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SEAWORTHY Author: Reikon Disclaimer: Disney’s PotC doesn’t belong to me, nor does any of it respectful characters or the ride, after which the movie was named. Summary: A magical plot twist sends you, a 21st century girl, sprawling onto the deck of the Black Pearl. What feels like weeks turns out to be mere days, and though in the beginning you hate Jack Sparrow, something happens along the way to bring you two closer together. Features stolen wine, discreet (or not so discreet) glances at your chest, an inner monologue about your alcoholic father, and a creepy old lady. To top that off, you're forced to share a bed with Jack, who insists on letting his hands grope you whenever you're not looking. How much worse can things possibly get? * * * * * CHAPTER 1 You don’t know how you got there. All you know is that you’re much closer to the sky than you’d ever been in your entire life. And there was a man standing in front of you who appeared to be very bewildered and covered in about six layers of filth. Your first instinct is to panic and hide. But… judging from your surroundings, there is no place to hide, other than behind the filthy man, and he’s staring at you in shock. “Oy, lass! ‘Ow did you get ‘ere?” You back up against the railing and wince, your eyes never leaving his. He was missing several teeth, you notice from the way he had his lips pulled back in a very un-gentleman-like sneer. His very presence was intimidating, and he was nowhere near good-looking. The thought of being alone in a very high place with a very scary man made you forget the question he had asked, and you scream. “Lass! Lass, quiet!” The man grabs your shoulders and shakes you roughly. “Yer squealin’ is getting’ on my nerves, an’ if you continue, I’m gonna hold you over the rail by yer ankles. Does that hold well with you?” Your eyes widened and you reach behind you to grip the rail, watching his expression as he chuckles mindlessly. He tries to pull you up to your feet, but you refuse, holding onto the rail for dear life. “Get up. I’m gonna hafta take you to the captain.” “C… ca… what?” You stutter, frightened. What happened? You’d been walking home in early December (which explained you being overly-dressed for this kind of weather) and slipped on a patch of ice. Then what? You were here. It was unexplainable. “The captain… captain? Ne’er been on a boat before?” The man looks at you in a peculiar way, and you immediately wish you weren’t trapped in what appeared to be the crow’s nest with him. With reflexes you didn’t know a man his age and bulk possessed, he grabs your arms and pulls you to him. “Didn’t think so.” He smirked. “Cap’n Jack’s waiting. C’mon.” He goes down first, and you follow, though somewhat uneasily as he looks up quite a lot with an evil grin (and you never really feel content with knowing what exactly he was thinking, looking up at you like that), plus you’ve never been at ease with height. But what also may have made you even more frightened, if mentally possibly at this point, was the fact that this intimidating man below you kept jerking the rope ladder so that it felt like you were going to fall to your death every time you felt settled. “’Urry up, lass!” The man urges you, giving the ropes another jerk. You shriek and cling to the ropes for the millionth time. “Stop it!” You cry. “This isn’t funny!” He obviously thinks so, as he throws his head back and laughs uproariously at your expense. It takes several long, mocking minutes before you finally reach the deck, and you stare at him uneasily, watching him in case he tries anything funny. He grabs you by the arm and hauls you off, ignoring your protests and pleas. “Is this anyway to treat a lady?” You cry in desperation, clawing at his hands. But his grip is strong and he doesn’t seem to want to let go. You near a large wooden door with strange engravings. Written on a piece of parchment paper, nailed to the door, that is tattered and seems to have seen much weather is “Captain Jack Sparrow”. Sparrow? That’s a queer name. But if tiny birds can be called that, then you guess a grown man can be called that too, if that’s what he wanted. But what if Jack was short for Jackie? If the Captain is indeed a girl, you hope she’ll show you some compassion. Moreso than a man ever could, most likely. You glance behind you and notice tattered black sails. No ship you ever knew of had black sails… unless… “Pirates…” You whisper to yourself. You’re on a pirate ship! You’re totally lost now. Since when were pirate ships in the 21st century? You’d seen little pirate ships in bottles, but you doubted you were inside a bottle on a tiny ship with tiny men. “Cap’n! We got a stowaway!” The bulky man bellows, pounding on the door. “Send ‘im in…” comes a male voice, sounding slightly slurred. “I’ll deal with ‘im.” The man looked poised to correct his captain, but shakes his head and decides to let the captain correct himself. You frown. If he won’t correct him, you will. He turns the antique-looking handle on the door and swings it open. He pauses, only briefly, as if going to lecture you about proper etiquette and manners, but shrugs and shoves you inside. He slams the door shut behind him. ‘Great,’ you think as you take a few cautious steps forward. ‘Stuck on a pirate ship among rude, smelly men.’ You notice that the windows are wide open and light and a cool sea breeze waft in. There are parchment papers and the like scattered on a table, as well as a few empty bottles and a few filled with an unidentifiable brown liquid. You cringe. This cabin absolutely reeked of alcohol. You take another glance at the bottle. Ah. That’s why. Suddenly, a figure you hadn’t noticed before sat up. It must have been the captain, lying stretched out on the bed. “I hear you’re a stowaway.” He said, stretching. He swung his feet over the edge and rolled his neck. You wince as you can hear the many sounds of cracking from across the room. “I’ll show you how we deal with stowaways on this boat.” You swallow instinctively, and he comes over to meet you. You see that when he finally sees who you are, he seems unfazed. “Now, sir--…” he begins. You’ve had just about enough. “Excuse me, Jack,” you snap, prodding his in the chest with your finger. “I’m no man. And I didn’t mean to be here. Now, you take me back home or there’ll be hell to pay.” He calmly removed your finger, his lips puckered out in either thought or annoyance. “Now, you listen, mate… First of all, the name is ‘Captain’ Jack Sparrow, and even if you are a woman, it’ll do you good to remember it. Secondly, I don’t know where I’m supposed to take you, as we’ve been sailing for a good two months, hardly stopping. Third, you are on our boat, and however you got here is because you did so. So therefore, you have no right to bully us around.” “Anything else?” You sneer, crossing your arms. “Yes.” He pauses, looking you up and down. “…Are you really a woman?” You scowl at him. The nerve of that guy! Questioning your femininity. Wasn’t it obvious? For some reason, you decide to ask him just that. “Isn’t it obvious, fool?” He leans back, looking like he was anticipating the worst. He regards you hesitantly. “Is this a trick question?” he asks finally. He holds his hands up in a semi-protective, girlish way. You’re angry. How dare he! Just because he’s a captain doesn’t mean he can insult you. On the bright side, your confrontation with the captain has gone better than you expected. You assumed that he would be mean and heartless and make you swab the deck or whatever it is that pirates do. But nonetheless, you’re still angry. You’re a girl! He should know that. “Excuse me,” you begin to sneer, but you realize that the captain has already realized you’re a girl and continues to try to stare discreetly at your chest. “Hey! HEY!” you cry. “Eyes up here!” “Sorry,” he says, clasping his hands together. Though you begin to wonder if he meant that apology at all. He smiles, flashing you a glimpse of some gold teeth. “Look, lass. You’re stuck on this here ship, and you’d better get used to it. Just because you’re a lady doesn’t mean that on my ship you’re going to get any special treatment. Though,” he circles you with a devilish grin, standing too close for your comfort. “If you would like some special treatment…” He fingers a tuft of your hair, inhaling its scent. “You’re quite welcome to it.” You don’t like the way he’s smiling at you, and you edge away nervously. He laughs, which makes you angry all over again. But you decide to yell at him from a safer distance and move around behind his table. “Look, Captain Jack Sparrow, I just want to go home. And it doesn’t help when you’re being so… so… UGH!” You throw your hands up in the air, slightly frustrated with your lack of ability to find the right words. “Let me continue with what I was sayin’, Lass.” “I have a name.” “Well, then, what is it?” You pause before reluctantly giving him your name. “Odd name,” he murmurs. But he doesn’t let you reply. “Anyway… You’re on my ship, so you do what I say. Savvy? You swab the deck when I say, you raise the flag when I say.” “What if it’s not ‘savvy’ with me, huh?” You jut your chin out, trying to appear intimidating. But judging from his calm appearance, raised eyebrow, and toothy grin, it wasn’t working quite as well as you hoped. “Then I’ll flog you.” “What?!” You’re appalled. Would he really flog you? In front of all his crew members? “Well, I’d at least take your shirt off.” He winks, and you cringe. “If that’s what I’ll have to put up with, then I don’t care— I’m swimming home.” “Miles in every direction, Lass. You’ll die before you reach shore.” The Captain smiles and shakes his head. “I was only kiddin’. I won’t flog ye. But,” he raised his index finger to make a point. You find it odd that his pinky finger is slightly higher and curved in a feminine way. “Look, I’m just sayin’ that you’re the one who’s on my ship. We didn’t invite you or kidnap you… so you’re gonna hafta work to stay on. But I would never allow a lady to dine and sleep among my crew—the dirty seadogs, they are. Good sailors, but they would prolly rape you till dawn.” You cough at the thought of having to share barracks with filthy, sexually frustrated men— pirates at that. He laughs. “So, you dine with me and sleep here in my quarters. Better food, better men, if I might say so myself.” Jack buffs his nails on his arm. In mockery or on purpose, you really don’t know. “I also notice you are saying so yourself.” You point out. At least he’s somewhat friendly. But you don’t know if you can trust him. And you tell him so yourself. “Trust me?” he doesn’t look in the least surprised. “Look, Lass, I’ll tell ye the same thing I told Captain Barbossa a while back. You can trust me. It’s the honest ones you hafta look out for, because you can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest.” Despite the fact that it really only told you he was dishonest and would continue to be, you somehow felt relieved. But you bring up another point. “There’s only one bed, Captain.” He grins a wide grin. “We’ll share. And if you have a problem with it, then compare it to sharing a room with a dozen other men who look at you like they want to--…” “Ugh. Stop. Okay. God…” You shudder. “It’s… er… ‘savvy’ with me.” “Good.” For some reason, you feel better, now that you only have to share a bed with one man, rather than twelve or so. But even knowing this, you still feel uncomfortable when he looks at you and grins a devilish grin. And just what was this ‘work’ he was talking about? * * * * * CHAPTER 2 You sit in Jack’s room for several minutes, just glaring at him. You may have a different opinion on what to do about you than he does, but you still think that you should be treated better. Working? Sure, you’d worked before, but on a pirate ship? “What’s on yer mind, lass?” Jack suddenly says, staring at you from his spot. He’s leaning against the door, watching you intently as you sit, cross-legged, on his bed. You refuse to answer, and glare at him. He pushes off of the door and you watch him saunter over, staring at the slight-yet-hypnotic sway of his hips. He grins, flashing golden teeth, once he notices where you are staring, and you abruptly turn your beet-red face away from him in embarrassment. You hear no more noise, and you assume he has stopped walking and is probably standing right in front of you. However, you know you’re dead wrong when you feel the bed shift ever so slightly. He’s sitting right beside you. You feel that the colour you had gained in your cheeks a few short seconds earlier has now left, so you turn to face him, not knowing how close he really is. His face is just inches away from yours, and he stares into your eyes as if trying to decipher something. You lean back, giving both of you (mostly you) some well-needed space. “What’s really on your mind, lass?” he asks again, his voice lower. Any lower, and he’d be whispering. “Nothing, Captain Jack Sparrow.” You reply, feigning innocence (or at least trying to). “What’s on your mind?” “What do you think?” “Do I want to know?” “Maybe.” “What’s it about?” “You.” You swallow instinctively. He was thinking about you. You muster up the best reply you can think of. “Oh, really?” He chuckles to himself and brings himself closer. He leans so close, his lips are barely brushing against your left ear, and his warm breath tingles your senses. “I’m not thinkin’ about you in the way you might like, lass.” Jack whispers. He gets up and moves to the table. For a split second, you wonder how you allowed him to get so close. You’ve known him for less than an hour, and you’ve already stared at his crotch, let him sit remarkably close to you, and even allowed him to whisper into your ear. But you also remember what he said. You spring up, your hands balled into fists at your sides. “How dare you!” You glower. “Did you have to be so arrogant? What makes you think I would like you thinking about me in that way?” He looks up from what he’s busied himself doing: pouring brown liquid into a glass. “I never said I was thinkin’ about you in that way, I just said I wasn’t thinkin’ about you in the way you might’ve liked. And only you know what you like. But if that is what you like…” He shows you a flash of golden teeth. “…I’m all for it.” You frown. He got you there. He never said he was thinking about you in a provocative manner, so you basically trapped yourself. For a pirate, he’s remarkably clever. You hear him chuckling slightly. “S’funny how people jump to conclusions, eh?” he slurs, handing you the glass of brown liquid he had poured only seconds ago. “Rum, love?” “Don’t call me that.” You narrow your eyes. “And no. I can’t stand the stuff.” You don’t want to give him the real reason. That your dad was an alcoholic and abusive drunk—and still is. That he used to hit you when he’d had one-too-many to drink. At parties, he was fine. Drank one or two glasses of whatever they were serving, but stayed completely amicable towards everyone. But when he got home, he dragged out one of his many hidden cases of beer and drank away. Whenever he wasn’t drinking, he was the best father ever. Took you to the park as a child, pushed you on the swing, played tag and hide-and-seek—though you were an expert hider and he could never find you, no matter how hard he tried. But all that changed when you reached middle school. He started coming home and never greeted his family with hugs and kisses anymore. It was straight to the liquor cabinet where he took a shot of whisky and when questioned, said, “Rough day at work. Just a shot is all I need.” But one shot became two, two shots became three, and so on until he began to miss work completely just to stay home and drink glasses of whisky at a time. When your mother first confronted him about his drinking, it was the first time he hit her, and the first time he broke your heart. And broken hearts can’t be easily fixed. But just when you thought your heart couldn’t break anymore, it did. The first time you gained the courage to protect your mother from him was the first time he hit you too. Ever since your father hit you, you never touched a drop of alcohol. You don’t have the desire to. And what’s more — you’re scared to. You glance at Jack, drinking straight out of the bottle, and feel a pang of disgust. How could he feel happy drinking the way he does? You assume he doesn’t have a family, and you’re glad for that. Because you’d hate to see a child looking up to her drunken father, scared, and wondering when he would go back to being the normal man he/she used to know. Because you know what that feels like. To have your one and only role model turn out to be a phony. “You know…” You clear your throat, sitting back down on the bed. You raise your eyes and look at him. “You really shouldn’t drink so much.” “Oh?” His voice is layered thick with drunkenness. He looks closely at the bottle, which strangely resembles a flask from your high school science class. “There’sh no warning here. So it’s all good.” You roll your eyes. Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. “Yes?” Jack calls. Though he’s standing about five or six feet away, you can smell the air starting to reek of alcohol. A voice called out. “There’s somethin’ out here you may wanna take a look at, sir.” Jack sighed, irritated at having to be parted with his rum. “I’ll see you later, love.” He says to the bottle, kissing it. You shake your head and sigh, watching as Jack exits the cabin, swaying gracefully somehow. You look around, though nobody can see you, and sneak to the door, pressing your ear to it. You can make out their speech easily, as neither of them is speaking quietly. “Jack, look. A fleet of man o’ wars. What are we gonna do?” “Oh, bullocks. Well… They won’t hurt us if we don’t fire at them. And if they fire at my pretty little ship, there’ll be hell to pay. You can be sure of that, Mr. Gibbs.” “Yes, we know.” Mr. Gibbs replied. You could almost distinguish him sighing in irritation. “But listen, Jack. If those’re Norrington’s ships looking for ye, yer in big trouble. They’ll catch ye! Norrington’s ships can easily surround us. He’ll bring ye back to Port Royal and hang ye in front of everyone! Again!” “But last time he tried, it didn’t exactly work, did it?” “Well, obviously not.” There was a brief second of silence. “What if it’s a fleet o’ pirates looking for a fight?” Mr. Gibbs suggested. “Would any living pirate attack the legendary Black Pearl?” The conversation goes on like this for quite some time. You come away from the door and sit back down on the bed. So, you’re on a legendary pirate ship. You wonder if anyone will believe where you’ve been once you tell them. But you figure you can think about that later. Right now, you’ve just eavesdropped on a conversation involving man o’ wars, whatever those were. Were they dangerous? Probably. Mr. Gibbs sure sounded worried. But until Jack came back, you decided to amuse yourself… Some time later, Jack decided to come back. He swung open the door, rather noisily, and swayed into the cabin. “Ah… good to be in the presence of rum.” “Right.” You stretch out on the bed and grin, patting your bag. He held up a bottle. “What’s this?” He stares intently at a piece of parchment paper held onto the bottle by melted wax. “One Captain Jack Sparrow should not consume more than half the bottle at one time, or the contents of every bottle – and possibly one Captain Jack Sparrow – shall be dumped over the edge of the ship… WHAT IS THIS?!” You found it quite amusing, the way he seemed to shriek when his poor rum was threatened with “walking the plank”. You were pretty sure he wasn’t thinking about himself right now. Just the rum. He frantically checked every bottle and saw that the exact same message (more or less) had been attached to every obvious bottle. “What is this?” he finally demanded in a lower, yet just as frantic tone, facing you. He waved the bottle he had been drinking from earlier, and you blink slowly, listening to the swishing and splashing sounds. “I told you — don’t drink so much.” “But rum’s my friend! We both enjoy each other’s company!” “So you say.” “What have you got against rum?” “Who said I had anything against rum?” You raise your eyebrows, looking at him with a slight smirk. “I mean… after all, you’re making me share a bed with you, and you’re making me do work to stay on the ship… I’ve never been on a pirate ship before. Maybe this is my way of getting back at you.” Jack narrowed his eyes; you think he’s trying to appear mysterious. “How can you be so sure we’re pirates?” “Oh, I don’t know.” You respond, using a slightly mocking tone. “Maybe it was your speech, your clothes, or your prominent black sails.” “Today’s laundry day. White sails in the wash.” “Stop lying, Jack. I know you’re a pirate. I was listening at the door.” “Well, I knew that already. Besides, it doesn’t matter if we’re pirates or not. You’re stuck here, and what I say goes. Whatever warning you put on rum doesn’t matter, because you’re just a silly little girl.” “Whatever, Jack.” “And that’s Captain to you.” * * * * * CHAPTER 3 “What’s a man o’ war?” You question after some time. Jack regards you curiously (albeit, drunk). “What’s a man o’ war?” he repeats your question. You nod. He starts to chuckle. “You don’t know what a man o’ war is?” You feel a bit insulted. Here he was, laughing at your expense, just because you don’t know a thing about this strange world you’ve come to be in. “Well, I’m sorry, but I guess I haven’t lived.” You snap, without even realizing it. Curse your sarcasm. You’d been meaning to cut down on it, but that just makes you notices the little things that annoy you even more, and you’re always tossing barbs when you’re angry. “A man o’ war’s a warship, love. It has things for war. Like guns and angry people lookin’ for blood and such. Savvy?” You narrow your eyes, a little sick of him saying that. “What in hell is ‘savvy’ anyway? You’re the only person on the entire planet who actually says that!” Jack laughs a little more. “Savvy? It’s me word. Savvy. Understand…?” “Yes, yes. Your word. I understand.” You roll your eyes and pull up a chair. He sits across from you. “No, that’s what savvy means.” He says, resting his elbows on the table with his hands clasped together. “It means ‘your word’?” you ask lamely, disbelief tainting your tone. “No. Understand.” “What?” Now it’s Jack’s turn to roll his eyes. He leans a bit further onto the table, gesturing aimlessly with his hands (as usual). “It means ‘do you understand’!” His voice was raised slightly, as if he was sounding a bit impatient at your ‘stupidity’. Suddenly, he grins. “Savvy?” The word rolls off his tongue, and he waits for a sign of annoyance at his supposed cleverness. Really. Using the word ‘savvy’ after explaining it. How clever. “Look, Jack…”—and before he has the chance to remind you of his role on the ship, you continue—“…Are these man o’ wars going to be here anytime soon?” “Not unless they’re after us.” “That’s comforting.” “It is. Well, sort of.” Jack pauses, in thought. “Wait. No it isn’t.” “Huh.” You get up and look to the window in the direction you thought the man o’ wars were. You see nothing. “So… where are they coming from?” “The same direction you’re looking.” Jack replies. “I can’t see them.” “You wouldn’t. Now, if you were back in the crow’s nest, where ol’ Peg Leg found you, then you might’ve been able to. They’re a bit far off to see from this window, here.” He moves behind you, placing an arm at either side against the wall for support. You can feel his breath on your hair, and for a brief second, you wondered what a night in this man’s arms might feel like. But before you can think about it any further, the logical side of your brain reminded you that he was a pirate. Pirates were heartless. Therefore, according to the math, this man was also heartless. You hold your breath and duck under his arm, walking briskly to the other side of the cabin. “So… if they are after you — notice how I said you — then how long do we have?” You ask, leaning against the wall. He notices this and sighs. He says your name in a somewhat aggravated manner. “Look, love. You don’t have to keep running from me. We’re stuck in the same cabin—…” This was just the topic you’d been trying to avoid. “Jack…” “—The same bed, we eat the same food—…” “Because of YOU!” you interrupt loudly. “You didn’t give me any other choice!” “Yes I did. Share with me or a bunch of men with the minds of… well…” he pauses. “Pirates. But that’s beside the point!” “Yes, it is. Nice choice, Jack. A dozen sexually frustrated men, or a sexually frustrated idiot.” “Who says I’m frustrated?” “I do.” “Well, just because I don’t have female company all the time doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy my own.” He grins for a while, sending a wink in your direction. Then he scowls. “Wait… Idiot?” he frowns, only catching on now. “Yes.” “Love, I think I’m pretty clever for a man who can’t write proper English. And I’m being hospitable by letting you sleep in here with me. The least you could do is--…” “Is what?” You say breathlessly. “What do you expect me to do? You have me working on the ship now. What else do you want?” For a split second, you see an emotion of some sort flicker across his face. But you shake your head. “No, Jack. We’re very different. It’s bad enough that you’re forcing me to work and sleep in your bed, but you laugh when I ask you questions. Simple questions. And you don’t understand me, or where I’m from. I’m too different. Just… just…” You feel too tired to finish your sentence, and you lower yourself to the floor. “Love.” His voice is closer, lower. You look up, and he’s leaning over you. “I didn’t mean to insult you. But I’m not going to go through what I told you earlier when Peg Leg brought you to me.” You stare at him. “Peg Leg? He didn’t have a peg leg.” “Not yet, but you should see the state of his left foot. A bit on the green and slimy side, I’d have to say. But it makes for a good dinner conversation.” “I’m sure.” You look away for a brief second. “So when are these warships going to catch up, at the earliest?” “Well, the Pearl’s pretty fast, so maybe tomorrow afternoon. And if they’re truly after us, then there’s only one man who it can possibly be. Norrington, the bastard. Tried to hang me.” “I know. I heard. What does he have against you?” “Same thing you do.” He replies instantly. You’re surprised… Jack knows you don’t like him. And even though you made it somewhat obvious, you still can’t help but feel bad. But you also feel defensive. “Oh yeah?” you glower against the wishes of your more humane self… The side of you that doesn’t want to hear the answer to the question it knows you’re going to ask. “What do I have against you?” “Me being a pirate, that’s what.” He straightens up and trods over to the window. He looks sullen, and you wonder if the alcohol has worn off yet. Your humane self wants to kill you right now, but in the most humane way possible, of course. You swallow and move closer, trying to make amends in a strange sort of way. “You worried?” you ask casually, wanting to get back on normal topics, if topics of a warship coming after you are deemed normal. “No.” he responds. He then turns to you and grins. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. No man o’ war’s gonna get me all worked up. I’ve been captured, hit with a paddle, stabbed, become a skeleton, been marooned a couple of times, nearly hanged, and fallen off a cliff. After what I’ve been through, nothin’ scares me anymore. Well, nothing dangerous.” You laugh for the first time since your argument, which was, strangely enough, a mere few minutes ago. The thought of Jack Sparrow running away from a mouse was such a hilarious thought, that you knew if he’d ever done that, you wouldn’t have been able to compose yourself afterwards. And the fact that he mentioned ‘becoming a skeleton’ was a bit weird didn’t even register in your mind. “Eh? Lass?” He looks at you curiously. “I think you need a breather. Calm down!” “Sorry.” You regain your composure, only briefly losing it to a five-second fit of chuckles, which you attempt to hide. “I’ll go bring us dinner.” * * * * * CHAPTER 4 Dinner was good. Jack was regaling you with tales of how he escaped being marooned on the same island twice by building a raft. “I’m clever,” he says. “The sea turtles fell for it twice.” “Well, you know what they say…” You begin. But then you notice Jack’s confused and curious gaze. “Well, I know what they say. Shame on you if you fool me once, shame on me if you fool me twice.” “Yes.” He murmurs. “Say, what about a drinking game? I’ve got plenty of rum to go around… what’ll you be having?” You send him a sharp glare as he gestures to the seven flasks of rum lying on the table. You try to ignore the five empty ones on the floor. “I’m kidding, lass! You can have a bottle of me rum. And the rules are, if you refuse to answer, take a swig.” “Let me guess. If you refuse to answer, take the entire bottle?” Jack flashes golden teeth at you. For a second, you wonder if this age has dentists. Suddenly, he shoves a bottle of rum at you, but before you casually push it away with your finger, you light-heartedly joke around. “Hey, trying to get me drunk? It doesn’t work like that, Captain Crunch.” You let out an uneasy laugh and your eyes beg him to take the bottle back. Alcohol has caused you too much pain in your life, and you don’t want to take the risk. Not even if it’s just a sip. So obviously, a drinking game is out of the question. He looks at you in a way you’re curious of, as if he noticed something about the way you acted around the rum. Suddenly, he frowns. “Captain Crunch? Who the hell’s that?” “Actually, he’s the captain of a cereal box.” You reply, smiling slightly. “A little white-haired man with blue clothes.” There is a brief silence while Jack ponders Captain Crunch and whether to sink his ship or not. So you guess. You really knew nothing about pirates, so Jack could have been thinking about anything. Suddenly, his eyes meet yours. “So… what d’you want to do ‘til bedtime, love?” You found it a bit odd that he was always calling you ‘love’. As if it meant something. But you remember… he’s just a pirate looking to ‘sail his ship into port’, if you daresay so yourself. Which you are. You shrug. “I dunno. Got any playing cards?” Jack shakes his head and looks puzzled, but lets you keep on suggesting things. “Computer’s out of the question… books?” You raise your eyebrows at him in a desperate attempt to find something to occupy your time until you have to share a bed with him. Jack shakes his head. “No time for books when everybody seems to be after me head. I can read, of course, but I have no time.” “So we have nothing to do.” “I can get Peg Leg to show you his foot, if you want.” “No, no. That’s okay. I don’t feel like spewing my supper at the moment, thanks.” You obviously refuse, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other for a while. You realize he has a moustache, and you mentally slap yourself for being so idiotic. How can you not have noticed his moustache? It’s right in the middle of his face! Well, not in the middle, or his nose would have some competition, but its location was pretty prominent. His eyes are deep brown, like rich, sweet chocolate. And they were just boring into yours… You suddenly see his eyes travel slowly down to your chest… again. Grabbing a chicken bone from your plate, you hastily throw it at him. “Hey! What did I tell you? I don’t appreciate that.” You snort, narrowing your eyes. He grins a mischievous grin and rubs his head where the chicken bone made contact. “Why not? You’re very pretty.” “Well… er… thanks.” You’re a bit puzzled and don’t remember him having his usual many bottles of rum. “But I don’t see what being pretty has to do with you staring at my boobs.” “I like them.” Jack simply stated, grinning like a madman. “I’m a man. I have needs and desires.” “I don’t like where this is heading…” You narrow your eyes at him. “What are you getting at?” “You’re a woman… don’t you have needs too?” “Well… Yeah, I guess. But my boobs don’t. It’s not like they say, ‘Hey! I’m a boob! I need to be stared at!’ …You know?” You lean back, watching him over the bridge of your nose. You feel a slight more at ease than before. “So tell me, lass… What do you need?” “To go home,” you blurt out without even realizing it was on your mind. You would have assumed he was referring to something dirty, had you not been so homesick. Jack laughs and takes a swig of rum. You finger the edge of your water cup. “Is the company that bad?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. You frown, rolling your eyes. “No, Jack, it’s just that… I had things to do… places to go…” He scoffs, “Things to do? What could be so important that you’d rather be there than out on the sea? And, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we are goin’ places.” “Things to do, like make money and important things like that.” “Oh, well… making money. I prefer looting. That way I don’t have to work as much.” Jack pauses, studying you. “Are you like Will used to be? Honest to a fault?” “A fault? How can honesty be a fault?” “Because it’s your own damn fault you’re so honest.” You pause. “That doesn’t make any sense, Jack.” He ignores you and stands up. The moonlight glimmers off of his eyes, and you catch glimpses of his golden teeth as he speaks. “It’s dark… d’you want to go to bed?” You almost nod, but then you remember the agreement. “How can I be sure that you won’t try anything funny?” You ask, suspicion quite evident in your tone. You lean back more, and remember a little thing called ‘gravity’ as your feet fly up and the rest of you hits the floor with a loud thud. He smirks, and for some reason this makes your stomach topple. “I give my word.” He says rather slowly. He moves around the cabin, his hands up in the distinctively feminine way you noticed before. Idiot didn’t even help you up. But you didn’t ignore his statement. “…Okay.” You still haven’t gotten up. You’re sort of hoping that Jack will turn into Prince Charming and pull you to your feet with the greatest of ease. Then what? You’ll suddenly be wearing a ball gown with frills and he’ll be wearing a gorgeous tux? Then he’ll kiss you? He brings you back to the real world by clapping his hands a few times. The real world. Where you aren’t wearing a frilly ball gown, and Jack’s a ruthless pirate. Where any kiss you get from him would probably not be with your consent. “Do you have anything to change into?” “No.” “Nothing?” “Why?” A simple (yet devious) smile is all he gives you before you climb into bed. You pull the covers up to your chin and watch intently as he blows out the candles founds in various areas around the room. Soon, the only light illuminating the room is the moonlight streaming through the open window. You see his silhouette come closer to the bed, and as he climbs in next to you, you feel the bed shift slightly. He bumps your arm by accident. “Whoops, sorry love.” “S’okay.” Suddenly, he stops. You feel his warm presence beside you, breathing rhythmically. You watch the darkened area where he’s lying, almost as if you’re suspicious that he’ll try something funny. After about fifteen minutes of lying in the dark in a single bed, you assume he’s asleep. Therefore, it’s safe for you to also. But just to be sure, you lean closer and wave your hand in front of his face. Nothing. You lean even closer to try and see if his eyes are closed. All of a sudden, his head jerks forward and his lips meet yours. He lets out a small grunt and you feel his hands snake around your waist and onto the small of your back, pulling you closer and almost on top of him. After a few long seconds, and even you aren’t sure why you let it drag on longer than brief contact, you pull back. “What the hell?!” you choke out. You know he can’t see your face, but if he could, he would see that you’re as red as a beet. Maybe redder, if possible. “What was that?” “What was what?” “That kiss!” “What kiss?” “…ARGH! You kissed me right now!” “No I didn’t.” You snarl instinctively at his ploy at being clueless. You see a glimmer of gold in the darkness. “Maybe you’re imagining I did. I can’t blame you.” That makes you stop. Maybe you did imagine it. You bring a hand to your lips. Could a mere thought have the power to make you react like this? You shake your head. Jack clears his throat. “But… if you’re thinking of havin’ a little fun, I have no problem with it.” His tone is significantly suggestive of sex. “I know. Because all you’ve had to enjoy is your own damn company. BUT NO. Jack, I’m not here to have fun.” He suddenly rolls over on top of you, and you can feel his breath. It’s hot, on your face and neck. He braces himself by placing muscular arms on either side of you. “Are you sure?” he whispers. His weight is barely on you, but you feel light-headed. Almost as if you want to feel his lips on yours again. You suddenly feel very vulnerable. “Jack…” “What?” There is an eternal pause as he awaits your answer. “Get off.” He sighs in irritation and rolls off of you. You turn your head to look at him. “If you honestly think I appreciated that…” You’re not half-wrong… “…You’re DEAD wrong.” You hear him grumbling. You both shift slightly, but your bodies are still very close on the single bed. All you have to do is last the night… TBC... |