The Raptors of Misdirection and Waxing Gibberish - Chapter 15
Title: The Raptors of Misdirection and Waxing Gibberish
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington is making himself quite at home in my head, the snarky British bastard.
Summary: Elizabeth is needlessly worried. Immortality is mused upon. A table is damaged once more, and James makes a pretty speech as a swarm of crabs appears.
Chapter Fifteen
They had sailed out of Singapore, victorious, supplied with charts, ship and crew. William Turner was more responsible for this than Barbossa. Elizabeth worried about how little her betrothed said about the whole matter, and how exactly he had managed it, but the air between them seemed suddenly cold and strange. The pair of them still suffered from long, painful silences wherein neither of them could speak, but for now, there was some reprieve, as Will wrapped a blanket around her, seeing her shiver as the air grew colder, tenderness and years of habit occasionally breaking through their sullen silences. The fact that parting with Anamaria earlier had been a sad affair that everyone aboard both ships had greeted with enough rum (and some stolen wine, too) to turn it into an almost celebratory send off, helped too; the two young whelps so clumsily in love with each other were both more than a little tipsy.
“We can’t trust him,” Elizabeth warned him. “Feng, that is. Especially once he sees that we come back with two ships instead of one, and that the captain of the Gold Hawk is the brother of the man who gave him those scars.” She gestured toward the side of her own face and head, shivering a little, and not from the cold this time.
Will wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his side, just trying to keep her talking, and close, long enough to ease how cold he felt in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. “He knows nothing of the Hawk, and all the better to keep him on his toes. He’ll be focused on Jack, and Beckett, and the Black Pearl.”
Elizabeth smirked a little. “We do always seem to benefit from the element of surprise.” Then her expression grew more solemn again. “Do you think they’re alright? James and Jack?”
Will stiffened, and cleared his throat. “If they aren’t trying to find ways to kill each other, as you seem convinced that they aren’t, then they should be alright.”
She sighed. “It’s taken us more than a month to get this far. I lost track of exactly how long...and it will take us longer still to get to World’s End,” she murmured. “From what the crew and Tia Dalma keep saying about the Locker, I’m not sure that when we find them...” She shook her head. “It’s a long time to spend, while being technically dead, in a place that’s meant to be like Hell. And with Jack Sparrow of all people,” she sounded both irritated and mournful--almost guilty, in fact.
Despite the slight crease of confusion on his brow, Will rested his chin on the top of her head, his thoughts too blurred by rum to figure out why she should possibly sound guilty. “They have their ships, and they’re both smart men. I doubt they will easily go mad...more than either of them have already, anyway.”
“I hope you’re right, Will.”
“We’ll bring them back, Elizabeth,” he assured, but it sounded almost pained.
She leaned back against him. “I hope so,” she murmured.
They parted ways when the watch changed. In the morning, both hungover with slightly hazed memories of the night before, both lovers slipped once again into the same stony and painful silences, separated by so many things left unsaid.
“Immortality would, of course, have some drawbacks, mate,” Jack mused. He was laying spread-eagled, on his back, on the large round table in the great cabin.
James sat at roughly ten-o’clock, with his chair leaned back and his bootheels resting on the edge of the table between Jack’s head and Jack’s out-flung left arm. James had an apple in one hand and a leather-bound copy of Dante’s Inferno in the other. Chewing thoughtfully, he shot the pirate a look, one eyebrow raised, and swallowed his bite of apple. “What, specifically, are you thinking of?” Then he took another bite.
“That we’d outlive our ships.”
James paused in mid-chew. His eyebrows raised. After a few, quicker chews, he swallowed, with slightly grim look on his face. “I see. Yes, I suppose that despite their somewhat supernatural advantages, nautical technology’s tendency to improve by leaps and bounds would, eventually, render them-”
“Not just that, Jamie. They can die just like mortal creatures, and when they do, Calypso gets their souls back and we’re left without...” Jack gestured vaguely and cocked his head to peer up at James.
The look on the ex-commodore’s face showed that he was beginning to understand. His brow furrowed. “What, exactly, are our ships, Jack? I thought...but you actually seem informed in this matter. I should have asked before, I suppose.”
“Aye,” Jack agreed. “It’s that navy habit of not askin’ enough questions.”
James snorted.
Grinning, Jack explained, “They used t’ be a bit more common, hundreds of years ago, o’course. ‘S part of how the tradition of captains goin’ down with their ships began: ships with souls. Of course, a lotta ships still have souls, but not ones like ours, not so’s anyone but the most sensitive might notice. They’re nymphs, y’see? Our girls: their souls are sea nymphs.”
“Ironic, considering that’s what Homer seemed to think Calypso was.”
“Silly blighter,” Jack muttered. “But the Greeks never did appreciate women. They had their Poseidon, and weren’t about to admit that their god might actually be more of a goddess, not after all the trouble they had with Amazons.” The pirate shook his head. “How much do you know about nymphs, Jamie?”
James gave low, thoughtful noise, chewing and drawing on distant memories from days wherein he’d had more time for recreational reading. He swallowed. “Usually they are spirits bound to specific places, or deities, and often wed to mythological patriarchs in order to add to a family’s sense of nobility--as I recall.” He took another bite of apple.
“Aye. But you don’t much hear about them bein’ bound to ships, for all that the carvings on the bows of ships are oft meant to represent them: guardians, ladies, and to be bound to one is a dangerous thing.” Jack grinned. “But it has its benefits, it does, for all that a great number of people may think ye mad. I’m sure you’ve noted that.”
“Noted people thinking me mad, or noted the benefits?”
“Both.”
James nodded in agreement.
“Aye, I thought so. Well, the thing with nymphs is, they’re easy to fall for, ay? Especially the ones who match you best, which is what our ships have got for us. The problem is, when they’re suddenly quiet, suddenly ya can’t sense ‘em, it’s a bit maddening,” Jack said solemnly.
“You speak from experience, I expect.”
“Aye. Barbossa’s cursed crew bein’ aboard the Pearl right stifled her, smothered her soul like puttin’ her under a fog made up half of opium smoke. Too much magic from the wrong heathen gods can have that effect, apparently.” He hesitated. “I couldn’t hear her, or tell where she was, or anythin’. Was like she’d died, it was, and I was half-worried she had.” Jack’s eyes narrowed, his fingers roaming the scuffed edges of the table thoughtfully, pressing his fingertips into the narrow grooves to keep from clenching his hands into fists.
James considered this, his eyes very distant. Mentally he reached out, felt the faint hum of his cool mistress, the Gold Hawk, still on the edge of his mind: quiet, but still present, still calming and grounding. He could also feel the life of the ship beneath him, dark and impatient, homesick for the sea as much as both captains were, if not more. He cleared his throat. “I see. And you wonder if you could survive losing her again.”
Jack winced, but nodded. “Aye. That I do.”
James closed the book, and set it aside on an empty chair. He finished off his apple in a few quick, precise bites, and tossed the core into a small bin near the wall. Then he lowered his boot-heels to the floor, letting the front legs of his chair meet the floor with a soft thud. Then, in a highly un-commodore-like-fashion, which still felt quite foreign to him, he folded his arms and leaned forward in his seat to rest them on the table, next to Jack’s head. “It would seem to me, that the most devastating aspect of the situation was that when you lost the Black Pearl, you lost everything else you then valued: the freedom provided by her, your home, your property, the only...one you could trust not to betray you, and ten of the thirteen years you’d traded your soul for. All in one fell swoop, you lost more than many men could ever dream of having: it was that, and the not knowing her dead or alive or suffering, which I believe came closer to destroying you than if...than what we would undergo in what you are implying we might go through in the future. The situation, if events work out in accordance with our plans...well, at least, the plans I’ve numbered one through six, as well as either of plans nine or thirteen--well then, Jack, things will be quite different for you.”
“Ay?” Jack peered up at him again, curious.
James was looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. He spoke as though mentally crossing off a list. “Well, there’s the immortality to consider, of course. You know that we will never have a home, if we succeed in our venture, and we are prepared for that, as well as the other such losses we would confront; but by way of consolation, you cannot get much greater freedom than the ability to escape death no matter what life throws at you, because that alone can take you places and command respect that even the grandest ship could never provide. You’ve paid your debt to Jones by being dragged into the locker...” His gaze lowered to meet Jack’s. “And at this point, as well as more so when we are both of us harder to kill: you can trust me.” He smirked faintly. “Unless you feel that you could not stand chasing the horizon with me for some innumerable years.” Again, he looked away, his eyes thoughtfully scanning some unseen horizon as he added, airily, “I understand being stuck with the same person for long periods of time might grow quite annoying; so, I suppose that eternity would probably be out of the qu-”
“James.”
Meeting Jack’s gaze again, he tilted his head to one side, his face an open, innocent-looking mask that did not fool the pirate for a second. “Yes?”
“How long have we been stuck here?”
“Mhm.” He glanced at his pocket watch and did some quick calculations. Then he tucked it back into his pocket. “About twelve weeks, five days, and several-odd hours since I started keeping track, give or take a few days.”
“I’ve not got tired of ye yet,” Jack mused, sounding a little surprised, and a bit hopeful. “And this is about as trying a situation as two men of action such as ourselves might get into. It’s a shock we’ve not yet tried to kill each other in earnest; thus, I doubt, with the whole wide world at our disposal, that we’d have trouble getting bored, and even if we did get annoyed, some time to cool off now and then wouldn’t be much to ask, us havin’ all the time in the world, ay?” His grin was surprisingly sincere.
James smirked. “I suppose so. The fact we’ve done so well in this accursed place either proves that we were both already so far out of our minds upon arrival that we can take this in stride or, and I think this the more frightening concept really, we are both of us the most sane minds in existence.” He arched a brow at Jack significantly.
“Perhaps I’m the former and you’re the latter. We thus balance out perfectly.”
“Mm. Not until I find something that annoys you as greatly as that damned song Elizabeth taught you annoys me,” James growled, his voice laced with affectionate ire.
Jack chuckled. “Maybe you don’t have anything of that sort in your arsenal here, mate, but out in the world of the living, you’ve got weapons in spades.”
“Do I, then?” James mused.
“Seein’ through my plans, pointin’ ‘em out with every bit of sarcasm at your disposal, which is, by the way, enough to drown the ocean in, it seems to me, and it’s only compounded by that drawl of yours.” He snorted.
With a chuckle, James bent his head down, his face hovering over that of the pirate. “And yet, just the other day, you were complaining about my voice having an entirely different effect on you,” he purred, his voice like velvet and gravel and deep red wine.
Jack fidgeted as it sent a flicker of warmth through him, not unlike a shot of strong rum. “There. There’s the annoyance-weapon in your arsenal: you’re a bloody stoic tease.”
“And you are an openly crude one with a tendency to irritate me into reaction with ridiculous songs just in order to then trip me up in mid-rant and seduce me,” James countered, then allowed himself a grin. “Yes, I do suppose that we balance out quite well.”
Jack’s gaze was fixed on James’ lips. “I think, Jamie, that eternity with a fellow immortal man like you in it, could never be boring for very long.”
James smirked. “It’s your fault, you know. Not letting sleeping wolves lie.”
“It’s like you said, mate: I can’t resist shiny things. And there you were in all that gold brocade and that big pretty blue coat...with those damned eyes o’ yours.”
“Damned, hmm?”
“Aye, for leading a poor innocent pirate into temptation,” Jack countered, with a fair imitation of James’ usual drawl. Then he shook his head, becoming himself again. “They’re the same color as the sea at daybreak in the caribbean, love. I should’ve been a lot more suspicious of you right off the bat, seeing something so fine, with gems like those for eyes, so deceptively wrapped up in all o’ that Navy garb.”
James chuckled. “You, are incorrigible.”
“You like it.”
A snort. “No.” James quirked an eyebrow and shook his head a little, but he turned so that he faced the pirate captain more comfortably, and again leaning in close: teasing, but not quite promising. “No, I’m afraid it is far worse than that; I love it.”
“Will you just bloody kiss me already?”
“Hmm. And if I do not?”
Jack growled a little, but the fact his lips formed something like a pout ruined the overall effect.
James only smiled and leaned in closer. “Do you think that the world is ready, Captain? The two of us, working in tandem as an indestructible pair of madmen?”
Jack’s scowl could not hold together at that thought, and he grinned wickedly as his eyes simultaneously darkened with anticipation and sparked with mischief. “I like that,” he rumbled.
“I think that I do as well. You’re a very bad influence,” James accused, and cut off Jack’s reply with a kiss. It was slow, gentler than most that they had shared, lingering and taking their time without any sense of urgency on either man’s part, despite both men’s tendency to accuse each other of teasing to the point of near-madness. The single kiss became a small series of them, until both men were breathless. James climbed up onto the table and onto Jack, straddling the pirate’s thighs.
Jack was smiling as he reached up and rested his hands on James’ hips, content to remain in place and let the ravishment come to him. Then he gave an amused snort. “I find it funny, Jamie, that you call me the bad influence here,” he watched as James began opening their trousers. “And you’re the one who started all this.”
James smirked. “Still your fault.”
Another amused snort. “How’s that, love?”
“Your influence was what taught me how to reach out-” he leaned over Jack’s body, resting his weight on one forearm on the table beside them as his free hand slid beneath Jack’s shirt “-and take what I want, without hesitation.” He grinned as Jack shifted beneath him eagerly.
“Did I?” Jack asked, his voice a little strained.
“Yes. You and the young lovers both, but the lessons I picked up from Elizabeth’s going right after what she wanted--well, those were still taken, originally, from you. And all that Mr. Turner really did was point out that, despite your lack of restraint and propriety, you were, and are, still a good man,” James murmured, and licked the side of Jack’s throat, giving a content hum as Jack’s hands untucked his shirt from his breeches in a few quick tugs, then slid under the cloth, caressing the bare skin across his back and ribcage. “Altogether, I suppose that the lessons provided gave me unspoken permission to stop seeking happiness in the ‘proper’ or ‘expected’ places that my dignity had demanded I look to. It bruised my pride, I’ll have you know, to realize I had been doing things wrong for so long.”
Jack laughed loudly, even as he continued groping all of the bare skin he could reach. “You’re so bloody English, sometimes, mate. Let me guess, please: you thought that being happy was supposed to come about from duty and honor and all that, didn’t you? And you were just supposed to grow out of the rest of it, as though mischief an’ romantic affairs were jus’ childish things that should be beneath you.” Even as he said it, he deliberately dragged the ball of his thumb along the scar at James’ waist, making the other man shiver with a muffled groan.
Ardent reaction to that little touch aside, James snorted at the accusation, but nuzzled the Jack’s neck and admitted, “Yes, damn you, I did. And you knew it from the moment we met on the docks, I’m guessing.” Another hint of grudging respect was hidden in that statement, but, despite the grudge, there was affection in it too.
“Aye,” Jack admitted. “But that was why it scared the bloody daylights out of me seein’ you in Tortuga the first time: didn’ know how much duty, and which parts of it, you were still holdin’ onto. Dangerous potential there, mate, from what I’d seen.” He cut off with a pleased little noise at the back of his throat as James’ thumbs rubbed slow circles over his nipples. “Can’t trust honest men. Fool I was, I still thought you fit more neatly into that category.”
“And then, I suppose, it was my turn to surprise you,” James rumbled pressing his thigh between Jack’s legs and rubbing against the other man’s arousal.
Jack jerked in response and muttered something obscene in Latin. “And you haven’t seen fit to stop, thank God,” the pirate groaned, bucking his hips and writhing shamelessly as he seized two lovely handfuls of ex-commodore derriere and squeezed. Then he shot James a leer and a grin, teasing, “I kinda miss the more piratical look on ye, sometimes; you carried it well, even if the kohl and earring nearly killed me with the shock at first.”
James chuckled again, sounding breathless this time. “Well, imagine my surprise, Jack, when I realized how much I wanted you, and to what ends.” He pushed Jack’s arms away and pinned them over the pirate’s head for a moment, but only so that he could then peel away first Jack’s shirt, and then his own, tossing them aside onto the same empty chair as the book.
Jack grinned, stifling a moan as James’ thigh shifted maddeningly against him again. “And what ends, exactly, do you want me to?” He ran his hands up James’ chest slowly.
Hovering over the mad pirate captain, James smiled quite sincerely. “I want you; I want to remain with you, in your life, able to have this-” a playful grind “-whenever the moment proves opportune for us, until either you cannot stand the sight of me, or one of us dies.” His smile quirked upward somewhat crookedly. “As I said: quite a shock to me.” Then he groaned as Jack abruptly yanked him down into a series of desperate, hungry, searing kisses until James almost forgot .
Finally, speaking in between attempts to conquer James’ mouth, Jack said, “The world had better be ready for us, love.” Another kiss. “Because I very much like that idea, too, Jamie.” He ground his hips up against the other man and smiled at the way James moaned in response. Then Jack added, “And you know how far I go to get what I want.” A quick grin. “Pirate.”
“Yes,” James growled. Then the pirate’s hips shifted to a new angle and arched up, the length of his arousal sliding up along James’, making the green-eyed man’s breath hitch sharply. “God, Jack, yes.”
“Love hearing you say that,” Jack groaned, and then kissed him again.
James returned the attack with enthusiasm, pushing his own breeches down with one hand until he could and did kick them off, then tugging at Jack’s breeches until they pooled at the other man’s knees. He wrapped one hand around Jack’s cock, enjoying the feel of the slick, heated skin and the way Jack’s hips wriggled in response. Then his whole body jerked as Jack returned the favor, stroking him hard and fast and God when did it get this intense, this quickly? Too quickly. James momentarily captured Jack’s hands, pinning them.
“Jamie,” Jack complained, arching his body upwards.
James pressed closer in response, the front of his body skin-to-skin with that of his lover from chest to thigh as his hips moved in a languid stroke against those of the pirate, and. The friction and the heat were enough to make the pirate’s head fall back against the table. Jack’s jet-black eyes fell open when James released his wrists, and he immediately captured one of those formerly imprisoning hands, entangling their fingers and holding tight, palm-to palm, as his free hand wrapped around James and gripped at his shoulder blades for leverage to thrust up against the other man until they both found a satisfying angle and rhythm.
They both writhed, pressing their bodies closer together and increasing the slick feel of the friction as they moved, even as their bucking grew less controlled and more desperate. James, resting most of his weight on his forearms, lifted one hand to stroke down the length of Jack’s body and rest at the pirate’s waist. Jack’s hands were everywhere, tugging and encouraging, tickling, grabbing and clutching and claiming, pulling so that Jack could buck his hips hard now and then, taking James’ breath away every time. Then James undulated his hips in that particularly evil way again.
Jack cursed prettily, his hands landing on those tormenting hips and squeezing hard enough to bruise as he glared up at James. “I’s’not bloody fair when you do that, James,” he gasped, then made a sharp and incoherent noise as James did it again.
“One learns the benefits of not fighting fairly very quickly, when one pursues a career hunting pirates,” James teased, his tones mocking even when he was breathless and half-gone with lust. Then he sped up the pace, the hot press and slide of their erections between them, rubbing against each other, was bliss; with James’ free hand and his mouth working on the pirate beneath him, and both men making low, increasingly urgent breathy sounds with each languid thrust, until Jack finally came undone with a cry and a flare of heat, jerking up against his lover, rough and desperate in a way that made it quite easy for James to let go as well, shuddering and gasping for breath.
Jack pulled him down for another kiss, more heated than the first of this particular session, but still overall lazy and unhurried. James rested most of his weight on his elbows and forearms, resting them on the table on either side of his pirate lover’s ribcage; he remained draped over Jack and sighed contentedly when the kisses slowly broke apart. The pirate captain grinned, pushing loose strands of hair, escaped from James’ now-messy queue, behind James’ ear. Idly, gently, he tugged the lobe, feeling the small hole there with interest. Then he grinned rather smugly. “I don’t know if this table can survive much more of what we’ve put it through lately, Love.”
With a thoughtful noise, James shifted his weight experimentally and heard the table legs creak faintly in protest. “I suppose not.” He smirked rather smugly. “Never before in my life have I been so prone to damaging furniture as I’ve been since becoming your lover.”
Jack chuckled darkly. “Maybe I am a bad influence on you, James.”
“You like it,” James countered, meeting his gaze.
Jack grinned, wide and sincere and thrilled as he rumbled, “I love it.”
Jack was first aware of the immanent arrival of their rescue party when his pillow, sometimes known as James Norrington, suddenly tensed until he was still as stone and about as firm and uncomfortable to rest on. Jack looked up from his book, eyebrows raised.
James was sitting up on his elbows now, his eyes bright and sharp and alert, staring at something unseen in the middle-distance. “She’s awake. The rest of them are waking up. She’s thawing,” he said, his voice quiet and cool as his sense of duty snapped abruptly into place.
With a half-hearted pout, Jack sighed and sat up. “Get on, then. If they’re wakin’ up and we’re about to meet our rescue party, you’ve got some more pretty speeches to make, love.”
Grinning a little, James moved in to kiss Jack’s lips briefly, tasting them just enough that the other man’s flavor would linger pleasantly on his tongue. “Alea Iacta Est,” he murmured, brushed Jack’s lips once more, fleetingly, and was then on his feet, looking for where he had put his shirt and his coat and the cord he used to tie back his hair. Once properly dressed, looking only a bit disheveled even as he buttoned up his shirt all the way up to his neck in order to cover up the marks Jack had left--sparing the pirate a sardonic look as he did so, which Jack responded to with a cheeky grin--James then disembarked, climbing down the side of the Black Pearl and then making his way aboard his slowly de-icing Gold Hawk.
After dressing in his own complete regalia, Jack leaned on the rail, his eyes and ears open, waiting to overhear one of James’ speeches.
Meanwhile, below-deck on the Hawk, Groves was the first of James’ men to abruptly snap awake, gasping and shuddering. He looked up, saw James offering him a hand, and clutched at it desperately. “Sir, was it true? A dream? Are we...the maelstrom?”
“Yes. It’s been...well it’s been a number of months now, since then. The ship has been shielding you and the rest of the men,” James explained.
Groves’ brow furrowed as he caught his breath. “But not you, James?”
“No. I am apparently...difficult to hide, and she was already under much strain from the sheer number of the rest of you. I have been hiding from Jones along with Captain Sparrow, aboard the Black Pearl, which is beached right beside us.”
“Beached?”
“We’re in the middle of a wide and windless desert, I’m afraid. Miserable place.”
“You’ve been here, awake and aware, for months...with Captain Sparrow?” Deep concern lined Groves’ face, even as his tone of voice expressed disbelief.
“Yes.”
“And neither of you are injured?”
“No. We are quite well, in fact.” James’ face was masked with a look of quiet, patient curiosity. “Are you alright, Theo?”
Groves quirked an odd grin. “I’m just a bit amazed, sir.”
“As am I, believe me. It’s been...an experience,” James said, in his best sardonic tones, arching both eyebrows cooly with a hint of a smirk.
“Ah, there’s the captain I’m more familiar with,” Groves sighed. “The rest of the men?”
“Still thawing.”
“Thawing?”
“You can see for yourself, but...” James stepped aside, letting Groves see into the rest of the hold. He winced at the expression on his first mate’s face.
“Oh...God.”
James sighed.
“They’ve been...I’ve been...James?”
“Yes?”
“How have you not gone mad?”
A crooked smile tugged at James’ lips. “I suppose it was made easier by spending my time with someone far madder than I could ever hope to achieve. My ambitious nature thus deterred me from following a similar path, knowing that Captain Sparrow would always surpass me. Cowardly, perhaps, but I chose to pick a competition that I could actually win, and I am very good at sanity, it seems.”
“Better than I, at least,” Groves murmured. Then he looked James over slowly. “James?”
“Yes?”
“It was just you and Sparrow awake and aware out here?”
“Yes,” James replied, his expression masked, wary as he was of his friend’s appraising and somewhat suspicious look.
“I...see. I think.” He raised his eyebrows a little and cleared his throat.
At least the man did not look smug and obscenely amused like Elizabeth. James folded his hands behind his back in a commodore-like fashion, steeling himself against a negative reaction. “What is it, exactly, that you think you see, Theo?”
“That you’ve got a bit of a glow about you, sir, quite unusual--especially for a man claiming to have been stuck in this forsaken place for months. I’m just wondering if you found some...consolation of a sort.” Groves was still trying to state the matter delicately.
James smirked a little. “It was rather like being forced to take a vacation, but a vacation it has been, and I have spent the time accordingly on relaxation, not going mad, and finding consolation for the dullness and unchanging nature of this bleak place, primarily in the company Jack Sparrow.” He then met his first mate’s gaze with a look of calm amusement, raising his eyebrows in a meaningful and ever-so-slightly suggestive manner.
Groves’ eyes widened, then took in his captain’s expression and grinned, however faintly and with more than a hint of discomfort. “Er...” Then he shook his head, at a loss for words.
With a shrug, James turned his gaze upon the rest of the men. “We are both foremost loyal to our ships and their duties, while we are in possession of both and neither of us plan to lose either of them too early. That much has not changed, and thus our lives as captains will not; however, we also seem to have developed other loyalties,” He glanced pointedly in the direction of the Black Pearl--or, at least, what little of it could be seen past the hulking shapes of the cannons and the half-thawed men manning them.
After again clearing his throat, Groves inquired, “To each other you mean?”
Smirking again, James nodded. “Yes. Quite.”
Groves looked at him closely again, seeing clearly the fondness in James’ expression, then also glanced in the Pearl’s direction, and then looked at the rest of the thawing crew, watching the remaining ice melt for a moment, leaving no water behind in a manner that was distinctly unnerving. At last, he smirked crookedly, and laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Oh, God, if I could only see the uproar that the mere rumor of this would cause in Port Royal, I would cherish the sight for all my days.”
James gave an amused snort. “Thank you, Theo.”
“No problem, James.” He placed a hand on his captain’s shoulder, almost hesitantly. “I wish you the best of luck, now that you’ve finally caught, Captain Jack Sparrow.”
At that, James barked a laugh and turned to grin at Groves, for all that there was something almost apologetic in the look.
Theodore’s breath caught a little, but he smiled anyway, only forcing the expression a little bit in order to keep in in place. “If he proves at all false, sir, I’ll be happy to help you hunt him down to seek your vengeance.”
Another grateful smile. “You’re a very good man, Theo.”
“So people tell me,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in sheer mockery.
Then the rest of the men began to stir, and captain and first mate automatically took on more formal countenances. “Theo, the woman who was kind enough to give me this ship is sending for myself and Captain Sparrow, so that we may all return to the world of the living, and I and the Hawk may complete the tasks laid out for us.”
“Aye,” Groves said, thoughtfully. “But Sparrow, too?”
“One of his trinkets is apparently an artifact of some importance to her. Also, his ship is the only one, aside from ours, that can catch or even occasionally outpace the Flying Dutchman.”
“And us, James?” Groves inquired, glancing at the crew as they began waking in earnest, some of them crying out in dismay, others merely shivering themselves into consciousness and gasping.
“As you said, Groves, you are all of you my men, and now the ship’s men. She has protected all of you from the locker this whole time, despite how much this drained her.” He rested a hand on the bulkhead and felt the Gold Hawk give a weary hum that communicated her exhaustion, but also her righteous anger toward Jones and an eagerness to chase and to fight again. Judging by the way Groves’ eyes widened, James realized that he and Jack Sparrow were no longer the only ones who could hear her. James grinned at his friend. “As you are ours, you come with us.”
“Did you...I thought that I heard...”
“You did.”
Groves stared at him. “Is it always like this for you, then? Hearing...feeling that...”
“No. It is much more so,” James murmured. “Always at the edge of my mind.”
His first mate looked down at the boards beneath his feet as if worried his stepping on them wrong might be an offense. “And this ship is sister to the Black Pearl,” he muttered. “Sparrow’s ship is the same way then? And he...hears it the way you do?”
“Indeed.” James smirked faintly. “Incidentally, I can hear the Pearl as well--although not to the same degree of depth that I am aware of the Hawk. The reverse is also true for Sparrow.”
“Magic ships. Sentient, even,” Theodore muttered, shifting his feet uneasily. “What a weird and wild world we live in, James.”
James smiled at him and nodded, then walked away, helping various other crewmen to their feet. Groves hesitated a moment, glancing at the bulkhead and resting his hand where James’ had been. The ship once more gave a low, quiet murmur in the back of his mind, sounding tired, but curious.
“Thank you, Miss Hawk,” Groves whispered. The resultant hum of appreciation fromt he ship made his throat constrict in a loud gulp, but when his fingers moved along the bulkhead, it was with reverence, not fear. He nodded in response and to dismiss himself, and then joined James in getting the rest of the crew on their feet.
When the men had all grown calmer, and able to listen, James stood before them all, and doffed his hat. “Men, welcome to Davy Jones’ Locker.” A low murmur of dismay went through the crew. “You need not worry; our remaining time here will be very brief, but there are a number of things that you need to know. Please, join me up on deck, if you will. It is less chill up there, if only for the sunlight.” He put his hat on once more, and headed aloft. The small crowd of crewmen followed. James stood on the stairs to the quarter deck and faced them, resting a hand on the railing, feeling his ship all but drowsing: recovering now, her tiring ordeal over.
“First of all, I cannot tell you how much...” He stopped. “You have all, literally now, followed me through Hell,” he said instead, letting his formality drop abruptly. “And will soon follow me out of it again. I...thank you.” He met every man’s gaze, however briefly, and offered each of them gratitude, awe, and respects, and was surprised to receive it in return.
Then, as if given permission to lead again, James folded his hands behind his back and explained, “All of you have been under the protection of this fine ship, gentlemen. She kept all of you preserved, and unaware, for the months that we have been in this place. I was not kept with you, as it would have caused her too much strain. I spent my time over there, with our sometimes-ally, the Black Pearl.” He gestured toward the large black ship, even as he heard a susurrus of muttered oaths and whispers as the men took in the sight of her, and of the desert. “And I was there treated with great hospitality by her captain.”
The susurrus went quiet, and the men stared at him in shock.
“Neither of us are injured,” James assured, and smirked to see the amused and relieved looks on so many faces.
“How exactly did the ship protect us, sir?” cried Studson.
“This ship, kin to the Pearl, is not exactly a normal ship. I’m sure that you will all come to understand this better in time, once we are out of this forsaken place-” He paused as the ship suddenly shifted. Cries of surprise and dismay went through the crew. James glanced over at the Black Pearl and saw that the larger ship was also shifting about a bit. Then he looked down and raised his eyebrows at the sight of so very many little white stone-like crabs causing it all as they swarmed in, lifting both ships on and carrying them in mockery of an outgoing tide.
“That, men, would be our ride out of this desert, and thus the first step in our exiting the locker. Doubtlessly, we will soon meet up with the rest of our benefactors soon enough.” He realized he was grinning a bit like a a madman and quickly masked his expression again. Pretty speech, he reminded himself. Now was a time for pretty speeches.
“Captain?”
“I think, men, that it’s high time I explained to you exactly what happened the day that I found this ship...” Again, he rested his hand on the rail, feeling the novel sensation of his ship sleeping, her presence in his mind grown soft and quiet, but whispering with something like half-mumbled dreams. He smiled a little, more gently this time and began telling his story.
Previous || Story Index || Next
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington is making himself quite at home in my head, the snarky British bastard.
Summary: Elizabeth is needlessly worried. Immortality is mused upon. A table is damaged once more, and James makes a pretty speech as a swarm of crabs appears.
Chapter Fifteen
They had sailed out of Singapore, victorious, supplied with charts, ship and crew. William Turner was more responsible for this than Barbossa. Elizabeth worried about how little her betrothed said about the whole matter, and how exactly he had managed it, but the air between them seemed suddenly cold and strange. The pair of them still suffered from long, painful silences wherein neither of them could speak, but for now, there was some reprieve, as Will wrapped a blanket around her, seeing her shiver as the air grew colder, tenderness and years of habit occasionally breaking through their sullen silences. The fact that parting with Anamaria earlier had been a sad affair that everyone aboard both ships had greeted with enough rum (and some stolen wine, too) to turn it into an almost celebratory send off, helped too; the two young whelps so clumsily in love with each other were both more than a little tipsy.
“We can’t trust him,” Elizabeth warned him. “Feng, that is. Especially once he sees that we come back with two ships instead of one, and that the captain of the Gold Hawk is the brother of the man who gave him those scars.” She gestured toward the side of her own face and head, shivering a little, and not from the cold this time.
Will wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against his side, just trying to keep her talking, and close, long enough to ease how cold he felt in a way that had nothing to do with the weather. “He knows nothing of the Hawk, and all the better to keep him on his toes. He’ll be focused on Jack, and Beckett, and the Black Pearl.”
Elizabeth smirked a little. “We do always seem to benefit from the element of surprise.” Then her expression grew more solemn again. “Do you think they’re alright? James and Jack?”
Will stiffened, and cleared his throat. “If they aren’t trying to find ways to kill each other, as you seem convinced that they aren’t, then they should be alright.”
She sighed. “It’s taken us more than a month to get this far. I lost track of exactly how long...and it will take us longer still to get to World’s End,” she murmured. “From what the crew and Tia Dalma keep saying about the Locker, I’m not sure that when we find them...” She shook her head. “It’s a long time to spend, while being technically dead, in a place that’s meant to be like Hell. And with Jack Sparrow of all people,” she sounded both irritated and mournful--almost guilty, in fact.
Despite the slight crease of confusion on his brow, Will rested his chin on the top of her head, his thoughts too blurred by rum to figure out why she should possibly sound guilty. “They have their ships, and they’re both smart men. I doubt they will easily go mad...more than either of them have already, anyway.”
“I hope you’re right, Will.”
“We’ll bring them back, Elizabeth,” he assured, but it sounded almost pained.
She leaned back against him. “I hope so,” she murmured.
They parted ways when the watch changed. In the morning, both hungover with slightly hazed memories of the night before, both lovers slipped once again into the same stony and painful silences, separated by so many things left unsaid.
“Immortality would, of course, have some drawbacks, mate,” Jack mused. He was laying spread-eagled, on his back, on the large round table in the great cabin.
James sat at roughly ten-o’clock, with his chair leaned back and his bootheels resting on the edge of the table between Jack’s head and Jack’s out-flung left arm. James had an apple in one hand and a leather-bound copy of Dante’s Inferno in the other. Chewing thoughtfully, he shot the pirate a look, one eyebrow raised, and swallowed his bite of apple. “What, specifically, are you thinking of?” Then he took another bite.
“That we’d outlive our ships.”
James paused in mid-chew. His eyebrows raised. After a few, quicker chews, he swallowed, with slightly grim look on his face. “I see. Yes, I suppose that despite their somewhat supernatural advantages, nautical technology’s tendency to improve by leaps and bounds would, eventually, render them-”
“Not just that, Jamie. They can die just like mortal creatures, and when they do, Calypso gets their souls back and we’re left without...” Jack gestured vaguely and cocked his head to peer up at James.
The look on the ex-commodore’s face showed that he was beginning to understand. His brow furrowed. “What, exactly, are our ships, Jack? I thought...but you actually seem informed in this matter. I should have asked before, I suppose.”
“Aye,” Jack agreed. “It’s that navy habit of not askin’ enough questions.”
James snorted.
Grinning, Jack explained, “They used t’ be a bit more common, hundreds of years ago, o’course. ‘S part of how the tradition of captains goin’ down with their ships began: ships with souls. Of course, a lotta ships still have souls, but not ones like ours, not so’s anyone but the most sensitive might notice. They’re nymphs, y’see? Our girls: their souls are sea nymphs.”
“Ironic, considering that’s what Homer seemed to think Calypso was.”
“Silly blighter,” Jack muttered. “But the Greeks never did appreciate women. They had their Poseidon, and weren’t about to admit that their god might actually be more of a goddess, not after all the trouble they had with Amazons.” The pirate shook his head. “How much do you know about nymphs, Jamie?”
James gave low, thoughtful noise, chewing and drawing on distant memories from days wherein he’d had more time for recreational reading. He swallowed. “Usually they are spirits bound to specific places, or deities, and often wed to mythological patriarchs in order to add to a family’s sense of nobility--as I recall.” He took another bite of apple.
“Aye. But you don’t much hear about them bein’ bound to ships, for all that the carvings on the bows of ships are oft meant to represent them: guardians, ladies, and to be bound to one is a dangerous thing.” Jack grinned. “But it has its benefits, it does, for all that a great number of people may think ye mad. I’m sure you’ve noted that.”
“Noted people thinking me mad, or noted the benefits?”
“Both.”
James nodded in agreement.
“Aye, I thought so. Well, the thing with nymphs is, they’re easy to fall for, ay? Especially the ones who match you best, which is what our ships have got for us. The problem is, when they’re suddenly quiet, suddenly ya can’t sense ‘em, it’s a bit maddening,” Jack said solemnly.
“You speak from experience, I expect.”
“Aye. Barbossa’s cursed crew bein’ aboard the Pearl right stifled her, smothered her soul like puttin’ her under a fog made up half of opium smoke. Too much magic from the wrong heathen gods can have that effect, apparently.” He hesitated. “I couldn’t hear her, or tell where she was, or anythin’. Was like she’d died, it was, and I was half-worried she had.” Jack’s eyes narrowed, his fingers roaming the scuffed edges of the table thoughtfully, pressing his fingertips into the narrow grooves to keep from clenching his hands into fists.
James considered this, his eyes very distant. Mentally he reached out, felt the faint hum of his cool mistress, the Gold Hawk, still on the edge of his mind: quiet, but still present, still calming and grounding. He could also feel the life of the ship beneath him, dark and impatient, homesick for the sea as much as both captains were, if not more. He cleared his throat. “I see. And you wonder if you could survive losing her again.”
Jack winced, but nodded. “Aye. That I do.”
James closed the book, and set it aside on an empty chair. He finished off his apple in a few quick, precise bites, and tossed the core into a small bin near the wall. Then he lowered his boot-heels to the floor, letting the front legs of his chair meet the floor with a soft thud. Then, in a highly un-commodore-like-fashion, which still felt quite foreign to him, he folded his arms and leaned forward in his seat to rest them on the table, next to Jack’s head. “It would seem to me, that the most devastating aspect of the situation was that when you lost the Black Pearl, you lost everything else you then valued: the freedom provided by her, your home, your property, the only...one you could trust not to betray you, and ten of the thirteen years you’d traded your soul for. All in one fell swoop, you lost more than many men could ever dream of having: it was that, and the not knowing her dead or alive or suffering, which I believe came closer to destroying you than if...than what we would undergo in what you are implying we might go through in the future. The situation, if events work out in accordance with our plans...well, at least, the plans I’ve numbered one through six, as well as either of plans nine or thirteen--well then, Jack, things will be quite different for you.”
“Ay?” Jack peered up at him again, curious.
James was looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. He spoke as though mentally crossing off a list. “Well, there’s the immortality to consider, of course. You know that we will never have a home, if we succeed in our venture, and we are prepared for that, as well as the other such losses we would confront; but by way of consolation, you cannot get much greater freedom than the ability to escape death no matter what life throws at you, because that alone can take you places and command respect that even the grandest ship could never provide. You’ve paid your debt to Jones by being dragged into the locker...” His gaze lowered to meet Jack’s. “And at this point, as well as more so when we are both of us harder to kill: you can trust me.” He smirked faintly. “Unless you feel that you could not stand chasing the horizon with me for some innumerable years.” Again, he looked away, his eyes thoughtfully scanning some unseen horizon as he added, airily, “I understand being stuck with the same person for long periods of time might grow quite annoying; so, I suppose that eternity would probably be out of the qu-”
“James.”
Meeting Jack’s gaze again, he tilted his head to one side, his face an open, innocent-looking mask that did not fool the pirate for a second. “Yes?”
“How long have we been stuck here?”
“Mhm.” He glanced at his pocket watch and did some quick calculations. Then he tucked it back into his pocket. “About twelve weeks, five days, and several-odd hours since I started keeping track, give or take a few days.”
“I’ve not got tired of ye yet,” Jack mused, sounding a little surprised, and a bit hopeful. “And this is about as trying a situation as two men of action such as ourselves might get into. It’s a shock we’ve not yet tried to kill each other in earnest; thus, I doubt, with the whole wide world at our disposal, that we’d have trouble getting bored, and even if we did get annoyed, some time to cool off now and then wouldn’t be much to ask, us havin’ all the time in the world, ay?” His grin was surprisingly sincere.
James smirked. “I suppose so. The fact we’ve done so well in this accursed place either proves that we were both already so far out of our minds upon arrival that we can take this in stride or, and I think this the more frightening concept really, we are both of us the most sane minds in existence.” He arched a brow at Jack significantly.
“Perhaps I’m the former and you’re the latter. We thus balance out perfectly.”
“Mm. Not until I find something that annoys you as greatly as that damned song Elizabeth taught you annoys me,” James growled, his voice laced with affectionate ire.
Jack chuckled. “Maybe you don’t have anything of that sort in your arsenal here, mate, but out in the world of the living, you’ve got weapons in spades.”
“Do I, then?” James mused.
“Seein’ through my plans, pointin’ ‘em out with every bit of sarcasm at your disposal, which is, by the way, enough to drown the ocean in, it seems to me, and it’s only compounded by that drawl of yours.” He snorted.
With a chuckle, James bent his head down, his face hovering over that of the pirate. “And yet, just the other day, you were complaining about my voice having an entirely different effect on you,” he purred, his voice like velvet and gravel and deep red wine.
Jack fidgeted as it sent a flicker of warmth through him, not unlike a shot of strong rum. “There. There’s the annoyance-weapon in your arsenal: you’re a bloody stoic tease.”
“And you are an openly crude one with a tendency to irritate me into reaction with ridiculous songs just in order to then trip me up in mid-rant and seduce me,” James countered, then allowed himself a grin. “Yes, I do suppose that we balance out quite well.”
Jack’s gaze was fixed on James’ lips. “I think, Jamie, that eternity with a fellow immortal man like you in it, could never be boring for very long.”
James smirked. “It’s your fault, you know. Not letting sleeping wolves lie.”
“It’s like you said, mate: I can’t resist shiny things. And there you were in all that gold brocade and that big pretty blue coat...with those damned eyes o’ yours.”
“Damned, hmm?”
“Aye, for leading a poor innocent pirate into temptation,” Jack countered, with a fair imitation of James’ usual drawl. Then he shook his head, becoming himself again. “They’re the same color as the sea at daybreak in the caribbean, love. I should’ve been a lot more suspicious of you right off the bat, seeing something so fine, with gems like those for eyes, so deceptively wrapped up in all o’ that Navy garb.”
James chuckled. “You, are incorrigible.”
“You like it.”
A snort. “No.” James quirked an eyebrow and shook his head a little, but he turned so that he faced the pirate captain more comfortably, and again leaning in close: teasing, but not quite promising. “No, I’m afraid it is far worse than that; I love it.”
“Will you just bloody kiss me already?”
“Hmm. And if I do not?”
Jack growled a little, but the fact his lips formed something like a pout ruined the overall effect.
James only smiled and leaned in closer. “Do you think that the world is ready, Captain? The two of us, working in tandem as an indestructible pair of madmen?”
Jack’s scowl could not hold together at that thought, and he grinned wickedly as his eyes simultaneously darkened with anticipation and sparked with mischief. “I like that,” he rumbled.
“I think that I do as well. You’re a very bad influence,” James accused, and cut off Jack’s reply with a kiss. It was slow, gentler than most that they had shared, lingering and taking their time without any sense of urgency on either man’s part, despite both men’s tendency to accuse each other of teasing to the point of near-madness. The single kiss became a small series of them, until both men were breathless. James climbed up onto the table and onto Jack, straddling the pirate’s thighs.
Jack was smiling as he reached up and rested his hands on James’ hips, content to remain in place and let the ravishment come to him. Then he gave an amused snort. “I find it funny, Jamie, that you call me the bad influence here,” he watched as James began opening their trousers. “And you’re the one who started all this.”
James smirked. “Still your fault.”
Another amused snort. “How’s that, love?”
“Your influence was what taught me how to reach out-” he leaned over Jack’s body, resting his weight on one forearm on the table beside them as his free hand slid beneath Jack’s shirt “-and take what I want, without hesitation.” He grinned as Jack shifted beneath him eagerly.
“Did I?” Jack asked, his voice a little strained.
“Yes. You and the young lovers both, but the lessons I picked up from Elizabeth’s going right after what she wanted--well, those were still taken, originally, from you. And all that Mr. Turner really did was point out that, despite your lack of restraint and propriety, you were, and are, still a good man,” James murmured, and licked the side of Jack’s throat, giving a content hum as Jack’s hands untucked his shirt from his breeches in a few quick tugs, then slid under the cloth, caressing the bare skin across his back and ribcage. “Altogether, I suppose that the lessons provided gave me unspoken permission to stop seeking happiness in the ‘proper’ or ‘expected’ places that my dignity had demanded I look to. It bruised my pride, I’ll have you know, to realize I had been doing things wrong for so long.”
Jack laughed loudly, even as he continued groping all of the bare skin he could reach. “You’re so bloody English, sometimes, mate. Let me guess, please: you thought that being happy was supposed to come about from duty and honor and all that, didn’t you? And you were just supposed to grow out of the rest of it, as though mischief an’ romantic affairs were jus’ childish things that should be beneath you.” Even as he said it, he deliberately dragged the ball of his thumb along the scar at James’ waist, making the other man shiver with a muffled groan.
Ardent reaction to that little touch aside, James snorted at the accusation, but nuzzled the Jack’s neck and admitted, “Yes, damn you, I did. And you knew it from the moment we met on the docks, I’m guessing.” Another hint of grudging respect was hidden in that statement, but, despite the grudge, there was affection in it too.
“Aye,” Jack admitted. “But that was why it scared the bloody daylights out of me seein’ you in Tortuga the first time: didn’ know how much duty, and which parts of it, you were still holdin’ onto. Dangerous potential there, mate, from what I’d seen.” He cut off with a pleased little noise at the back of his throat as James’ thumbs rubbed slow circles over his nipples. “Can’t trust honest men. Fool I was, I still thought you fit more neatly into that category.”
“And then, I suppose, it was my turn to surprise you,” James rumbled pressing his thigh between Jack’s legs and rubbing against the other man’s arousal.
Jack jerked in response and muttered something obscene in Latin. “And you haven’t seen fit to stop, thank God,” the pirate groaned, bucking his hips and writhing shamelessly as he seized two lovely handfuls of ex-commodore derriere and squeezed. Then he shot James a leer and a grin, teasing, “I kinda miss the more piratical look on ye, sometimes; you carried it well, even if the kohl and earring nearly killed me with the shock at first.”
James chuckled again, sounding breathless this time. “Well, imagine my surprise, Jack, when I realized how much I wanted you, and to what ends.” He pushed Jack’s arms away and pinned them over the pirate’s head for a moment, but only so that he could then peel away first Jack’s shirt, and then his own, tossing them aside onto the same empty chair as the book.
Jack grinned, stifling a moan as James’ thigh shifted maddeningly against him again. “And what ends, exactly, do you want me to?” He ran his hands up James’ chest slowly.
Hovering over the mad pirate captain, James smiled quite sincerely. “I want you; I want to remain with you, in your life, able to have this-” a playful grind “-whenever the moment proves opportune for us, until either you cannot stand the sight of me, or one of us dies.” His smile quirked upward somewhat crookedly. “As I said: quite a shock to me.” Then he groaned as Jack abruptly yanked him down into a series of desperate, hungry, searing kisses until James almost forgot .
Finally, speaking in between attempts to conquer James’ mouth, Jack said, “The world had better be ready for us, love.” Another kiss. “Because I very much like that idea, too, Jamie.” He ground his hips up against the other man and smiled at the way James moaned in response. Then Jack added, “And you know how far I go to get what I want.” A quick grin. “Pirate.”
“Yes,” James growled. Then the pirate’s hips shifted to a new angle and arched up, the length of his arousal sliding up along James’, making the green-eyed man’s breath hitch sharply. “God, Jack, yes.”
“Love hearing you say that,” Jack groaned, and then kissed him again.
James returned the attack with enthusiasm, pushing his own breeches down with one hand until he could and did kick them off, then tugging at Jack’s breeches until they pooled at the other man’s knees. He wrapped one hand around Jack’s cock, enjoying the feel of the slick, heated skin and the way Jack’s hips wriggled in response. Then his whole body jerked as Jack returned the favor, stroking him hard and fast and God when did it get this intense, this quickly? Too quickly. James momentarily captured Jack’s hands, pinning them.
“Jamie,” Jack complained, arching his body upwards.
James pressed closer in response, the front of his body skin-to-skin with that of his lover from chest to thigh as his hips moved in a languid stroke against those of the pirate, and. The friction and the heat were enough to make the pirate’s head fall back against the table. Jack’s jet-black eyes fell open when James released his wrists, and he immediately captured one of those formerly imprisoning hands, entangling their fingers and holding tight, palm-to palm, as his free hand wrapped around James and gripped at his shoulder blades for leverage to thrust up against the other man until they both found a satisfying angle and rhythm.
They both writhed, pressing their bodies closer together and increasing the slick feel of the friction as they moved, even as their bucking grew less controlled and more desperate. James, resting most of his weight on his forearms, lifted one hand to stroke down the length of Jack’s body and rest at the pirate’s waist. Jack’s hands were everywhere, tugging and encouraging, tickling, grabbing and clutching and claiming, pulling so that Jack could buck his hips hard now and then, taking James’ breath away every time. Then James undulated his hips in that particularly evil way again.
Jack cursed prettily, his hands landing on those tormenting hips and squeezing hard enough to bruise as he glared up at James. “I’s’not bloody fair when you do that, James,” he gasped, then made a sharp and incoherent noise as James did it again.
“One learns the benefits of not fighting fairly very quickly, when one pursues a career hunting pirates,” James teased, his tones mocking even when he was breathless and half-gone with lust. Then he sped up the pace, the hot press and slide of their erections between them, rubbing against each other, was bliss; with James’ free hand and his mouth working on the pirate beneath him, and both men making low, increasingly urgent breathy sounds with each languid thrust, until Jack finally came undone with a cry and a flare of heat, jerking up against his lover, rough and desperate in a way that made it quite easy for James to let go as well, shuddering and gasping for breath.
Jack pulled him down for another kiss, more heated than the first of this particular session, but still overall lazy and unhurried. James rested most of his weight on his elbows and forearms, resting them on the table on either side of his pirate lover’s ribcage; he remained draped over Jack and sighed contentedly when the kisses slowly broke apart. The pirate captain grinned, pushing loose strands of hair, escaped from James’ now-messy queue, behind James’ ear. Idly, gently, he tugged the lobe, feeling the small hole there with interest. Then he grinned rather smugly. “I don’t know if this table can survive much more of what we’ve put it through lately, Love.”
With a thoughtful noise, James shifted his weight experimentally and heard the table legs creak faintly in protest. “I suppose not.” He smirked rather smugly. “Never before in my life have I been so prone to damaging furniture as I’ve been since becoming your lover.”
Jack chuckled darkly. “Maybe I am a bad influence on you, James.”
“You like it,” James countered, meeting his gaze.
Jack grinned, wide and sincere and thrilled as he rumbled, “I love it.”
Jack was first aware of the immanent arrival of their rescue party when his pillow, sometimes known as James Norrington, suddenly tensed until he was still as stone and about as firm and uncomfortable to rest on. Jack looked up from his book, eyebrows raised.
James was sitting up on his elbows now, his eyes bright and sharp and alert, staring at something unseen in the middle-distance. “She’s awake. The rest of them are waking up. She’s thawing,” he said, his voice quiet and cool as his sense of duty snapped abruptly into place.
With a half-hearted pout, Jack sighed and sat up. “Get on, then. If they’re wakin’ up and we’re about to meet our rescue party, you’ve got some more pretty speeches to make, love.”
Grinning a little, James moved in to kiss Jack’s lips briefly, tasting them just enough that the other man’s flavor would linger pleasantly on his tongue. “Alea Iacta Est,” he murmured, brushed Jack’s lips once more, fleetingly, and was then on his feet, looking for where he had put his shirt and his coat and the cord he used to tie back his hair. Once properly dressed, looking only a bit disheveled even as he buttoned up his shirt all the way up to his neck in order to cover up the marks Jack had left--sparing the pirate a sardonic look as he did so, which Jack responded to with a cheeky grin--James then disembarked, climbing down the side of the Black Pearl and then making his way aboard his slowly de-icing Gold Hawk.
After dressing in his own complete regalia, Jack leaned on the rail, his eyes and ears open, waiting to overhear one of James’ speeches.
Meanwhile, below-deck on the Hawk, Groves was the first of James’ men to abruptly snap awake, gasping and shuddering. He looked up, saw James offering him a hand, and clutched at it desperately. “Sir, was it true? A dream? Are we...the maelstrom?”
“Yes. It’s been...well it’s been a number of months now, since then. The ship has been shielding you and the rest of the men,” James explained.
Groves’ brow furrowed as he caught his breath. “But not you, James?”
“No. I am apparently...difficult to hide, and she was already under much strain from the sheer number of the rest of you. I have been hiding from Jones along with Captain Sparrow, aboard the Black Pearl, which is beached right beside us.”
“Beached?”
“We’re in the middle of a wide and windless desert, I’m afraid. Miserable place.”
“You’ve been here, awake and aware, for months...with Captain Sparrow?” Deep concern lined Groves’ face, even as his tone of voice expressed disbelief.
“Yes.”
“And neither of you are injured?”
“No. We are quite well, in fact.” James’ face was masked with a look of quiet, patient curiosity. “Are you alright, Theo?”
Groves quirked an odd grin. “I’m just a bit amazed, sir.”
“As am I, believe me. It’s been...an experience,” James said, in his best sardonic tones, arching both eyebrows cooly with a hint of a smirk.
“Ah, there’s the captain I’m more familiar with,” Groves sighed. “The rest of the men?”
“Still thawing.”
“Thawing?”
“You can see for yourself, but...” James stepped aside, letting Groves see into the rest of the hold. He winced at the expression on his first mate’s face.
“Oh...God.”
James sighed.
“They’ve been...I’ve been...James?”
“Yes?”
“How have you not gone mad?”
A crooked smile tugged at James’ lips. “I suppose it was made easier by spending my time with someone far madder than I could ever hope to achieve. My ambitious nature thus deterred me from following a similar path, knowing that Captain Sparrow would always surpass me. Cowardly, perhaps, but I chose to pick a competition that I could actually win, and I am very good at sanity, it seems.”
“Better than I, at least,” Groves murmured. Then he looked James over slowly. “James?”
“Yes?”
“It was just you and Sparrow awake and aware out here?”
“Yes,” James replied, his expression masked, wary as he was of his friend’s appraising and somewhat suspicious look.
“I...see. I think.” He raised his eyebrows a little and cleared his throat.
At least the man did not look smug and obscenely amused like Elizabeth. James folded his hands behind his back in a commodore-like fashion, steeling himself against a negative reaction. “What is it, exactly, that you think you see, Theo?”
“That you’ve got a bit of a glow about you, sir, quite unusual--especially for a man claiming to have been stuck in this forsaken place for months. I’m just wondering if you found some...consolation of a sort.” Groves was still trying to state the matter delicately.
James smirked a little. “It was rather like being forced to take a vacation, but a vacation it has been, and I have spent the time accordingly on relaxation, not going mad, and finding consolation for the dullness and unchanging nature of this bleak place, primarily in the company Jack Sparrow.” He then met his first mate’s gaze with a look of calm amusement, raising his eyebrows in a meaningful and ever-so-slightly suggestive manner.
Groves’ eyes widened, then took in his captain’s expression and grinned, however faintly and with more than a hint of discomfort. “Er...” Then he shook his head, at a loss for words.
With a shrug, James turned his gaze upon the rest of the men. “We are both foremost loyal to our ships and their duties, while we are in possession of both and neither of us plan to lose either of them too early. That much has not changed, and thus our lives as captains will not; however, we also seem to have developed other loyalties,” He glanced pointedly in the direction of the Black Pearl--or, at least, what little of it could be seen past the hulking shapes of the cannons and the half-thawed men manning them.
After again clearing his throat, Groves inquired, “To each other you mean?”
Smirking again, James nodded. “Yes. Quite.”
Groves looked at him closely again, seeing clearly the fondness in James’ expression, then also glanced in the Pearl’s direction, and then looked at the rest of the thawing crew, watching the remaining ice melt for a moment, leaving no water behind in a manner that was distinctly unnerving. At last, he smirked crookedly, and laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Oh, God, if I could only see the uproar that the mere rumor of this would cause in Port Royal, I would cherish the sight for all my days.”
James gave an amused snort. “Thank you, Theo.”
“No problem, James.” He placed a hand on his captain’s shoulder, almost hesitantly. “I wish you the best of luck, now that you’ve finally caught, Captain Jack Sparrow.”
At that, James barked a laugh and turned to grin at Groves, for all that there was something almost apologetic in the look.
Theodore’s breath caught a little, but he smiled anyway, only forcing the expression a little bit in order to keep in in place. “If he proves at all false, sir, I’ll be happy to help you hunt him down to seek your vengeance.”
Another grateful smile. “You’re a very good man, Theo.”
“So people tell me,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in sheer mockery.
Then the rest of the men began to stir, and captain and first mate automatically took on more formal countenances. “Theo, the woman who was kind enough to give me this ship is sending for myself and Captain Sparrow, so that we may all return to the world of the living, and I and the Hawk may complete the tasks laid out for us.”
“Aye,” Groves said, thoughtfully. “But Sparrow, too?”
“One of his trinkets is apparently an artifact of some importance to her. Also, his ship is the only one, aside from ours, that can catch or even occasionally outpace the Flying Dutchman.”
“And us, James?” Groves inquired, glancing at the crew as they began waking in earnest, some of them crying out in dismay, others merely shivering themselves into consciousness and gasping.
“As you said, Groves, you are all of you my men, and now the ship’s men. She has protected all of you from the locker this whole time, despite how much this drained her.” He rested a hand on the bulkhead and felt the Gold Hawk give a weary hum that communicated her exhaustion, but also her righteous anger toward Jones and an eagerness to chase and to fight again. Judging by the way Groves’ eyes widened, James realized that he and Jack Sparrow were no longer the only ones who could hear her. James grinned at his friend. “As you are ours, you come with us.”
“Did you...I thought that I heard...”
“You did.”
Groves stared at him. “Is it always like this for you, then? Hearing...feeling that...”
“No. It is much more so,” James murmured. “Always at the edge of my mind.”
His first mate looked down at the boards beneath his feet as if worried his stepping on them wrong might be an offense. “And this ship is sister to the Black Pearl,” he muttered. “Sparrow’s ship is the same way then? And he...hears it the way you do?”
“Indeed.” James smirked faintly. “Incidentally, I can hear the Pearl as well--although not to the same degree of depth that I am aware of the Hawk. The reverse is also true for Sparrow.”
“Magic ships. Sentient, even,” Theodore muttered, shifting his feet uneasily. “What a weird and wild world we live in, James.”
James smiled at him and nodded, then walked away, helping various other crewmen to their feet. Groves hesitated a moment, glancing at the bulkhead and resting his hand where James’ had been. The ship once more gave a low, quiet murmur in the back of his mind, sounding tired, but curious.
“Thank you, Miss Hawk,” Groves whispered. The resultant hum of appreciation fromt he ship made his throat constrict in a loud gulp, but when his fingers moved along the bulkhead, it was with reverence, not fear. He nodded in response and to dismiss himself, and then joined James in getting the rest of the crew on their feet.
When the men had all grown calmer, and able to listen, James stood before them all, and doffed his hat. “Men, welcome to Davy Jones’ Locker.” A low murmur of dismay went through the crew. “You need not worry; our remaining time here will be very brief, but there are a number of things that you need to know. Please, join me up on deck, if you will. It is less chill up there, if only for the sunlight.” He put his hat on once more, and headed aloft. The small crowd of crewmen followed. James stood on the stairs to the quarter deck and faced them, resting a hand on the railing, feeling his ship all but drowsing: recovering now, her tiring ordeal over.
“First of all, I cannot tell you how much...” He stopped. “You have all, literally now, followed me through Hell,” he said instead, letting his formality drop abruptly. “And will soon follow me out of it again. I...thank you.” He met every man’s gaze, however briefly, and offered each of them gratitude, awe, and respects, and was surprised to receive it in return.
Then, as if given permission to lead again, James folded his hands behind his back and explained, “All of you have been under the protection of this fine ship, gentlemen. She kept all of you preserved, and unaware, for the months that we have been in this place. I was not kept with you, as it would have caused her too much strain. I spent my time over there, with our sometimes-ally, the Black Pearl.” He gestured toward the large black ship, even as he heard a susurrus of muttered oaths and whispers as the men took in the sight of her, and of the desert. “And I was there treated with great hospitality by her captain.”
The susurrus went quiet, and the men stared at him in shock.
“Neither of us are injured,” James assured, and smirked to see the amused and relieved looks on so many faces.
“How exactly did the ship protect us, sir?” cried Studson.
“This ship, kin to the Pearl, is not exactly a normal ship. I’m sure that you will all come to understand this better in time, once we are out of this forsaken place-” He paused as the ship suddenly shifted. Cries of surprise and dismay went through the crew. James glanced over at the Black Pearl and saw that the larger ship was also shifting about a bit. Then he looked down and raised his eyebrows at the sight of so very many little white stone-like crabs causing it all as they swarmed in, lifting both ships on and carrying them in mockery of an outgoing tide.
“That, men, would be our ride out of this desert, and thus the first step in our exiting the locker. Doubtlessly, we will soon meet up with the rest of our benefactors soon enough.” He realized he was grinning a bit like a a madman and quickly masked his expression again. Pretty speech, he reminded himself. Now was a time for pretty speeches.
“Captain?”
“I think, men, that it’s high time I explained to you exactly what happened the day that I found this ship...” Again, he rested his hand on the rail, feeling the novel sensation of his ship sleeping, her presence in his mind grown soft and quiet, but whispering with something like half-mumbled dreams. He smiled a little, more gently this time and began telling his story.
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