Thank Goodness for Rum
"...please do this. For me. As a wedding gift."
Lieutenant Theodore Groves narrowed his eyes in disgust the second the words passed through Elizabeth's lips. The soon-to-follow confirmation to her father that she was, indeed, accepting the Commodore's proposal only sickened him further.
He had never particularly liked Elizabeth Swann. So when word had gotten out that she had been taken with the pirates that had ransacked Port Royal he had felt not even an ounce of remorse. If anything, he had said a silent prayer of thanks. She was a spoiled, bratty trollop who had a way of getting under his skin in a way that no one else seemed to.
Previously, when Commodore Norrington had confided in him and Gillette that he was to ask for her hand in marriage, he had said nothing. He figured saying nothing would be the best course of action since anything he could possibly want to say at that moment would result in him being tossed in the cells. So, he stifled his distaste with a bottle and a half of rum and then vomited on the Commodore's shoes.
He figured his message had gotten across.
When Gillette had later informed him of their "search and rescue mission" and had said that his services aboard said mission were not optional, Groves had considered the gallows. The pain of swinging from the noose would be short lived compared to the pain of pretending to care about Miss Swann. Worse still, was the pain endured watching Norrington brood and worry over her disappearance. He just didn't see the appeal. At all. However, he had his duties, so he went, but not without complaining to Gillette the entire first night of their voyage and eventually drinking himself to sleep. (The alcohol of which had been provided by Gillette in hopes of shutting him up. Which worked...eventually.)
On the second night of their voyage, Norrington had invited Gillette and Groves to his quarters for a drink. One drink quickly turned into one too many for Groves (as it tended to do) and it was not long before his inhibitions were long since gone. Gillette and Norrington were not far behind him, so when Groves had stood up and questioned the Commodore as to why he was so enthralled with Miss Swann, followed by a convincing argumentation as to why he would make a better lover for the Commodore than she ever could, Norrington had smiled mischievously and suggested that he "prove it."
And prove it he had.
Or at least, he thought he had.
Lieutenant Groves was not much of a romantic, so it had been only a few short minutes before he had managed to get Norrington bent over his desk, breeches around his ankles and was deep inside him. Not that Norrington seemed to mind. Cries of "God, Teddy" and "Harder, Faster" were like music to Groves' ears; the emotions it provoked in him both suffocated and enthralled him.
It all seemed to be somewhat suffocating to Gillette as well, for he had his back pinned up against the doors and was trying (and failing) not to watch them, the shock of what was unfolding before him apparent on his face. His face was flushed and he looked nervous, like he was witnessing something he shouldn't be. Which, in all honesty, was true. But, Groves was counting on Gillette to remind Norrington of how much he had enjoyed himself in the event that Miss Swann was unfortunately found. He smiled at him devilishly before lowering his lips to the Commodore's neck.
When all was said and done, and Norrington had come undone down the front of his desk and Groves had come undone inside Norrington, Gillette cleared his throat rather loudly and said his farewells before slipping discreetly out of the cabin. Groves and Norrington had laughed and then collapsed to the floor in a drunken, satisfied heap.
When Groves woke a few hours later, he had been alone. Right on the floor where Norrington had apparently left him. The Commodore seemed to have dressed him prior to, though, which he was grateful for when Governor Swann walked in shortly thereafter.
"Lieutenant Groves. Commodore Norrington has expressed a concern for your well-being and I see, now, that he was right to do so. I know the kidnapping of my daughter has been a strain on us all, but we really must keep it together if we are to have any hope of finding her. Please try to deal with your grief in a more...respectable manner."
Groves was grateful that his head was pounding and his stomach was on the verge of exiting his body, otherwise he would have had a great urge to laugh. Or cry. Perhaps both. Though neither was as great as the urge to punch Norrington.
He hadn't of course. Punched Norrington, that is. But he had wanted to, and the feeling was coming back stronger now than it had before, as he quickly realized the Commodore was seriously considering Miss Swann's tripe for true.
So, when Commodore Norrington agreed to rescue the blacksmith, Groves truly had to fight the urge to lose his stomach over the rail. Up until...well, now, as it were...he had considered the Commodore to be an intelligent man; one not easily swayed by the mad suggestions of a deceptive harlot. He cast a glance over at Lieutenant Gillette, who was not doing much better at hiding his disapproval.
Groves silently counted to ten (or thirty, as it were) as Norrington directed Sparrow to set them on course to Isla de Muerta, choosing not to put the pirate in irons. He watched as Norrington made one poor choice after another, until he just couldn't do it any further. With hands clasped tightly behind his back he made his way over to Gillette.
"This is madness."
Gillette shrugged slightly. "It is what it is."
"It's bloody foolishness, and you know it. He's about to put all of our lives in danger for that...that trollop."
"As though you did not put all of our lives in danger last night?" Gillette raised an eyebrow at his friend. "What was that about,Teddy? What were you thinking?"
"I'm fairly certain my thoughts were made quite clear." Groves turned his attention back to Norrington, who was busy accepting congratulations from the Governor and the rest of the crew in regards to his impending nuptials. “I was preparing him for his wedding night. Nothing more. The man seems devastatingly inexperienced. Perhaps now he'll have a rough idea of where to put what.”
“Oh, aye. I'm sure Miss Swann is anxiously awaiting our dear Commodore to claim her arse for his own.” Gillette's laughter rang loudly in Groves' ears and he shot him a fierce glance.
"He's making a unfortunate mistake, Gillette. She's got only her own heart in consideration."
"And not yours, as it were?"
"Not his."
"Perhaps you should have proposed to him last night yourself, Teddy? And saved us all the trouble.” Gillette smirked, running his eyes over Groves' body. “You would look rather smashing in a wedding gown, you know.”
Groves shot him an irritated glance. “Shut it.”
He turned his attention once again to Norrington, who was talking rather animatedly to Elizabeth who really did not seem to care much one way or the other. Her eyes seemed distant, and she was forcing herself to smile and nod in agreement to whatever Norrington was saying to her. Groves recognized the technique as he himself had been doing it for most of his career with the Navy, whenever Miss Swann was involved. He frowned and chewed on his bottom lip.
“Shall I throw her overboard, then? Would that lift your aching heart?”
"It would be a start."
"Jealousy is not a good look on you, Teddy. Debauched is much more becoming, if what I saw last night was any indication."
"Yes, well it seems I shan't be having the luxury again."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Teddy. Perhaps you aren't giving our dear Commodore enough credit."
"I've given him too much, clearly."
Gillette smiled to himself as Teddy frowned and walked off. He was just a big of a fool as Norrington. Each stolen glance towards Groves had not gone unnoticed by Gillette. He was glad for it, because in all honesty he had hoped that the prior night's romp between the two of them would become something of regularity. And he had hoped further that next time he might be invited to participate instead of cast off to the side to watch with tight breeches and licentious desire.
A pleased smile slowly formed across his lips as he recalled that the prior night's actions had been brought about after only about two and a half bottles of rum between them.
Gillette silently thanked the powers that be that he had stored five times that amount in his cabin.
Lieutenant Theodore Groves narrowed his eyes in disgust the second the words passed through Elizabeth's lips. The soon-to-follow confirmation to her father that she was, indeed, accepting the Commodore's proposal only sickened him further.
He had never particularly liked Elizabeth Swann. So when word had gotten out that she had been taken with the pirates that had ransacked Port Royal he had felt not even an ounce of remorse. If anything, he had said a silent prayer of thanks. She was a spoiled, bratty trollop who had a way of getting under his skin in a way that no one else seemed to.
Previously, when Commodore Norrington had confided in him and Gillette that he was to ask for her hand in marriage, he had said nothing. He figured saying nothing would be the best course of action since anything he could possibly want to say at that moment would result in him being tossed in the cells. So, he stifled his distaste with a bottle and a half of rum and then vomited on the Commodore's shoes.
He figured his message had gotten across.
When Gillette had later informed him of their "search and rescue mission" and had said that his services aboard said mission were not optional, Groves had considered the gallows. The pain of swinging from the noose would be short lived compared to the pain of pretending to care about Miss Swann. Worse still, was the pain endured watching Norrington brood and worry over her disappearance. He just didn't see the appeal. At all. However, he had his duties, so he went, but not without complaining to Gillette the entire first night of their voyage and eventually drinking himself to sleep. (The alcohol of which had been provided by Gillette in hopes of shutting him up. Which worked...eventually.)
On the second night of their voyage, Norrington had invited Gillette and Groves to his quarters for a drink. One drink quickly turned into one too many for Groves (as it tended to do) and it was not long before his inhibitions were long since gone. Gillette and Norrington were not far behind him, so when Groves had stood up and questioned the Commodore as to why he was so enthralled with Miss Swann, followed by a convincing argumentation as to why he would make a better lover for the Commodore than she ever could, Norrington had smiled mischievously and suggested that he "prove it."
And prove it he had.
Or at least, he thought he had.
Lieutenant Groves was not much of a romantic, so it had been only a few short minutes before he had managed to get Norrington bent over his desk, breeches around his ankles and was deep inside him. Not that Norrington seemed to mind. Cries of "God, Teddy" and "Harder, Faster" were like music to Groves' ears; the emotions it provoked in him both suffocated and enthralled him.
It all seemed to be somewhat suffocating to Gillette as well, for he had his back pinned up against the doors and was trying (and failing) not to watch them, the shock of what was unfolding before him apparent on his face. His face was flushed and he looked nervous, like he was witnessing something he shouldn't be. Which, in all honesty, was true. But, Groves was counting on Gillette to remind Norrington of how much he had enjoyed himself in the event that Miss Swann was unfortunately found. He smiled at him devilishly before lowering his lips to the Commodore's neck.
When all was said and done, and Norrington had come undone down the front of his desk and Groves had come undone inside Norrington, Gillette cleared his throat rather loudly and said his farewells before slipping discreetly out of the cabin. Groves and Norrington had laughed and then collapsed to the floor in a drunken, satisfied heap.
When Groves woke a few hours later, he had been alone. Right on the floor where Norrington had apparently left him. The Commodore seemed to have dressed him prior to, though, which he was grateful for when Governor Swann walked in shortly thereafter.
"Lieutenant Groves. Commodore Norrington has expressed a concern for your well-being and I see, now, that he was right to do so. I know the kidnapping of my daughter has been a strain on us all, but we really must keep it together if we are to have any hope of finding her. Please try to deal with your grief in a more...respectable manner."
Groves was grateful that his head was pounding and his stomach was on the verge of exiting his body, otherwise he would have had a great urge to laugh. Or cry. Perhaps both. Though neither was as great as the urge to punch Norrington.
He hadn't of course. Punched Norrington, that is. But he had wanted to, and the feeling was coming back stronger now than it had before, as he quickly realized the Commodore was seriously considering Miss Swann's tripe for true.
So, when Commodore Norrington agreed to rescue the blacksmith, Groves truly had to fight the urge to lose his stomach over the rail. Up until...well, now, as it were...he had considered the Commodore to be an intelligent man; one not easily swayed by the mad suggestions of a deceptive harlot. He cast a glance over at Lieutenant Gillette, who was not doing much better at hiding his disapproval.
Groves silently counted to ten (or thirty, as it were) as Norrington directed Sparrow to set them on course to Isla de Muerta, choosing not to put the pirate in irons. He watched as Norrington made one poor choice after another, until he just couldn't do it any further. With hands clasped tightly behind his back he made his way over to Gillette.
"This is madness."
Gillette shrugged slightly. "It is what it is."
"It's bloody foolishness, and you know it. He's about to put all of our lives in danger for that...that trollop."
"As though you did not put all of our lives in danger last night?" Gillette raised an eyebrow at his friend. "What was that about,Teddy? What were you thinking?"
"I'm fairly certain my thoughts were made quite clear." Groves turned his attention back to Norrington, who was busy accepting congratulations from the Governor and the rest of the crew in regards to his impending nuptials. “I was preparing him for his wedding night. Nothing more. The man seems devastatingly inexperienced. Perhaps now he'll have a rough idea of where to put what.”
“Oh, aye. I'm sure Miss Swann is anxiously awaiting our dear Commodore to claim her arse for his own.” Gillette's laughter rang loudly in Groves' ears and he shot him a fierce glance.
"He's making a unfortunate mistake, Gillette. She's got only her own heart in consideration."
"And not yours, as it were?"
"Not his."
"Perhaps you should have proposed to him last night yourself, Teddy? And saved us all the trouble.” Gillette smirked, running his eyes over Groves' body. “You would look rather smashing in a wedding gown, you know.”
Groves shot him an irritated glance. “Shut it.”
He turned his attention once again to Norrington, who was talking rather animatedly to Elizabeth who really did not seem to care much one way or the other. Her eyes seemed distant, and she was forcing herself to smile and nod in agreement to whatever Norrington was saying to her. Groves recognized the technique as he himself had been doing it for most of his career with the Navy, whenever Miss Swann was involved. He frowned and chewed on his bottom lip.
“Shall I throw her overboard, then? Would that lift your aching heart?”
"It would be a start."
"Jealousy is not a good look on you, Teddy. Debauched is much more becoming, if what I saw last night was any indication."
"Yes, well it seems I shan't be having the luxury again."
"I wouldn't be so sure, Teddy. Perhaps you aren't giving our dear Commodore enough credit."
"I've given him too much, clearly."
Gillette smiled to himself as Teddy frowned and walked off. He was just a big of a fool as Norrington. Each stolen glance towards Groves had not gone unnoticed by Gillette. He was glad for it, because in all honesty he had hoped that the prior night's romp between the two of them would become something of regularity. And he had hoped further that next time he might be invited to participate instead of cast off to the side to watch with tight breeches and licentious desire.
A pleased smile slowly formed across his lips as he recalled that the prior night's actions had been brought about after only about two and a half bottles of rum between them.
Gillette silently thanked the powers that be that he had stored five times that amount in his cabin.