Drabble: 'Grudge Match' (Norrington, Sparrow - G)
My dear porridgebird drew our attention to the fact that the word of the day on Dictionary.com was Flagitious, a piratical word if there ever was one (there were numerous examples of its use in the early days of the fandom). Of course fic had to be written, and conveniently potc100 picked it up as a prompt.
~ Grudge Match ~
Dawn was breaking, painting the sky with what should have seemed Heavenly splendor. The curve of the sun peeped over the horizon, the pale gold of its rays penetrating his skull like blades. James briefly closed his eyes, stifling a moan. His stoicism was to no avail, however.
“Feeling a trifle under the weather this morning are we, Former Commodore Norrington?”
Sparrow’s spurious sympathy was delivered in that loathsome purr of his. James clenched his teeth, but the man’s next words and actions crossed the line.
“An’ what’s this here rat’s nest?”
The wig, which had admittedly seen better days, was snatched from James’s head. His eyes flew open in spite of the horrid sun and he rasped, “Sparrow! You flagitious reprobate!”
“That’s Captain Sparrow, flagitious reprobate, to you, mate.” Sparrow swayed, his expression dark with amusement, and with something more sinister. “Flagitious,” he repeated. “I rather like that. P’rhaps I should show you just how flagitious I can be, in a more private setting.”
“You dare-“ James began, then gaped as Sparrow tossed the wig backward, over his shoulder, to splat on the deck.
“Or maybe not,” Sparrow snapped. “There’s your swab, ex-commodore. Get to it!”
~.~
~ Grudge Match ~
Dawn was breaking, painting the sky with what should have seemed Heavenly splendor. The curve of the sun peeped over the horizon, the pale gold of its rays penetrating his skull like blades. James briefly closed his eyes, stifling a moan. His stoicism was to no avail, however.
“Feeling a trifle under the weather this morning are we, Former Commodore Norrington?”
Sparrow’s spurious sympathy was delivered in that loathsome purr of his. James clenched his teeth, but the man’s next words and actions crossed the line.
“An’ what’s this here rat’s nest?”
The wig, which had admittedly seen better days, was snatched from James’s head. His eyes flew open in spite of the horrid sun and he rasped, “Sparrow! You flagitious reprobate!”
“That’s Captain Sparrow, flagitious reprobate, to you, mate.” Sparrow swayed, his expression dark with amusement, and with something more sinister. “Flagitious,” he repeated. “I rather like that. P’rhaps I should show you just how flagitious I can be, in a more private setting.”
“You dare-“ James began, then gaped as Sparrow tossed the wig backward, over his shoulder, to splat on the deck.
“Or maybe not,” Sparrow snapped. “There’s your swab, ex-commodore. Get to it!”
~.~