Scenes from the Flying Dutchman Pt 1
This fic is rated: PG-13
Fandom: Pirates of the Carribean
Characters/Pairing: Will Turner(James Norrington), Bootstrap, mention of Elizabeth, some minor OCs.
Summary: 10 vignettes of life aboard the Flying Dutchman, complete with angst and UST.
For slashthedrabble's prompts Train, Switch, Dark, Dreams, Damage, Sleep/Sleepless, Drag, Denial, Haunted, Surprise, Books
Warnings: AU, m/m imagery and torture-related angst
Spoilers: for At World's End
Word Count: 1100
Feedback: yes, please! Concrit welcomed.
Distribution: archiving, linking or remixing ok, just credit me and drop me a line!
Cross-Posted were_lemur, pirategasm, potc_fic, turningpirate, one_norrington, slashthedrabble
My FanFic Masterlist
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to Disney. Characters will be played with nicely and returned to them in good condition when I'm done. No infringement is intended, please don't sue me!
In the same 'verse as Not Exactly a Fix-It Fic
Train
"Let me see if I understand you correctly, Captain; you're asking me to distill a lifetime's worth of accumulated knowledge of seamanship and command into a few simple lessons."
Turner had the good grace to blush. But he recovered quickly, and gave Norrington a winning smile. "I can think of no one better suited to the task."
The Dutchman's new first mate forced a softer tone to his voice; it wasn't Turner's fault that Norrington felt uncomfortably grateful to the man. "And I'm certain you'll be a better student than many a midshipmen I've had to impart the lessons to."
Switch
If he were still a blacksmith in Port Royal, Will would probably have felt insulted by the tone of exaggerated patience in Norrington's voice. Of course, if he were still a blacksmith in Port Royal, he wouldn't have to be taking lessons on all things nautical from the late Admiral.
He couldn't help wondering if he'd be quite so gracious if their positions were reversed. Which led to the image of Norrington at the forge. The idea of Norrington doing something so common should have been amusing. Instead, Will found himself distracted by the idea in a completely different way.
Dark
At the helm of the Flying Dutchman, he feels safe. In control. All his demons locked safely away. Staring out at the horizon, he can almost imagine that he's still alive; maybe the captain of his own ship, maybe a young Lieutenant standing a watch.
In the dark, he can pretend that he's not onboard the Dutchman, helping his former fiancée's husband ferry the dead to the next world. On a ship crewed by men who had helped Davy Jones torture him.
Sometimes, in the long hours before dawn, he can pretend he hasn't made a hash of his life.
Dreams
"Five years you've served," Norrington says, "with five yet to go. Surely Elizabeth would forgive one slip." His green eyes are intense, swallowing, devouring, Will. And Will can't step away from the promise in those eyes. Especially as their clothes have unaccountably vanished. So he steps forward, presses himself against Norrington and ...
... he wakes sticky and ashamed. Barely three months, it's been, but sometimes it feels like a lifetime. An eternity. And Elizabeth's memory belongs to the surface and the sun. To life.
So he forces down his guilt.
But two weeks later, Norrington joins his dream again.
Damage
Will turned to point out a few of the bodies that had drifted away from the foundering ship. As he did so, his hand brushed Norrington's shoulder. Just a slight touch, but his first mate wasn't expecting it. Will saw him flinch, though he did his best to cover his reaction.
He couldn't deal with this now; he wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with it later either. The damage that Davy Jones had done to the Norrington ran deep, though Norrington did his best to hide it.
And in any case, his duty to the dead came first.
Sleep/Sleepless
He was just coming down from the deck when he heard Norrington cry out. He rapped on the cabin door, but the only answer was an anguished moan. Will hated to intrude -- but neither could he just ignore the man's distress.
He found Norrington on the bed, in the grip of a nightmare.
Meaning to wake the man, Will rested one hand on his cheek. But instead, Norrington turned into the touch. "Elizabeth," he murmured, and the pain faded from his face.
Feeling obscurely guilty, Will slipped out of the cabin, leaving his first mate to more pleasant dreams.
Drag
Dead, formerly encrusted, and tasked with ferrying the dead though they might have been, the Dutchman's crew were still sailors. And so, when one of them discovered a green-and-gold dress among the wreckage, it was of course brought aboard. And it only remained to be seen who would be laced into it.
When Abernathy said, "the Captain's young and pretty enough!" even Bootstrap had to chuckle.
"Officers do not parade for your amusement."
The men turned, startled; they had not heard the first mate approach. Norrington favored them with a thin, humorless smile. "And Mr. Turner, you should know better."
Denial
One day, during a lesson on the different kinds of clouds and what sort of weather they portend, Will works up his courage. "When I found you in the hold -- I know that Jones hurt you. Tortured you. I don't mean to pry, but if you ever feel like talking about what happened, I want you to know, I'm here to listen."
Norrington sets down his book with deliberate care. "I have been doing my best not to think about what that thing did to me. I have no desire to relive the experience to satisfy your morbid curiosity."
Haunt(ed)
Norrington retreated into his cabin. He managed to shut the door behind him before his legs gave out. His back against the door, he slid down until he was sitting on the deck. Clenched his teeth against the scream welling up in his throat.
To his shame, he felt tears escape from beneath squeezed-shut eyelids and burn their way down his cheeks.
He took one deep breath, and then another, until the urge to scream had passed, leaving him exhausted. His bed might as well have been on another continent. He rolled over onto his side, and collapsed into sleep.
Surprise
Their latest group of passengers secured for transport, Norrington returned to the wheel. But he found Turner there already. "I feel like steering tonight," he said.
Norrington repressed a sigh. He wasn't looking forward to another long night alone in his quarters. But neither did he feel up to chatting with the Captain. He turned away and began the long trudge to his cabin.
"Mr. Norrington -- I found something you might be interested in. I took the liberty of putting them in your cabin."
When he opened the door, he found a stack of books sitting on his desk.
Book(s)
As a matter of respect, Will had gone to find the captain personally. He'd found the man in his quarters, staring morosely around his former surroundings.
"So that's it, then?"
"I'm sorry," Will said. He stepped over the man's body. "There's nothing I can do."
"It's a pity," the dead captain said. "Those books belonged to my grandfather; now they'll go down with the ship."
Will looked at the volumes. "If you don't mind, my first mate might enjoy them."
"I seem to have no further use for books." The man sighed. "Were I alive, I'd help you carry them."
Part Two
Fandom: Pirates of the Carribean
Characters/Pairing: Will Turner(James Norrington), Bootstrap, mention of Elizabeth, some minor OCs.
Summary: 10 vignettes of life aboard the Flying Dutchman, complete with angst and UST.
For slashthedrabble's prompts Train, Switch, Dark, Dreams, Damage, Sleep/Sleepless, Drag, Denial, Haunted, Surprise, Books
Warnings: AU, m/m imagery and torture-related angst
Spoilers: for At World's End
Word Count: 1100
Feedback: yes, please! Concrit welcomed.
Distribution: archiving, linking or remixing ok, just credit me and drop me a line!
Cross-Posted were_lemur, pirategasm, potc_fic, turningpirate, one_norrington, slashthedrabble
My FanFic Masterlist
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to Disney. Characters will be played with nicely and returned to them in good condition when I'm done. No infringement is intended, please don't sue me!
In the same 'verse as Not Exactly a Fix-It Fic
Train
"Let me see if I understand you correctly, Captain; you're asking me to distill a lifetime's worth of accumulated knowledge of seamanship and command into a few simple lessons."
Turner had the good grace to blush. But he recovered quickly, and gave Norrington a winning smile. "I can think of no one better suited to the task."
The Dutchman's new first mate forced a softer tone to his voice; it wasn't Turner's fault that Norrington felt uncomfortably grateful to the man. "And I'm certain you'll be a better student than many a midshipmen I've had to impart the lessons to."
Switch
If he were still a blacksmith in Port Royal, Will would probably have felt insulted by the tone of exaggerated patience in Norrington's voice. Of course, if he were still a blacksmith in Port Royal, he wouldn't have to be taking lessons on all things nautical from the late Admiral.
He couldn't help wondering if he'd be quite so gracious if their positions were reversed. Which led to the image of Norrington at the forge. The idea of Norrington doing something so common should have been amusing. Instead, Will found himself distracted by the idea in a completely different way.
Dark
At the helm of the Flying Dutchman, he feels safe. In control. All his demons locked safely away. Staring out at the horizon, he can almost imagine that he's still alive; maybe the captain of his own ship, maybe a young Lieutenant standing a watch.
In the dark, he can pretend that he's not onboard the Dutchman, helping his former fiancée's husband ferry the dead to the next world. On a ship crewed by men who had helped Davy Jones torture him.
Sometimes, in the long hours before dawn, he can pretend he hasn't made a hash of his life.
Dreams
"Five years you've served," Norrington says, "with five yet to go. Surely Elizabeth would forgive one slip." His green eyes are intense, swallowing, devouring, Will. And Will can't step away from the promise in those eyes. Especially as their clothes have unaccountably vanished. So he steps forward, presses himself against Norrington and ...
... he wakes sticky and ashamed. Barely three months, it's been, but sometimes it feels like a lifetime. An eternity. And Elizabeth's memory belongs to the surface and the sun. To life.
So he forces down his guilt.
But two weeks later, Norrington joins his dream again.
Damage
Will turned to point out a few of the bodies that had drifted away from the foundering ship. As he did so, his hand brushed Norrington's shoulder. Just a slight touch, but his first mate wasn't expecting it. Will saw him flinch, though he did his best to cover his reaction.
He couldn't deal with this now; he wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with it later either. The damage that Davy Jones had done to the Norrington ran deep, though Norrington did his best to hide it.
And in any case, his duty to the dead came first.
Sleep/Sleepless
He was just coming down from the deck when he heard Norrington cry out. He rapped on the cabin door, but the only answer was an anguished moan. Will hated to intrude -- but neither could he just ignore the man's distress.
He found Norrington on the bed, in the grip of a nightmare.
Meaning to wake the man, Will rested one hand on his cheek. But instead, Norrington turned into the touch. "Elizabeth," he murmured, and the pain faded from his face.
Feeling obscurely guilty, Will slipped out of the cabin, leaving his first mate to more pleasant dreams.
Drag
Dead, formerly encrusted, and tasked with ferrying the dead though they might have been, the Dutchman's crew were still sailors. And so, when one of them discovered a green-and-gold dress among the wreckage, it was of course brought aboard. And it only remained to be seen who would be laced into it.
When Abernathy said, "the Captain's young and pretty enough!" even Bootstrap had to chuckle.
"Officers do not parade for your amusement."
The men turned, startled; they had not heard the first mate approach. Norrington favored them with a thin, humorless smile. "And Mr. Turner, you should know better."
Denial
One day, during a lesson on the different kinds of clouds and what sort of weather they portend, Will works up his courage. "When I found you in the hold -- I know that Jones hurt you. Tortured you. I don't mean to pry, but if you ever feel like talking about what happened, I want you to know, I'm here to listen."
Norrington sets down his book with deliberate care. "I have been doing my best not to think about what that thing did to me. I have no desire to relive the experience to satisfy your morbid curiosity."
Haunt(ed)
Norrington retreated into his cabin. He managed to shut the door behind him before his legs gave out. His back against the door, he slid down until he was sitting on the deck. Clenched his teeth against the scream welling up in his throat.
To his shame, he felt tears escape from beneath squeezed-shut eyelids and burn their way down his cheeks.
He took one deep breath, and then another, until the urge to scream had passed, leaving him exhausted. His bed might as well have been on another continent. He rolled over onto his side, and collapsed into sleep.
Surprise
Their latest group of passengers secured for transport, Norrington returned to the wheel. But he found Turner there already. "I feel like steering tonight," he said.
Norrington repressed a sigh. He wasn't looking forward to another long night alone in his quarters. But neither did he feel up to chatting with the Captain. He turned away and began the long trudge to his cabin.
"Mr. Norrington -- I found something you might be interested in. I took the liberty of putting them in your cabin."
When he opened the door, he found a stack of books sitting on his desk.
Book(s)
As a matter of respect, Will had gone to find the captain personally. He'd found the man in his quarters, staring morosely around his former surroundings.
"So that's it, then?"
"I'm sorry," Will said. He stepped over the man's body. "There's nothing I can do."
"It's a pity," the dead captain said. "Those books belonged to my grandfather; now they'll go down with the ship."
Will looked at the volumes. "If you don't mind, my first mate might enjoy them."
"I seem to have no further use for books." The man sighed. "Were I alive, I'd help you carry them."
Part Two