Non Sum Qualis Eram
Title: Non Sum Qualis Eram
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow has been dropping by at random for years, as well, which surely doesn’t help matters.
Summary: A brief sequel-ish snippit: a glimpse of life after the events in Mobilis in Mobili, which I tried futilely to convince myself was a one-shot.
Dedication: This is actually a birthday gift for Nautilus2. I saw a note in my inbox about the matter, so I said to my muses, "About that time, ay chaps?" and then James and Jack said, "...Righto." I do hope you'll like it, darling!
Post-posting Beta Reader: The Most Honorable Porridgebird
Warnings: None. This one’s safe as houses.
Surely it shouldn’t be this easy, Jack thought. It had taken them weeks to reach Venice on that first test sail, and that was the longest time Jack Sparrow had spent with another single person in longer than he could recall; usually, such events left both parties eager to never see each other again, but not in this case. To Jack’s considerable surprise, James seemed to find him entertaining rather than annoying, these days: able as he was to appreciate Jack’s cleverness without that old naval propriety making him look down his nose at Jack’s more disreputable tendencies. But these days, looking down his nose at Jack, James also tended to smile at him, if only a little, or at least arch an eyebrow in that sardonic way that let the other man know that there was no real disdain or malice.
And Jack was beginning to think it impossible for James to bore him. Jack had always been partial to complicated people whose minds were multifaceted, like a masterfully crafted gemstone: never could you see every single facet at once, and each one showed a new highlight or an intriguingly beautiful little flaw in the stone that might catch the light in a whole new way.
Of course, it probably helped that james was full of surprises. When they were arrested in London of all places, for instance, Jack was surprised when James got them out the way he did.
"Pardon me, but may I make a phone call, just before you put us in the cells? It will take less than a minute." James held up his cuffed hands. "You can leave these on."
It was in all likelihood the absurdity and unexpected politeness of the request that impelled the officer to let him.
With practiced ease, James dialed an unfamiliar number and held the phone to his ear. After ten or fifteen seconds he said simply, "Active Status. ID number 479284009. Yes, I am indeed aware that I am calling from a police station. Yes, it is the reason I’m calling. Yes, again.” He laughed softly. “Yes, well, I have been working on it. Yes. Yes. I also have a guest whose identity follows code MK4-179. It’s unique to my department.” A long pause followed, then James smiled. “Thank you very much, Marjorie. I shall definitely put in a good word for you with the right department. Good day." He hung up.
Jack's inquiring glances as they were led into their cell had no apparent effect, until the yardsmen were out of sight, at which point James grinned and said, "We shall be out in half an hour at most."
"Oh will we? Somethin' you'd like to share with me on how and why there, love?"
"And miss the chance to see your face when you work it out? Never," James purred, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
Almost exactly half an hour later, a very sheepish-looking sergeant released them, apologizing profusely about the mistake. James merely nodded sagely at him, patted his shoulder, and moved on.
“This is a bit irregular, here, but...We’ve a call for you, sir, on yer own phone. It's from, ah...”
“Someone terribly important,” James interrupted, and smiled charmingly at the man, aware that Jack was watching him with intense curiosity.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” James picked up the phone casually. "Hello, Anderson," he greeted, without so much as glancing at the caller ID, his tone drolly cheerful. "Yes. I'm well aware that you've filed this identity into my dossier. No, I won't tell you how I got it. Well, if you hadn't demanded this of the good sergeant here at the yard, you might have avoided my insufferable blasé attitude entirely. No, I am not, as he is none of your department's business; although we are grateful, as always. Your resentment is charming as ever, Anderson. Yes. Yes, indeed. Do give her my regards, won't you? My thanks."
"Yer regards to..." Jack prompted.
"The Queen," James said simply, tossing his cellphone’s SIM card into the nearest trash can.
Jack's eyes grew very wide as it all came together in his head. "No."
James grinned broadly, biting his lower lip a bit so that his teeth dragged across it. "Oh, yes, the look on your face is more than worth it."
Jack remained stunned into silence until he finished pocketing his effects and James led him out of the station, to find that their car awaited them. James was grinning wickedly, all too pleased with himself.
As soon as James started the car, Jack said in a low growl, "I can't believe that all this time I've been fucking James Bond."
James burst out laughing despite further attempts to contain it.
Jack cursed at him in twelve languages but couldn't suppress his own grin.
"So, what, yer bloody secret service or something?"
"I was," James admitted. "For quite some time, in fact. I left behind a number of highly obscure codes within their system, which are woven in such a way that almost no one has the security clearances necessary to trace them to any particular source, and those with the necessary clearance have no idea they exist, and do not deign to associate with the departments affected by the codes."
Jack stared at him in awe. "That Anderson bloke..."
"He once tried to make a fuss over that particular code, when I was forced to abuse it a great deal some years ago." James shook his head, still chuckling under his breath, wiping at the corner of one eye with his hand. He did not fall silent until Jack seized the front of his shirt and drew him into a fierce, almost punishing kiss, which James accepted, his lips curved with a slight smile against Jack’s.
When the ex-pirate pulled away, he was unable to fully repress the reluctant, too-affectionate smile as James grinned at him again. “Yer a teasing bastard.”
“Pot calling the kettle black, darling.”
“Aye. Now let’s get somewhere less cramped so I can better punish you for this.”
“As you wish,” James purred, then kissed him once more, fleetingly, and turned away as Jack's hands released his shirt so that he could properly steer the car.
No, Jack thought, it shouldn’t be this easy. He glanced sidelong at James again and couldn’t help but chuckle softly himself. But it is. Jack, accustomed as he was to surprising even himself when he came out on top, knew how to gracefully accept good fortune when it happened to fall into his lap. Or his bed. Or his heart.
|| Story Index ||
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow has been dropping by at random for years, as well, which surely doesn’t help matters.
Summary: A brief sequel-ish snippit: a glimpse of life after the events in Mobilis in Mobili, which I tried futilely to convince myself was a one-shot.
Dedication: This is actually a birthday gift for Nautilus2. I saw a note in my inbox about the matter, so I said to my muses, "About that time, ay chaps?" and then James and Jack said, "...Righto." I do hope you'll like it, darling!
Post-posting Beta Reader: The Most Honorable Porridgebird
Warnings: None. This one’s safe as houses.
Surely it shouldn’t be this easy, Jack thought. It had taken them weeks to reach Venice on that first test sail, and that was the longest time Jack Sparrow had spent with another single person in longer than he could recall; usually, such events left both parties eager to never see each other again, but not in this case. To Jack’s considerable surprise, James seemed to find him entertaining rather than annoying, these days: able as he was to appreciate Jack’s cleverness without that old naval propriety making him look down his nose at Jack’s more disreputable tendencies. But these days, looking down his nose at Jack, James also tended to smile at him, if only a little, or at least arch an eyebrow in that sardonic way that let the other man know that there was no real disdain or malice.
And Jack was beginning to think it impossible for James to bore him. Jack had always been partial to complicated people whose minds were multifaceted, like a masterfully crafted gemstone: never could you see every single facet at once, and each one showed a new highlight or an intriguingly beautiful little flaw in the stone that might catch the light in a whole new way.
Of course, it probably helped that james was full of surprises. When they were arrested in London of all places, for instance, Jack was surprised when James got them out the way he did.
"Pardon me, but may I make a phone call, just before you put us in the cells? It will take less than a minute." James held up his cuffed hands. "You can leave these on."
It was in all likelihood the absurdity and unexpected politeness of the request that impelled the officer to let him.
With practiced ease, James dialed an unfamiliar number and held the phone to his ear. After ten or fifteen seconds he said simply, "Active Status. ID number 479284009. Yes, I am indeed aware that I am calling from a police station. Yes, it is the reason I’m calling. Yes, again.” He laughed softly. “Yes, well, I have been working on it. Yes. Yes. I also have a guest whose identity follows code MK4-179. It’s unique to my department.” A long pause followed, then James smiled. “Thank you very much, Marjorie. I shall definitely put in a good word for you with the right department. Good day." He hung up.
Jack's inquiring glances as they were led into their cell had no apparent effect, until the yardsmen were out of sight, at which point James grinned and said, "We shall be out in half an hour at most."
"Oh will we? Somethin' you'd like to share with me on how and why there, love?"
"And miss the chance to see your face when you work it out? Never," James purred, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.
Almost exactly half an hour later, a very sheepish-looking sergeant released them, apologizing profusely about the mistake. James merely nodded sagely at him, patted his shoulder, and moved on.
“This is a bit irregular, here, but...We’ve a call for you, sir, on yer own phone. It's from, ah...”
“Someone terribly important,” James interrupted, and smiled charmingly at the man, aware that Jack was watching him with intense curiosity.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” James picked up the phone casually. "Hello, Anderson," he greeted, without so much as glancing at the caller ID, his tone drolly cheerful. "Yes. I'm well aware that you've filed this identity into my dossier. No, I won't tell you how I got it. Well, if you hadn't demanded this of the good sergeant here at the yard, you might have avoided my insufferable blasé attitude entirely. No, I am not, as he is none of your department's business; although we are grateful, as always. Your resentment is charming as ever, Anderson. Yes. Yes, indeed. Do give her my regards, won't you? My thanks."
"Yer regards to..." Jack prompted.
"The Queen," James said simply, tossing his cellphone’s SIM card into the nearest trash can.
Jack's eyes grew very wide as it all came together in his head. "No."
James grinned broadly, biting his lower lip a bit so that his teeth dragged across it. "Oh, yes, the look on your face is more than worth it."
Jack remained stunned into silence until he finished pocketing his effects and James led him out of the station, to find that their car awaited them. James was grinning wickedly, all too pleased with himself.
As soon as James started the car, Jack said in a low growl, "I can't believe that all this time I've been fucking James Bond."
James burst out laughing despite further attempts to contain it.
Jack cursed at him in twelve languages but couldn't suppress his own grin.
"So, what, yer bloody secret service or something?"
"I was," James admitted. "For quite some time, in fact. I left behind a number of highly obscure codes within their system, which are woven in such a way that almost no one has the security clearances necessary to trace them to any particular source, and those with the necessary clearance have no idea they exist, and do not deign to associate with the departments affected by the codes."
Jack stared at him in awe. "That Anderson bloke..."
"He once tried to make a fuss over that particular code, when I was forced to abuse it a great deal some years ago." James shook his head, still chuckling under his breath, wiping at the corner of one eye with his hand. He did not fall silent until Jack seized the front of his shirt and drew him into a fierce, almost punishing kiss, which James accepted, his lips curved with a slight smile against Jack’s.
When the ex-pirate pulled away, he was unable to fully repress the reluctant, too-affectionate smile as James grinned at him again. “Yer a teasing bastard.”
“Pot calling the kettle black, darling.”
“Aye. Now let’s get somewhere less cramped so I can better punish you for this.”
“As you wish,” James purred, then kissed him once more, fleetingly, and turned away as Jack's hands released his shirt so that he could properly steer the car.
No, Jack thought, it shouldn’t be this easy. He glanced sidelong at James again and couldn’t help but chuckle softly himself. But it is. Jack, accustomed as he was to surprising even himself when he came out on top, knew how to gracefully accept good fortune when it happened to fall into his lap. Or his bed. Or his heart.
|| Story Index ||