(no subject)
Title: Drunken Lullabies (Part Six)
Author: lostingreen
Rating: PG
Pairing: Billie Joe/OC, Billie Joe/Captain Jack Sparrow, so essentially, Billie Joe/Johnny Depp. Eventually. (Weird, yes. I know.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day or anything to do with "Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl." Billie Joe is a real person, Jack Sparrow is not. The only property that I can claim from this is the occasional original character. There won't be a significant amount of them, and for the most part, they won't last long.
Notes: Not much slash for this chapter, but it'll eventually be coming around again. :D
Thanks, once again, for all the feedback on previous parts. If curious, parts one through four can be found:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Billie awoke the next morning with even less of a memory than he started with. He could recall singing for the captain, the pleasant evening exchange they had shared. But before that, he could only remember heat. He couldn’t distinguish peculiar images-his sight came to him in the verse of sounds and emotions, temperatures and tastes. He can recall a dizzying lust, encircling him in a cocoon of reds and purples, an exotic flame that kept him warm for awhile.
He didn’t understand why he’d awoken earlier, when it was still moonlight. He couldn’t figure out why his body felt so restless, like a walking ghost or a victim, something that craved revenge. He didn’t know why in the morning he awoke as though he’d just had sex, all cramps and fleeting pleasure.
“Good morning.” Daniel smiled at him, a certain…glow to his eyes making him seem like an illuminated elf. He was fey-like, in his quirky movements and slender body. Billie wondered what had happened to make him so happy.
“I take it you slept well?” Billie couldn’t help but ask. He felt miserable, weighed down by an invisible anchor of confusion and uncertainty.
“Oh, goodness, no. My whole night was one exaggerated nightmare.” He grinned cheekily at Billie, who only slumped forward on the bench in reply. “I take it your night wasn’t as pleasant as mine?”
“Insomnia.” Billie grunted, feeling drowsier by the moment. He was so depraved, at that moment, of any other feeling but apathy. Oh, he had a generous supply of that. Enough so that, if indifference was a food, he could keep the entire crew fed for at least a year.
“Well, if you want, I have a potion that might be able to help you with that.” Daniel replied, his features highlighted with a mask of concern. There was an odd sweetness to his evergreen eyes, a sort of sickly sugar there that strongly reminded Billie of Angelica. He was the male persona of Eve, all feigned innocence and charlatan youth. Billie narrowed his eyes. Something was just not-
His momentary doubt was gone. He blinked. Whatever he’d been thinking before, it had deserted him now. He inwardly groaned. What was it with him and his clumsy hold on his disappearing memories?
“Drink this.” He accepted the mug handed to him, lured in by the enticing scent of spice. He sipped with caution, unsure of what the liquid contained. He was appeased a moment later when the sweet taste, cinnamon-like, almost, slithered its way down his throat, pleasantly removing the lingering hesitance that had been there before.
---
Daniel smiled, though he could feel it faltering. He was taken aback by how powerful the other man seemed. He was very much aware of his surroundings, and Daniel was certain that with the right amount of peaked curiosity, he could’ve easily discovered his little secret. He had only himself to blame for that one. He was the one who rushed through the incantation, the fool who’d forgotten to ensure that Billie wouldn’t completely remember.
But that was all fixed now, with his potent cure for “insomnia.” He sighed. It had been too close a call for words to even describe. He felt somewhat guilty, drugging him. But really, how else was he going to keep their sordid affair quiet? Well, technically, it was his sordid affair, his and his alone. He was on the verge of regret before the lingering high of the previous evening set in. There was power, for the first time in his life, as tangible as any sea treasure. His talents, for once, could be used for his benefit, instead of further progressing the movements of someone else’s need. He was in control, and had only himself to answer to. Not even Jack could stop him, now.
Delirious from a self-inflicted high of potential and greed, Daniel smirked now at the blank expression gracing Billie’s face. The emptiness seemed to illuminate his attractive features-he held all the beauty of a paper doll now. More important than petty beauty was the fact that his potion was working. His devious activity was now proven faultless.
“Feeling better?” He inquired, a moment later, when Billie aroused from his momentary trance. He so much resembled his Michael, it was uncanny. Daniel didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before-the hair the color of a raven’s wing, the eyes a hazy shade of Ireland, and the pouting lips, sculpted in the innocence of a cherub-it all fit together now, like the tiles of a mosaic piece.
“Much. Thank you.” Billie Joe smiled, obviously unaware of what had just occurred. Daniel was pleased by his reaction.
“Well,” Daniel sighed, “I guess we better see what the Captain wants you to do. Passage aboard the Pearl isn’t free, you know.”
It just so happened that Daniel understood that lesson very well.
---
He didn’t a wife to return to after a long day at sea. His beloved Pearl was the only attachment he required. It was a romance that didn’t need verification by means of a diamond ring or any other trivial piece of jewelry. He was married to his ship, in a way. No man or woman could take him away from her. But then again, not even the Pearl could draw him away from his attachments to the material world. Gold, silver, rum, and sex were secrets he’d hardly bothered to keep-the Pearl knew him well enough by now.
Jack smiled. It was a cliché sunny day, nothing too different from the ordinary. He was content with the caressing breeze, comforted by the sea’s lonely perfume. He had his crew, his rum, and his ship-there was not much else that he needed. He was as stern as the wood that made up the Pearl, sturdy and obsolete. Watching the waves pass them by, Jack felt he could spend an eternity as he was now.
But he knew better.
Past experiences with immortality had taught him well. To live forever was to live alone, a curse Jack didn’t want lingering within him. He’d rather die in the company of his companions, pleasurable and otherwise, than to watch the world fall apart alone. That was why each new day was a treasure to him. Each dawn brought about another possible adventure, each sunset marked the end of another journey.
This new day was filled to the brim with possibility. After the pillage from the previous day, Jack found his ship stocked with new members, new captives-new anything, really. And then, there was that new stranger that called himself Billie, the musician. He intrigued Jack, to say the least. But he honestly didn’t know where he fit best among the crew, so he left him with Daniel to learn the ropes of the kitchen. Despite Daniel’s rather festive cooking, there was always room for improvement.
He remembered last night on a whim, thinking about Billie now. He turned out to be just as he said-a musician, and a rather skilled one at that. He’d graciously sung for him, and Jack couldn’t help but detect an underlying sorrow in the other man’s voice. He seemed detached from the Caribbean entirely. It was as if he were from a different world altogether. And he very well could’ve been, Jack reminded himself. His presence was like a ghost, strange, and yet, not entirely without a purpose.
He didn’t know in what direction such a disruption would lead him, but he was more than willing to find out. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the sapphire grin of the ocean water, the sparkling treasure prized the most above them all.
He very much prized the enduring salt-water reality he’d come to know and love.
---
Billie was relieved at the announcement of his duties in the kitchen. He really didn’t see himself as the pirate-type, and though he did cherish the ideals and notions of rebellion, the life of a vagabond simply didn’t hold the same appeal as being a musician. He was grateful for the fact that Jack seemed to be able to read his unease, and thus, he found himself in charge of an area with which he had some experience.
“Think of it as an apprenticeship, of sorts.” Daniel had told him in his ever-sweetening falsetto.
Billie had nodded, pantomiming an enthusiasm he didn’t have. Homesickness was taking its toll, and he’d found that he would give anything just to wake up in the arms of Adrienne, hands entwined, with the familiar scent of the California morning spread like a delicate, rich perfume.
He’d have to try his best to suppress the feeling while he was on board. He didn’t want to let his emotions get the better of him, not again. So now here he was, scrubbing the boards with a worn, dirty rag, his efforts dragging behind him like an anchor. His face was flush and his flesh had soon become lacquered with a glistening sweat, shimmering like a diamond in moonlight. He remained sore, that aftermath feeling lingering like persistent insects, groping at him for even a drop of his precious blood.
“That’s good.” Daniel remarked, glancing over from his own position, bent over the lengthy table, rag in hand. “Have you done this before?”
Billie grunted, smirking. “Yeah, where I come from, they call it ‘married life.’”
Daniel grinned, apparently possessing a sense of humor after all. “Wherever you’re from, they speak our language, it seems.” He turned around and went back to his work, leaving silence to hang between them like an elegant curtain.
Billie found he liked the quietude quite a bit. It allowed for him to concentrate all of his emotions towards the dirt on the floor, scrubbing away frustrations as well as dust and other assorted messes. He felt strangely like Cinderella, except without the glass slippers. It was probably better that way.
Billie found that he’d had enough of ethereality to last him a lifetime.
Author: lostingreen
Rating: PG
Pairing: Billie Joe/OC, Billie Joe/Captain Jack Sparrow, so essentially, Billie Joe/Johnny Depp. Eventually. (Weird, yes. I know.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Green Day or anything to do with "Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl." Billie Joe is a real person, Jack Sparrow is not. The only property that I can claim from this is the occasional original character. There won't be a significant amount of them, and for the most part, they won't last long.
Notes: Not much slash for this chapter, but it'll eventually be coming around again. :D
Thanks, once again, for all the feedback on previous parts. If curious, parts one through four can be found:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Billie awoke the next morning with even less of a memory than he started with. He could recall singing for the captain, the pleasant evening exchange they had shared. But before that, he could only remember heat. He couldn’t distinguish peculiar images-his sight came to him in the verse of sounds and emotions, temperatures and tastes. He can recall a dizzying lust, encircling him in a cocoon of reds and purples, an exotic flame that kept him warm for awhile.
He didn’t understand why he’d awoken earlier, when it was still moonlight. He couldn’t figure out why his body felt so restless, like a walking ghost or a victim, something that craved revenge. He didn’t know why in the morning he awoke as though he’d just had sex, all cramps and fleeting pleasure.
“Good morning.” Daniel smiled at him, a certain…glow to his eyes making him seem like an illuminated elf. He was fey-like, in his quirky movements and slender body. Billie wondered what had happened to make him so happy.
“I take it you slept well?” Billie couldn’t help but ask. He felt miserable, weighed down by an invisible anchor of confusion and uncertainty.
“Oh, goodness, no. My whole night was one exaggerated nightmare.” He grinned cheekily at Billie, who only slumped forward on the bench in reply. “I take it your night wasn’t as pleasant as mine?”
“Insomnia.” Billie grunted, feeling drowsier by the moment. He was so depraved, at that moment, of any other feeling but apathy. Oh, he had a generous supply of that. Enough so that, if indifference was a food, he could keep the entire crew fed for at least a year.
“Well, if you want, I have a potion that might be able to help you with that.” Daniel replied, his features highlighted with a mask of concern. There was an odd sweetness to his evergreen eyes, a sort of sickly sugar there that strongly reminded Billie of Angelica. He was the male persona of Eve, all feigned innocence and charlatan youth. Billie narrowed his eyes. Something was just not-
His momentary doubt was gone. He blinked. Whatever he’d been thinking before, it had deserted him now. He inwardly groaned. What was it with him and his clumsy hold on his disappearing memories?
“Drink this.” He accepted the mug handed to him, lured in by the enticing scent of spice. He sipped with caution, unsure of what the liquid contained. He was appeased a moment later when the sweet taste, cinnamon-like, almost, slithered its way down his throat, pleasantly removing the lingering hesitance that had been there before.
---
Daniel smiled, though he could feel it faltering. He was taken aback by how powerful the other man seemed. He was very much aware of his surroundings, and Daniel was certain that with the right amount of peaked curiosity, he could’ve easily discovered his little secret. He had only himself to blame for that one. He was the one who rushed through the incantation, the fool who’d forgotten to ensure that Billie wouldn’t completely remember.
But that was all fixed now, with his potent cure for “insomnia.” He sighed. It had been too close a call for words to even describe. He felt somewhat guilty, drugging him. But really, how else was he going to keep their sordid affair quiet? Well, technically, it was his sordid affair, his and his alone. He was on the verge of regret before the lingering high of the previous evening set in. There was power, for the first time in his life, as tangible as any sea treasure. His talents, for once, could be used for his benefit, instead of further progressing the movements of someone else’s need. He was in control, and had only himself to answer to. Not even Jack could stop him, now.
Delirious from a self-inflicted high of potential and greed, Daniel smirked now at the blank expression gracing Billie’s face. The emptiness seemed to illuminate his attractive features-he held all the beauty of a paper doll now. More important than petty beauty was the fact that his potion was working. His devious activity was now proven faultless.
“Feeling better?” He inquired, a moment later, when Billie aroused from his momentary trance. He so much resembled his Michael, it was uncanny. Daniel didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before-the hair the color of a raven’s wing, the eyes a hazy shade of Ireland, and the pouting lips, sculpted in the innocence of a cherub-it all fit together now, like the tiles of a mosaic piece.
“Much. Thank you.” Billie Joe smiled, obviously unaware of what had just occurred. Daniel was pleased by his reaction.
“Well,” Daniel sighed, “I guess we better see what the Captain wants you to do. Passage aboard the Pearl isn’t free, you know.”
It just so happened that Daniel understood that lesson very well.
---
He didn’t a wife to return to after a long day at sea. His beloved Pearl was the only attachment he required. It was a romance that didn’t need verification by means of a diamond ring or any other trivial piece of jewelry. He was married to his ship, in a way. No man or woman could take him away from her. But then again, not even the Pearl could draw him away from his attachments to the material world. Gold, silver, rum, and sex were secrets he’d hardly bothered to keep-the Pearl knew him well enough by now.
Jack smiled. It was a cliché sunny day, nothing too different from the ordinary. He was content with the caressing breeze, comforted by the sea’s lonely perfume. He had his crew, his rum, and his ship-there was not much else that he needed. He was as stern as the wood that made up the Pearl, sturdy and obsolete. Watching the waves pass them by, Jack felt he could spend an eternity as he was now.
But he knew better.
Past experiences with immortality had taught him well. To live forever was to live alone, a curse Jack didn’t want lingering within him. He’d rather die in the company of his companions, pleasurable and otherwise, than to watch the world fall apart alone. That was why each new day was a treasure to him. Each dawn brought about another possible adventure, each sunset marked the end of another journey.
This new day was filled to the brim with possibility. After the pillage from the previous day, Jack found his ship stocked with new members, new captives-new anything, really. And then, there was that new stranger that called himself Billie, the musician. He intrigued Jack, to say the least. But he honestly didn’t know where he fit best among the crew, so he left him with Daniel to learn the ropes of the kitchen. Despite Daniel’s rather festive cooking, there was always room for improvement.
He remembered last night on a whim, thinking about Billie now. He turned out to be just as he said-a musician, and a rather skilled one at that. He’d graciously sung for him, and Jack couldn’t help but detect an underlying sorrow in the other man’s voice. He seemed detached from the Caribbean entirely. It was as if he were from a different world altogether. And he very well could’ve been, Jack reminded himself. His presence was like a ghost, strange, and yet, not entirely without a purpose.
He didn’t know in what direction such a disruption would lead him, but he was more than willing to find out. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the sapphire grin of the ocean water, the sparkling treasure prized the most above them all.
He very much prized the enduring salt-water reality he’d come to know and love.
---
Billie was relieved at the announcement of his duties in the kitchen. He really didn’t see himself as the pirate-type, and though he did cherish the ideals and notions of rebellion, the life of a vagabond simply didn’t hold the same appeal as being a musician. He was grateful for the fact that Jack seemed to be able to read his unease, and thus, he found himself in charge of an area with which he had some experience.
“Think of it as an apprenticeship, of sorts.” Daniel had told him in his ever-sweetening falsetto.
Billie had nodded, pantomiming an enthusiasm he didn’t have. Homesickness was taking its toll, and he’d found that he would give anything just to wake up in the arms of Adrienne, hands entwined, with the familiar scent of the California morning spread like a delicate, rich perfume.
He’d have to try his best to suppress the feeling while he was on board. He didn’t want to let his emotions get the better of him, not again. So now here he was, scrubbing the boards with a worn, dirty rag, his efforts dragging behind him like an anchor. His face was flush and his flesh had soon become lacquered with a glistening sweat, shimmering like a diamond in moonlight. He remained sore, that aftermath feeling lingering like persistent insects, groping at him for even a drop of his precious blood.
“That’s good.” Daniel remarked, glancing over from his own position, bent over the lengthy table, rag in hand. “Have you done this before?”
Billie grunted, smirking. “Yeah, where I come from, they call it ‘married life.’”
Daniel grinned, apparently possessing a sense of humor after all. “Wherever you’re from, they speak our language, it seems.” He turned around and went back to his work, leaving silence to hang between them like an elegant curtain.
Billie found he liked the quietude quite a bit. It allowed for him to concentrate all of his emotions towards the dirt on the floor, scrubbing away frustrations as well as dust and other assorted messes. He felt strangely like Cinderella, except without the glass slippers. It was probably better that way.
Billie found that he’d had enough of ethereality to last him a lifetime.