Happy holidays, torn_eledhwen!
Title: Plum Pudding
Recipient: torn_eledhwen
Fandom: PotC
Author: penknife
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Summary: One very piratical Christmas. Jack & Bill Turner, back when Jack was first captain of the Black Pearl.
The weather was fine and the stars bright, and Jack sprawled on deck feeling quite content with the world. Barbossa had the wheel, and was steering them easily through the dark water, down the glittering path left by the moon.
"It's Christmas Eve," Bootstrap said, sitting down beside him and wrapping his hands around his knees. He frowned out at the water, more troubled than Jack thought a man aboard such a beautiful ship ought to be. He wasn't tired yet of just looking at the Pearl, learning the her lines like a woman's body.
"I am not unaware of that fact," Jack said. "Tomorrow there will be rum."
Bootstrap looked at him sideways. "There's always rum."
"There'll be more rum." Jack shrugged. "I suppose we could make some sort of plum pudding out of hardtack. Although I wouldn't recommend trying to set it on fire."
"No, thank you," Bootstrap said. He sighed. Jack sensed the imminent onset of a paean to plum pudding, streets filled with grimy slush, and other trappings of a proper English Christmas. He felt this was best headed off before it led Bootstrap to thinking of his little boy left fatherless at Christmas and the night turned sour for good.
"Tell you what," he said. "When we put into port, we'll have a bit of a celebration. Toast the New Year properly." He ran a hand across the smooth wood of the Pearl's deck, just to reassure himself that she was real. "Things are looking up for us, mate. I've got plans."
"Well, if you've got plans," Bootstrap said wryly, but he looked up at the stars, seeming to let himself be lulled by the warm wind and the brightness of the moonlight. "We haven't got any bloody plums, Jack."
"Hardtack pudding, then."
"In the fine tradition of piratical cooking."
"That would be the tradition that if it doesn't move, we'll eat it." Jack considered that. "Or if it only moves a little." He glanced up toward the quarterdeck. "In Barbossa's case, if it stops moving after he shoots it."
"You shouldn't bedevil the man, Jack," Bootstrap said more seriously. "He hasn't got what I'd call much of a sense of humor."
"Yes, but he's good at pirating," Jack said. "That is the point of having a pirate crew, is having a crew that can pirate."
"It is," Bootstrap said. "I don't suppose you can find us a Christmas prize, can you? I'd like to have something to send back to my boy, even if it's a bit late."
"Happy Christmas, and prepare to be boarded? Well, if that's your way of getting into the spirit of the season," Jack said, but he had no intention of going looking for any such prize before morning. It was a fine night, and the stars shone bright over the deck of his very own ship; he could almost imagine that one of them shone just for him, leading him on to where he'd always wanted to be.
Recipient: torn_eledhwen
Fandom: PotC
Author: penknife
Pairing: gen
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Summary: One very piratical Christmas. Jack & Bill Turner, back when Jack was first captain of the Black Pearl.
The weather was fine and the stars bright, and Jack sprawled on deck feeling quite content with the world. Barbossa had the wheel, and was steering them easily through the dark water, down the glittering path left by the moon.
"It's Christmas Eve," Bootstrap said, sitting down beside him and wrapping his hands around his knees. He frowned out at the water, more troubled than Jack thought a man aboard such a beautiful ship ought to be. He wasn't tired yet of just looking at the Pearl, learning the her lines like a woman's body.
"I am not unaware of that fact," Jack said. "Tomorrow there will be rum."
Bootstrap looked at him sideways. "There's always rum."
"There'll be more rum." Jack shrugged. "I suppose we could make some sort of plum pudding out of hardtack. Although I wouldn't recommend trying to set it on fire."
"No, thank you," Bootstrap said. He sighed. Jack sensed the imminent onset of a paean to plum pudding, streets filled with grimy slush, and other trappings of a proper English Christmas. He felt this was best headed off before it led Bootstrap to thinking of his little boy left fatherless at Christmas and the night turned sour for good.
"Tell you what," he said. "When we put into port, we'll have a bit of a celebration. Toast the New Year properly." He ran a hand across the smooth wood of the Pearl's deck, just to reassure himself that she was real. "Things are looking up for us, mate. I've got plans."
"Well, if you've got plans," Bootstrap said wryly, but he looked up at the stars, seeming to let himself be lulled by the warm wind and the brightness of the moonlight. "We haven't got any bloody plums, Jack."
"Hardtack pudding, then."
"In the fine tradition of piratical cooking."
"That would be the tradition that if it doesn't move, we'll eat it." Jack considered that. "Or if it only moves a little." He glanced up toward the quarterdeck. "In Barbossa's case, if it stops moving after he shoots it."
"You shouldn't bedevil the man, Jack," Bootstrap said more seriously. "He hasn't got what I'd call much of a sense of humor."
"Yes, but he's good at pirating," Jack said. "That is the point of having a pirate crew, is having a crew that can pirate."
"It is," Bootstrap said. "I don't suppose you can find us a Christmas prize, can you? I'd like to have something to send back to my boy, even if it's a bit late."
"Happy Christmas, and prepare to be boarded? Well, if that's your way of getting into the spirit of the season," Jack said, but he had no intention of going looking for any such prize before morning. It was a fine night, and the stars shone bright over the deck of his very own ship; he could almost imagine that one of them shone just for him, leading him on to where he'd always wanted to be.