Fic - A Fish Supper
Oh my goodness me...
Title: A Fish Supper
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean/Temeraire crossover
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Pearl
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pinched from a talking mouse and the wonderful Naomi Novik, I make no money from these guys.
Summary: Even a pirate needs a little company in his life.
The twilight was lingering slowly at the edges of the sky, skittering golden across the sea like skimmed coins, and in the town below the windows were already glowing with firelight. The air was still heavy and wet from the afternoon’s rain, but there was a low wind coming off the shore to clear it, and the ground was dry enough in the shadow of the cliff face. Pearl settled her head down on her forelegs and huffed happily.
“You’ll have the bloody fire out!” Jack squawked in annoyance, giving her head a little shove as if to direct her breath in a less threatening direction.
“Not as if you need it to keep warm,” she retorted, shoving back and almost knocking him over. “And I don’t know why you’re so fixated on putting fish on it either, they’re much tastier without all that nasty smoky burny flavour.”
“You have no taste,” he replied, moving back to the makeshift spit on which three little silver bodies were impaled. Pearl snorted again, but was careful to turn her head a little away.
“So where do you suppose Barbossa and the ship are now?” It had had a name, she thought, but why it needed one was rather mystifying. Humans were odd.
“Damned if I’ll ever know while the bastard has our compass,” Jack replied, prodding at one of the fish then swiftly sticking the finger in his mouth. “Rolling in treasure, no doubt- if they managed to get to the island without us, ship alone and all that.”
“I wish we had some treasure,” she said wistfully, examining her talons with a critical eye. She was of course a very pretty dragon- the prettiest, so Jack claimed to anyone who gave him half an ear- but she couldn’t help thinking that brown and black was a little... drab.
Jack shuffled back over to pet her nose gently. “One day, love, you’ll be so gilded people will think you carry the king himself. I should probably get meself a crown, just in case.”
“I don’t think you would make a good king,” Pearl said thoughtfully. “Kings have to do lots of things, I think... they can’t just go away when they don’t like it somewhere. They have to look after people, and tell them to do things. They aren’t free.”
In the firelight his eyes glinted tiger-gold. “You might have the right of it there, m’dear,” he said, and reached over to lift the little spit off the fire, waving it around to cool the fish. Little spots of hot fish-juice spattered over Pearl’s talons, which she licked experimentally. Definitely not as good as when it was fresh and wriggly. But she would let Jack have his eccentricities, if it made him happy.
He settled back against her foreleg companionably, nibbling gingerly at the piping hot fish, and she curled her body around as if to shelter him from some danger hiding in the foothills. The lights of the town were winking out slowly as the last edges of the day faded from the horizon.
Title: A Fish Supper
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean/Temeraire crossover
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Pearl
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Pinched from a talking mouse and the wonderful Naomi Novik, I make no money from these guys.
Summary: Even a pirate needs a little company in his life.
The twilight was lingering slowly at the edges of the sky, skittering golden across the sea like skimmed coins, and in the town below the windows were already glowing with firelight. The air was still heavy and wet from the afternoon’s rain, but there was a low wind coming off the shore to clear it, and the ground was dry enough in the shadow of the cliff face. Pearl settled her head down on her forelegs and huffed happily.
“You’ll have the bloody fire out!” Jack squawked in annoyance, giving her head a little shove as if to direct her breath in a less threatening direction.
“Not as if you need it to keep warm,” she retorted, shoving back and almost knocking him over. “And I don’t know why you’re so fixated on putting fish on it either, they’re much tastier without all that nasty smoky burny flavour.”
“You have no taste,” he replied, moving back to the makeshift spit on which three little silver bodies were impaled. Pearl snorted again, but was careful to turn her head a little away.
“So where do you suppose Barbossa and the ship are now?” It had had a name, she thought, but why it needed one was rather mystifying. Humans were odd.
“Damned if I’ll ever know while the bastard has our compass,” Jack replied, prodding at one of the fish then swiftly sticking the finger in his mouth. “Rolling in treasure, no doubt- if they managed to get to the island without us, ship alone and all that.”
“I wish we had some treasure,” she said wistfully, examining her talons with a critical eye. She was of course a very pretty dragon- the prettiest, so Jack claimed to anyone who gave him half an ear- but she couldn’t help thinking that brown and black was a little... drab.
Jack shuffled back over to pet her nose gently. “One day, love, you’ll be so gilded people will think you carry the king himself. I should probably get meself a crown, just in case.”
“I don’t think you would make a good king,” Pearl said thoughtfully. “Kings have to do lots of things, I think... they can’t just go away when they don’t like it somewhere. They have to look after people, and tell them to do things. They aren’t free.”
In the firelight his eyes glinted tiger-gold. “You might have the right of it there, m’dear,” he said, and reached over to lift the little spit off the fire, waving it around to cool the fish. Little spots of hot fish-juice spattered over Pearl’s talons, which she licked experimentally. Definitely not as good as when it was fresh and wriggly. But she would let Jack have his eccentricities, if it made him happy.
He settled back against her foreleg companionably, nibbling gingerly at the piping hot fish, and she curled her body around as if to shelter him from some danger hiding in the foothills. The lights of the town were winking out slowly as the last edges of the day faded from the horizon.