed through the air, swiftly followed by the roar of their own cannons.
*****
The battle that followed was swift, bloody and devastating - at least for the Spaniards. When it was all over, the Spanish Captain, a cowardly fellow who'd done his best to stay hidden during the fighting and who had then tried to abandon ship, knelt at the point of Sam’s cutlass. His First Lieutenant, who had displayed far more honour and bravery, knelt at his side with Bobby’s flintlock pistol aimed at his head. What remained of the Spanish crew had been surrounded and were sitting in a shuddering huddle in the middle of their main deck, awaiting their judgement. Some were weeping, others glared defiantly at their conquerors, while others still just stared blankly in front of them.
Dean knew what they were expecting, knew his reputation for leaving no survivors. He had helped cultivate it, after all, knowing that notoriety was a pirate's best weapon. How many ships had surrendered as soon as they recognised the sleek, black sloop and read the name on the escutcheon? Contrary to rumour, however, Dean was definitely one of the most merciful pirates ever to sail the Caribbean and the crew had but little to fear from him. Those who would not join his own crew would be set adrift in lifeboats along one of the main trade routes, where another ship would be sure to find them.
As for the Captain and his First Lieutenant, however, that was another matter entirely. Dean was so tired of seeing crews like these, beaten down and worn out, driven to work beyond their limits through fear and pain. It always seemed to be the same on all the ships the boarded, regardless of size or nationality. The royal navies would find some sadistic megalomaniac to captain their crews, then turned a blind eye on the atrocities committed onboard their ships, as long as they produced results. Then they wondered why some of their crews mutinied, when the real wonder was why so many of them did not. If Dean had tried to captain The Impala with anything resembling "navy discipline", he'd have been walking the plank long ago.
Looking down at the snivelling mess of a man that posed as Captain of El Fantasma Blanco, Dean was filled with nothing but contempt. The sodding coward had actually tried to run, leaving his crew behind. Sighing heavily, Dean turned towards his men and called out,
"Gordon!"
A menacing-looking man with a scarred face and a hook instead of a left hand stepped forward with an expectant grin. Dean gestured towards the Captain.
"Have fun!" he said.
The Captain, while unable to understand the words, plainly understood the gesture, which was emphasised by Gordon's widening grin and cruel eyes. Casting aside any shred of dignity, he threw himself at Dean's feet, sobbing and gibbering in terror. This was the bit that Dean hated. It always made him feel weak.
He raised one hand at Gordon, who was evidently expecting it, since his grin had transformed into an aggravated snarl.
"Wait!" Dean told him. Hesitating, he turned to look at Sam, who gave him a complicated face involving eyebrow-wriggling, lip-quirking and nose-twitching, as well as a number of other things Dean could not begin to define, but which he took to mean,
"You're my brother and I love you! I will always stand behind you. You are also our Captain and the decision of what to do with this vermin belongs to you, but I would like to remind you that we should not lower ourselves to his level."
Sam had a very expressive face. He also had a very annoying habit of concurring with that pesky little voice in Dean's head that he had labelled "Conscience! Do not open at risk of appearing human!" With an even heavier sigh, Dean waved a growling Gordon away and turned to his Quartermaster.
"Bobby", he said. "You wouldn't happen to have any job befitting a former Captain of the Spanish Navy, would you?"
Bobby twirled his grizzled beard contemplatively.
"You know, now that you mention it, Joanna Beth has mentioned something about needing a hand peeling spuds. I think that might do well to begin with."
Dean shrugged.
"It'll have to do. All right, men, gather them up and bring them over to the Impala. Bobby, take some men below and see if there's any loot worth keeping. Sam, have a look at the Impala and let me know what the damage is. Also, tell Ellen to plot a course of Port Royal. I think we've deserved a bit fun after this, don't you?"
Hearing his words, the crew let out a loud 'huzzah' and hurried to comply with his orders. While overseeing their work, Dean allowed himself to get lost in ideas of his less pleasant prospects once they reached port. It was time to see Governor Zachariah again and report on his progress. These meetings were definitely the downside of having obtained a Letter of Marque.
Still, if he was lucky, Anna would be there. The Governor's beautiful niece and ward took pleasure in shocking the stuck-up prigs that made up Port Royal's aristocracy and she had made it a habit to invite Dean along to their balls whenever he came into port. Dean did not particularly enjoy dancing, but he did enjoy the looks on those powdered and rouged faces, especially since they could not openly object. For his services to the Crown, Dean had been knighted the year before by Governor Zachariah himself, which meant that anyone who wanted to keep well with the Governor had better keep their mouths shut about Dean. Sometimes Dean loved the intricate games of polite society, specifically when he could use them against its players.
Smirking to himself, Dean went to help his crew carry the barrels of fine wine that they had found in El Fantasma Blanco's cargo hold over to The Impala.
*****
Castiel stood in a corner of the Governor's great ballroom, sipping a glass of expensive wine and watching the dancing couples twirling around to "The Devil's Dream". He hated these formal affairs, avoided them whenever he could, just as he hated most social events. They made him feel awkward and out of place. Unfortunately, Uncle Zachariah had insisted that he would attend this one and he could not refuse. So here he was, bored out of his skull and counting the minutes until he could leave.
Glancing around, he caught sight of his cousin Gabriel dancing with the fair-haired beauty that was his lady for the evening. He could not help but smile as he watched Gabriel attempt an elaborate flourish in the dance, which naturally failed utterly, but which caused the lady to trip and fall into Gabriel's waiting arms. Catching Castiel's eye, Gabriel winked at him, before returning his attention to his giggling and blushing partner. Castiel had no doubt how the evening would end for the two of them.
Beside the playful couple, another couple was dancing more sedately and far more gracefully. They moved with the practised ease of lovers, smoothly following each other's steps and anticipating each other's moves. Watching them, Castiel's chest ached with something akin to envy.
The lady's bright red hair shone like fire in the flickering candlelight and her pale skin, perfectly fair without either cream or powder, looked almost luminescent, giving her a fey appearance. Her partner was a handsome young man with bright green eyes and the unfashionably tan skin that set him apart as a man of the sea. His long, brown hair was tied back with a narrow ribbon and he wore clothes that were well-fitting, but certainly not in accordance with fashion. Based on what he knew about the man, Castiel did not doubt that it was intentional.
He waited until the dance was over, before moving towards them. The lady caught sight of him almost immediately and led her partner over to meet him with a huge smile on her lovely face.
"Castiel", she greeted him warmly. "It's been too long! Why didn't you tell me you were in town?"
He bent down to kiss her proffered cheek.
"Hello, sister", he said. "You're looking beautiful, as always."
She gave him a sly look, obviously aware that he had deliberately ignored her question, but willing to overlook it for now. Instead, she turned to her partner.
"Dean", she said, "you remember my brother Castiel?"
The man bowed his head in greeting, his eyes glittering beneath respectfully lowered lids.
"Of course", he said. "An honour, as always, Lieutenant-Commander!"
Hearing that the man remembered what he had held at their last meeting, Castiel could not suppress a wave of pleasure. He had not thought himself important enough to make a lasting impression. Returning the bow, he corrected the man and wondered if he would still remember the next time they met.
"Commodore, actually”, he said. “How are you, Captain Winchester? Enjoying yourself, I trust?"
"In such company, how could I not?" the privateer replied with a flirtatious grin at his lady, earning himself a laugh and a reproachful slap on the arm.
"Ignore him, Cas", Anna said. "He's full of empty flattery tonight."
Dean gasped and clutched at his heart theatrically.
"You wound me, lady!"
"Worse than any swordfight, I'd wager!"
"Naturally! Surely you are aware that beauty such as yours is the most lethal weapon of all to a man like me."
Anna gave him a stern look, shaking her head and tutting.
"You forget yourself, Captain!” she said- “You're not actually supposed to court me, only frighten off other men from doing so."
Dean bowed deeply, placing a hand on his chest.
"Your wish is my command, my lady, though it goes hard against my inclinations."
"No doubt", Anna murmured, casting an amused glance at Castiel.
Castiel struggled to return it, but his dark mood, which had momentarily been dispersed by the radiance that was his sister, had returned as he listened to their light-hearted flirting. This was why he tried to avoid these events. He would never have the easy manners or casual charm to bewitch anyone the way Dean did so naturally. Just being around the other man made him feel unsophisticated and out of place, though rightfully it ought to be the other way around. Castiel had grown up in this world. Dean had only recently been allowed inside as something of a gate-crashing visitor. Yet Dean was the one who moved around the room as if he owned, while Castiel skulked in the shadows.
Telling himself that it wasn’t the other man’s fault that he was so damn charming and thereby made Castiel feel so bloody inadequate, he forced a smile. He tried to remember why he had thought it a good idea to come speak to them, but could not come up with any. At least none that he was willing to acknowledge as valid. He wished he could blame it on a desire to speak to his sister, but it was not on her face that his eyes were fixed, nor was it her attention that he so enviously coveted. Unfortunately, it was obvious that the couple had eyes only for each other and Castiel decided that it was time to beat a hasty retreat.
"I fear I am intruding", he said politely. "Go back to your merriment and I will speak to you tomorrow, sister."
He turned around to go back to the shadows of his secluded corner, where he could lick his wounds in peace until he could escape altogether, but Anna stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Oh no, you don't", she said. "You're going to dance with me! No objections!" - as he opened his mouth to protest - "I won't have my brother standing around looking dull and foolish. You are going to dance with me and then you are going to dance with at least five other women at this ball." She took his hand and began dragging him towards the middle of the dance floor. "Honestly, Castiel, how are we ever going to find you a wife if you insist on hiding away on that ship of yours and never socialising? You're such a good man and exceptionally handsome too, but who will ever notice if you don't put yourself out there? It is time you make an effort."
Resigned to his fate and left with no other choice, Castiel allowed himself to be led out onto the dance floor. He threw an apologetic glance at Dean and shrugged to indicate his helplessness. The man's face had darkened slightly as Anna spoke, but he answered Castiel's unspoken apology with a bright grin and raised eyebrows that seemed to say,
"Women!"
As he took his place among the other couples, Castiel could not resist following Dean with his eyes. He admired the manner in which the man moved through the room, meeting outraged glares with saucy smiles and poorly disguised whispers with cheerful greetings. Nothing seemed to faze him and Castiel wondered how he had gained such impervious self-assurance. He actually seemed to take pleasure in the other guests’ disdain.
When the music began, Castiel lost sight of Dean through the throng of dancers, but although the dance and Anna ought to have held his interest, he found that his thoughts wandered. As during their few previous meetings, the privateer had invaded his mind and Castiel was filled with the all too familiar desire to learn more about the man. It was an unnerving idea and all the more so, because Castiel could find no rational explanation for his interest. The man was no one, so why did he fascinate him so? The thought continued to plague him all through his six dances and afterwards.
*****
Dean ambled slowly through the gathered assembly, trying to take his usual delight in the various reactions that his presence engendered, but it was no good. His mind was too distracted!
He ought to have known that Castiel would be here. The man always turned up whenever Dean had stopped expecting to see him. He had been absent from the last three balls that Dean had attended, clearly too occupied with working his way up the ranks in the Navy Royal. Anna had complained about it last time, how her brother was always away, always too busy with his work to find the time to settle down.
This last part did not worry Dean too much. He was rather relieved that Castiel had never done as Anna so clearly wished and chosen one of her friends to take as his bride. The thought of Castiel, serious, intelligent Castiel, with some vapid baroness on his arm, discussing the next shipment of silk or the latest fashions to reach them from the mainland, was enough to turn his stomach. Such a life would never make a man of Castiel's disposition happy!
No, if ever he did marry, it ought to be to someone like Jo; a free spirit who was not afraid to choose her own path and who could challenge him to do the same. Someone who could penetrate his stony façade and make him smile once in a while; who could bring colour to his pale cheeks and passion into his bright blue eyes. Someone to make him feel.
Although come to think of it, Jo was not the right type of woman for him either. She was too independent, too caught up in her own war against the patriarchal society that oppressed her to take notice of anyone else. She would not recognise Castiel for who he truly was and so would not be able to draw him out. No, she was not the right person for him!
Neither was the blond girl, Baronet Masters’s daughter, who was dancing with him now, coquettishly tossing her hair and letting out a false-ringing laughter at everything he said, while her eyes remained cold and calculating. As the nephew of the Governor, the youngest son of an earl and an officer of the Navy, Castiel was certainly high-value loot. Dean just hoped he'd be captured by the right kind of pirate.
Feeling suddenly vexed and out of patience with the whole spectacle that made up this foreign world of titles and riches, Dean turned on his heel and made his way towards the patio-doors. He needed some fresh air and privacy and the Governor's gardens would be able to provide both.
The mansion was located almost in the middle of Port Royal, opposite the old church, and was surrounded by a high wall to keep out the various lowlifes that frequented the town. Made of stone and at least three metres high, the wall was nonetheless easy to climb, due to the many cracks that had appeared in its façade. The top of the wall was flat and smooth as a stone bench and sitting atop it, Dean could see past Fort Carlisle and out to the open sea.
Castiel always did this to him. The man had a way of getting under his skin and disturbing his thoughts, until he was all that Dean could think about. There was something about his piercing gaze and solemn manners that made Dean feel as if he could see right through him. The strange thing was that it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience.
The only downside, really, was that it didn't work both ways. Castiel was still one big mystery to Dean. He wondered what went on behind that blank mask of a face, what thoughts and dreams lurked beneath the calm surface.
He had tried talking to Sam about it, but his brother had only laughed and accused him of having a crush. Not that Dean had needed Sam to tell him that. That much had become glaringly obvious after his very first meeting with Castiel, when Dean had spent weeks lost in daydreams about running his fingers through long, dark hair and kissing full and slightly chapped lips. Somewhere in some deeply buried part of his brain, Dean even had a suspicion that his feelings for Castiel went beyond a simple crush, but that was too troubling even to think of. What he needed was advice about how to deal with it.
Castiel was out of his reach. He knew this. It wasn't just that he was a man. After all, it wasn't unheard of for two men, accustomed to long months at sea far from any women, to alleviate their loneliness together. Such customs, once indulged in, had a tendency to continue even on land, especially in a town of such lax morals as Port Royal. Dean knew from experience that there was plenty of company to be found here, both male and female, for a lonely sailor. Unfortunately, such company had long since stopped being able to cure his strain of loneliness. He feared only one person held such a panacea and Dean doubted he would be willing to share it.
The trouble was that Castiel did not seem to be the type to indulge in any vices, whether from loneliness or any other weakness. There were no discernible cracks in his walls to give Dean a footing. When he was with Castiel, Dean felt he was constantly falling and it was a sensation he was not finding particularly enjoyable. He wanted a hold on the other man to equal the one Castiel had on him, but he feared he would always be left grasping at air.
Now thoroughly depressed, Dean closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. Perhaps if he hid out here for long enough, Castiel would be gone by the time he went back inside and Dean could spend a couple of months being miserable over him before finally being able to put him out of his mind again. Admittedly, it was a rather cowardly solution to his problems and Sam would most certainly berate him had he been there, but Dean believed in picking his battles and he simply could not afford to keep losing to Castiel.
*****
"I hear you captured El Fantasma Blanco."
Startled at sound of another man's voice, Dean raised his head and spun around so quickly he almost fell off the wall. He was even more surprised when Castiel stepped out from under the branches of the tree he had been leaning against. Dean wondered how long he had been standing there, bearing witness to Dean's submission to angst on his behalf. He hoped it had not been too long, since it wasn’t exactly one of his proudest moments. It was especially humiliating to have been caught out by Castiel, who surely had not know such a moment of emotional weakness in his life.
"Word travels fast", Dean answered Castiel’s comment, doing his best to act casual, while trying to get his heartbeat back to normal.
Castiel shrugged and gave him a wry half-smile.
"It does when it concerns the infamous Captain Winchester”, he said. “I hear the Spaniards are offering quite a reward on your head. I'm almost tempted to turn you over to them myself."
Surprised, but pleased, at this uncharacteristic display of humour, Dean could not suppress a laugh.
"You could try", he said, "but you'd have to catch me first."
Only once the words had left his mouth did he realise how flirtatious they sounded. It did not help that his mind was now busy enjoying the fantasy of being chased by Castiel. Somehow, Dean doubted it would be a very long chase.
"Ah yes", the other man answered and Dean was almost too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the sudden shadow that passed across his face, "I knew there was a problem somewhere. Me, catch the elusive Dean Winchester? I may as well attempt to pin down the waves."
Dean bit his lip. If only Castiel had known how closely he was following Dean’s own thoughts. Was he really naïve enough not to realise how those words sounded? Here was an opening if ever Dean had heard one. The only question was if he was bold enough to take advantage of it. The last thing he wanted was to drive Castiel away, especially as he had apparently come looking for him. At the same time, there was the question of why he had come. He had obviously left the party, where his sister was waiting to introduce him to her lovely friends, all of whom would undoubtedly be more than willing to fall into his arms, to go in search of a man he hardly knew. Dean may be reading too much into the situation, but if ever there was a time to gamble, this seemed to be it.
"I'll think you'll find that when I'm hunted by the right person, I'm really not that difficult to catch."
There! That was as explicit as he dared to be. If Castiel was interested, he would know to read the invitation in that. That is, if he wasn’t a complete simpleton. Dean just hoped that he had not read the other man wrong and if he had, that Castiel would be open-minded enough not to take offence.
Apparently, there was some interest there, because Castiel took another couple of steps forward, his eyes fixed on Dean's face with an intensity that was unusual even for Castiel. His voice was slightly tense when he asked,
"And who is the right person?"
Dean shrugged, his heart pounding fiercely near his Adam's apple and his stomach ready to take flight, what with all the butterflies practising acrobatics in there. When he spoke, he hardly recognised his own voice; it had gone so deep and gruff.
"Well", he said, "I've always had a certain blind spot for blue-eyed, dark-haired Commodores of the Navy Royal. I don‘t suppose you happen to know any?"
At that, Castiel honest-to-god grinned, a dazzling grin that transformed his whole face and made Dean's head spin, and took yet another step forward, until he was standing directly below Dean, staring up at him with shining eyes.
"I‘m not sure", he said, "but I'll be sure to tell my fellow Commodores. I'm sure they'll all soot their hair for the chance to catch you."
Dean leaned down, feeling almost giddy with excitement and sudden daring, and twirled a loose strand of Castiel's hair around his fingers, before tucking it behind his ear, turning the touch into a caress.
"Did I forget to mention", he said with mock-regret, "that I will settle for nothing less than the Governor's nephew and the son of an Earl?"
Castiel's eyes closed momentarily and he leaned into Dean's touch. When he looked up again, his eyes were blazing furnaces of heat.
"Really?" he said, his voice even rougher than usual. "In that case, I may know just the person and I know for a fact he‘d be more than willing to take on the challenge."
Dean smiled, unable to believe that this was happening, and reached down a hand to help Castiel up onto the wall. The man hesitated only a moment, before taking the proffered hand and allowing himself to be pulled up to sit next to Dean.
*****
This was not what Castiel had had in mind when he'd left the ball and gone in search of Dean. He'd only wanted to talk to Dean in private, for once, to see if he could figure out the reason why the other man intrigued him so.
It appeared as though he had discovered that reason.
Sitting next to Dean on the wall, his hand still clutched in a tight grip, Castiel felt as if he was caught in a dream; one from which he did not want to wake. His skin was tingling with Dean's proximity, his heart was racing and his blood was molten lava flowing through his veins.
They sat for several long moments, just staring at each other, both breathing heavily and undeniably unsteadily. Castiel desperately wanted to say something to break the heavy silence that had fallen between them, but the incendiary look in Dean's eyes seemed to have driven the words of the English language right out of his head. What finally came out was,
"I've never..."
He bit his lip, blushing. That was not what he'd meant to say. God, he was such an idiot! There had been no need to make that obvious; Dean could probably tell from his awkward behaviour.
Fortunately, his stupid confession did not seem to deter Dean. The other man simply raised his free hand and put it against Castiel's cheek, his eyes still hungrily drinking in Castiel‘s face.
"Shhh", he said soothingly and Castiel was more than happy to oblige. He raised his own hand and put it over Dean's. Turning his head slightly, he brushed his lips against Dean’s palm, forcing himself to hold Dean‘s burning gaze and knowing that his own was as dark with desire.
Dean made a broken sound and swallowed visibly.
"Cas", he whispered and the nickname sent a fresh wave of heat through Castiel's body.
Feeling suddenly reckless, Castiel leaned forward, slowly closing the space between them. He needed something to happen right bleeding now, before he spontaneously combusted or before someone came and drove them apart. He did not think he would survive being separated from Dean; not until he’d made absolutely certain that Dean felt this too, whatever this was.
"Dean", he whispered brokenly and watched as green eyes darkened even further and fell to his lips. "Please!"
"You drive me mad", Dean blurted, obviously unable to control himself. "I can't think of anything but you."
Castiel laughed, a half-deranged sound.
"I know the feeling", he confessed. "Even Anna's noticed. She said I seemed distracted."
Dean grinned, the hand on Castiel‘s cheek moving slightly to play with the loose strand of hair.
"I hope you told her why."
"Oh yes", Castiel nodded. "I told her that the reason I was distracted was because I kept imagining what it would be like to kiss the man she had brought as her partner this evening."
"And what did she say?"
"That the best way to clear my head of these fantasies would be to make them come true."
Dean's face was now mere inches from Castiel and Castiel had to focus on Dean's lips to keep from going cross-eyed. His breath caught when a pink sliver of tongue appeared to wet those lips and involuntarily his own tongue copied the motion. They were close, so close, and Castiel could feel Dean's breath against his mouth and he had to close his eyes and draw a shuddering breath of his own to steady himself and their hands wandered, clutching, caressing, exploring, and Castiel's heart felt ready to burst and his head was swimming and this was it, this was it, this was it...
BOOM!
A sudden explosion rent the silence and the night was filled with cries and the sound of people running. Cursing, Dean broke away from Castiel, looking towards the harbour, from whence the sound had come, and Castiel did the same. There was no mistaking the sounds. They were under attack!
Right, so as I said I need advice: What happens next? Does anyone care? Is this even worth continuing? If it is, this is what I’ve got:
1. Anna is kidnapped by pirates and Dean and Castiel go after her.
2. Castiel is kidnapped by pirates and Dean has to rescue him.
3. Dean is captured by the Spaniards and Castiel has to rescue him.
4. Other suggestion (please specify).
Part 2 - The Attack On Port Royal
Author: anoradh
Rating: PG
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Genre: Pirate!AU, romance
Warnings: Bad Harlequinesque writing, probable factual errors, intentionally stupid plot
Spoilers: None, I think
Word Count:
Author's Notes: I was playing Sid Meier’s Pirates! and dancing with the “beautiful” daughter of a Spanish governor, when it occurred to me how much fun it would be to write a silly pirate romance with Dean as a dashing privateer and Castiel as the rebellious Governor’s daughter. This didn’t quite turn out that way, but I still had lots of fun writing it.
Somehow, this turned into a bit of a cliff-hanger and I have no idea how to continue it (or rather, I have some ideas, but I can't choose which one to go with), so I thought I’d try leaving it up to the reader (if I have any). So if you actually make it to the end of this utter nonsense and you’re mad enough to want to read more, please let me know how this should continue. Cheers!
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, but to the creators of Supernatural. I’ve just commandeered them for a while to play with them and will gladly return them when I’m done.
I’d also like to point out that I have absolutely nothing against the Spanish; I just needed opponents for this story and since English privateers often attacked Spanish ships, it made most sense to make the enemies Spanish. I apologise if this offends anyone, but I would like to point out that so far, only one of the Spaniards in this story is a bad guy. The rest just happen to be unfortunate enough to belong to a nation that opposed the English. Or something...
Summary: Dean is a dashing English privateer, making life difficult for the Spanish. Castiel is an officer in the Navy Royal. They meet at a ball and sparks fly... literally.
Part 1 - An Officer And A Pirate
"Captain! Captain!"
The First Lieutenant's voice was breathless and terrified as he came running up to the quarterdeck. His face was pale and his eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of his skull. This wasn't an uncommon look for him, but today he looked even more frightened than usual.
The Captain of El Fantasma Blanco lowered his spyglass, with which he had been searching the horizon in front of them, and surveyed the Lieutenant coldly. He did not approve of emotions on his ship; he had, in fact, expressly forbidden them, and for his senior officer to disobey his command so brazenly was an absolute outrage. He was just contemplating a fitting punishment, whether the cat o' nine tails was enough or if this called for more drastic measures, when the man continued,
"Captain, the lookout has caught sight of a ship off the starboard stern. It looks like The Impala, sir!"
All thoughts of whipping and keelhauling were driven out of the Captain's head by those words, along with every drop of blood. The Impala! The most infamous pirate ship to hunt these haunted waters; the stuff of nightmares for any Spanish sailor. Captained by the most ruthless man in this hemisphere and crewed by men as immoral and bloodthirsty as he was, it preyed on Spanish trade ships and war galleons alike, slowly bleeding the profits and the honour out of the Spanish navy, drop by agonising drop. No ship caught in its inexorable sights had ever escaped and only a few had survived its scourge.
At least no ship had escaped as of yet. The Captain of El Fantasma Blanco squared his shoulders against the cold grip of terror that clutched his stony heart and made a decision. There was no point in running. The black sloop now visible to the naked eye as a shadow cleaving through the waters in their wake was one of the fastest ships in the Caribbean. Able to cross shallows as well as depths it could cut through shoals that would founder the larger, heavier war galleon. No, if they ran, they would only prove an easier target. No other choice for it then but to,
"Stand and fight!" the Captain concluded aloud.
The First Lieutenant stared at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Captain?" His voice quivered with uncertainty and an unmistakable hope that he'd heard wrong. If they did survive this, the Captain decided that the first thing he would do would be to have the man thrown overboard to the sharks. Either that or leave him stranded on one of the many still deserted islands in this area. Perhaps he could find some friendly tribe of cannibals willing to entertain a guest for dinner.
With an evil smirk that caused the First Lieutenant's face to turn an ashen grey and his lower lip to tremble, the Captain repeated slowly and clearly,
"We're going to stand and fight! Turn the ship around! It's time we rid these waters of this infernal plague."
*****
"I think they're turning around!"
Sam's voice was amused and he grinned behind the spyglass pressed to one of his eyes. Dean was happy to see that his brother had finally learned to take pleasure in their job. The first year that Sam had spent onboard the Impala, his sad puppy-eyes and wistful smile whenever anyone mentioned port had made it clear that he still longed for the "normal" life he had been forced to give up.
Now, three years later, Sam was almost as eager to hunt down enemy ships as Dean was. The hunt was in his blood and there was no resisting its lure. The rush of adrenaline, the crews' shouts and jeers, the cannons firing, the ships crashing together, the ringing of steel against steel as swords were drawn... It was the biggest thrill in the world!
Of course, it only became better when the other ship decided to face the odds and fight against their inevitable fate. No true hunter found pleasure in killing a sitting duck. No, it was in the challenge of slaying a fierce predator that the honour lay and this time, it looked as though they'd cornered themselves a lion.
"All right, men!” Dean called out. "It's high time to ready to those cannons!"
His command echoed along the deck and the already busy crew almost fell over themselves, hurrying to obey. Dean turned to Sam.
"Prepare to take the helm, Sammy!"
His brother nodded, still grinning widely and for once not objecting to the nickname. Turning around, he went to stand next to the helmsman, ready to take over if necessary. As First Mate, steering the ship was not actually part of Sam's duties, but his unparalleled skill and unfailing intuition has saved them during many a battle. Until their helmsman proved to be as good as Sam was, the First Mate’s place during battle would always be beside the wheel.
As for Dean himself, he made his way onto the main deck, navigating smoothly among the bustling crew and calling out the occasional orders.
"Rufus, round shots to begin with. We don't need to spare the ship. This one is going down."
"Aye, aye, Captain!"
"Bobby, get those kegs moving before I stuff you in one and throw it overboard!"
"I'd like to see you try - erm, I mean, aye, aye, Captain... Idjit... Sir!"
"Gordon, I keep telling you: Save the bundle shots for when we're closer! Listen to Rufus!"
"Aye, aye, Capt’n!"
"Ellen, you keep telling me you can steer this ship as well as any man! Now prove it!"
"Aye, aye, Captain! Then will you ask your giant brother to stop breathing down my neck?"
"Only when you get your fool daughter out from under my feet! Get back down into the galley, Jo! I've no time to protect your cute little behind!"
"Aye, aye, Captain Pig!"
"Bad luck to have a woman onboard, Captain, let alone two!"
"Don't I know it, Ash! You want to try throwing them off?"
"Hell no, Captain, sir!"
"Didn't think so! Keep up the good work, men!"
"And women!"
"Joanna Beth!"
"Aye, aye, Mum! I'm going!"
Satisfied that everyone knew what they were doing, Dean stood back and watched his crew work. He knew that his last-minute orders were largely unnecessary, since after all this time that they had served together the crew was highly autonomous, but he liked to be among them at the beginning of a fight, making himself seen and heard. Years of watching his father run a ship had taught him that few things heightened crew morale as having their Captain present and active when going into battle. It was why they followed him, after all, because they knew he would always be the first one into the fray and the last one to retreat.
His musings were suddenly interrupted by a loud boom and a shout,
"Cannon fire!"
Hurriedly raising his eyes, Dean saw the black balls soar through the air towards them, but before he even had time to react, The Impala swerved, deftly slicing through the waves as though she were a part of them, until they were no longer in the line of fire.
"Nice sailing, Ellen! Men, our friends over there have offered us their salute. Are we really so rude as to not return it?"
Grins broke out across the ship as the men recognised his order to engage. Rufus's cry of "Fire!" echoed through the air, swiftly followed by the roar of their own cannons.
*****
The battle that followed was swift, bloody and devastating - at least for the Spaniards. When it was all over, the Spanish Captain, a cowardly fellow who'd done his best to stay hidden during the fighting and who had then tried to abandon ship, knelt at the point of Sam’s cutlass. His First Lieutenant, who had displayed far more honour and bravery, knelt at his side with Bobby’s flintlock pistol aimed at his head. What remained of the Spanish crew had been surrounded and were sitting in a shuddering huddle in the middle of their main deck, awaiting their judgement. Some were weeping, others glared defiantly at their conquerors, while others still just stared blankly in front of them.
Dean knew what they were expecting, knew his reputation for leaving no survivors. He had helped cultivate it, after all, knowing that notoriety was a pirate's best weapon. How many ships had surrendered as soon as they recognised the sleek, black sloop and read the name on the escutcheon? Contrary to rumour, however, Dean was definitely one of the most merciful pirates ever to sail the Caribbean and the crew had but little to fear from him. Those who would not join his own crew would be set adrift in lifeboats along one of the main trade routes, where another ship would be sure to find them.
As for the Captain and his First Lieutenant, however, that was another matter entirely. Dean was so tired of seeing crews like these, beaten down and worn out, driven to work beyond their limits through fear and pain. It always seemed to be the same on all the ships the boarded, regardless of size or nationality. The royal navies would find some sadistic megalomaniac to captain their crews, then turned a blind eye on the atrocities committed onboard their ships, as long as they produced results. Then they wondered why some of their crews mutinied, when the real wonder was why so many of them did not. If Dean had tried to captain The Impala with anything resembling "navy discipline", he'd have been walking the plank long ago.
Looking down at the snivelling mess of a man that posed as Captain of El Fantasma Blanco, Dean was filled with nothing but contempt. The sodding coward had actually tried to run, leaving his crew behind. Sighing heavily, Dean turned towards his men and called out,
"Gordon!"
A menacing-looking man with a scarred face and a hook instead of a left hand stepped forward with an expectant grin. Dean gestured towards the Captain.
"Have fun!" he said.
The Captain, while unable to understand the words, plainly understood the gesture, which was emphasised by Gordon's widening grin and cruel eyes. Casting aside any shred of dignity, he threw himself at Dean's feet, sobbing and gibbering in terror. This was the bit that Dean hated. It always made him feel weak.
He raised one hand at Gordon, who was evidently expecting it, since his grin had transformed into an aggravated snarl.
"Wait!" Dean told him. Hesitating, he turned to look at Sam, who gave him a complicated face involving eyebrow-wriggling, lip-quirking and nose-twitching, as well as a number of other things Dean could not begin to define, but which he took to mean,
"You're my brother and I love you! I will always stand behind you. You are also our Captain and the decision of what to do with this vermin belongs to you, but I would like to remind you that we should not lower ourselves to his level."
Sam had a very expressive face. He also had a very annoying habit of concurring with that pesky little voice in Dean's head that he had labelled "Conscience! Do not open at risk of appearing human!" With an even heavier sigh, Dean waved a growling Gordon away and turned to his Quartermaster.
"Bobby", he said. "You wouldn't happen to have any job befitting a former Captain of the Spanish Navy, would you?"
Bobby twirled his grizzled beard contemplatively.
"You know, now that you mention it, Joanna Beth has mentioned something about needing a hand peeling spuds. I think that might do well to begin with."
Dean shrugged.
"It'll have to do. All right, men, gather them up and bring them over to the Impala. Bobby, take some men below and see if there's any loot worth keeping. Sam, have a look at the Impala and let me know what the damage is. Also, tell Ellen to plot a course of Port Royal. I think we've deserved a bit fun after this, don't you?"
Hearing his words, the crew let out a loud 'huzzah' and hurried to comply with his orders. While overseeing their work, Dean allowed himself to get lost in ideas of his less pleasant prospects once they reached port. It was time to see Governor Zachariah again and report on his progress. These meetings were definitely the downside of having obtained a Letter of Marque.
Still, if he was lucky, Anna would be there. The Governor's beautiful niece and ward took pleasure in shocking the stuck-up prigs that made up Port Royal's aristocracy and she had made it a habit to invite Dean along to their balls whenever he came into port. Dean did not particularly enjoy dancing, but he did enjoy the looks on those powdered and rouged faces, especially since they could not openly object. For his services to the Crown, Dean had been knighted the year before by Governor Zachariah himself, which meant that anyone who wanted to keep well with the Governor had better keep their mouths shut about Dean. Sometimes Dean loved the intricate games of polite society, specifically when he could use them against its players.
Smirking to himself, Dean went to help his crew carry the barrels of fine wine that they had found in El Fantasma Blanco's cargo hold over to The Impala.
*****
Castiel stood in a corner of the Governor's great ballroom, sipping a glass of expensive wine and watching the dancing couples twirling around to "The Devil's Dream". He hated these formal affairs, avoided them whenever he could, just as he hated most social events. They made him feel awkward and out of place. Unfortunately, Uncle Zachariah had insisted that he would attend this one and he could not refuse. So here he was, bored out of his skull and counting the minutes until he could leave.
Glancing around, he caught sight of his cousin Gabriel dancing with the fair-haired beauty that was his lady for the evening. He could not help but smile as he watched Gabriel attempt an elaborate flourish in the dance, which naturally failed utterly, but which caused the lady to trip and fall into Gabriel's waiting arms. Catching Castiel's eye, Gabriel winked at him, before returning his attention to his giggling and blushing partner. Castiel had no doubt how the evening would end for the two of them.
Beside the playful couple, another couple was dancing more sedately and far more gracefully. They moved with the practised ease of lovers, smoothly following each other's steps and anticipating each other's moves. Watching them, Castiel's chest ached with something akin to envy.
The lady's bright red hair shone like fire in the flickering candlelight and her pale skin, perfectly fair without either cream or powder, looked almost luminescent, giving her a fey appearance. Her partner was a handsome young man with bright green eyes and the unfashionably tan skin that set him apart as a man of the sea. His long, brown hair was tied back with a narrow ribbon and he wore clothes that were well-fitting, but certainly not in accordance with fashion. Based on what he knew about the man, Castiel did not doubt that it was intentional.
He waited until the dance was over, before moving towards them. The lady caught sight of him almost immediately and led her partner over to meet him with a huge smile on her lovely face.
"Castiel", she greeted him warmly. "It's been too long! Why didn't you tell me you were in town?"
He bent down to kiss her proffered cheek.
"Hello, sister", he said. "You're looking beautiful, as always."
She gave him a sly look, obviously aware that he had deliberately ignored her question, but willing to overlook it for now. Instead, she turned to her partner.
"Dean", she said, "you remember my brother Castiel?"
The man bowed his head in greeting, his eyes glittering beneath respectfully lowered lids.
"Of course", he said. "An honour, as always, Lieutenant-Commander!"
Hearing that the man remembered what he had held at their last meeting, Castiel could not suppress a wave of pleasure. He had not thought himself important enough to make a lasting impression. Returning the bow, he corrected the man and wondered if he would still remember the next time they met.
"Commodore, actually”, he said. “How are you, Captain Winchester? Enjoying yourself, I trust?"
"In such company, how could I not?" the privateer replied with a flirtatious grin at his lady, earning himself a laugh and a reproachful slap on the arm.
"Ignore him, Cas", Anna said. "He's full of empty flattery tonight."
Dean gasped and clutched at his heart theatrically.
"You wound me, lady!"
"Worse than any swordfight, I'd wager!"
"Naturally! Surely you are aware that beauty such as yours is the most lethal weapon of all to a man like me."
Anna gave him a stern look, shaking her head and tutting.
"You forget yourself, Captain!” she said- “You're not actually supposed to court me, only frighten off other men from doing so."
Dean bowed deeply, placing a hand on his chest.
"Your wish is my command, my lady, though it goes hard against my inclinations."
"No doubt", Anna murmured, casting an amused glance at Castiel.
Castiel struggled to return it, but his dark mood, which had momentarily been dispersed by the radiance that was his sister, had returned as he listened to their light-hearted flirting. This was why he tried to avoid these events. He would never have the easy manners or casual charm to bewitch anyone the way Dean did so naturally. Just being around the other man made him feel unsophisticated and out of place, though rightfully it ought to be the other way around. Castiel had grown up in this world. Dean had only recently been allowed inside as something of a gate-crashing visitor. Yet Dean was the one who moved around the room as if he owned, while Castiel skulked in the shadows.
Telling himself that it wasn’t the other man’s fault that he was so damn charming and thereby made Castiel feel so bloody inadequate, he forced a smile. He tried to remember why he had thought it a good idea to come speak to them, but could not come up with any. At least none that he was willing to acknowledge as valid. He wished he could blame it on a desire to speak to his sister, but it was not on her face that his eyes were fixed, nor was it her attention that he so enviously coveted. Unfortunately, it was obvious that the couple had eyes only for each other and Castiel decided that it was time to beat a hasty retreat.
"I fear I am intruding", he said politely. "Go back to your merriment and I will speak to you tomorrow, sister."
He turned around to go back to the shadows of his secluded corner, where he could lick his wounds in peace until he could escape altogether, but Anna stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Oh no, you don't", she said. "You're going to dance with me! No objections!" - as he opened his mouth to protest - "I won't have my brother standing around looking dull and foolish. You are going to dance with me and then you are going to dance with at least five other women at this ball." She took his hand and began dragging him towards the middle of the dance floor. "Honestly, Castiel, how are we ever going to find you a wife if you insist on hiding away on that ship of yours and never socialising? You're such a good man and exceptionally handsome too, but who will ever notice if you don't put yourself out there? It is time you make an effort."
Resigned to his fate and left with no other choice, Castiel allowed himself to be led out onto the dance floor. He threw an apologetic glance at Dean and shrugged to indicate his helplessness. The man's face had darkened slightly as Anna spoke, but he answered Castiel's unspoken apology with a bright grin and raised eyebrows that seemed to say,
"Women!"
As he took his place among the other couples, Castiel could not resist following Dean with his eyes. He admired the manner in which the man moved through the room, meeting outraged glares with saucy smiles and poorly disguised whispers with cheerful greetings. Nothing seemed to faze him and Castiel wondered how he had gained such impervious self-assurance. He actually seemed to take pleasure in the other guests’ disdain.
When the music began, Castiel lost sight of Dean through the throng of dancers, but although the dance and Anna ought to have held his interest, he found that his thoughts wandered. As during their few previous meetings, the privateer had invaded his mind and Castiel was filled with the all too familiar desire to learn more about the man. It was an unnerving idea and all the more so, because Castiel could find no rational explanation for his interest. The man was no one, so why did he fascinate him so? The thought continued to plague him all through his six dances and afterwards.
*****
Dean ambled slowly through the gathered assembly, trying to take his usual delight in the various reactions that his presence engendered, but it was no good. His mind was too distracted!
He ought to have known that Castiel would be here. The man always turned up whenever Dean had stopped expecting to see him. He had been absent from the last three balls that Dean had attended, clearly too occupied with working his way up the ranks in the Navy Royal. Anna had complained about it last time, how her brother was always away, always too busy with his work to find the time to settle down.
This last part did not worry Dean too much. He was rather relieved that Castiel had never done as Anna so clearly wished and chosen one of her friends to take as his bride. The thought of Castiel, serious, intelligent Castiel, with some vapid baroness on his arm, discussing the next shipment of silk or the latest fashions to reach them from the mainland, was enough to turn his stomach. Such a life would never make a man of Castiel's disposition happy!
No, if ever he did marry, it ought to be to someone like Jo; a free spirit who was not afraid to choose her own path and who could challenge him to do the same. Someone who could penetrate his stony façade and make him smile once in a while; who could bring colour to his pale cheeks and passion into his bright blue eyes. Someone to make him feel.
Although come to think of it, Jo was not the right type of woman for him either. She was too independent, too caught up in her own war against the patriarchal society that oppressed her to take notice of anyone else. She would not recognise Castiel for who he truly was and so would not be able to draw him out. No, she was not the right person for him!
Neither was the blond girl, Baronet Masters’s daughter, who was dancing with him now, coquettishly tossing her hair and letting out a false-ringing laughter at everything he said, while her eyes remained cold and calculating. As the nephew of the Governor, the youngest son of an earl and an officer of the Navy, Castiel was certainly high-value loot. Dean just hoped he'd be captured by the right kind of pirate.
Feeling suddenly vexed and out of patience with the whole spectacle that made up this foreign world of titles and riches, Dean turned on his heel and made his way towards the patio-doors. He needed some fresh air and privacy and the Governor's gardens would be able to provide both.
The mansion was located almost in the middle of Port Royal, opposite the old church, and was surrounded by a high wall to keep out the various lowlifes that frequented the town. Made of stone and at least three metres high, the wall was nonetheless easy to climb, due to the many cracks that had appeared in its façade. The top of the wall was flat and smooth as a stone bench and sitting atop it, Dean could see past Fort Carlisle and out to the open sea.
Castiel always did this to him. The man had a way of getting under his skin and disturbing his thoughts, until he was all that Dean could think about. There was something about his piercing gaze and solemn manners that made Dean feel as if he could see right through him. The strange thing was that it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience.
The only downside, really, was that it didn't work both ways. Castiel was still one big mystery to Dean. He wondered what went on behind that blank mask of a face, what thoughts and dreams lurked beneath the calm surface.
He had tried talking to Sam about it, but his brother had only laughed and accused him of having a crush. Not that Dean had needed Sam to tell him that. That much had become glaringly obvious after his very first meeting with Castiel, when Dean had spent weeks lost in daydreams about running his fingers through long, dark hair and kissing full and slightly chapped lips. Somewhere in some deeply buried part of his brain, Dean even had a suspicion that his feelings for Castiel went beyond a simple crush, but that was too troubling even to think of. What he needed was advice about how to deal with it.
Castiel was out of his reach. He knew this. It wasn't just that he was a man. After all, it wasn't unheard of for two men, accustomed to long months at sea far from any women, to alleviate their loneliness together. Such customs, once indulged in, had a tendency to continue even on land, especially in a town of such lax morals as Port Royal. Dean knew from experience that there was plenty of company to be found here, both male and female, for a lonely sailor. Unfortunately, such company had long since stopped being able to cure his strain of loneliness. He feared only one person held such a panacea and Dean doubted he would be willing to share it.
The trouble was that Castiel did not seem to be the type to indulge in any vices, whether from loneliness or any other weakness. There were no discernible cracks in his walls to give Dean a footing. When he was with Castiel, Dean felt he was constantly falling and it was a sensation he was not finding particularly enjoyable. He wanted a hold on the other man to equal the one Castiel had on him, but he feared he would always be left grasping at air.
Now thoroughly depressed, Dean closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. Perhaps if he hid out here for long enough, Castiel would be gone by the time he went back inside and Dean could spend a couple of months being miserable over him before finally being able to put him out of his mind again. Admittedly, it was a rather cowardly solution to his problems and Sam would most certainly berate him had he been there, but Dean believed in picking his battles and he simply could not afford to keep losing to Castiel.
*****
"I hear you captured El Fantasma Blanco."
Startled at sound of another man's voice, Dean raised his head and spun around so quickly he almost fell off the wall. He was even more surprised when Castiel stepped out from under the branches of the tree he had been leaning against. Dean wondered how long he had been standing there, bearing witness to Dean's submission to angst on his behalf. He hoped it had not been too long, since it wasn’t exactly one of his proudest moments. It was especially humiliating to have been caught out by Castiel, who surely had not know such a moment of emotional weakness in his life.
"Word travels fast", Dean answered Castiel’s comment, doing his best to act casual, while trying to get his heartbeat back to normal.
Castiel shrugged and gave him a wry half-smile.
"It does when it concerns the infamous Captain Winchester”, he said. “I hear the Spaniards are offering quite a reward on your head. I'm almost tempted to turn you over to them myself."
Surprised, but pleased, at this uncharacteristic display of humour, Dean could not suppress a laugh.
"You could try", he said, "but you'd have to catch me first."
Only once the words had left his mouth did he realise how flirtatious they sounded. It did not help that his mind was now busy enjoying the fantasy of being chased by Castiel. Somehow, Dean doubted it would be a very long chase.
"Ah yes", the other man answered and Dean was almost too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice the sudden shadow that passed across his face, "I knew there was a problem somewhere. Me, catch the elusive Dean Winchester? I may as well attempt to pin down the waves."
Dean bit his lip. If only Castiel had known how closely he was following Dean’s own thoughts. Was he really naïve enough not to realise how those words sounded? Here was an opening if ever Dean had heard one. The only question was if he was bold enough to take advantage of it. The last thing he wanted was to drive Castiel away, especially as he had apparently come looking for him. At the same time, there was the question of why he had come. He had obviously left the party, where his sister was waiting to introduce him to her lovely friends, all of whom would undoubtedly be more than willing to fall into his arms, to go in search of a man he hardly knew. Dean may be reading too much into the situation, but if ever there was a time to gamble, this seemed to be it.
"I'll think you'll find that when I'm hunted by the right person, I'm really not that difficult to catch."
There! That was as explicit as he dared to be. If Castiel was interested, he would know to read the invitation in that. That is, if he wasn’t a complete simpleton. Dean just hoped that he had not read the other man wrong and if he had, that Castiel would be open-minded enough not to take offence.
Apparently, there was some interest there, because Castiel took another couple of steps forward, his eyes fixed on Dean's face with an intensity that was unusual even for Castiel. His voice was slightly tense when he asked,
"And who is the right person?"
Dean shrugged, his heart pounding fiercely near his Adam's apple and his stomach ready to take flight, what with all the butterflies practising acrobatics in there. When he spoke, he hardly recognised his own voice; it had gone so deep and gruff.
"Well", he said, "I've always had a certain blind spot for blue-eyed, dark-haired Commodores of the Navy Royal. I don‘t suppose you happen to know any?"
At that, Castiel honest-to-god grinned, a dazzling grin that transformed his whole face and made Dean's head spin, and took yet another step forward, until he was standing directly below Dean, staring up at him with shining eyes.
"I‘m not sure", he said, "but I'll be sure to tell my fellow Commodores. I'm sure they'll all soot their hair for the chance to catch you."
Dean leaned down, feeling almost giddy with excitement and sudden daring, and twirled a loose strand of Castiel's hair around his fingers, before tucking it behind his ear, turning the touch into a caress.
"Did I forget to mention", he said with mock-regret, "that I will settle for nothing less than the Governor's nephew and the son of an Earl?"
Castiel's eyes closed momentarily and he leaned into Dean's touch. When he looked up again, his eyes were blazing furnaces of heat.
"Really?" he said, his voice even rougher than usual. "In that case, I may know just the person and I know for a fact he‘d be more than willing to take on the challenge."
Dean smiled, unable to believe that this was happening, and reached down a hand to help Castiel up onto the wall. The man hesitated only a moment, before taking the proffered hand and allowing himself to be pulled up to sit next to Dean.
*****
This was not what Castiel had had in mind when he'd left the ball and gone in search of Dean. He'd only wanted to talk to Dean in private, for once, to see if he could figure out the reason why the other man intrigued him so.
It appeared as though he had discovered that reason.
Sitting next to Dean on the wall, his hand still clutched in a tight grip, Castiel felt as if he was caught in a dream; one from which he did not want to wake. His skin was tingling with Dean's proximity, his heart was racing and his blood was molten lava flowing through his veins.
They sat for several long moments, just staring at each other, both breathing heavily and undeniably unsteadily. Castiel desperately wanted to say something to break the heavy silence that had fallen between them, but the incendiary look in Dean's eyes seemed to have driven the words of the English language right out of his head. What finally came out was,
"I've never..."
He bit his lip, blushing. That was not what he'd meant to say. God, he was such an idiot! There had been no need to make that obvious; Dean could probably tell from his awkward behaviour.
Fortunately, his stupid confession did not seem to deter Dean. The other man simply raised his free hand and put it against Castiel's cheek, his eyes still hungrily drinking in Castiel‘s face.
"Shhh", he said soothingly and Castiel was more than happy to oblige. He raised his own hand and put it over Dean's. Turning his head slightly, he brushed his lips against Dean’s palm, forcing himself to hold Dean‘s burning gaze and knowing that his own was as dark with desire.
Dean made a broken sound and swallowed visibly.
"Cas", he whispered and the nickname sent a fresh wave of heat through Castiel's body.
Feeling suddenly reckless, Castiel leaned forward, slowly closing the space between them. He needed something to happen right bleeding now, before he spontaneously combusted or before someone came and drove them apart. He did not think he would survive being separated from Dean; not until he’d made absolutely certain that Dean felt this too, whatever this was.
"Dean", he whispered brokenly and watched as green eyes darkened even further and fell to his lips. "Please!"
"You drive me mad", Dean blurted, obviously unable to control himself. "I can't think of anything but you."
Castiel laughed, a half-deranged sound.
"I know the feeling", he confessed. "Even Anna's noticed. She said I seemed distracted."
Dean grinned, the hand on Castiel‘s cheek moving slightly to play with the loose strand of hair.
"I hope you told her why."
"Oh yes", Castiel nodded. "I told her that the reason I was distracted was because I kept imagining what it would be like to kiss the man she had brought as her partner this evening."
"And what did she say?"
"That the best way to clear my head of these fantasies would be to make them come true."
Dean's face was now mere inches from Castiel and Castiel had to focus on Dean's lips to keep from going cross-eyed. His breath caught when a pink sliver of tongue appeared to wet those lips and involuntarily his own tongue copied the motion. They were close, so close, and Castiel could feel Dean's breath against his mouth and he had to close his eyes and draw a shuddering breath of his own to steady himself and their hands wandered, clutching, caressing, exploring, and Castiel's heart felt ready to burst and his head was swimming and this was it, this was it, this was it...
BOOM!
A sudden explosion rent the silence and the night was filled with cries and the sound of people running. Cursing, Dean broke away from Castiel, looking towards the harbour, from whence the sound had come, and Castiel did the same. There was no mistaking the sounds. They were under attack!
Right, so as I said I need advice: What happens next? Does anyone care? Is this even worth continuing? If it is, this is what I’ve got:
1. Anna is kidnapped by pirates and Dean and Castiel go after her.
2. Castiel is kidnapped by pirates and Dean has to rescue him.
3. Dean is captured by the Spaniards and Castiel has to rescue him.
4. Other suggestion (please specify).
Part 2 - The Attack On Port Royal