Fic for Arie
Title: First Meetings
Author/Artist: lilahthedragon
Recipient's name: Arie
Fandom: Princess Bride/PotC
Characters/Pairings: Captain Jack Sparrow, Dread Pirate Roberts
Rating and Warnings: PG, just a bit of drinking
Summary: You meet the darnedest people in a pirate haven.
Notes: Completely and totally unbetad, many apologies both for the lateness and the grammar.
Tortuga was a wild and wooly town, but what less would one expect from the most infamous pirate haven? The streets were a muddy labyrinth between shops and taverns. The docks weren’t much better with their rickety wooden berths often interconnected with the landside by even more rickety rope and plank bridges.
Westley was contemplating crossing one even now and having serious second thoughts about the choice of Tortuga as the place to find a new crew. But a new crew was needed if he was to become THE Dread Pirate Roberts. He really wanted a drink after a day of talking with the numerous scurrilous dogs that populated this den of vice. Westley, however, remained unsure if he wanted to risk his life to do so.
With a disenheartened sigh the blonde checked to make certain that the black mask was still snuggly in place. He finally thought himself ready to venture across. Just a couple more of these rope monstrosities stood between him and drink. No sooner had he set foot on the swaying bridge did one of Tortuga’s more colorful personages start towards him from the other side.
The other’s brushing footsteps made the already precarious bridge sway menacingly. Westley was hard pressed to keep his footing and he froze in the middle of the bridge. The other man didn’t seem too disturbed by someone else being in the way. The newly minted Roberts watched in fascination and horror as the other pirate lurched closer.
The white shirt billowed in the sea breeze and when the man staggered to a halt in front of Westley it made the man seem bigger than he was. He couldn’t tell if the unsteady gait was from the bridge or the reek of rum that seemed to roll off the stranger. Dark eyes made darker by thick kohl lines smudged around them blinked once before Westley was greeted with the words, “You’re in my way, pox boy.”
“If you had waited until I’d gotten off before staggering on this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’ll have you know,” the other pirate leaned in conspiratorially close before loudly whispering, “that Tortuga whores can easily cross this bridge three abreast with nary a misstep.”
“I’ll have you know I am not a whore.”
“Of course not, pox boy.” A hand heavy with rings waved an elegantly convoluted dismissal under Westley’s nose. “Though the mask is a good idea for hiding the marks, a bit obvious when one thinks on it, but a good idea still. You’ve definitely got a better chance than my eunuch friend.”
“I do not have the pox, nor have I ever had the pox. I’m also not here to turn any tricks. Do you have any idea who I am?”
“No. Should I?” The dark eyes were uncanny and clear as Westley found his personal space invaded again.
He wasn’t sure that the pirate was drunk or not but nonetheless he drew himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate the other man when he declared firmly, “I’m the Dread Pirate Roberts.”
“Bollocks!” Was not the answer the blonde was expecting to get, but it did get the pirate out of his personal space. It was with quite and indignant frown that he was regarded with as he was looked up and down. “Roberts is much older than you. You can’t fool me into believing that by playing dress-up, pox boy.”
“And who are you that you should know?”
“Why I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, that’s who.”
“I’ve never heard of you.”
“Ah-ha! I knew it!” A finger jabbed mercilessly at his chest. “Roberts and I always go drinking when we cross paths in a port. It’s tradition!”
“You’ve got to be joking.” Westley groaned and visibly deflated. This could not be happening to him on his first night out as the Dread Pirate.
“So if you are Roberts, and I’m not saying you are, mind you. But if you were then that only stands to reason that we now must go drinking.”
“I don’t think so,” The blonde started to back away from the lunatic pirate. The swaying bridge didn’t allow for a very fast retreat so it was perhaps to be expected that the heavily ringed hand snatched a good hold of his black shirt.
It was a frightfully firm grasp that began tugging Westley in the direction Jack has just came from. For someone who appeared thoroughly intoxicated the arm that hauled him along was steady and made sure he remained so no matter how dangerously the rope bridge lurched and bucked under their feet. He had to give Sparrow credit for such a feat but he was still more relieved to finally feel the solid ground of Tortuga under his feet.
If he thought arriving on terra firma would result in his release from the gregarious pirate he was wrong. Jack dragged him down the length of a muddy and rambunctious street. Pausing only when one of the painted ladies would step away from the wall to greet Jack with a kiss and a slap. Westley’s expression was mostly hidden by the mask but it was apparent from the look in his eyes that he found these greetings amusing, especially after the fourth such encounter.
“No worries, happens all the time,” Jack muttered as he pulled the blonde into a particularly loud tavern after a couple of the patron had been thrown out to land at their feet. With the same befuddled grace that he’d exhibited on the bridge Jack wove them through the throng of drunken pirates and harlots. Once at the bar he proclaimed in aloud enough voice to cut through the babble, “Rum!! And lots of it! For myself and for the Dread Pirate Roberts!”
There was a lull in the deafening conversations as heads snapped around to look at Jack, who appeared unfazed by the notice his declaration was garnering. Westley was beginning to wish he could sink right through the floor. The dark-eyed Sparrow grabbed the two mugs that appeared before him and shoved one into the blonde’s hand, leaning far enough forward to mutter into Westley’s ear, “Do try to look a bit more like a Dread Pirate than a pock-marked farm boy, would you? Scowl dammit!”
That comment did put a scowl on his face, but Jack just laughed heartily as if it were all a joke, clinked their mugs together, and drank a healthy swig of the rum. Any comebacks that could have sprang from the moment were bit off when Jack launched into a tale about one of his adventures, something about helping a eunuch rescue a princess.
The rum flowed freely throughout the embellished tale. Westley was no stranger to drinking but never had he matched drink for drink someone who seemed to inhale the stuff. His tolerance was no match for Jack’s. It did serve to loosen his tongue enough to snark back at the other pirate.
They snipped at each other for everything, with Westley accusing Jack of being a eunuch himself, “Otherwise why would the ladies be so highly ‘reactive’ to his person?” Then there was his manner of dress, “Black is practical, it hides the blood, whereas you if it weren’t for the beard have enough jewelry to pass for one of the ‘ladies’ outside.”
Every insult was met with an indulgent grin and a placid “If that’s what you think, pox boy.” Still as the tales wound on and Jack’s wild gestulations caused him to knock Westley’s mug almost out of his hand, the blonde’s adeptness at saving the liquor grew less and less. Eventually dawn chose to rear its ugly head over the horizon and showed that Captain Jack Sparrow had an amazing capacity for ingesting rum. By the same token it showed that the young Dread Pirate Roberts needed to develop a bit more of a capacity for the stuff.
The blonde was listing farther and farther to the side until the bar itself was the only thing holding Westley upright. Jack finally had mercy on the young man and was willing to call it a night, day, whatever, and slung a companionable arm around his waist to lead the shaky Roberts out of the tavern.
Weaving down the still lively streets Jack leaned over to tell Westley quite blithely, “Don’t worry, lad, I’ll see you back to the Revenge safe and sound. I did the same thing to your predecessor and to his, I don’t understand about you Robertses. How can you be a pirate and not be able to hold your liquor?”
The only thing that Westley could think of to say at this point was, “Well, at least I’m following tradition!”
Author/Artist: lilahthedragon
Recipient's name: Arie
Fandom: Princess Bride/PotC
Characters/Pairings: Captain Jack Sparrow, Dread Pirate Roberts
Rating and Warnings: PG, just a bit of drinking
Summary: You meet the darnedest people in a pirate haven.
Notes: Completely and totally unbetad, many apologies both for the lateness and the grammar.
Tortuga was a wild and wooly town, but what less would one expect from the most infamous pirate haven? The streets were a muddy labyrinth between shops and taverns. The docks weren’t much better with their rickety wooden berths often interconnected with the landside by even more rickety rope and plank bridges.
Westley was contemplating crossing one even now and having serious second thoughts about the choice of Tortuga as the place to find a new crew. But a new crew was needed if he was to become THE Dread Pirate Roberts. He really wanted a drink after a day of talking with the numerous scurrilous dogs that populated this den of vice. Westley, however, remained unsure if he wanted to risk his life to do so.
With a disenheartened sigh the blonde checked to make certain that the black mask was still snuggly in place. He finally thought himself ready to venture across. Just a couple more of these rope monstrosities stood between him and drink. No sooner had he set foot on the swaying bridge did one of Tortuga’s more colorful personages start towards him from the other side.
The other’s brushing footsteps made the already precarious bridge sway menacingly. Westley was hard pressed to keep his footing and he froze in the middle of the bridge. The other man didn’t seem too disturbed by someone else being in the way. The newly minted Roberts watched in fascination and horror as the other pirate lurched closer.
The white shirt billowed in the sea breeze and when the man staggered to a halt in front of Westley it made the man seem bigger than he was. He couldn’t tell if the unsteady gait was from the bridge or the reek of rum that seemed to roll off the stranger. Dark eyes made darker by thick kohl lines smudged around them blinked once before Westley was greeted with the words, “You’re in my way, pox boy.”
“If you had waited until I’d gotten off before staggering on this wouldn’t be an issue.”
“I’ll have you know,” the other pirate leaned in conspiratorially close before loudly whispering, “that Tortuga whores can easily cross this bridge three abreast with nary a misstep.”
“I’ll have you know I am not a whore.”
“Of course not, pox boy.” A hand heavy with rings waved an elegantly convoluted dismissal under Westley’s nose. “Though the mask is a good idea for hiding the marks, a bit obvious when one thinks on it, but a good idea still. You’ve definitely got a better chance than my eunuch friend.”
“I do not have the pox, nor have I ever had the pox. I’m also not here to turn any tricks. Do you have any idea who I am?”
“No. Should I?” The dark eyes were uncanny and clear as Westley found his personal space invaded again.
He wasn’t sure that the pirate was drunk or not but nonetheless he drew himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate the other man when he declared firmly, “I’m the Dread Pirate Roberts.”
“Bollocks!” Was not the answer the blonde was expecting to get, but it did get the pirate out of his personal space. It was with quite and indignant frown that he was regarded with as he was looked up and down. “Roberts is much older than you. You can’t fool me into believing that by playing dress-up, pox boy.”
“And who are you that you should know?”
“Why I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, that’s who.”
“I’ve never heard of you.”
“Ah-ha! I knew it!” A finger jabbed mercilessly at his chest. “Roberts and I always go drinking when we cross paths in a port. It’s tradition!”
“You’ve got to be joking.” Westley groaned and visibly deflated. This could not be happening to him on his first night out as the Dread Pirate.
“So if you are Roberts, and I’m not saying you are, mind you. But if you were then that only stands to reason that we now must go drinking.”
“I don’t think so,” The blonde started to back away from the lunatic pirate. The swaying bridge didn’t allow for a very fast retreat so it was perhaps to be expected that the heavily ringed hand snatched a good hold of his black shirt.
It was a frightfully firm grasp that began tugging Westley in the direction Jack has just came from. For someone who appeared thoroughly intoxicated the arm that hauled him along was steady and made sure he remained so no matter how dangerously the rope bridge lurched and bucked under their feet. He had to give Sparrow credit for such a feat but he was still more relieved to finally feel the solid ground of Tortuga under his feet.
If he thought arriving on terra firma would result in his release from the gregarious pirate he was wrong. Jack dragged him down the length of a muddy and rambunctious street. Pausing only when one of the painted ladies would step away from the wall to greet Jack with a kiss and a slap. Westley’s expression was mostly hidden by the mask but it was apparent from the look in his eyes that he found these greetings amusing, especially after the fourth such encounter.
“No worries, happens all the time,” Jack muttered as he pulled the blonde into a particularly loud tavern after a couple of the patron had been thrown out to land at their feet. With the same befuddled grace that he’d exhibited on the bridge Jack wove them through the throng of drunken pirates and harlots. Once at the bar he proclaimed in aloud enough voice to cut through the babble, “Rum!! And lots of it! For myself and for the Dread Pirate Roberts!”
There was a lull in the deafening conversations as heads snapped around to look at Jack, who appeared unfazed by the notice his declaration was garnering. Westley was beginning to wish he could sink right through the floor. The dark-eyed Sparrow grabbed the two mugs that appeared before him and shoved one into the blonde’s hand, leaning far enough forward to mutter into Westley’s ear, “Do try to look a bit more like a Dread Pirate than a pock-marked farm boy, would you? Scowl dammit!”
That comment did put a scowl on his face, but Jack just laughed heartily as if it were all a joke, clinked their mugs together, and drank a healthy swig of the rum. Any comebacks that could have sprang from the moment were bit off when Jack launched into a tale about one of his adventures, something about helping a eunuch rescue a princess.
The rum flowed freely throughout the embellished tale. Westley was no stranger to drinking but never had he matched drink for drink someone who seemed to inhale the stuff. His tolerance was no match for Jack’s. It did serve to loosen his tongue enough to snark back at the other pirate.
They snipped at each other for everything, with Westley accusing Jack of being a eunuch himself, “Otherwise why would the ladies be so highly ‘reactive’ to his person?” Then there was his manner of dress, “Black is practical, it hides the blood, whereas you if it weren’t for the beard have enough jewelry to pass for one of the ‘ladies’ outside.”
Every insult was met with an indulgent grin and a placid “If that’s what you think, pox boy.” Still as the tales wound on and Jack’s wild gestulations caused him to knock Westley’s mug almost out of his hand, the blonde’s adeptness at saving the liquor grew less and less. Eventually dawn chose to rear its ugly head over the horizon and showed that Captain Jack Sparrow had an amazing capacity for ingesting rum. By the same token it showed that the young Dread Pirate Roberts needed to develop a bit more of a capacity for the stuff.
The blonde was listing farther and farther to the side until the bar itself was the only thing holding Westley upright. Jack finally had mercy on the young man and was willing to call it a night, day, whatever, and slung a companionable arm around his waist to lead the shaky Roberts out of the tavern.
Weaving down the still lively streets Jack leaned over to tell Westley quite blithely, “Don’t worry, lad, I’ll see you back to the Revenge safe and sound. I did the same thing to your predecessor and to his, I don’t understand about you Robertses. How can you be a pirate and not be able to hold your liquor?”
The only thing that Westley could think of to say at this point was, “Well, at least I’m following tradition!”