And A Bottle Of Rum
[American Idol] [David Archuleta/David Cook] [PG-13]
THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF WEDDING DATE VERSE, SINCE YOU MOSTLY INSPIRED WHAT'S COMING UP, BUT I SUCK, AS DOES WRITER'S BLOCK, SO I FILLED YOUR CHRISTMASTIDE PROMPT INSTEAD. I hope you have the best birthday ever, and the bestest gifts in the world! ILU, rajkumari905! ♥
And A Bottle Of Rum
"All right then," Cook says, as he takes in the state of his cabin. All his furniture is upturned, the table's split in half, and his sheets and curtains are in strips on the floor. Also, he's bleeding all over his carpet. The Ninja (and, yeah, okay, he totally fucking deserves the capital letter) is still standing in a corner of the room, sword gripped by his side. Still -- Cook's not stupid enough to make any sudden movements. "What do you propose we do now?"
For the first time, The Ninja seems to falter. "Um," he says. "I'm - I don't know?"
"But it's safe to assume you're not going to run that through me," Cook says, eyeing The Ninja's sword. He twitches when The Ninja turns the sword over in his hands, and twitches again when that jars the wound in his shoulder. "Because I gotta tell you, once was more than enough."
The Ninja visibly winces, at that, which Cook takes to mean he can collapse onto his bed. His fingers are sticky with blood. The Ninja hesitates, but then he's dropping his sword on the floor and grabbing scraps of curtain and walking up to the bed. "I'm really, really sorry," he says, and Cook tenses on reflex alone, "The man at the pier said this was the Black Pearl, and - well, it's not like I could've asked anyone."
"I tried to tell you," Cook says, and lets out a low hiss when The Ninja starts dabbing at his wound. "And I look nothing like Jack Sparrow, thank you very much."
"You really don't," The Ninja agrees. "You're a lot more, um--"
Cook's mouth curves despite himself. "Handsome?" he hazards. "Rugged? Attractive?"
"Sober," The Ninja says, firmly, but he's flushed, and he won't meet Cook's eyes.
Cook laughs abruptly. "Well, luckily for you, more sober also means more invested in keeping you alive."
The Ninja pauses midway of wrapping the curtain around Cook's shoulder, eyes sliding to his sword.
"Look," Cook says, reasonably. "You're good at what you do, obviously, but I have fifteen well-muscled men on my ship, and they're not going down without a fight. I'm kind of an awesome captain."
"Um," The Ninja says, and Cook is grudgingly impressed by the amount of scepticism he injects into that one word alone.
"The point is," Cook says, "They're going to come get me in the morning, and - whether I'm alive or not - see the mess, see you in the mess, and probably make you walk the plank."
The Ninja's eyes flicker to the window as he finishes up with Cook's bandage, and Cook sits up a little, flexing his arm. It twinges, but it's not as bad as it was a couple of minutes ago. "Okay, the way I see it, you seem like a nice guy - you know, for a cold-blooded murderer, but as I'm the captain of a pirate ship and in no position to take the moral high ground, I say we work together."
"Together?" The Ninja repeats, dubiously. "How?"
"We'll say we're engaged. I'll tell my men I picked you up when we docked last night, and--"
"Um, what," The Ninja interrupts. "How is that - oh my gosh, that's a terrible plan!"
Cook raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? You got a better cover story?"
The Ninja flaps his hands at Cook, a little helplessly. "I - well, not right now, but--"
"Tough," Cook says. "We've got maybe five minutes till my first mate checks in with me about our course. We're going with engaged."
The Ninja looks like he might protest again, but then he shakes his head. "Okay," he says. "Fine, okay. But you're dropping me off at the next island."
"Hey, I'm not the illegal stowaway here," Cook points out, and bites back a snort when The Ninja huffs a little, and mutters something under his breath. He glances up at Cook after a second, frowning at the expectant look Cook is giving him. Cook gives him a patient smile. "So I'm going to need to know the name of my fiancé."
"Oh!" The Ninja says. He flails for a second. "Um, yeah. Yes. I, um - I'm Arch--ibald. James Archibald."
Cook lets out another sudden laugh before he can stop himself. Of all the aliases. "Right," he says, once he's gotten his mouth to stop twitching. "James. I'm Cook. David Cook."
"Oh!" The Ninja - James - says. He looks surprised, but he quickly schools it in. "I - um. I really like that name. It - it's a good name."
Cook almost laughs again, but he's interrupted by a loud banging on the door, and Neal's voice floating in on its heels: "Captain?"
"Yeah," Cook calls back. "Yeah, give me a fucking second!"
He looks back at James, who's watching him with wide, wide eyes, and Cook has a moment to think Jesus Christ, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, before he says, "Ready to be engaged, sweetheart?"
Then he's reaching for the hem of James' shirt and yanking it over his head.
James yelps, caught off-guard, and then yelps again when Cook slams him back into the wall. Cook crushes their mouths together, swallowing the rest of that sound. James freezes against him, stock-still, and Cook runs his hands through James' hair, twice, before nipping his lower lip and pulling back.
"Okay, that's a little more convincing," Cook says, as he surveys his handiwork. James still looks stunned, but his mouth is red and wet and used, and his hair is mussed, and there's a bruise already forming over the curve of his shoulder where Cook shoved him against the wall. "But you might wanna work on that kissing technique, man."
James blinks. "Um," he says, faintly.
"Glad you agree," Cook says. "Now let's go play the happy couple."
THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF WEDDING DATE VERSE, SINCE YOU MOSTLY INSPIRED WHAT'S COMING UP, BUT I SUCK, AS DOES WRITER'S BLOCK, SO I FILLED YOUR CHRISTMASTIDE PROMPT INSTEAD. I hope you have the best birthday ever, and the bestest gifts in the world! ILU, rajkumari905! ♥
And A Bottle Of Rum
"All right then," Cook says, as he takes in the state of his cabin. All his furniture is upturned, the table's split in half, and his sheets and curtains are in strips on the floor. Also, he's bleeding all over his carpet. The Ninja (and, yeah, okay, he totally fucking deserves the capital letter) is still standing in a corner of the room, sword gripped by his side. Still -- Cook's not stupid enough to make any sudden movements. "What do you propose we do now?"
For the first time, The Ninja seems to falter. "Um," he says. "I'm - I don't know?"
"But it's safe to assume you're not going to run that through me," Cook says, eyeing The Ninja's sword. He twitches when The Ninja turns the sword over in his hands, and twitches again when that jars the wound in his shoulder. "Because I gotta tell you, once was more than enough."
The Ninja visibly winces, at that, which Cook takes to mean he can collapse onto his bed. His fingers are sticky with blood. The Ninja hesitates, but then he's dropping his sword on the floor and grabbing scraps of curtain and walking up to the bed. "I'm really, really sorry," he says, and Cook tenses on reflex alone, "The man at the pier said this was the Black Pearl, and - well, it's not like I could've asked anyone."
"I tried to tell you," Cook says, and lets out a low hiss when The Ninja starts dabbing at his wound. "And I look nothing like Jack Sparrow, thank you very much."
"You really don't," The Ninja agrees. "You're a lot more, um--"
Cook's mouth curves despite himself. "Handsome?" he hazards. "Rugged? Attractive?"
"Sober," The Ninja says, firmly, but he's flushed, and he won't meet Cook's eyes.
Cook laughs abruptly. "Well, luckily for you, more sober also means more invested in keeping you alive."
The Ninja pauses midway of wrapping the curtain around Cook's shoulder, eyes sliding to his sword.
"Look," Cook says, reasonably. "You're good at what you do, obviously, but I have fifteen well-muscled men on my ship, and they're not going down without a fight. I'm kind of an awesome captain."
"Um," The Ninja says, and Cook is grudgingly impressed by the amount of scepticism he injects into that one word alone.
"The point is," Cook says, "They're going to come get me in the morning, and - whether I'm alive or not - see the mess, see you in the mess, and probably make you walk the plank."
The Ninja's eyes flicker to the window as he finishes up with Cook's bandage, and Cook sits up a little, flexing his arm. It twinges, but it's not as bad as it was a couple of minutes ago. "Okay, the way I see it, you seem like a nice guy - you know, for a cold-blooded murderer, but as I'm the captain of a pirate ship and in no position to take the moral high ground, I say we work together."
"Together?" The Ninja repeats, dubiously. "How?"
"We'll say we're engaged. I'll tell my men I picked you up when we docked last night, and--"
"Um, what," The Ninja interrupts. "How is that - oh my gosh, that's a terrible plan!"
Cook raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? You got a better cover story?"
The Ninja flaps his hands at Cook, a little helplessly. "I - well, not right now, but--"
"Tough," Cook says. "We've got maybe five minutes till my first mate checks in with me about our course. We're going with engaged."
The Ninja looks like he might protest again, but then he shakes his head. "Okay," he says. "Fine, okay. But you're dropping me off at the next island."
"Hey, I'm not the illegal stowaway here," Cook points out, and bites back a snort when The Ninja huffs a little, and mutters something under his breath. He glances up at Cook after a second, frowning at the expectant look Cook is giving him. Cook gives him a patient smile. "So I'm going to need to know the name of my fiancé."
"Oh!" The Ninja says. He flails for a second. "Um, yeah. Yes. I, um - I'm Arch--ibald. James Archibald."
Cook lets out another sudden laugh before he can stop himself. Of all the aliases. "Right," he says, once he's gotten his mouth to stop twitching. "James. I'm Cook. David Cook."
"Oh!" The Ninja - James - says. He looks surprised, but he quickly schools it in. "I - um. I really like that name. It - it's a good name."
Cook almost laughs again, but he's interrupted by a loud banging on the door, and Neal's voice floating in on its heels: "Captain?"
"Yeah," Cook calls back. "Yeah, give me a fucking second!"
He looks back at James, who's watching him with wide, wide eyes, and Cook has a moment to think Jesus Christ, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, before he says, "Ready to be engaged, sweetheart?"
Then he's reaching for the hem of James' shirt and yanking it over his head.
James yelps, caught off-guard, and then yelps again when Cook slams him back into the wall. Cook crushes their mouths together, swallowing the rest of that sound. James freezes against him, stock-still, and Cook runs his hands through James' hair, twice, before nipping his lower lip and pulling back.
"Okay, that's a little more convincing," Cook says, as he surveys his handiwork. James still looks stunned, but his mouth is red and wet and used, and his hair is mussed, and there's a bruise already forming over the curve of his shoulder where Cook shoved him against the wall. "But you might wanna work on that kissing technique, man."
James blinks. "Um," he says, faintly.
"Glad you agree," Cook says. "Now let's go play the happy couple."