Swagfic for yoiebear
Title: Ensnared
For: yoiebear
Author: lilfluffykitten
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2343 words
Characters: Jack/James
Disclaimer: Disney owns all these characters, I own nothing of any worth… I'm just doing it for fun not profit!
Summary: A new curse…
Likes/Requests: Will/Elizabeth, Jack/James, slash, het, NC-17
Squicks: fluff
Prompts: cuddle, swords, fear
It couldn’t be denied that London was both fashionable and progressive. Unfortunately these enlightened times held with neither undead pirates nor indeed cursed Aztec gold. The Admiralty tended to be much more interested with worldly concerns such as the loss of two of the King’s ships, the deaths of twenty three men and the ransacking of Port Royal .
These charges could perhaps be overlooked to a certain extent if a suitable prize had been captured. It was therefore unfortunate that the pride of the Navy had somehow mislaid the alleged treasure trove, been foxed by a ragtag crew of incompetent pirates and the only prisoner they’d managed to apprehend had escaped in a very public and highly embarrassing manner.
It was perhaps this indignity that rankled the most. Despite an official, if somewhat sanitised, report, letters of commendation from Governor Swann and sworn testimonies from various witnesses, there were still some serious questions to answer and Commodore Norrington was aware that he’d be the one expected to do so. That one day’s head start, which had by now stretched into several months, had well and truly run out. It was now of the upmost importance that the Black Pearl and her insane captain were brought to bay.
It seemed that almost every day there was some new report of pirate activity, and each one had been perfunctorily rooted out and quelled. Norrington was going to magnificent lengths to avoid further embarrassment, but was no closer to finding the Pearl . If anything sightings of her were becoming fewer and further between and it had been suggested more than once that she’d either left these waters or else her captain’s legendary luck had finally run out. Norrington, not deterred so easily, merely stepped up the patrols around the more notorious ports; it was, after all, only a matter of time.
However as the long weeks passed even his iron conviction began to falter, so it came as somewhat of a relief when Sparrow was eventually tracked down to one of his usual backwater taverns. What no one could have predicted was the ease with which he was arrested. He’d accompanied the marines willingly making only a request that he be allowed to speak to the commodore with the upmost urgently.
Norrington, being secure in his beliefs that any requests made by pirates (especially pirates that had caused him as much trouble as Sparrow had done) should be treated with the contempt they deserved, was content to let him to languish in the brig. When he found himself eventually heading below decks it was with the certain knowledge that it was only to gather information about the brethren, nothing at all to do with his curiosity having gotten the best of him.
He wasn’t so foolish as to have become obsessed with catching the pirate, but it was only natural that the hunt had taken on a certain significance for him. As such he’d played this particular moment out in his head a number of times before. In his imaginings Sparrow would beg for his life, plead for clemency, offer his usual twisting promises and transparent bargains, but Norrington wouldn’t be moved. He wouldn’t revel in his triumph, of course, despite first impressions Sparrow had shown he could be a good man, and for all his strange quirks he did deserve a certain respect. The Pearl had led them on a merry dance around the Caribbean and, truth be told, Norrington had more than enjoyed the chase. It wasn’t often he found such a worthy adversary, and it had more than distracted him from Will and Elizabeth’s upcoming wedding preparations that were so unavoidable when in port. Now that the chase had come to an end he’d be able to save his commission, placate the Admiralty and escape this entire fiasco with at least some semblance of honour intact.
However as sweet as this fantasy was, the reality was falling far short. First and foremost he couldn’t help noticing that Sparrow did not appear to be so much languishing in the small cell as lounging. Insolently at that. Norrington sighed; typical that the damn fool wouldn’t have the decency to act as expected. “Sparrow,” he began, smoothly ignoring the almost inaudible muttering at the omission of the title, “I’m not sure you appreciate the gravity of your situation.”
Sparrow stretched lazily. “Actually mate, its you that might be doing the unappreciating gravitywise”
“You had some information for me.”
Sparrow rolled to his feet and swayed closer to the bars. “No information, I’m afraid. Rather a suggestion.”
“A suggestion?” Norrington echoed.
“Well, I say suggestion more friendly advice really.”
Norrington almost laughed at that. “I hardly think you are in any position…” He suddenly seemed to realise the other man was serious. “What advice do you think you could possibly offer me?”
Sparrow treated him to a satisfied grin, stepped closer still, and began to explain exactly how grave Norrington’s situation was.
***
The two men bent over the desk examining the bizarre collection of odds and ends that Sparrow had been carrying with him. Gillette nodded at the stone. “So that’s it then?”
Norrington looked at him incredulously. “You can’t possibly believe him?”
“Of course not, but…”
“Don’t you see what he’s doing? This is just his latest scheme, concocted to save his own skin, and nothing more. He’s probably been using it for months. Every time he’s been captured it’ll have been ‘I’m the famous Captain Jack Sparrow and you have to set me free as I’m the keeper of the mystical whatever from the lost land of wherever.’” He reached for the shabby wooden compass, watching the needle wildly jump between three or four different points before settling into a strange slow spin. Snapping the box shut he shook his head. “Let me guess, magical compass?” He tossed it back on the desk, and pointed at the sword. “King Solomon’s Sword I presume? Hell, he’s probably wearing Poseidon’s boots.” He snorted softly, and picked up the stone. “And now we have a cursed stone to add to the collection.”
“After the Isla de Muerta …”
Norrington sobered abruptly and set the stone down. “Andrew, I cannot deny the existence of the uncanny but I will be damned if I’ll allow the threat of it to make us a laughing stock. That is a stone, much the same as the thousands of other stones that can be found on any beach, and I will not have this ship filled with rumours to the contrary.”
Gillette had carefully picked up the stone and was turning it slowly in his hands; it was unusual enough, a milky blue colour, probably related to the exotic jades or something of that ilk. As expected it was cool to the touch, but there was also a slight dampness that gave it an unpleasant clammy feeling. Norrington was right of course, it was just Sparrow’s latest nonsense but there was something about this particular stone nonetheless. Something distasteful. He returned it to its waxed leather pouch, glad to have it out of sight. “Your orders?”
“I think its time to have another talk with Mr Sparrow.”
Surreptitiously wiping his hand on his coat sleeve, Gillette went to fetch their prisoner.
***
While he waited Norrington fished the stone out of the pouch again and examined it carefully. Although Sparrow’s not inconsiderable legend appeared to have been mostly perpetrated by the pirate himself, he did seem to have more experience with the unnatural than the average man. But this ridiculous cock and bull story of more so-called curses, so close on the heels of the events of Isla de Muerta, was beyond the pale, worse that the pirate held him in such distain as to try such a trick. He frowned at the stone, the assumption was offensive. No, it was more than that, it was unforgivable.
He was only startled from his dark thoughts when the object of them was shown into the cabin. Norrington laid the stone on the desk only once Gillette was dismissed and he was sure they wouldn’t be disturbed.. Sparrow, for his part, didn’t seem particularly surprised to see it. “Ah, it becomes clear. I see you didn’t believe me,” he cocked his head, “Or maybe you did. Tell me Commodore, is this little display because you’re curious or just arrogant?”
Norrington’s gaze did not waver, but he felt a sharp twist of irritation. This entire sorry mess was all Sparrow’s doing but even now, with no chance of escape or salvation, he couldn’t stop trying to push his luck. Well he’d be damned if he’d dance to the pirate’s tune a moment longer. He reached a final decision - hanging was far too good for him. “Neither. In return for your invaluable advice, I have a proposition for you.”
Sparrow’s smile gleamed in the lamplight. “A proposition? Just two gentlemen discussing business terms, how very civilised.”
Norrington pushed the pirate’s sword belt across the desk, “My terms are simple. We fight a duel.”
“A duel? How refined. Tell me would we be duelling for glory or honour or something more classical?”
Norrington lean forward, smiling grimly, “Oh, nothing so noble - just your life.”
“Ah, well as lovely as that is I’m of a mind to decline your offer. I’d rather wait for justice, always been a big believer in justice me. I’ll take my chances with the gallows if its all the same to you.”
Norrington appeared to consider this for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “No. No tricks. Not this time, pirate.” He rose slowly to his feet, sword drawn almost before he stood. “Defend yourself.”
Sparrow flapped a hand at him in a movement that was both strangely beseeching and commanding. “Come now Commodore, this isn’t… oh bugger!” Norrington had lunged forward and Sparrow only just managed to twist out of the way. He dragged his own sword clear and clumsily countered Norrington’s next thrust. Finding his balance at last he began to press forward, all the while watching, assessing, planning. He’d had more than one opportunity to observe Norrington’s skill with the blade firsthand, but this time he was off-form; moving carelessly, awkward. Another quick flurry of blows and Sparrow allowed himself to be backed up to the wall before feinting to the left. Convinced of victory, Norrington threw caution to the wind, and slashed at him with a clumsy overhead swing that made it was easy for Sparrow to correct his stance and quickly sidestep the blade. Overbalanced, Norrington stumbled, falling to his knees and a few seconds is all it took for Sparrow’s sword to be pressed lightly at his throat and his own kicked well out of reach. Sparrow leaned down closer, all trace of his usual affected swank and swagger gone. “Finished?” he asked in a low and dangerous voice.
Norrington blinked up at him, genuinely confused by this new turn of events. The sword bit a little deeper and, although there was no pain at that moment, he could feel the warm wetness of blood as Sparrow repeated his question. “Are you quite finished, Commodore?” At Norrington’s curt nod, that irrepressible grin returned, and the sword at last dropped. “Then I think our business here is complete.”
Norrington hadn’t moved except to wipe at the shallow cut on his throat as he watched the other man retrieving his effects from the desk. “What is that thing?” he whispered.
Although Sparrow was studiously not looking at him he nevertheless appeared far too smug for the commodore’s liking. “Still think its nonsense?”
Norrington shuddered. “If its not too much of a foolish question, why would inducing murderous rages in those around you possibly be to your advantage?”
Sparrow moved at last to crouch down beside him, “Funny things, curses. Anyway it doesn’t always do that. You must have been thinking of it at the time. Here, give me your hand.”
Norrington quirked a sceptical eyebrow, “Really Sparrow, is this pantomime really necessary?”
Sparrow had only had half a mind on the commodore’s words. There was something important about this that he was missing, something dancing just out reach... He shook his head slightly and set it aside. If it was that important, it’ll doubtless come to him later. He returned his attention to Norrington. “I don’t think its any concern to the old ways that you deny them at every turn. Your hand.”
“Whatever for?”
“Come here," Sparrow murmured, reaching over to catch the other man’s hand. Norrington surprised them both by not pulling away, not even when Sparrow slowly placed the stone in his hand. At the feel of the cold stone Norrington felt his heart start to thump hollowly in his throat and took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm the sharp panic. Sparrow nodded to himself as if in answer to some unspoken question and moved his hand to curl around Norrington’s, pressing it closed around the stone. At that the commodore took in another shuddering breath, desperately trying to control himself, but suddenly lost his nerve and lurched back, free hand clawing at Sparrow’s, mindlessly thinking of nothing more than escape. Sparrow easily held him, making soft soothing noises as if he was trying to calm a wild animal and generally trying to seem as unthreatening as possible.
Norrington abruptly stilled. “Oh.” He stared at their joined hands, calm, suddenly understanding. “Oh.”
Never one to let such an opportune moment to pass by, Sparrow reached up to trace a careful line along Norrington’s jaw line with his finger tips. “Better…?” Norrington nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he leant into Sparrow’s touch. “Good enough then…”
***
Hours later, Jack had no idea how many, he suddenly realised what had been worrying him earlier. The usual night noises were all present and correct, the creak of the ropes and settling timbers and the gentle lap of the waves, but he couldn’t hear any of the crew and hadn’t done since he’d entered the cabin. Carefully disentangling himself from the sleeping commodore, he padded across to the door, and listened again.
James stirred on the cot. “Jack?” he whispered, “Come back.”
As tempting an offer as that was Jack didn’t move, “Did anyone else handle the stone?” He heard rather than saw James shake his head. “No. Come back. Please.” Another shift in the darkness, “No wait, Gillette did. Lieutenant Gillette.”
“Oh.” A moment of consideration before Jack returned to James’ sleepy embrace. “Maybe it would be wise to stay here a bit longer.”
“Good.”
For: yoiebear
Author: lilfluffykitten
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2343 words
Characters: Jack/James
Disclaimer: Disney owns all these characters, I own nothing of any worth… I'm just doing it for fun not profit!
Summary: A new curse…
Likes/Requests: Will/Elizabeth, Jack/James, slash, het, NC-17
Squicks: fluff
Prompts: cuddle, swords, fear
It couldn’t be denied that London was both fashionable and progressive. Unfortunately these enlightened times held with neither undead pirates nor indeed cursed Aztec gold. The Admiralty tended to be much more interested with worldly concerns such as the loss of two of the King’s ships, the deaths of twenty three men and the ransacking of Port Royal .
These charges could perhaps be overlooked to a certain extent if a suitable prize had been captured. It was therefore unfortunate that the pride of the Navy had somehow mislaid the alleged treasure trove, been foxed by a ragtag crew of incompetent pirates and the only prisoner they’d managed to apprehend had escaped in a very public and highly embarrassing manner.
It was perhaps this indignity that rankled the most. Despite an official, if somewhat sanitised, report, letters of commendation from Governor Swann and sworn testimonies from various witnesses, there were still some serious questions to answer and Commodore Norrington was aware that he’d be the one expected to do so. That one day’s head start, which had by now stretched into several months, had well and truly run out. It was now of the upmost importance that the Black Pearl and her insane captain were brought to bay.
It seemed that almost every day there was some new report of pirate activity, and each one had been perfunctorily rooted out and quelled. Norrington was going to magnificent lengths to avoid further embarrassment, but was no closer to finding the Pearl . If anything sightings of her were becoming fewer and further between and it had been suggested more than once that she’d either left these waters or else her captain’s legendary luck had finally run out. Norrington, not deterred so easily, merely stepped up the patrols around the more notorious ports; it was, after all, only a matter of time.
However as the long weeks passed even his iron conviction began to falter, so it came as somewhat of a relief when Sparrow was eventually tracked down to one of his usual backwater taverns. What no one could have predicted was the ease with which he was arrested. He’d accompanied the marines willingly making only a request that he be allowed to speak to the commodore with the upmost urgently.
Norrington, being secure in his beliefs that any requests made by pirates (especially pirates that had caused him as much trouble as Sparrow had done) should be treated with the contempt they deserved, was content to let him to languish in the brig. When he found himself eventually heading below decks it was with the certain knowledge that it was only to gather information about the brethren, nothing at all to do with his curiosity having gotten the best of him.
He wasn’t so foolish as to have become obsessed with catching the pirate, but it was only natural that the hunt had taken on a certain significance for him. As such he’d played this particular moment out in his head a number of times before. In his imaginings Sparrow would beg for his life, plead for clemency, offer his usual twisting promises and transparent bargains, but Norrington wouldn’t be moved. He wouldn’t revel in his triumph, of course, despite first impressions Sparrow had shown he could be a good man, and for all his strange quirks he did deserve a certain respect. The Pearl had led them on a merry dance around the Caribbean and, truth be told, Norrington had more than enjoyed the chase. It wasn’t often he found such a worthy adversary, and it had more than distracted him from Will and Elizabeth’s upcoming wedding preparations that were so unavoidable when in port. Now that the chase had come to an end he’d be able to save his commission, placate the Admiralty and escape this entire fiasco with at least some semblance of honour intact.
However as sweet as this fantasy was, the reality was falling far short. First and foremost he couldn’t help noticing that Sparrow did not appear to be so much languishing in the small cell as lounging. Insolently at that. Norrington sighed; typical that the damn fool wouldn’t have the decency to act as expected. “Sparrow,” he began, smoothly ignoring the almost inaudible muttering at the omission of the title, “I’m not sure you appreciate the gravity of your situation.”
Sparrow stretched lazily. “Actually mate, its you that might be doing the unappreciating gravitywise”
“You had some information for me.”
Sparrow rolled to his feet and swayed closer to the bars. “No information, I’m afraid. Rather a suggestion.”
“A suggestion?” Norrington echoed.
“Well, I say suggestion more friendly advice really.”
Norrington almost laughed at that. “I hardly think you are in any position…” He suddenly seemed to realise the other man was serious. “What advice do you think you could possibly offer me?”
Sparrow treated him to a satisfied grin, stepped closer still, and began to explain exactly how grave Norrington’s situation was.
***
The two men bent over the desk examining the bizarre collection of odds and ends that Sparrow had been carrying with him. Gillette nodded at the stone. “So that’s it then?”
Norrington looked at him incredulously. “You can’t possibly believe him?”
“Of course not, but…”
“Don’t you see what he’s doing? This is just his latest scheme, concocted to save his own skin, and nothing more. He’s probably been using it for months. Every time he’s been captured it’ll have been ‘I’m the famous Captain Jack Sparrow and you have to set me free as I’m the keeper of the mystical whatever from the lost land of wherever.’” He reached for the shabby wooden compass, watching the needle wildly jump between three or four different points before settling into a strange slow spin. Snapping the box shut he shook his head. “Let me guess, magical compass?” He tossed it back on the desk, and pointed at the sword. “King Solomon’s Sword I presume? Hell, he’s probably wearing Poseidon’s boots.” He snorted softly, and picked up the stone. “And now we have a cursed stone to add to the collection.”
“After the Isla de Muerta …”
Norrington sobered abruptly and set the stone down. “Andrew, I cannot deny the existence of the uncanny but I will be damned if I’ll allow the threat of it to make us a laughing stock. That is a stone, much the same as the thousands of other stones that can be found on any beach, and I will not have this ship filled with rumours to the contrary.”
Gillette had carefully picked up the stone and was turning it slowly in his hands; it was unusual enough, a milky blue colour, probably related to the exotic jades or something of that ilk. As expected it was cool to the touch, but there was also a slight dampness that gave it an unpleasant clammy feeling. Norrington was right of course, it was just Sparrow’s latest nonsense but there was something about this particular stone nonetheless. Something distasteful. He returned it to its waxed leather pouch, glad to have it out of sight. “Your orders?”
“I think its time to have another talk with Mr Sparrow.”
Surreptitiously wiping his hand on his coat sleeve, Gillette went to fetch their prisoner.
***
While he waited Norrington fished the stone out of the pouch again and examined it carefully. Although Sparrow’s not inconsiderable legend appeared to have been mostly perpetrated by the pirate himself, he did seem to have more experience with the unnatural than the average man. But this ridiculous cock and bull story of more so-called curses, so close on the heels of the events of Isla de Muerta, was beyond the pale, worse that the pirate held him in such distain as to try such a trick. He frowned at the stone, the assumption was offensive. No, it was more than that, it was unforgivable.
He was only startled from his dark thoughts when the object of them was shown into the cabin. Norrington laid the stone on the desk only once Gillette was dismissed and he was sure they wouldn’t be disturbed.. Sparrow, for his part, didn’t seem particularly surprised to see it. “Ah, it becomes clear. I see you didn’t believe me,” he cocked his head, “Or maybe you did. Tell me Commodore, is this little display because you’re curious or just arrogant?”
Norrington’s gaze did not waver, but he felt a sharp twist of irritation. This entire sorry mess was all Sparrow’s doing but even now, with no chance of escape or salvation, he couldn’t stop trying to push his luck. Well he’d be damned if he’d dance to the pirate’s tune a moment longer. He reached a final decision - hanging was far too good for him. “Neither. In return for your invaluable advice, I have a proposition for you.”
Sparrow’s smile gleamed in the lamplight. “A proposition? Just two gentlemen discussing business terms, how very civilised.”
Norrington pushed the pirate’s sword belt across the desk, “My terms are simple. We fight a duel.”
“A duel? How refined. Tell me would we be duelling for glory or honour or something more classical?”
Norrington lean forward, smiling grimly, “Oh, nothing so noble - just your life.”
“Ah, well as lovely as that is I’m of a mind to decline your offer. I’d rather wait for justice, always been a big believer in justice me. I’ll take my chances with the gallows if its all the same to you.”
Norrington appeared to consider this for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “No. No tricks. Not this time, pirate.” He rose slowly to his feet, sword drawn almost before he stood. “Defend yourself.”
Sparrow flapped a hand at him in a movement that was both strangely beseeching and commanding. “Come now Commodore, this isn’t… oh bugger!” Norrington had lunged forward and Sparrow only just managed to twist out of the way. He dragged his own sword clear and clumsily countered Norrington’s next thrust. Finding his balance at last he began to press forward, all the while watching, assessing, planning. He’d had more than one opportunity to observe Norrington’s skill with the blade firsthand, but this time he was off-form; moving carelessly, awkward. Another quick flurry of blows and Sparrow allowed himself to be backed up to the wall before feinting to the left. Convinced of victory, Norrington threw caution to the wind, and slashed at him with a clumsy overhead swing that made it was easy for Sparrow to correct his stance and quickly sidestep the blade. Overbalanced, Norrington stumbled, falling to his knees and a few seconds is all it took for Sparrow’s sword to be pressed lightly at his throat and his own kicked well out of reach. Sparrow leaned down closer, all trace of his usual affected swank and swagger gone. “Finished?” he asked in a low and dangerous voice.
Norrington blinked up at him, genuinely confused by this new turn of events. The sword bit a little deeper and, although there was no pain at that moment, he could feel the warm wetness of blood as Sparrow repeated his question. “Are you quite finished, Commodore?” At Norrington’s curt nod, that irrepressible grin returned, and the sword at last dropped. “Then I think our business here is complete.”
Norrington hadn’t moved except to wipe at the shallow cut on his throat as he watched the other man retrieving his effects from the desk. “What is that thing?” he whispered.
Although Sparrow was studiously not looking at him he nevertheless appeared far too smug for the commodore’s liking. “Still think its nonsense?”
Norrington shuddered. “If its not too much of a foolish question, why would inducing murderous rages in those around you possibly be to your advantage?”
Sparrow moved at last to crouch down beside him, “Funny things, curses. Anyway it doesn’t always do that. You must have been thinking of it at the time. Here, give me your hand.”
Norrington quirked a sceptical eyebrow, “Really Sparrow, is this pantomime really necessary?”
Sparrow had only had half a mind on the commodore’s words. There was something important about this that he was missing, something dancing just out reach... He shook his head slightly and set it aside. If it was that important, it’ll doubtless come to him later. He returned his attention to Norrington. “I don’t think its any concern to the old ways that you deny them at every turn. Your hand.”
“Whatever for?”
“Come here," Sparrow murmured, reaching over to catch the other man’s hand. Norrington surprised them both by not pulling away, not even when Sparrow slowly placed the stone in his hand. At the feel of the cold stone Norrington felt his heart start to thump hollowly in his throat and took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm the sharp panic. Sparrow nodded to himself as if in answer to some unspoken question and moved his hand to curl around Norrington’s, pressing it closed around the stone. At that the commodore took in another shuddering breath, desperately trying to control himself, but suddenly lost his nerve and lurched back, free hand clawing at Sparrow’s, mindlessly thinking of nothing more than escape. Sparrow easily held him, making soft soothing noises as if he was trying to calm a wild animal and generally trying to seem as unthreatening as possible.
Norrington abruptly stilled. “Oh.” He stared at their joined hands, calm, suddenly understanding. “Oh.”
Never one to let such an opportune moment to pass by, Sparrow reached up to trace a careful line along Norrington’s jaw line with his finger tips. “Better…?” Norrington nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he leant into Sparrow’s touch. “Good enough then…”
***
Hours later, Jack had no idea how many, he suddenly realised what had been worrying him earlier. The usual night noises were all present and correct, the creak of the ropes and settling timbers and the gentle lap of the waves, but he couldn’t hear any of the crew and hadn’t done since he’d entered the cabin. Carefully disentangling himself from the sleeping commodore, he padded across to the door, and listened again.
James stirred on the cot. “Jack?” he whispered, “Come back.”
As tempting an offer as that was Jack didn’t move, “Did anyone else handle the stone?” He heard rather than saw James shake his head. “No. Come back. Please.” Another shift in the darkness, “No wait, Gillette did. Lieutenant Gillette.”
“Oh.” A moment of consideration before Jack returned to James’ sleepy embrace. “Maybe it would be wise to stay here a bit longer.”
“Good.”