(no subject)
Title: Drunken Lullabies (Part Three)
Author: lostingreen
Rating: PG
Pairing: 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: This little project of mine doesn't have slash in it. Yet. There will be, eventually. (Maybe even next chapter. ;p) But for right now, not so much. There's also no het, either. For right now, it's pretty romance/sex-free.
Thanks, once again, for all the feedback on previous parts. If curious, parts one and two can be found:
Part One
Part Two
Daniel kept to the confines of the Black Pearl, not yet entirely certain of what had become of the Divine Grace. He was a young man of, perhaps, twenty three years of age, a renegade orphan on the high seas. He’d been discovered in Tortuga, working as a bartender, when he was asked to join the crew of the Pearl, courtesy of the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow himself. Daniel wasn’t going to masquerade naivety-he knew exactly why he’d been approached with an offer most young pirates would kill to receive. He knew the day, the location, hell, the very hour it was destined to happen. It was written in the stars.
Daniel kept up residence in Tortuga because it was the only place where he could practice his craft openly, without fear of some odd religious figurehead or another coming after him with talks of hellfire and damnation. He was a mage, and he wasn’t ashamed to flaunt that fact. After all, it was how he got by in life, on Tortuga. For a small, simple and safe price, he could reveal all anyone would ever need to know. And if people couldn’t pay in money, well, he’d found other suitable forms of payment.
Tortuga, for him, was a crowning achievement. It marked the beginning of his newfound freedom, the end of his life crippled with wanderings and broken homes. He never did know his heritage. In childbirth, he was delivered to an orphanage, a shell he quickly outgrew. From there, he set off to try and find the world, a task he still wasn’t sure he’d accomplished.
He was a lone sole, a wanderer.
But, as they say, not all who wander are lost.
He was strange. He was quirky. He was blind. He sacrificed the luxuries of normal vision to see the true nature of the stars, to be able to interpret the meaning behind lost causes and rejected dreams. He took what others detached themselves from, seeking spiritual comfort in what was known in the modern world as the devil’s work. He was the Church’s long lost enemy, and its greatest customer. Most, after an encounter with Daniel, found themselves fleeing for the sanctuary of the cross and the nail.
He challenged the ordinary, provoked the senseless. He angered many with his accuracy and his honesty.
He saw through his hands, mouth, nose, and mind, a master of supernatural puppetry.
Now, he touched the surface of his beloved tarot cards, waiting for their whispers to come to him.
They spoke of circumstance. They told of disruption.
They confessed to him that deliverance was on its way, if he could only wait long enough.
---
Jack stood silent, resembling the presence of a sculpted guardian angel to a tombstone, a guardian of a different kind. He watched from beneath his hat as the stranger reluctantly moved forward, perpetual motion of a different kind. He couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay-this man, this stranger. He was most certainly of a different kind.
Fear clung to him like cheap perfume; a scent Jack had familiarized himself over the years, what with his frequent visits to Tortuga. He inhaled the fragrance, savoring it like a rich wine. He always did take pleasure in the dominance position.
“What’s your name, lad?” He spoke at last, not entirely sure if ‘lad’ was the correct way to address the stranger before him. Closer now, Jack could make out age in the crevices of the man’s skin, the years buried beneath the wrinkled lines. He was clearly older than he first let on to be.
“Billie Joe.” The other man answered simply, not quite meeting Jack’s inquisitive gaze. He had the appearance of a shy puppy, a tiny creature that’d been quick to be turned away. Jack thought it was strange such a lovely thing should have such a strange, if not grotesque, name.
“Unusual name.” He spoke aloud, letting the silence between them fall like the autumn leaves. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Not quite.” Billie Joe replied, looking the pirate captain in the eye for the first time in the course of their conversation. “I guess you could say I’m out of my league.”
He had an extraordinary way about him, that Billie Joe fellow. He was abnormally tiny for a man, especially an older one. His body was as thick as a twig, but Jack could distinguish a sense of strength, a fortitude not measured in muscle, beneath the man’s inked skin.
“Are you a stowaway, Billie Joe?” Jack asked, though he knew the other man wasn’t. His garb, his hair, his face-it all looked to be from some other dimension. There was the lingering scent of the supernatural upon him, a fragrance Jack could detect, even from his distance.
“That’s the only explanation I have, I guess.” The shorter man answered, shrugging in response. Jack could tell there was more to this man beneath his dark surface.
He wasn’t one for letting undiscovered treasure get away.
---
Billie couldn’t help but steal glances at the other man. For a pirate, he seemed wise, so much so beyond his years. He had the look of a brothel-shady, unkempt, and secret. There was a strange sensuality in this, one that Billie Joe was too perturbed to go into any deeper. He had seen the stars and the moon, if he was to be of any judge of his manner. It was as if he’d seen it all, and Billie was just the latest in his collection of unrivaled marvels.
He boldly cleared his throat, uncertain of his next move. He wondered as to what the pirate, obviously the captain of his ship, had in mind for him. Surely, he wouldn’t just allow for him to walk off, unscathed. No, there had to be more to it than that.
Sure enough, Billie’s instincts proved to be correct. In the next moment, he was to preoccupied to keep track of passing time, the pirate had stepped forward, and all Billie could focus on was the cutlass sheathed at his side and the pistol closest to his hand. His expression remained the same, cocky piece of stoicism it had been when he’d first approached him.
“You’ve got a choice, lad.” The pirate, Captain Jack Freebird or whatever it was, spoke, his face cracking with the earnest appeal of a smile. “You can either stay on this ship, or you can come with me.” His grin contorted to form a smugly satisfied smirk. “I think you should know, however, that the Black Pearl leaves, shall we say, an incendiary impression when it sets sail again. But then again, it’s your choice, lad. Savvy?”
Billie got the point. Loud and clear. Really, he’d expected as much from the man. He was, after all, a pirate. He was used to getting what he wanted. Billie figured his life was worth more than petty obstinacy. He’d rather be held captive than left out on his own, especially considering he wasn’t even in his own century.
He sighed, his mind made up. “I’ll go with you.” He agreed, knowing he was delivering the exact words Captain Jack wanted to hear. He wasn’t normally this submissive. In this case, he knew that rebellion would be far from the smartest of ideas. He depended on the other man for his survival, and it wouldn’t bode well to ruin his only chance at escape. That aside, he supposed he was lucky he was being taken in by pirates. Otherwise, he’d probably be mistaken for one, and, worse, would have had to suffer in the name of crimes had yet to commit.
“Excellent idea.” The man opposing him replied, smirk shifting to become a smile once again. Billie knew that everything for him was falling into place. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted in or out of the same situation.
---
According to the storm gradually forming above them, Daniel knew that romance was on the horizon. It was his inherent beliefs that told him so. There would be lightning, and there would be lust. There would be rainfall, and there would be frustration. Of course, he kept this to himself, still settled in the kitchen below deck. He was taken aboard under the pretense of being the cook. A protection, of sorts, from enemy crews. At the time, Jack’s crew couldn’t fathom his logic, considering their knowledge of Daniel’s lack of sight. However, defying their expectations, it turned out that he was the best suited, among them, to do the job.
It was almost time to prepare the next meal. He already knew he’d need to be making more than usual. The cards had revealed to him that several passengers had been taken, the rest already dead or left to die. In the fire of the stove, he could make out the image of a stranger, a man, as it turned out. The embers told him, in his blindness, of the man’s unusual appearance, his otherwise foreign mystique.
He was to be the attraction, the force through which the forthcoming future flowed. Daniel found himself enticed by the stranger’s promise, the unspoken change within his very presence. Oh, how everything was going to give itself over to abruption and disarray-the beauty of how only one minor shift could cause such disaster, such confusion. It was these moments he lived for, one of the few reasons he’d agreed to the life of a pirate in the first place.
He sensed the return of the captain with the trembling cinders all around him. Whispers of his arrival with the same stranger coiled ruthlessly before him, taunting him with what he couldn’t have. Internally, he flinched, he knew that whoever this stranger was, he would eventually belong to Jack, and Jack alone.
Destiny blessed him with foresight, but rewarded him with an eternally brittle stability, one that could break with just one misstep. He lost the one he truly loved long ago-a victim to the authority of the British Navy. That was the driving force behind his passionate leap into piracy, even more so than the desire for chaos and makeshift anarchy on the seven seas. He envied Jack, but he loathed what the British Navy stood for. The red of their uniforms reminded him too much of the red of his lover’s blood, the life substance draining as the silver of the blade was withdrawn.
He clenched his teeth, entangled with the memory. It had been the break of dawn, too early and too late for anyone to truly care. Decadence paraded in the streets, stolen wealth on display. In the brothels, all who could help were absorbed in their own bloodletting ceremonies, the natural rites that came with hiring a cheap whore. The pubs fared no better, housing drunkards and prostitutes too ugly to sell.
Solitude engulfed him, leaving him with the stinging sensation of rejection. Unshed tears threatened to be the end of him, and reluctantly, he let them out. In mute sobs, he confessed his sad story, though, sadly no one was willing to listen.
He had been left alone to go from lover to lover, always the one to court, never the courted to be swept off his feet. Romance at this point was dead to him. Emotion was nothing but pantomimed misconceptions, fables to feed the human heart’s expanding curiosity. That was all it was good for, the heart. Beating still and letting others influence its nature.
He covered up his sorrow with ragged, uneven breaths. He would not let anyone catch him vulnerable. He had an appearance to upkeep, no matter how temporary it might have been. He was the soothsayer, the magician among them. He was good for fortune telling and tarot cards, along with the occasional midnight lover. It never amounted to anything more, not when the men of Jack’s crew dreamt they were fucking women.
Jack had been different, Jack had earnestly not cared. He’d found pleasure in the fact that he was making love to another man-it gave Daniel hope that, perhaps, he could be loved again.
But they always did return to Tortuga, and Jack always got what he wanted.
Through Jack, Daniel had learned that fate could be manipulated, contorted in such a way that would fit what the mastermind desired. He learned this lesson the hard way, as evidenced by the torn shards beating in his chest, all that remained of his broken heart.
He smiled as it dawned on him.
Everything came full circle, and this time, it would be he who got what he wanted.
---
Billie couldn’t help but to continue to stare, this time, at the eloquent structure of the Black Pearl. Lead aboard by Jack, he assumed that he wouldn’t get to see much of the upper decks-reasoning had told him to not to expect such liberties. He felt as exposed as if he were naked, caught before the curious eyes of the captain’s intimidating crew. Well, intimidating, perhaps, wasn’t the right word. They were all a rag-tag team of misfits, differing in size and shape, and more often than not, the common size they all shared was miniscule and paper thin. Anamaria and Jack were the only people, Billie thought, that he deemed worthy to fear.
He was amazed by the antique distinctiveness of it all-the dark wood, the engravings, everything. It was all set in a particular, artistic manner, which he figured strange for such a bunch of pirates.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” The captain nearly whispered, an appreciative glimmer sparkling in his eyes, reminding Billie of the stars of summer. It was obvious from the moment they set foot on the Pearl that Jack was infatuated with it as a normal man might be with any woman. Or man, depending on his orientation, Billie decided. He could easily understand why Jack might harbor such affection-the Black Pearl was a work of art, no more, no less. He didn’t doubt that Jack loved his ship more than any other person-he could distinguish it from within the glowing chocolate of his eyes.
It was then the sky caved in, and he was caught within a world of black.
Author: lostingreen
Rating: PG
Pairing: 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: This little project of mine doesn't have slash in it. Yet. There will be, eventually. (Maybe even next chapter. ;p) But for right now, not so much. There's also no het, either. For right now, it's pretty romance/sex-free.
Thanks, once again, for all the feedback on previous parts. If curious, parts one and two can be found:
Part One
Part Two
Daniel kept to the confines of the Black Pearl, not yet entirely certain of what had become of the Divine Grace. He was a young man of, perhaps, twenty three years of age, a renegade orphan on the high seas. He’d been discovered in Tortuga, working as a bartender, when he was asked to join the crew of the Pearl, courtesy of the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow himself. Daniel wasn’t going to masquerade naivety-he knew exactly why he’d been approached with an offer most young pirates would kill to receive. He knew the day, the location, hell, the very hour it was destined to happen. It was written in the stars.
Daniel kept up residence in Tortuga because it was the only place where he could practice his craft openly, without fear of some odd religious figurehead or another coming after him with talks of hellfire and damnation. He was a mage, and he wasn’t ashamed to flaunt that fact. After all, it was how he got by in life, on Tortuga. For a small, simple and safe price, he could reveal all anyone would ever need to know. And if people couldn’t pay in money, well, he’d found other suitable forms of payment.
Tortuga, for him, was a crowning achievement. It marked the beginning of his newfound freedom, the end of his life crippled with wanderings and broken homes. He never did know his heritage. In childbirth, he was delivered to an orphanage, a shell he quickly outgrew. From there, he set off to try and find the world, a task he still wasn’t sure he’d accomplished.
He was a lone sole, a wanderer.
But, as they say, not all who wander are lost.
He was strange. He was quirky. He was blind. He sacrificed the luxuries of normal vision to see the true nature of the stars, to be able to interpret the meaning behind lost causes and rejected dreams. He took what others detached themselves from, seeking spiritual comfort in what was known in the modern world as the devil’s work. He was the Church’s long lost enemy, and its greatest customer. Most, after an encounter with Daniel, found themselves fleeing for the sanctuary of the cross and the nail.
He challenged the ordinary, provoked the senseless. He angered many with his accuracy and his honesty.
He saw through his hands, mouth, nose, and mind, a master of supernatural puppetry.
Now, he touched the surface of his beloved tarot cards, waiting for their whispers to come to him.
They spoke of circumstance. They told of disruption.
They confessed to him that deliverance was on its way, if he could only wait long enough.
---
Jack stood silent, resembling the presence of a sculpted guardian angel to a tombstone, a guardian of a different kind. He watched from beneath his hat as the stranger reluctantly moved forward, perpetual motion of a different kind. He couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay-this man, this stranger. He was most certainly of a different kind.
Fear clung to him like cheap perfume; a scent Jack had familiarized himself over the years, what with his frequent visits to Tortuga. He inhaled the fragrance, savoring it like a rich wine. He always did take pleasure in the dominance position.
“What’s your name, lad?” He spoke at last, not entirely sure if ‘lad’ was the correct way to address the stranger before him. Closer now, Jack could make out age in the crevices of the man’s skin, the years buried beneath the wrinkled lines. He was clearly older than he first let on to be.
“Billie Joe.” The other man answered simply, not quite meeting Jack’s inquisitive gaze. He had the appearance of a shy puppy, a tiny creature that’d been quick to be turned away. Jack thought it was strange such a lovely thing should have such a strange, if not grotesque, name.
“Unusual name.” He spoke aloud, letting the silence between them fall like the autumn leaves. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Not quite.” Billie Joe replied, looking the pirate captain in the eye for the first time in the course of their conversation. “I guess you could say I’m out of my league.”
He had an extraordinary way about him, that Billie Joe fellow. He was abnormally tiny for a man, especially an older one. His body was as thick as a twig, but Jack could distinguish a sense of strength, a fortitude not measured in muscle, beneath the man’s inked skin.
“Are you a stowaway, Billie Joe?” Jack asked, though he knew the other man wasn’t. His garb, his hair, his face-it all looked to be from some other dimension. There was the lingering scent of the supernatural upon him, a fragrance Jack could detect, even from his distance.
“That’s the only explanation I have, I guess.” The shorter man answered, shrugging in response. Jack could tell there was more to this man beneath his dark surface.
He wasn’t one for letting undiscovered treasure get away.
---
Billie couldn’t help but steal glances at the other man. For a pirate, he seemed wise, so much so beyond his years. He had the look of a brothel-shady, unkempt, and secret. There was a strange sensuality in this, one that Billie Joe was too perturbed to go into any deeper. He had seen the stars and the moon, if he was to be of any judge of his manner. It was as if he’d seen it all, and Billie was just the latest in his collection of unrivaled marvels.
He boldly cleared his throat, uncertain of his next move. He wondered as to what the pirate, obviously the captain of his ship, had in mind for him. Surely, he wouldn’t just allow for him to walk off, unscathed. No, there had to be more to it than that.
Sure enough, Billie’s instincts proved to be correct. In the next moment, he was to preoccupied to keep track of passing time, the pirate had stepped forward, and all Billie could focus on was the cutlass sheathed at his side and the pistol closest to his hand. His expression remained the same, cocky piece of stoicism it had been when he’d first approached him.
“You’ve got a choice, lad.” The pirate, Captain Jack Freebird or whatever it was, spoke, his face cracking with the earnest appeal of a smile. “You can either stay on this ship, or you can come with me.” His grin contorted to form a smugly satisfied smirk. “I think you should know, however, that the Black Pearl leaves, shall we say, an incendiary impression when it sets sail again. But then again, it’s your choice, lad. Savvy?”
Billie got the point. Loud and clear. Really, he’d expected as much from the man. He was, after all, a pirate. He was used to getting what he wanted. Billie figured his life was worth more than petty obstinacy. He’d rather be held captive than left out on his own, especially considering he wasn’t even in his own century.
He sighed, his mind made up. “I’ll go with you.” He agreed, knowing he was delivering the exact words Captain Jack wanted to hear. He wasn’t normally this submissive. In this case, he knew that rebellion would be far from the smartest of ideas. He depended on the other man for his survival, and it wouldn’t bode well to ruin his only chance at escape. That aside, he supposed he was lucky he was being taken in by pirates. Otherwise, he’d probably be mistaken for one, and, worse, would have had to suffer in the name of crimes had yet to commit.
“Excellent idea.” The man opposing him replied, smirk shifting to become a smile once again. Billie knew that everything for him was falling into place. He just wasn’t sure if he wanted in or out of the same situation.
---
According to the storm gradually forming above them, Daniel knew that romance was on the horizon. It was his inherent beliefs that told him so. There would be lightning, and there would be lust. There would be rainfall, and there would be frustration. Of course, he kept this to himself, still settled in the kitchen below deck. He was taken aboard under the pretense of being the cook. A protection, of sorts, from enemy crews. At the time, Jack’s crew couldn’t fathom his logic, considering their knowledge of Daniel’s lack of sight. However, defying their expectations, it turned out that he was the best suited, among them, to do the job.
It was almost time to prepare the next meal. He already knew he’d need to be making more than usual. The cards had revealed to him that several passengers had been taken, the rest already dead or left to die. In the fire of the stove, he could make out the image of a stranger, a man, as it turned out. The embers told him, in his blindness, of the man’s unusual appearance, his otherwise foreign mystique.
He was to be the attraction, the force through which the forthcoming future flowed. Daniel found himself enticed by the stranger’s promise, the unspoken change within his very presence. Oh, how everything was going to give itself over to abruption and disarray-the beauty of how only one minor shift could cause such disaster, such confusion. It was these moments he lived for, one of the few reasons he’d agreed to the life of a pirate in the first place.
He sensed the return of the captain with the trembling cinders all around him. Whispers of his arrival with the same stranger coiled ruthlessly before him, taunting him with what he couldn’t have. Internally, he flinched, he knew that whoever this stranger was, he would eventually belong to Jack, and Jack alone.
Destiny blessed him with foresight, but rewarded him with an eternally brittle stability, one that could break with just one misstep. He lost the one he truly loved long ago-a victim to the authority of the British Navy. That was the driving force behind his passionate leap into piracy, even more so than the desire for chaos and makeshift anarchy on the seven seas. He envied Jack, but he loathed what the British Navy stood for. The red of their uniforms reminded him too much of the red of his lover’s blood, the life substance draining as the silver of the blade was withdrawn.
He clenched his teeth, entangled with the memory. It had been the break of dawn, too early and too late for anyone to truly care. Decadence paraded in the streets, stolen wealth on display. In the brothels, all who could help were absorbed in their own bloodletting ceremonies, the natural rites that came with hiring a cheap whore. The pubs fared no better, housing drunkards and prostitutes too ugly to sell.
Solitude engulfed him, leaving him with the stinging sensation of rejection. Unshed tears threatened to be the end of him, and reluctantly, he let them out. In mute sobs, he confessed his sad story, though, sadly no one was willing to listen.
He had been left alone to go from lover to lover, always the one to court, never the courted to be swept off his feet. Romance at this point was dead to him. Emotion was nothing but pantomimed misconceptions, fables to feed the human heart’s expanding curiosity. That was all it was good for, the heart. Beating still and letting others influence its nature.
He covered up his sorrow with ragged, uneven breaths. He would not let anyone catch him vulnerable. He had an appearance to upkeep, no matter how temporary it might have been. He was the soothsayer, the magician among them. He was good for fortune telling and tarot cards, along with the occasional midnight lover. It never amounted to anything more, not when the men of Jack’s crew dreamt they were fucking women.
Jack had been different, Jack had earnestly not cared. He’d found pleasure in the fact that he was making love to another man-it gave Daniel hope that, perhaps, he could be loved again.
But they always did return to Tortuga, and Jack always got what he wanted.
Through Jack, Daniel had learned that fate could be manipulated, contorted in such a way that would fit what the mastermind desired. He learned this lesson the hard way, as evidenced by the torn shards beating in his chest, all that remained of his broken heart.
He smiled as it dawned on him.
Everything came full circle, and this time, it would be he who got what he wanted.
---
Billie couldn’t help but to continue to stare, this time, at the eloquent structure of the Black Pearl. Lead aboard by Jack, he assumed that he wouldn’t get to see much of the upper decks-reasoning had told him to not to expect such liberties. He felt as exposed as if he were naked, caught before the curious eyes of the captain’s intimidating crew. Well, intimidating, perhaps, wasn’t the right word. They were all a rag-tag team of misfits, differing in size and shape, and more often than not, the common size they all shared was miniscule and paper thin. Anamaria and Jack were the only people, Billie thought, that he deemed worthy to fear.
He was amazed by the antique distinctiveness of it all-the dark wood, the engravings, everything. It was all set in a particular, artistic manner, which he figured strange for such a bunch of pirates.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” The captain nearly whispered, an appreciative glimmer sparkling in his eyes, reminding Billie of the stars of summer. It was obvious from the moment they set foot on the Pearl that Jack was infatuated with it as a normal man might be with any woman. Or man, depending on his orientation, Billie decided. He could easily understand why Jack might harbor such affection-the Black Pearl was a work of art, no more, no less. He didn’t doubt that Jack loved his ship more than any other person-he could distinguish it from within the glowing chocolate of his eyes.
It was then the sky caved in, and he was caught within a world of black.