#The beard is actually named “Captain Jack Sparrow!” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imaginepirates · 5 years ago

Text

Wanted

For @myleghasfallenasleep, who requested that I write about a non-binary pirate! reader. The reader ends up taking James into their crew after Jack leaves him with them. Because this is my first time writing a nb character, please tell me if I’ve provided accurate representation. If not, please bring it to my attention.

~3500 words

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @wordsinwinters

~~~~~~~

Ah Jack, you mused. Always dumping your problems on me. You’d been a friend to Jack Sparrow for years, and though you were fond of him, he never failed to dump things on you. Currently, he was leaving you with a drunken addition to your crew. You wouldn’t have minded, but as it sat, you had your suspicions about this man.

“If I recall correctly, you’re in desperate need of men right now.” You stood with your arms crossed, staring at Jack from across your desk.

“Not as desperate as this, lass.”

“Why? He’s a drunk, sure, but so are you.”

“He vomits everywhere he walks.”

“I seem to recall you doing that on several occasions.”

Jack grimaced. “I hoped you’d forgotten that.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Fine. Bad blood. Used to be in the navy.” Jack made a face, sticking his tongue out.

“Don’t see what difference that makes. Loads of pirates come from the navy. Do you know how bad their wages are? If they were looking for money, though, I don’t know why they’d go to you.”

Jack pretended to take offence, but you ignored him. You’d only seen the man Jack wanted to dump on you once, when the pair had first boarded your ship. He was tall, with dark hair and piercing eyes, but he stumbled as he walked, and he looked green with sickness.

“What’s so bad about this man that you need to get rid of him, Jack?” You were deadly serious. Jack got into all sorts of trouble with the wrong type, and you weren’t going to take on some merman, noble’s son, or warlock without knowing about it first. “I’m not getting into trouble on your account Jack. Not this time.”

“You won’t. I promise.” He flashed you a smile, and you laughed.

“Words are wind, Jack.”

Jack sighed. “The problem I have with him is personal. It won’t hurt you to take him for me.”

“Why not hand him over to Jones?” By now, you knew all about the problems Jack was having with Davy Jones. Serves you right, you thought.

“I don’t think he’d last that long.” Seeing your unimpressed expression, he continued. “It’s not just me, love. It’s the crew.”

“And by ‘the crew’, you mean those two you met in Port Royal?”

“No.”

“Lately, they’ve been involved in all your issues.” You moved around to the front of the desk, sitting on the edge. “If you won’t tell me, fine. But at least assure me that you’re not leaving me with a curse looming over my head.”

“None.”

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a crew to attend to and a new member to meet.” You swept right past Jack, pushing the double doors to your cabin open wide. The fresh air was welcome in comparison to the stuffy air indoors, and the smell of salt filled the air.

You were still at port, but you planned to leave before the day was done. Fishers on the docks called the day’s catch, and merchants sold their wares near the wharves. There was the ringing of church bells and the enticing smell of cooked meats, all reminders of the city around you. Some of your crew were carrying out tasks onboard the ship while others were out in the streets. Those in the city would be back soon enough.

It was easy to spot the newest addition to your crew. He stood out in the crowd. His clothes were shabby, even by pirate’s standards, and he had a way of standing that indicated he was too relaxed for a naval man. Men from the navy didn’t lean casually against railings, they didn’t have beards, and they didn’t smirk. All around, you considered this man a rake.

You approached him, leaning against the railing beside him. “Do you have a name, sailor?”

“James,” he said, looking down at you.

“James what?”

“Just James.”

“Well then, just James, welcome to the crew. I expect that as a sailor, you know what you’re doing, and I don’t want any trouble on my ship. If you have a bone to pick, wait ‘till shore leave.”

“Yes sir.” His voice was mocking, and upon further inspection and some confusion he added, “Ma’am.”

“Captain, will suffice. I want to see my reflection in this deck by tomorrow morning. I suggest you get to work helping.” You gestured to the crew scrubbing the deck.

He shoved himself off the rail after taking a last look at you, grabbing a mop and soap from further down the deck. He was the type to start problems, you could tell. You could only hope he wouldn’t.

In the coming days, you were shocked to find that he was a capable worker. Though he had a tendency to make snarky comments, he did everything that was asked of him. You were glad for it. You didn’t enjoy dealing out punishments, and you didn’t want a reason to do so. James was good at what he did; it seemed he had more years of practice than many of the other men.

An influencing factor in his behavior was lack of alcohol. You’d taken the rum away from him within the first day and told the crew not to give him any more. James had been surprisingly willing to let the drink go. He’d looked disgusted, but you had a feeling he wasn’t disgusted with you. Disgusted with himself, more like. I would be, too, if I were vomiting everywhere and stumbling around. There was more to it, you could tell. There was a whole story in every man, but this man seemed to contain a story-and-a-half. You’d learn, someday. For now, you had to be content with what Jack had already told you.

You surveyed the deck one day to find James helping the younger boys tie their knots. James wasn’t quick in the rigging like the children, but he was surefooted, and he was willing to teach the boys from the ropes. He was doing it then, leaned against a railing with a length of rope in hand. He was showing them how to tie it to a rail with a clove hitch. The rope was passed around, and each boy tried it for himself.

“I see you’re teaching the boys well.” You walked up to him, watching the kids tying their knots. “I’m happy to see it.”

“Somebody has to do it.”

“If I wasn’t mistaken, I’d say you’ve done this sort of thing before.”

“You’re not.”

Ah. An officer, then? Though his coat was a good indicator of his previous station, it didn’t fit him well, and you figured it might have been stolen. Perhaps not. It would have fit someone who weighed a little more, and you figured that James had lost weight in the time he spent drinking instead of eating. “Would you like to enlighten me? I have a feeling you’re a bit more than ‘just James’.”

He pushed off the rail. “I wouldn’t, actually.”

“Forgive my curiosity,” you called after him. “Here, you don’t have to be anyone you don’t want to be.”

Something sad flashed behind his eyes, and he swallowed. I don’t want to be anybody, he seemed to say.

You’d heard that often enough. “We’ve all left someone behind us,” you assured him. “Even me.”

He nodded and walked off, and you couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. He was lost and unsure of what to do with himself. Stuck between who he had been and who he would become.

Not two weeks later, you found him in the surgeon’s cabin, applying salve to a boy’s back. The green paste stuck to the boy’s skin with an eerie hue, but you knew it treated burns better than anything else.

“What did I tell you about keeping a shirt on?”

“I know, it’s hot out, is all.” The boy shifted in his seat, squirming whenever James touched his back.

“I don’t care how hot it is. A loose shirt is better than nothing. I won’t do this for you again, so don’t rub this off,” James warned.

The boy took little heed. “I won’t,” he said, slipping off the table and putting on a shirt.

You were left alone in the room with James. “You really are good with kids.”

James shrugged.

“Maybe there’s nothing so bad about you after all. I wondered why Jack dumped you with me; he usually gives me cursed men and witches. The undead, even.” You got no reaction. “You’re not any of those things, so why would he leave you with me?”

“I’m not wanted.”

“You are here.” You gestured at a space outside the cabin. “The crew likes you well enough. Especially the boys. You look after them.”

“Would that I had my own.”

“Your own?” You briefly wondered if he had children.

“In the navy. My last voyage, we sailed right into a hurricane. I was… one of the few survivors.”

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing you can do about a hurricane.”

“You can avoid sailing into it.” He sounded miserable, voice thick with emotion.

Could it be? You had a sinking suspicion you knew who the man was. That doesn’t matter now, you reminded yourself. He’s part of my crew, and he hasn’t shown any signs of treachery or ill-will. “Every man has moments they’re not proud of,” you said. He nodded tensely, and you took it as a sign to change the subject.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he began, a few minutes later. “You dress like a man, but you seem more like a woman, if you don’t mind my saying.” He looked thoroughly embarrassed, but he continued. “I tried to discern, earlier, but…. What did you mean by ‘Captain will suffice’?”

“I meant that I don’t identify with either of those things. I’m not a man, nor am I a woman.” You looked him in the eye, gauging his reaction.

He looked surprised, but didn’t remark, only nodding. You left it at that, and your conversation went in other directions.

~~~~~~~

The thundering of canons roared across the deck. Pieces of the ship flew off where you were hit, wooden splinters the length of your arm flying in all directions. You were glad to have led your crew in gunnery drills; they might have died without them. You survaid the deck, watching each gunning team load and fire. Smoke clogged the air between ships, but you still had a good view of your opponent.

A Spanish brig had appeared on the horizon not hours before, a pirate vessel from the Cuban area. You didn’t like fighting other pirates; firstly, it was a better cause to fight the navy; and secondly, pirates were ruthless in a way others were not. You never knew what tricks pirates might use on you, even as a pirate yourself. There was always some curse or new technology that you found yourself facing, putting you at a disadvantage. You didn’t have the luxury of magic aboard your vessel.

The sails of the ship were a dramatic red, and a dark squid adorned their pirate flag. The ship was beautifully painted, but that was all you could say for it. There was an air of wealth about it that had probably served it well in Spain, though perhaps less well in the Caribbean. Though it might look intimidating and well-styled to a merchantman, it was only a brig, and was thus lightly armed. Brigs were common pirating vessels, but not in the Caribbean. The New World demanded tougher stock.

You had the advantage of guns, but no fight was to be downplayed. You could have had all the guns in the world, but you’d still be careful about every move you made. There was always room for something to go wrong.

A cannonball hit the railing next to you, destroying it in a shower of wood. Stop blowing holes in my ship! You hated having to make repairs, but you’d have to, in this case. When you looked out at the deck again, you were glad to see that none of your crew seemed seriously injured. A few had shrapnel stuck in various places, but nobody looked to have stomach or head wounds.

You boarded the Spanish ship not long after. They’d been ambitious to fight you, and by the look of their rich clothes and shimmering jewelry, they had money. You smiled to yourself through the fighting. You still had to win the deck fight, but you were confident that you would. Then, it would be smooth sailing with a ship loaded down with gold.

The glint of light on metal shook you from your thoughts, and you raised your sword to block a blow from your side. After dispatching your attacker, you took a look around. It was hard to tell your men from theirs, but you caught a glimpse of James fending off two adversaries. You might have gone to help him, but you were soon caught up in a fight of your own.

The deck fight didn’t take long; twenty minutes at most. With the fight won, you ordered that the other crew be split between the brigs of both ships for the time being. You wouldn’t keep them as prisoners forever, but you needed to subjugate them for the moment. You met the opposing captain on the deck of his ship.

The captain looked up at you from his knees, his eyes screaming malice. Lace spilled from the sleeves and collar of his coat, which were the same wine red as his sails. A gold earring hung from one ear, and colored powders adorned his face. You found him almost comical- the stereotype of a wealthy pirate. It was so unrealistic, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Obviously, the man hadn’t known the true lifestyle going in.

Someone had to remove his sword belt and give it to you; he wouldn’t do it himself. You were half tempted to pitch him overboard for his arrogance. It wasn’t like he had much to be proud of. Sure, he had a beautiful ship, but it’d hardly lasted a half hour against your assault. Your boarding party had made short work of his crew. Those that were left were easily subdued, and you ordered that they be taken to the brigs of both ships.

You put your first mate in charge of the other ship. You were proud to have a little fleet, no matter how small. The thought made you smile. Eventually, you had the captain sent away too, though you’d have to speak with him later. Just the notion of having to talk with the man dampened your mood. He probably wasn’t the most respectful type.

Exhaustion took over, not letting you dwell on it. The fight had been fast, but hard, and you were ready for a moment of rest. You climbed the stairs to the helm and sat down by it, barely registering the person sitting next to you. You were asleep within minutes.

When you woke, you found your head resting on someone’s shoulder. You sat up to find James next to you, an amused smile on his face.

“I was wondering when you’d wake up,” he teased. “You slept for a while.”

You blushed, not quite sure how to respond. “Did I wake you up?” “No, don’t worry. I’ve only been awake a few minutes.”

You couldn’t tell if he was speaking the truth, but you didn’t press, instead changing the subject. “Are you alright? I hardly saw you during the fight.”

“I’m fine. And you?”

“Right as rain.”

“Your men are enjoying the victory.”

“Are you?” You asked. “You’re one of them.”

James stared a moment before answering, turning his away from you and towards the sea. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a victory over a ship. Months. Fighting pirates is an odd thing, when you’re one of them. Still, it reminds me of… simpler times.” His lips turned down in a tight frown.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t dwell on it too much. Come with me, will you? I have a captain to talk to, and I don’t think he’s going to make for amiable conversation.”

You made your way down to the brig. The captain and his mates were being held in one cell together, the rest of their crew being split between cells. You treated them with every hospitality you could give them, helping treat their wounded and providing them with food and water. This, however, was too little to keep their captain satisfied. Your men had informed you that the captain mocked you for not talking to him. He called it cowardice, apparently. It mattered little and less to you, but you had to speak with him at one point or another. It was only courteous.

You gave a nod to one of your guards, and the cell door swung open. The captain was ushered out, unshackled. He posed no threat as a single man; even if he tried to attack you, you could easily overpower him. After all, he didn’t have a sword.

“So, you finally deem me worthy of your attention,” he drawled. His accent was exaggerated enough to make you roll your eyes. He spat, though he had enough sense not to spit towards you. Still, the insult was clear.

“I attend to my own men before I see to anyone else’s. With my crew taken care of, you have all my attention.” You could already tell the conversation would be riddled with insults, though none of them would be clever.

“Seeing to your men is admirable,” said the captain, “though I can’t tell with you: you dress like a man, but there’s a little woman to you, too.” He smirked.

“They are a captain and you will call them such.” James stopped dead in his tracks, reaching out to grab the man’s arm. Though the captain tried to pull away, James’ grip was iron. “Remember your place.”

Fear flashed across the captain’s face, but only for a moment. “I’m shocked to hear you say that, Commodore. After all, your place has changed so much.”

Your hand flashed out, striking the man hard across the face.

“How dare you?” he screeched. “I am a captain!”

“Not anymore,” you said dryly. “You’re nothing more than I make of you, and now I’m considering turning you into mincemeat. You might consider being more careful with your words. I would have asked for your name, but I don’t think you’re worth knowing. Perhaps more time in the brig will see to your behavior.”

The Spaniard protested the entire way, but he was quickly shut in with his officers again, and you set a brisk pace back to your cabin. James followed you, and you let him. Once you got to your cabin, you slumped into a chair. You were thoroughly disgusted by your encounter, but you knew it meant nothing. The man was arrogant, that was all. And James was the infamous Commodore that hunted pirates for years.

That didn’t matter now, either. James was kind to you, and he was good with the crew. His past was just that- his past.

“You didn’t have to defend me.” You filled a cup with brandy. “I could’ve done it myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to. And I owe you. You were right, in the surgeon’s cabin; I’m wanted here. I owe you for that, at least. You kept me when nobody else would.”

“Don’t feel like you owe me anything.”

He sucked in a breath. “And I’m sorry for not telling you who I was.”

“I understand,” you said. “It doesn’t make me trust you any less, and it doesn’t make you any less wanted. I can look beyond a man’s past.” You rose from your seat, putting a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I think I’ll stay with you, if you’ll have me.”

You were surprised, at first, that he didn’t want to return to his old life. That he didn’t have any ambitions to be the man he used to be. He doesn’t want power, you reminded yourself. He wants company. “Of course.“

“Thank you.” Hesitantly, he grabbed your hand, lifting it to place a soft kiss to your knuckles.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, cupping his cheeks, you kissed him softly, embarrassed that you would even think of kissing him, let alone do it. He returned the favor sweetly. He kissed you a bit harder, making you squeak.

“Perhaps you’re just as much of a rascal as I initially thought,” you told him, smiling.

“Maybe I am.” He wore an infuriating smirk.

You pushed him away playfully, only to pull him right back. “If you were still wondering, James, you’re wanted here. Thoroughly.”

#potc #pirates #pirate #pirates of the caribbean #James Norrington #norrington #norrington x reader #commodore norrington #requests #request #fic #drabble #drabbles #writing #x reader

139 notes · View notes

suggestionsofthecaribbean · 6 years ago

Text

The Pearl: Elizabeth and James

Part 1/2. All the delights and confusions of intimacy; immediately upon conclusion of this conversation, Elizabeth and James recoup in her cabin, intending to enjoy the former and forced to navigate the latter along the way.

CW: James’ personal history, particularly the recent events in Tortuga (gone into in greater detail here), renders his sexuality a thorny territory he is not entirely comfortable in, much as he would like it to be, for her sake. Elizabeth, a rash and affectionate person, but not a particularly emotionally intuitive one, has to learn to be more sensitive and communicative with him, but it’s a journey, and her insecurity that he, perhaps, may not want her as he once did, complicates it further.

There may be some for whom this chapter veers into uncomfortable places - Elizabeth is not pushy, but she gets tactless, particularly in her attempts to understand where he’s coming from. We are personally pleased with their approaching, however slowly, a better understanding of each other and a better style of communication, but readers for whom the topic of desire or lack thereof is a touchy one may want to sit this out.

Feat. @lizzyswann-turnersuggestions and @norringtonsuggestions

Captain Swann, who had been taking a break from studying astronomy with Captain Barbossa to text, took a break from texting to have a Word with Captain Norrington. This involved hastily striding across the deck, brushing her hair out of her face, striving to not be flustered, and then pausing to reply to another text when the very man was in sight of her, because she was so keen not to have the final say in anything.

On that note, as to prevent him from having a moment to reply, she shouted, loud enough to turn heads: “CAPTAIN NORRINGTON!”

And heads did turn. Elizabeth had not prepared for how flushed she was in the face at that, lest anyone witness worse than name-shouting; how serious had he been about holding this over her head? Because he could just blab about it here and now, instead. That alone prevented her from wanting to give the impression that she was angry at him, so while her walk said business, the lift of her chin when she approached him said flirtation.

“My cabin, if you will,” she said, and then regally turned around to shoot every man watching a glare. That put an end to that.

James’s face was quite still as he followed her, but the expression frozen on it was a light smirk. When she finally looked at him again, he moved enough to lift his eyebrows in smug amusement.

Door shut, she immediately shoved him, stifling as much of her laughter as she could.

“I don’t fancy her! You - shh! Shhhhhh-”

Who she was shushing was up for some debate.

“Are you sure of that? Are you really sure-“

She made an abortive attempt to tickle him quiet that ended quickly in dropping her head onto his chest in an effort to bury her blushing and smother her mortified laughter at the same time.

“I’m not about to let go of this,” he laughed, putting his arms around her.

“Nothing happened-”

“Oh, I’m quite aware-“

“You’re aware, are you? Have a second sense of what I get up to?”

“She’s on my crew, I keep aware-“

“For all you know, I have already made plans with her behind your back,” said Elizabeth with a widening smirk - turning this around on him was the only tool left at her disposal to prevent herself from being quite as embarrassed as she was feeling. Her hands slid down his back, squeezed affectionately. He jolted in surprise and began to laugh again.

“Plans? Oh? Without me-“

“Perhaps, as I do not have, what did you call it? The equipage? - we could find some use for you-”

This was the kind of thing guaranteed to break James Norrington’s famous stoicism even if he hadn’t already given himself a break on it. He certainly tried to avoid laughing any longer, but he sputtered and failed, until he was helplessly leaning his head against hers and shaking.

She hmmed at him affectionately and kissed his temple, rubbing her fingers under his hair as she held his head and waited for him to be teasable again.

“I think- I think I’m getting a touch giddy from a week of sobriety,” he admitted. “A kind of reverse drunkenness-“

“Tell me what I can do to help,” she whispered, kissing him on the forehead.

“It’s not a matter of needing help,” he said, with another bleary laugh. “I shall prevail, I’m certain of that.”

When he lifted his head, he returned the kiss, but was sure to give it to her lips instead. Elizabeth kissed him back, but tried to speak to him shortly after, although she was reluctant to break the kiss - she spoke, then, against his lips, voice coming out muffled: “You’re not - you don’t really think - you don’t think I’ll leave you, do you-?”

“Mm- leave is a harsh word,” said James. “I suppose it has ever been close to my mind that our arrangement may not be permanent-“

“Do we have to think so far ahead? We could literally die trying to save Jack-”

“Let us pray not. I think if I were to die trying to rescue Jack Sparrow, I might never live it down,” James said flatly.

Elizabeth attempted to not laugh at that.

“Well,” he said, “are we reassured now?”

“On the contrary,” she said, still attempting not to sputter and occasionally cracking and doing it anyway, “I am less certain than I have ever been-”

“Your crew are probably forming some interesting ideas as to what’s going on in here,” James noted, glancing toward the door and then back to her, with the same smirk as before.

“As long as you are fine with that then I am,” she said, some of her blush returning, though she could meet his eyes.

“It’s part of the territory of being your dog, is it not?” he said lightly.

“Tell me what you would rather we imply and we shall either imply it, or… implement it…” she said, taking him by the hands, rubbing the backs of them with her thumbs.

“Mm- I’m rather short on imagination,” he admitted, leaning his face toward hers again. “Better you devise the scenario, and I follow along, as is my wont.”

“James,” she said softly, pulling back just enough to try and make out his expression, “if something is the matter, say so.”

He shook his head.

“Nothing is the matter,” he said, and he cupped her chin in his hand affectionately to prove it. “I’ve had a lot of time to think on it, and I have come to find it- a comfort, of sorts. It’s familiar, in its way. Directives, duties…” Wryly, he added, “Before long I expect you’ll have fashioned me a uniform.”

“Dog’s head buckles,” she reminded him, and she kissed him.

“Like a coat of arms,” James murmured. When he kissed her in turn, he could only hope his week-old beard did not scratch her too terribly. It was, of course, a silly concern. She liked his beard, and cupped his cheek to hold him closer.

“I don’t want to just give you - more of the same, you know-”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “you have seen what I am like in the absence of the same.”

“True,” she said, with a gentle laugh. “And yet somehow there is still so much ass-kicking either way,” and she tousled his hair. Short as it was, it was actually beginning to show its growth far more evidently week by week now than it ever had worn long, and there was by now too much of it to fit neatly under a wig anymore without arranging it. He was beginning to look rather more like a common sailor than a Navy officer, present or former.

“Well,” he said, “I believe the point stands nonetheless. It’s… easier this way, I think. I’m used to living by defined parameters.”

“So am I, but I didn’t like it,” she pointed out, and laughed as she kissed him again. “We must find some way to meet in the middle.”

“I’m best suited to this kind of structure,” James protested. “It’s… well, it’s a purpose.”

“It’s a what,” she asked in glee.

“It’s something by which I can order my life.”

“Those aren’t the same thing-”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “you are the only thing left in the world about which I care enough to do that.”

Elizabeth was a little overcome, but it manifested in the only way she knew how to show it - in delight. She kissed him - tried to topple him, in fact.

“Elizabeth-“

There wasn’t much room in the cabin. James hit the bed with a thump, startled into laughter.

“My God-“

“Don’t go that far,” she teased him, to which he rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“You’re going to make me break the bed-“

“I would have you on the floor, if I had to,” she said smoothly. “Though I don’t fancy explaining to Barbossa what happened to his guest room-”

“I scarcely fit on the bed the other night as it is,” he said pointedly.

“You’re a lot of man.”

“You haven’t much basis for comparison,” he conceded modestly. Elizabeth slid off him, laughing. It was less immediately fun than kissing was, but it was not so bad, once the mood had settled, to be lying on a bed with someone with the mid-afternoon sun drifting in through a window and your hand stroking their cheek.

And when they were not presently talking, James got a look in his eyes that he only gave her - like he did not believe what he saw, but wanted to. She had willfully ignored that before. She supposed she hadn’t liked feeling guilty about it. She felt guilty about it still, but it was worth a twinge or two of that to look at him, looking at her.

“Is that all you meant to clear up, then?” he asked.

“That I don’t fancy her? Yeah,” she said with a snort in concession to her own foolishness. Her hand slid down from his face, her fingers dragging over his throat, as she moved to lay it over his heart. Jones’ was beating nearby, but that wasn’t the heartbeat she wanted to feel.

“If you did,” he said carefully, “I doubt there would be much I could do about it.”

“There would be something I could do about it,” said Elizabeth, her own pulse quickening. Her eyes moved from her hand on his heart to his eyes, looking fierce, and perhaps a little desperate. “James, you don’t think I’d-?”

“You left your husband on my account,” he sighed. “I am aware that this is by no means a conventional arrangement.”

“I didn’t-” Her anguish showed on her face and smothered whatever words she wanted to say. She couldn’t even think of any.

“Elizabeth,” he began, as he reached out to touch her face, then thought better of it. “Have I spoken out of turn?”

“You don’t think that I’m just some - I’m just faithless - I’m just looking for a good time and with anybody, do you-”

“I never said that,” James interrupted. “Nor do I believe it.”

Elizabeth was so upset and rattled by this that she needed to be embraced, immediately. James was quick to oblige.

“It is only that your separation was so sudden, that I don’t know what I may fairly… hold you to,” he said, in the same cautious tone.

“If Will had not left - if Will had asked me to choose,” said Elizabeth quietly, “I was going to… I was going to stop with you both.”

“Ah,” said James. “I- well.”

He had no idea what to say to that, so he decided not to try. It wasn’t much, he knew- it was at worst a confirmation of what he already feared, but he wanted a bottle like a man dying of thirst.

It was fortunate, at least, that he still wanted it less than he wanted Elizabeth.

“You will still have my loyalty, of course-“ he began.

“I don’t want someone else,” she said quickly, talking over him.

“Are you certain?”

“I know I couldn’t choose before - I’m sorry for that,” she said, still speaking quickly, and trying, perhaps somewhat wretchedly, to comfort him by smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “But God, if I loved you any less, I would have shut it away for good, I would have stayed with Will and I would never have let you know. I tried to. I couldn’t - and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to.”

“Elizabeth,” he sighed. “Please don’t apologize. You know I had relinquished our relationship, such as it ever was, that night on the Dutchman.”

“Did you? It seems to me you renewed it - such as it ever was. Or perhaps it started then.” She pressed the top of her head up against his chin, shutting her eyes with her face so near his throat the lashes brushed against his skin.

“Mm. What would the crew think if they saw you like this?”

“Don’t care.”

“Not that I am ungrateful,” he said, burying his hand in her hair and rubbing the back of her neck, “but I would hate to see you endanger your standing with a midday tumble in your dog’s arms.”

“‘I have a headache,’” she moaned in preparation, pressing her forehead against him pathetically. “‘Ooh, I think my head’s going to explode-’”

“So you come to your drunken dog for relief?” James retorted, not unfondly, and tenderly smoothing her hair back as though she really were in pain all the same.

“Maybe I need a very special medicine-”

“You say that and they’ll assume you mean tincture of laudanum, coming to me.”

“Maybe I do. Oh, James, why can’t you shut up, I was trying to be nice-” she said affectionately.

“Because you have a reputation you told me you must maintain on pain of death- God help me, Lizzy, I know what that’s like.”

He didn’t emphasize this by sitting up for fear of dislodging her, but he lifted his head enough to hopefully convey the seriousness of the situation.

“What kind of gap do you think exists between what they think we are doing in here and what we are doing in here?” she asked in some annoyance. “As if anyone would be surprised that we are in bed.”

“I don’t want to cause you any greater trouble than my lassitude already has,” James said. “Please.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, got to a sitting position and gestured at him to stay where he was. Then she took him by the wrists and straddled him. The movement seemed… abrupt.

“Now may I have a serious conversation with you without fearing for my God damn reputation?”

James slowly looked her over as well as he could from his position, eyes widening.

“Er. Yes, I suppose this will do-“

“Will it?” she asked, pinning his wrists to the mattress on either side of his head. It wasn’t a particularly uncomfortable position to have him in. “Because if not I shall begin to insist we spend every minute of our alone time with you bent over something just in case someone walks in on it.”

“Elizabeth-“

“That a yes, dog?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

She brought one hand up to her mouth and kissed the palm of it before pressing it over her own heart and holding it there. An apology.

“I meant to say earlier, I do not attempt to paint myself better than I am: I did not really choose you. But James, I would. I would now. Do you believe me?”

He wanted to.

He wasn’t sure.

“Of course,” he said, without hesitation.

She smiled somewhat painfully. She didn’t believe him. But she leaned down and kissed him all the same.

“Just tell me what you need from me,” James murmured between kisses, “and I will do it…”

“Tell me, James,” she sighed, letting his other hand go so that he could, hopefully, touch her with it. Her grip on his other she maintained, entwining their fingers, rubbing her thumb over his fingers, bidding him feel her heartbeat. “What is it like, to possess the heart of the most dangerous person on the sea?”

He slid his fingers into her hair.

“It is a tremendous burden that I know has placed me in harm’s way,” he said softly, gazing up at her, “but which I would not trade for the world…”

Fuck her reputation.

Elizabeth dropped down to embrace him again, and she was trembling with gratitude. James, misunderstanding, pushed up in alarm.

“Elizabeth?”

“Hold me, James-”

“Ssh- I’m here. Tell me what’s frightened you, sweetheart-“

“Nothing-” Realizing where he had misunderstood her, she willed herself to relax into his arms and pushed herself up just enough to press kisses all over his face.

“Elizabeth-“

He didn’t exactly mind being kissed, but something about it was still hitting a false note.

“Elizabeth, please-“

“What is it?”

“Are you all right? You’re shaking,” he said, taking her hand in his own, which was thankfully steady now that his drinking tremors had passed.

She leaned up just enough to look down at him and see his face, smiling ruefully.

“I don’t deserve your love, but I want it,” she said, releasing the hand of his she held so that she could gently cup his face instead. She brushed her thumb over the new beard developing on his handsome jawline as she kissed his open mouth.

“I suppose-“

He didn’t get to finish the sentence; kissing her was better than that, and her hair and the back of her neck were both in easy caressing distance.

The longer they did this, the likelier it became that someone would come looking for them, and the harder it became to stop. Eventually Elizabeth decided that there was an easy explanation - she could say they were eating their lunch, the hour was late enough - and then realized that the best way to actually implement that was to acquire lunch so that they could eat it and then resume whatever they were doing. Also, she didn’t want James to go without food for very long; she thought it seemed likely to agitate his desire to drink.

The reluctantly agreed to part ways and then do just that, spending some time actually captaining before reconvening with food. Elizabeth thought she would get the eating over and done with quickly, on account of being hungrier for something else entirely. It turned out she was, mostly, just hungry. She sat with him on the bed, one leg proprietarily over his leg, eating from a large platter she’d assembled for them both. It was nothing fancy, in spite of their captain status; it was the same thing everyone else ate, plus some of Barbossa’s fruit.

“Are we packing more provisions at the witch’s house?” James asked, after swallowing a bit of what had been ostentatiously marked as PROSCIUTTO DI PARMA but was plainly the same salted pork he was already used to from his time in the Navy. On reflection, he wasn’t sure if there was actually much of a difference between Prosciutto di Parma and salt pork, but he had to concede that he didn’t have enough of a finely developed palate to entirely know the difference- though it did seem just like Barbossa to stock the ship with salt pork under a more impressive name.

It was the oranges that were of more interest to him- they were small, of course, not like the fist-sized delicacies he’d occasionally eaten in Jamaica, but very sweet, and capable of being peeled without a knife. All he had to do was dig his thumbnail into the peel and pull, and it came away in thick, sweet-smelling flakes that could be saved and dried to grate for-

Well, perhaps not rum, in his case, but they would probably still lend a good taste to water they were boiled in. He tried not to think about rum by breaking up the little orange and offering Elizabeth a wedge.

Elizabeth smirked at him, took his wrist and ate the slice from his fingers, though gracefully enough that she started to laugh at herself.

“There,” he teased. “If the rumors are true, there’s another six weeks of good health for you.”

“I’ve heard other rumors,” she said primly. “Perhaps I ought to spend some alone time with our Spanish lady.”

This took James a moment, after which his eyes rolled directly back into his head to the point of nearly going white. Elizabeth started giggling and tapping him on the ribs with her fingertips.

“I haven’t even given you a proper demonstration of that,” he said, pointing at her to emphasize it, “so good luck with that.”

(This was about as filthy as he could yet tolerate being with Elizabeth.)

“I think it would be fairly intuitive. I can empathize; you can’t.”

He paused, about to ask exactly how knowledgeable her empathy was, and then looked at her hand and decided against it.

“I do not see what is meant to be so distracting about her. I have yet to have so much as a clear view of her face with that hat in the way.”

Elizabeth made a cupping gesture over her own chest and looked at him in disbelief. James, in turn, gestured as though grabbing coat lapels that covered anything beneath them.

“Christ’s wounds,” said Elizabeth in near scorn, “what did you see in me? Do you have eyes?”

“You were already a dear friend,” James said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. “Not everyone pays attention to these things, Elizabeth. If I went noticing every time a handsome woman walked in front of me I would accomplish nothing but proving the worst ideas about the Navy to be incontrovertible-“

Elizabeth wanted to roll her eyes at him, but she realized she had managed to overlook his entire descent into bearded, open-shirted beauty the first time he’d sported it and that it was relatively easy to do.

“I give you permission,” she said, carefully and chastely, “to notice her. And report back to me on it, will you?”

“And then what?” James demanded in exasperation. “Is it not enough to concede that the woman is good-looking?”

“Maybe I will make you tell me your fantasies,” asked Elizabeth, teasing him and moving gingerly to her side. Her leg remained over his, but now she slid it underneath the other, which somehow seemed even more intimate.

“So now I’ve been tasked with inventing fantasies,” he said, giving her a very flat look up from his orange.

“Do you not have fantasies? You’re a- used to be - a naval officer. What else could you have done with your nights?” In spite of the topic, Elizabeth’s frown was more curious than salacious.

“I slept,” he said stiffly. “I made plans. I wrote in my log- what, do you suppose I had time to dwell on carnal matters-”

“Who doesn’t have time for a little bit of dwelling-”

“There’s little point in dwelling when one is three weeks from port!”

“It was a euphemism!”

“I had to be prepared for someone to come knocking on my cabin door at all hours,” said James, with an attempt at firm dignity. “It was not… prudent, to prioritize such matters.”

“They could hardly be surprised - they’d have been doing it, too.”

“Yes,” he said patiently, “but as an example-”

“Of what, impotence?”

“You are in a uniquely suited position to know otherwise,” said James, just before he tipped back a tin cup of a disappointing mixture of coconut water and lemon juice.

“Just the thing to recommend you to a girl’s father. ‘Sir, I am capable, yet wholly sexless. I do not notice contours of any kind-’”

“Elizabeth-”

“What a wedding night,” she said, casting him an amused, but detached look - not a cruel one, but one unsympathetic enough to unintentionally hurt - as she sipped her own cup and pulled a face, bearing it well, especially for a lady raised on teacakes and prime cuts. “No fantasies to speak of, just your good Navy enthusiasm for doing your duty-”

“I told you,” he said, with an annoyed, forced evenness, “I practiced.”

“Good. It sounds as though you need to.”

“Most men do, if Lettie’s word is to be trusted.”

“Not at pleasuring themselves,” she said dismissively.

“Why do you want this so close to my mind?” James blurted.

“I’d flattered myself you’d wanted me,” she said, a touch bitter, and then surprised at that. “That’s all.”

“Of course I wanted to marry you,” James said, frowning.

“Oh, you idiot,” she said, now in real irritation, flushing and feebly kicking him.

“Elizabeth-”

He had to cover his cup to keep it from spilling.

“And what do husbands and wives do, do you know that part?”

“Yes,” he said in frustration. “That’s why I sought out lessons.”

“But you never thought about - about it?”

He shrugged.

“It seemed… uncouth.”

She stared at him.

“Thinking in such a manner, of a woman who had not yet made herself available in such a way…” he said, spreading his hands apologetically.

“Nothing?”

“I suppose I thought of… kissing you,” he admitted. “Carrying you into the bedroom-”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, turning pink, and glanced aside. But after a moment she stole a look back at him and said, “Really?” She smiled involuntarily, only for a moment, before composing her expression as casually as possible.

“That seemed suitable,” he said. “Acceptable.”

“And - what did you - What did you imagine to be my reaction-”

“I suppose I hoped you might lean your head on my shoulder-” He gestured to the specific place, just beyond his neck.

Elizabeth felt like she was, strangely, vibrating - like a phone ringing on silent. “Do you remember - do you remember walking with me in the garden at my father’s house-”

“I’m ashamed to say I have dwelled upon it, in my lower moments,” he said, eyes averted.

“Why did you try nothing? You never even took my hand-”

He looked up at her again.

“I did not wish to be overzealous in my affections.”

“You didn’t have any zeal.”

“Or so you believed.”

“So you showed!”

“It would have been unseemly to do otherwise!”

“More fool you,” she said coolly, though the momentary flash of anger in her eyes was all heat. “I do think you had a chance then.”

James stared at her, stunned into silence.

“Well,” he said finally. “There is little point in regretting that at this late date-”

“You didn’t think about it at all?” Elizabeth interrupted him, swiftly and in enough agitation to reveal how personally wounded she felt by it. “You didn’t - nothing?”

“I didn’t think about that with anyone!” James retorted.

“But you wanted to marry me-”

“I don’t- Elizabeth, I don’t dwell on such things. I never have-”

She looked hurt, she felt foolish for looking hurt, and she tried to end the conversation, or her part of it, by taking the last swallows of the tasteless anti-scurvy concoction, but it only invited comparison to all the prim sips of tea she’d sipped across a delicate wooden table from this man in well-bred company and know that his eye had never once slipped over her décolletage.

“I- the few times it occurred to me, I pushed it away. It seemed a grotesque violation,” said James.

“It - it did occur to you, though?” asked Elizabeth, wanting to stop herself from seeming too vain and pathetic, and undercutting it with her smile of relief.

“The thought of you taking your hair down-”

Elizabeth’s mouth opened, and the blood rushed to her face. She avoided his eyes, but hers were wide.

“-I had to shut it out,” he said, too quickly. “The- the implied intimacy-”

“You’re making me wish I wore it up again,” she said with a nervous laugh. It died on her dry lips as she looked at him.

“No, you don’t,” he said ruefully. “I drank to dull the thought of it.”

“I suppose it isn’t the same when I braid it up, is it.”

“It’s different now,” he said. “And we have already been rather intimate.”

“I know,” she said; “but only twice.”

“Only twice!”

“Are you counting more than once in one day? I am counting by days-”

“And that’s leaving off Tortuga-”

She flushed yet again. “Yes, there is that, but- James, I-” She broke off and bit her lip, smiling down at the abandoned rest of their luncheon, feeling a greater fool than she had accused him of being.

“Yes?”

He reached for her hand. That only embarrassed her further, when moments ago she had been accusing him of not wanting to touch her enough.

“I know I may be a king of pirates, and a rather undeserving captain, to boot- but I still have all the vanities of a lady,” she said with a rueful, but sincere smile, still looking down, now focusing her attention on their hands, as she rubbed her thumb over the back of his.

“Why, then, do you wish for me to pay more attention to the Spanish girl?” he asked, genuinely baffled. “I love you, Elizabeth. I love you.”

She looked at him abruptly, a lost and wondering look in her eyes. James smiled for a quick moment, but it fell just as quickly as he returned to his plate.

“I just want….” she began, but she couldn’t finish, and withdrew her hand. The moment seemed to have passed very quickly, but she had lost her appetite for their meal, which was not particularly flavorful, anyway. She saw why their men enjoyed their rum so much, and made a compartmentalized mental note to herself to find something to alleviate that when they were back from this latest mess of Jack’s.

He watched her, and while it occurred to him to ask what she meant, he feared that would seem graceless and prying even now. He touched her knee instead, with a look of concern. She looked quickly up at him and smiled again; it was a reflex, but it was sincere, though it had a lot in common with smiles she had given him in years past that had been more than a little pained.

“...what all women want,” she said quietly. “Pirate King or not. To be wanted. And beautiful. I feel…. If it is a choice, of course I will choose my freedom. It is a pretty poor trade, to imprison all women and tell them that they inspire poems and paintings and whatever. But I did not realize what I might miss from that life until you returned to me and I saw myself through your eyes.”

“I would never have satisfied you on that account,” he said, moving his hand away. “I do not- I feel as though any inclinations of an artistic nature I might once have had were stunted, burned out. You should have seen the poetry I once wrote Mrs. Fenton.”

He made a rueful little scoffing noise.

“I never gave it to her. Nor, do I think, were any about the woman herself, so you needn’t feel jealous of that.”

“No, that isn’t what I meant-” she said in frustration. “All women, including your Mrs. Fenton - we’re only ever allowed to be beautiful and married. And we don’t have a choice in that matter - well, if we do, we invite the world’s judgment. That’s the only way to do anything, as a girl. If you’re beautiful or if you marry well. It’s even worse for women like Giselle. She’s not exactly been courted by commodores,” she said moodily, tossing her empty cup onto the floor, where it clattered. “Not unless you mean so very euphemistically. Well, I’m not sorry I chose this over that. I just didn’t realize until you got here that I would miss any of it. The nicer bits. The ones that are supposed to make up for the crap.”

James watched her for a long moment.

“...I didn’t realize,” he said softly. “I thought you were in your element here.”

“I want to think so,” she said with a quiet, harsh laugh. “Sometimes I feel as out of place as I ever did in Port Royal, though. I like it best when you’re here. You’re my people, James. You’re not Port Royal - not really - and you’re not really pirate, either. But making do. And it suits you, but you haven’t gotten there yet. Like me -”

He nearly protested that he wasn’t making do as much as he was finding the only use he had left, but if even a little of that use was to make her feel less useless and out of place by her own reckoning, it wasn’t that terrible, he supposed. Instead of reaching for her hand, which he supposed would read as a weak and sexless gesture after everything they had just discussed, he moved the tray aside and picked up another orange, meeting her eyes as he did.

He peeled it, broke off another little wedge, and held it out to her lips between his fingertips.

“You’re doing a better job than you think.”

This time she held onto his hand, and kept her eyes on his as she accepted the orange. It did not have the amusing undercurrent it had had earlier. She took it as an apology, though she expected neither of them fully knew what he needed to apologize for - possibly every dim thing that had passed between them in another lifetime. She also felt that the brush of his thumb against the inside of her upper lip sent a chill down her back even in the Caribbean climate, and when she had swallowed the orange she kept her hand on his - fingers on his palm, thumb at the back of his hand- and kissed his knuckles, returning his gaze again.

“I know that this may not be of any reassurance,” he said, “but I only feel as though I’ve truly made your acquaintance out here, as you- as we are, presently. I believe that in turn my affection has only increased.”

He hazarded a smile. Elizabeth reached out and brushed her thumb over that smile, entwining the fingers of her other hand with the hand of his she held.

“I feel as though I’ve met you for the first time, and yet as if I’ve known you forever, better and longer than I’ve ever known anyone,” she said in wonder. “I can’t explain it. It as though knowing you now illuminates every single thing you’ve ever said or done before. And now I recall things that irritated me or bored me in the past, and I see them differently, and I love you for them - as if I always had. That’s funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s encouraging,” he said, laughing.

“Is that what it is for you, too?”

“It’s a welcome reminder of continuity,” said James, “to know that you see me as an improved continuation of my prior life, rather than the ruins of it. For me, watching you- it is like watching a rose bush become a bower and climb over the walls of the manor house that once kept it trimmed and arranged for display.”

“That’s poetry, James,” she pointed out, but she let go of him.

She wanted to put these dishes on the floor.

And then she wanted to rest her head exactly where he’d said he had once thought of. That one little concession to her aforementioned vanity - telling her that.

“You’re right,” she said, with a sigh of contentment, shutting her eyes. “It wouldn’t have been appropriate to think of any more than this, not when I wasn’t yours. But it would be nice - it would be nice to know I had inspired that. Back when I was still capable of being pretty. When I was supposed to be.”

“You are far lovelier now than you were then,” he murmured. “There is a joy in your eyes you once pointedly lacked.”

“That’s also poetry.”

“Nothing very good, though, is it?” he laughed.

“Second-rate poems, for a second-rate mistress,” she said with a bitter laugh of her own. “It suits me fine.”

“You’re far too lethal to be counted as a second rate,” James said dryly.

She still looked morose, but she couldn’t grudge him a smile. “Yeah. I did a fairly good job of ruining your life, after all. Now you’re stuck with me.”

“Elizabeth,” he sighed, “I was already a-“

He swallowed.

“Elizabeth. Listen to me. I was a pirate-hunting drunk who had most likely reached the end of his promotional ladder when I brought you into that battlement and asked for your hand. All right? Does that assuage you? If the Admiralty had any faith in my ongoing prospects, they would have sent me off to the Channel, or at least out to deal with French ships off of Jamaica, not pirates. I’m not even the youngest to have made Commodore. They gave that to Keppel only a few months past, and he’s of an age with you, I believe, and created a viscount besides. That’s what they do for men with futures. I’m not- I wasn’t the great, promising leader you thought. I was only ever the… the backup system, and already in my cups when you weren’t looking. You ruined nothing- because looking back, there was nothing to ruin. I did not see it then, but it is plain now.”

He said this firmly- almost fiercely- and made his point by kissing her at its conclusion. She had been angry enough at what he said to be thoroughly thrown off by that, but after accepting the kiss for just a moment, she took his face in her hands and pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

“My father didn’t think so,” she said defiantly, and made her point by kissing him.

“Your father probably believed I would eventually follow him into the governor’s mansion,” James shot back when he could free his mouth long enough to say so, and then kissing her again to smother her argument.

“And- mm-” Elizabeth was faring worse than he was, having no practice, as he apparently had, at stifling her libido, and presently wanting him very much to keep his mouth where it was, “-you- might’ve- done-”

“I’m- mm- hardly a political animal-“

“I suppose he thought-- “ Elizabeth was nearly panting, she so struggled to kiss him and speak at once that she forgot to breathe. “-- I’d do it for you--”

“Pr- probably-“

Elizabeth put her hand between his thighs while slipping her tongue into his mouth with a moan of resignation. James smirked against her mouth and did what little he could under the circumstances to move himself back from her hand, teasing her. Elizabeth reached forward for him enough to lose her balance, narrowly avoiding a painful collision of their faces but unable to evade making an idiot of herself as she fell onto his chest.

James laughed affectionately and helped her up.

“You really ought to be more patient.”

“I can’t,” she entreated, putting her hands on his arms and sliding them upwards, pulling herself closer into his lap in the process. “I spend every moment I can spare thinking on your beautiful face -- and the last place you put it--”

“Not bad for capable yet sexless, was it?” he said pointedly.

“You win,” she wheedled, nuzzling him. “You win, darling. You’re all man, every inch-”

“You haven’t had every inch yet,” he reminded her.

“I’ve seen it,” she said, sliding her hand up his thigh again, and tilting her head up to look into his eyes. “Every inch.”

James crossed his legs.

“Patience is a virtue.”

“Pirate,” she reminded him, her lips smiling against his.

“Even so-”

“Do you really not want me?” she asked, hands resting on his knees, tilting her head.

“Of course I want you,” he said, leaning forward to claim her mouth.

“Then why don’t you want me?” she asked softly.

“I do-”

He put his hand on hers.

“-but not right now.”

“I can entice you, if you like…” she said, bringing his hand to her throat and pressing his palm over her collarbone.

“In the middle of the day?” he asked, leaning closer.

“Oh- shit- that’s right,” she said, breaking the mood so abruptly and wincing at her own stupidity such that she did not see him blinking. “I forgot to tell you - Giselle wants to have a little all-girls party and I offered up the cabin as a meeting place. There’s nowhere else we can actually seclude ourselves.”

“Why are you asking me?” James asked, taking her hands. “It’s your cabin.”

“I’m not asking you,” she said wryly, kissing him on the cheek. “You’re being informed. Unfortunately…”

“Well,” he said, “some of us can wait.”

He kissed her again, as though his cheek were not enough. She accepted the kiss, but did not deepen it, because she wanted to argue that point.

“But why should we have to, when we are here together now…”

“For the sake of your reputation, at the very least,” James said insistently, leaning his forehead against hers. His eye was less bloodshot now- the pooled blood had receded, and was replaced by a small pink filigree burst.

“I don’t think it harms my reputation to abscond into my cabin after lunch to make my mistress service me,” she argued. “Barbossa spends his free time training a monkey and sewing it its own little outfits!”

“Then allow me to service you,” he said pointedly. “Let me tend to you, as your dog.”

She closed one hand into a fist and weakly pressed it against his chest, where she unfurled it and sadly rubbed her fingers over his collarbone.

“That isn’t what I want, James.”

“What… precisely… do you want, then, Elizabeth?” he asked, tipping her face up to his.

She tilted her head enough to kiss his thumb, then shut her eyes and lean into his hand.

“It’s my turn. I want to taste you.”

“Are you certain that’s wise, Your Majesty? Anyone could come in here, cameras blazing-”

“They had better not,” she said, kissing his palm affectionately. “Tell me you don’t want me to, and I’ll stop. I’m not trying to make you-”

“It’s your standing that I’m worried about,” he said as he moved his hand to cup her cheek instead. “You’ve much more to lose- as both King, and as a woman.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to come in, and besides - if they do we can very easily pretend I’m doing something else-”

“And what would that be-”

“Come on,” she said, eye-rolling. She did not elaborate. “Besides, I hate to shock you, but if anyone came into my cabin without even knocking first, I would shoot him regardless of what I were doing. That would uphold my reputation.”

“I’m afraid I’m not exactly prepared,” he retorted.

“For what?”

He gestured down between his legs, rolling his eyes at the indignity of having to indicate this.

“I don’t expect that to last. You adore me.”

“Of course I do,” he said indignantly. “But the timing at present-“

“What, you can’t get it up when the sun is?” she asked, baffled. “Come lie down with me and we’ll kiss for a while, then…”

“If her majesty insists,” said James, with an exaggerated seated bow. “But this might take some time. I feel you ought to be forewarned.”

“It’s good enough to be kissing,” said Elizabeth, visibly perking up at the implication that they would. “Do you mind if I- get a little more comfortable-”

“Be my guest-“

Elizabeth shrugged off a number of accessories - belts, a waistcoat, a lot of weapons - until she wore just her trousers and her shirt, then she enthusiastically kissed him - pulling herself close and throwing a leg over his lap. James startled and had to lean back on one arm to keep her from knocking the both of them over, but he put his other arm around her and deepened the kiss. Elizabeth rested her arms on his shoulders, playing with his hair while she kissed him.

“What are you doing up there,” he murmured, without much rebuke in his voice.

“I like it here,” she said with a sleepy-sounding, very contented laugh. “Touch me. That’s an order.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” James sighed in affected weariness. “If I may speak in my defense, I never noticed any contours in Port Royal largely because a woman’s dress and all of that underlying scaffolding does not leave much contour to notice in the first place, save a bit of exaggerated bosom. This, now, on the other hand…”

It felt forward to admit, even now, with her flopped against him and her mass of loosened hair falling freely, but he did as he was told and slid his hand against her side, through her thin shirt.

“God help me, Elizabeth,” he said, fully aware of the type of teasing this was inviting. “I… I like you very much in men’s clothing.”

Elizabeth’s eyes, shut to better savor the touch of his hands, opened wide at the specifics of that, startling her into laughing. “Good Lord, I hope that is not to imply I look enough like a boy for you-”

“It’s quite the opposite, really,” he said. “Women in stays all have the same sort of shape. I feel I can form a greater… appreciation this way.”

He showed her what he meant with an appreciative slip of the hand to meet her bosom over the shirt. It took her by surprise. In spite of what they’d been up to now - approaching nearly a month of being up to, in fact - she still reacted to being touched with a startling degree of innocence.

“To say nothing of your legs- with a skirt and panniers you might as well be rolling about on casters-”

“You think I don’t - ohh, James.”

She kissed him, distractedly.

“Mm- what’s that?”

“I hated those skirts,” she whispered affectionately, trying to get closer to him without hindering him at the same time.

“Did you? I never noticed- at least not once you were no longer a girl-”

“Yes, I finally conquered it,” Elizabeth laughed. “Womanhood - the whole mess-”

“I rather assumed if we married that you’d end up in breeches eventually,” he admitted, “being at sea and all that.”

“Is that something you thought about?” she asked, with a curious frown.

He blanched, eyes widening.

“-here and there-” he said, rather quickly.

Elizabeth bit her lower lip, but it did not disguise her smile of contentment. She wasn’t smug; she was too sincerely happy to hear it for that.

“I suppose you’re closer now to the ideal I had for our future than you ever were in Port Royal,” James said, a little helplessly. “Does that reassure you?”

“It does.”

“Good,” he said softly. “I feared you might find it… perverse, in some way.”

“After everything I just said to you?” she teased him - gently; he seemed delicate now.

“Especially after your fear that I prefer you as a boy-“

“I mean, I seem to have made a rather convincing one, without too much alteration to my appearance-” she said with a rueful laugh.

“With your head held down, in an outsized coat,” he reminded her, peppering the sentence with tiny kisses intended to reassure her, “and your hair in a queue, with whatever possessed you to do this-“

He touched one of the shorter locks of hair that still fell around her face. At the time he referred to, they had been a short fringe that fell only as far as her cheekbones.

He did not bring up that he had been miserably drunk when he first failed to recognize her.

“I wonder what I looked like when I first heard you,” she said, trying to suppress her laughter and succeeding only insofar as it sounded like she was suppressing a series of coughs. “It must have been something - I could not believe it at first -”

“I didn’t notice,” he said darkly. “I was somewhat preoccupied, as you might recall.”

“I was around the pillar from you. I couldn’t see you. I came in right in the middle of it.”

“Oh, don’t remind me-”

“Your voice,” she said, touching his throat and gazing at him, eyes not fully focused. “It took a moment to understand I was really hearing it, but you’re unmistakeable.”

“So I’ve been told,” he groaned. “I was not incognito for very long after they left me there.”

But despite this unpleasant reminder, he had no intention of letting this bog down their time together. His hands found the lacing of her shirt and untied it.

She gasped. That plucked her out of her memories, and how.

“It’s harder to ignore this, too,” James murmured, opening the lacing to expose her bosom.

“Well, now that I’ve stopped wearing jumps, I imagine-” she said in an attempt to seem still very composed, ruined entirely by her inability to breathe.

“Even in jumps,” he objected. “Though I can’t say I mind this- it’s not like stays, of course it shows in stays-”

“I’m flattered,” she said, flatly, but not flattered.

“And honestly, if one lives with enough men for long enough, stays lose their charm,” he added dryly. “That’s something I suppose you’ve been spared living among pirates- the spectacle of everything men have under their clothes-”

“I don’t have the slimmest fraction of an idea of what you mean,” she said flatly. “James, where - pray tell, if you know, if you’ve noticed - are the men, with whom I travel, from?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” he said, waving it off. “That’s why you’ve never seen a man’s stays, or his stock-padding, or anything of that nature. That quite destroyed any eroticism a woman’s underthings might have had for me.”

“So you’re telling me I have more of an appreciation for that than you have.”

“I reckon so,” he said cautiously.

“I suppose it’s different, being one,” she said, with more nostalgic reflection than she realized. “Everything that’s a burden to wear on oneself is a joy to complain about with other girls.”

“It’s the one thing I was spared, I imagine, being put to sea so young,” he said, with a brief laugh. “The admiral saw no point in having me trussed up as a boy, and I suppose as I grew older I was too proud to go in for any of that.”

“Nothing would fit anyway,” Elizabeth remarked economically.

“That too,” he said flatly.

“Do you think you like women less because you’ve seen them so seldom?”

James frowned.

“What are you talking about? Of course I’m fond of women-”

“Perhaps in some kind of eccentric manner,” she said. “Haven’t you sort of noticed your feelings, as you describe them, are morbidly cool? I think I have shown more enthusiasm, and I am a woman-”

“I had other matters- other goals on which to train my sight,” he said vaguely.

“But for recreation-”

“I… I did seek it out from time to time, in port,” he said carefully. “To… relax. It was a far sight better than fumbling in the dark below deck-”

“It just seems to be - unusual,” said Elizabeth, choosing her words carefully, and noticing with dismay she had apparently driven him from his affections, “for a man to disdain every single female practice with an object of attracting men.”

“It never struck me as important,” he said. “Merely incidental.”

Elizabeth leaned her head cautiously on his shoulder, looking almost troubled.

“Would you like me to continue?” he asked, sitting up. “Elizabeth- please don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. I find you to be- well. Probably the loveliest woman I have ever met-“

Elizabeth flushed very suddenly, startled out of a reminiscence that resembled a daydream in most ways to be reminded of the present in only the most pleasing manner possible.

“Oh, James. That’s - I cannot imagine why, and you knew me all throughout my gargoyle years, too-”

“Your- Elizabeth, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, taking her into his arms again reassuringly, with his hand in her hair to match. “Gargoyle years?”

“Comedic exaggeration-” Elizabeth was almost affronted for a moment that he had read her as being so self-deprecating, but then again, if James had said something similar, he would have meant it. “Mostly in that I was a terror, and I heartily embraced it.”

“I dare say you’re back to that,” he teased, “but rather prettier this time-“

“It took a while to grow into my chin,” she said primly.

He kissed it, pointedly, and she burst into graceless laughter - probably spitting on him in the process.

“Stop!”

“I suppose you did. I never thought of it with that level of exactitude.”

“After all that you’ve told me,” she said, in fond exasperation, but with an emphasis on the exasperation, “I am amazed you ever noticed anything.”

“Perhaps if you’d dressed more like this,” he said, “I may have had a greater recognition that I would be far worse at concealing-“

“Dressed like one of your navy lads?” she said, smirking.

“If you insist on putting it that way, yes,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“If I could have, I would have,” she said, realizing the moment the words left her lips how true it was.

She had wanted a lot of things, as she burned candles to nubs in her room at night trying to finish lurid pamphlets about pirates, dry books about ancient societies and illustrated texts about insects or whatever else it was she did as a child, and all of them represented the same thing to

her - freedom from everything she was being raised to be. She had stolen Estrella’s clothes more than once to travel into town incognito and if she could have pretended to be a boy the way she later had on the Edinburgh Trader, she realized, she would have - not merely for the greater freedom, but for the greater comfort as well.

“I endeavor to strike a better balance, in the future, between men and women’s dress,” she admitted, “and English and Chinese dress, too, for that matter - but for the time being - it’s bare breasts and trousers, all the way-”

“You know,” he said, pulling her down toward him, “this is exactly why I love you.”

Elizabeth gasped in affronted delight, then kissed him.

“I’m rather glad, though, that in your pursuit of that you didn’t deprive the world of this,” he added, lightly gripping her hair.

She shut her eyes, very briefly.

“Now that is my greatest vanity, and I cannot joke about it,” she said, clearly joking anyway, though she looked solemn.

“I don’t mean to suggest you would have been diminished without it,” he said, just as solemnly, “but I would have missed it all the same.”

He kissed a tress of it to emphasize his point.

“It’s permitted-” she laughed.

“Hm?” He was moving on to her neck now.

“It’s - oooh.” She shut her eyes and leaned into it. Between this and the placement of his hand, she did not know that she could form another sentence.

“I’m not certain I follow, Your Majesty,” he said as he settled on her collarbone. She bobbed in his lap like a piece of driftwood, trying, simultaneously, to stay situated where it would be most pleasant, and to get his mouth on as much of her skin as possible, but he was so damn tall.

“James,” she complained.

“Mm?”

“You have no right to be so good at this-”

“On account of the sexlessness?” he said dryly.

“Yes-” Whether that was a response, though, or a slip in her composure, was unclear.

“How flattering,” he said, kissing between her breasts.

“Does this - does this bother you-” Elizabeth shut her eyes tightly and hoped he said it didn’t; she didn’t know what she would do if he stopped.

“Which part-“

“The part where we aren’t- married-”

“Elizabeth- I don’t think we ever shall be-“

“I know, but you’ve always been so proper,” she said. The irony of saying this astride his lap and panting heavily was not lost on her. She reached for his hand and squeezed it over her breast, then pulled his head back by what little grip she could get on his hair and began to return the favor, kissing his throat, despite the beard.

James tensed and inhaled sharply.

“Pulling already-“

“It’s long enough-”

“Lovely,” he said dryly, though without totally losing his momentum. “Elizabeth-“

“Darling?”

“Give me a bit of warning next time, will you?”

“Oh, all right - next time I’ll just -”

She took his chin and jerked his head back - not hard, but suddenly. Then it was her turn to lavish attention on his collarbones.

“Thanks-“

He hissed a little.

“They didn’t do that so often in Tortuga-“

“Oh, darling -” She straightened enough to kiss him softly on the mouth. “ -- I’m sorry.”

“You’d no way of knowing.”

“Still stands.”

He kissed her in turn to show his lack of anger.

“...thank you,” he said softly. “I hope that does not interfere with your desire.”

“It’s a bit of a disappointment,” she said, then sputtered in laughter at herself. “I should probably be more concerned by that.”

“I look forward to thinking of you in the future, and not…”

He struggled for the right word. Failing, he settled for merely “That.”

Elizabeth smiled at him, touching his face gently with her fingertips. In spite of their present activities, she found herself caught off guard by him - him hoping for their future together, hoping for her desire. Sometimes she felt she had to catch her breath at how quickly things with James were progressing - currently it was a mixture of that and the way he looked. The sunlight in his eyes, his eyelashes - ridiculous right now.

“I look forward to thinking of you in the future, too,” she said, a little shyly.

“I’m honored that you should want me,” he said, looking up at her, eyes soft with gratitude, “even knowing that I’ve-“

“Yes, James?”

“-disgraced myself, for the sake of a few bottles and a place to lay my head,” he said, reaching for her hand.

“I don’t care about that,” she said, lacing their fingers, then shutting her eyes and sorting this out in her head. “That is I don’t… want, or like, or respect you less for it. I care that you hated it.”

“It was worst when I didn’t,” he said softly. “If I could, I shut my eyes, and tried to think of anything else. I told myself I was a boy again, fumbling about in the dark below deck, getting release.”

He averted his eyes.

“I even climaxed a few times, doing that. It was a small relief, for a few minutes.”

Without looking at her, he shook his head and closed his eyes.

“I’d never done that as a boy. It was simply the nearest thing I could think of. On regaining my bearings, I felt worse for having even momentarily enjoyed it, and I’d drown the thought as soon as it came. I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Oh, James. Of course not.”

Elizabeth caressed his hair for a moment, then pulled his head down beneath her chin, which was just about the limit of how low she could bring him and how high she could sit. She had to take a moment to find words; ordinarily she was quick-witted, but this required more from her than wit. She could comfort him with her hands, though - one rubbing the hair at the nape of his neck, the other on his back. She just wanted to hold him.

“There’s no shame in bearing misery. There’s no shame in making misery bearable. What else were you to do? Die of it?”

“God knows I tried,” he said, with a weary laugh.

He closed his eyes again and let himself lean on her.

“I don’t want to any longer,” he said, after a long silence. “I don’t want to die.”

“Good,” she said. She snorted into his hair, almost more in relief than amusement, then kissed the top of his head. “Good.”

“Your patience is admirable,” he said, sitting up enough to face her again, hair ruffled from her ministrations. “I feel I ought to be more of a man than I am, for your sake, and that I am still regaining that particular suite of skills.”

“I find I do not require more or less of a man than you are. We’re good here.”

He kissed her again- slowly, tenderly, as though thanking her.

“It’s as though it’s a weight I can’t be rid of- something cold and heavy at my center that I thought I could exorcise when I regained my life,” he admitted. “It never left. I don’t know if it can. I thought I would be rid of it under Beckett. Beckett didn’t change a damned thing. Beckett only made it colder, heavier-“

He caught himself before he could become any more vehement.

“...it’s still there,” he said. “But it is not half so cold nor heavy, here. I feel as though there is something beyond that, something I’m regaining- I don’t know. That probably sounds foolish, but it’s something-“

“I believe you,” she said softly, watching his eyes with wonder in hers.

Her expression did not go unnoticed.

“What is it?”

“Hm?”

“You look as though you’ve witnessed the Second Coming,” he said, smoothing her hair behind one ear.

“Bit of an exaggeration,” she said with a dry smile.

He smiled and suppressed a laugh.

“My apologies for the change of- we’ll say subject,” he said.

“Ah, well.” She laughed now.

“I will admit, it’s a relief to have finally said as much,” James said, nodding as though it were only dawning on him.

“I’m… I feel flattered that you told me,” she admitted, not certain he would take that well. “Like a secret confidence.”

“Whom else could I have told?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

Elizabeth kissed him. That was like a secret confidence too - especially as there was still so much she wasn’t ready to tell him.

“There’s nothing else to tell,” he said, with the dawning realization of how true that was. “We’re back to where we began, with you knowing everything there is to know about me. I have not acquired any especially desirable secrets since then.”

He looked at her and smiled his old, strained smile, which broadened out his mouth but never reached his eyes. It was the same hesitant smile with which he had met her reluctant acceptance of his marriage proposal.

It was true, Elizabeth realized unpleasantly - they had gone back to that. And again, Elizabeth’s secrets were about Will - and how much she cared for him. She avoided the guilt his smile brought her by pulling him into another embrace, staring blankly over his shoulder and slipping her fingers into his hair with a tenderness he would not know was an apology.

“I will not burden you with any further details of that sorry period in my life,” he said, rather briskly. “Having it out on the table is its own relief.”

“You know you can tell me anything you want to,” she said, scolding him a little.

“I lost the tooth in the alley behind the Three-Breasted Siren,” he said flatly. “There. Now there is nothing else to tell.”

“Navy hazard, one way or the other.”

“It’s lucky to have gone that way,” he said, with a grim half-laugh.

“Indeed. I think king and country have suffered a great loss with your defection. I wonder who the handsomest man in the Royal Navy is now.”

He grinned, too flattered to complain.

“Elizabeth, that’s hardly important-“

“It is the little things in life,” said Elizabeth in an affectedly vainglorious manner.

“I certainly won’t be the handsomest lad on the other side of the operation,” he said agreeably. “I believe that falls to you.”

“Low,” she said with a short laugh. “Very low.”

“Not as low as your shirt has fallen.”

“You untied it,” she reminded him.

“And quite intentionally so,” he said as he slid his hands into it and down to her ribcage.

“Do you want to do this now?” she asked quietly, putting a hand over his elbow to pause him without pushing him away. Her eyes sought his, even as she slid closer into his lap. “There are other things I like to have your company in than this.”

“Enlighten me.”

“I like speaking with you,” she laughed; “did you think I didn’t?”

“No,” he said, “but I believed you enjoyed other things more.”

“They’re still new to me,” said Elizabeth, coloring. “I can’t help it if I find them distracting.” She walked her fingers up his arm to rub at his collarbone again. She would have to express her gratitude to Giselle later for convincing James to dress like this.

“Now what-“ he said, affectionate and bewildered all at once.

She looked mildly irritated at him. As though he didn’t know. “Nothing.”

“What did you wish to speak of, then?”

“Oh, anything,” said Elizabeth, realizing that was what they were doing now with a mixture of disappointment and relief, and slipping sideways off his lap, she settled into a comfortable position on the bed, lying on her side, head leaning on her hand. “We are friends, aren’t we?”

“Rather more than that, at this rate,” he said as he leaned back down to pull the tray up again. “Or so I may hope.”

She graced him with a smile.

“Mutual mistresses,” she said, smile now showing teeth.

“There is a masculine term for that,” he countered. “Two, actually- though having learned them, ‘mistress’ may be the more palatable after all.”

“Enlighten me,” said Elizabeth, sticking her fingers into an orange.

“Kept boy,” he said flatly.

“Actually think Barbossa might have said that,” she said, managing to make sloppily eating fruit look erotic; the open shirt did not help. “Don’t properly recall.”

“Barbossa must be taking an interest, then, because he supplied the second as well.”

“He’s an old busybody. What was the second?”

“Some singsong Italian nonsense. Chee- cicisbeo? Something like that. It’s practically an occupation in Venice, by his account. Something to do with accompanying a married woman in public and whispering in her ear-“

“Probably knows that one from experience,” she said sagely.

“Rather rich, given the emphasis he put on how often such gentlemen are inverted-“

“Well I have no idea how upright he is, not to put too fine a point on it,” she said, moving to flop on her back. “What word do you want to use? I assume none of what’s been mentioned.”

“It seems they sometimes call cicisbei ‘cavalieri servanti’ instead, but that’s practically ‘knight errant’-“

“Why are you such a nerd? Just answer me.”

“I’m asking you,” he said heatedly. “Evidently my choices are limited to mistress or some bizarre Continental male concubinage-“

Elizabeth fell silent for an irritated moment.

“I told you you could call yourself my lover,” she said, when she thought she had collected herself. “You said you couldn’t say that.”

James tried to recall why that was, and realized it was undoubtedly some stupid stab at honor in a fit of pique. He would really have to work on that.

“Well,” he said, with cautious dignity. “I have changed my mind.”

That made her almost insufferably happy. She crammed the last of her orange in her mouth to hide her smile.

“If you find it suitable-“

“It was my idea, wasn’t it?”

“Even so-“

“James,” she said in exasperation.

“Yes, Elizabeth?”

“Can you - can you do something for me?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she said, her irritation bleeding into affection and an overall incredulity that one man could make her feel such a wide variety of things all at once. “I need you to just - stop talking and be kissing me right now-”

He granted her request with a good-natured eye roll and a careful effort to navigate his large body over the bed without prematurely disturbing her, and stretched out beside her as well as he could to follow it with a few smaller, softer kisses. She slid her hands up his ribs, one sliding up his chest to slip into his hair, although in keeping with her promise, she didn’t grip it this time; the other remained where it was. During a lull in the kissing she broke away to kiss his neck again.

“Elizabeth,” he said softly.

“What is it,” she murmured.

“I’m only savoring the feel of your name in my mouth,” he said, in a voice so low he was nearly whispering.

“I would still like to feel you in my mouth,” she reminded him again, resuming her kisses and opening his shirt to give herself greater access.

“Elizabeth-”

It was his turn to sound exasperated, though having her pulling on his clothes like this was… not unpleasant, and his back involuntarily arched a little.

“I can be patient,” she protested. She could put her mouth elsewhere on him, at least for now. She had never undressed him with such excellent lighting conditions - by the time she’d gotten him out of his shirt on the Gloriana, it had been later in the evening. He was beautiful, of course.

“And to think, I thought I would be forced to warn you before our wedding night-”

“Of what, your breadth-” she snorted. “What would you have to warn me of that I could not see when you were clothed-”

“Sword-strokes. Bullet holes. The absence of the wig, before I knew how you despised it- it’s rather impressed on one in the Navy that one’s bride may be startled or moved to pity by even a man as relatively unscathed as I am, and thank God for that.”

Undressing was helping his state of mind after the unwanted shock of her pulling on his hair. Most of what had ensued in Tortuga had been either fully clothed or limited to dropped trousers and something to lean on. He had no actual fear of startling her now, even if she hadn’t already seen where his former glory had incidentally marked him- he quite thoroughly considered himself marked and not disfigured, with a mixture of pride and intense relief to have reached this point with someone he loved before the latter had a chance to happen.

“Of course, with you I feared more that you might pity me my former pain,” he admitted. He felt mildly self-conscious not being able to tell what his hair was doing in its partially grown-out state. In another lifetime Lettie Bolger had admired it long and then titched teasingly but not unfondly when it had been cropped for the wig. Either of those would have sat better with James’s fastidious sense of presentation than the uncertainty of whatever was going on now after Elizabeth had tried to grab it.

“Would that have been a poor quality in a wife?” said Elizabeth, a little sharply; he was probably right. Pity would certainly have come before desire, not least of all because at the time all she had wanted was Will, enough to smother any attraction to anyone else - at least until…

Certainly none of this mattered now, not when things had turned out as they had. She did not know when she’d ever see Will again, and if he was not in her future she did not have to force herself to think of him. At least she could make one of them happy. She distracted her restless thoughts by putting her hands on him, and then her lips, when enough of him was uncovered.

“I don’t desire to be pitied,” he said. “That you do not now is a blessing.”

“Then what do you desire?”

Admiration, he thought immediately, though his shame prevented him from saying so.

“It’s all right- keep at what you’re doing-“

“Not an answer,” said Elizabeth playfully, even as she obeyed him.

“I suppose I had once hoped you might find the wounds intriguing-“

“I would have,” she argued. “Maybe not the first night - it would have been a lot happening at once-”

“I doubt it would have happened on our wedding night,” he objected.

Elizabeth looked shocked by that.

“Why not? What else would happen on a wedding night?” she asked, vehemently pissed.

“What did you think, that I would throw you down on the bed and have my way with you?” James said incredulously.

“Hardly,” said Elizabeth, a little flushed, though one could presume that was from agitation with him. “I supposed you would have some short explanatory speech prepared and then fumble your way through it.”

“A dreadful imposition all the same-“

“What, you thought I was just going to lie there in terror? Dumb and silent?”

“I don’t know what I thought exactly, save that expecting it as a point of due course seemed… cruel.”

“I spent over a month preparing myself for the certainty, at the time, of marriage to a man I did not love; I wasn’t trembling in trepidation at the thought of touching you,” said Elizabeth, with the ghost of a sneer on her lips. But when she lay back, grumpily, on the bed, and looked him in the face again, it was all petulance and vanity on her face, and nothing crueler than that. “Credit me at least that I knew what I was agreeing to.”

“An agreement is not desire. If I wished for my love affairs to remain transactional, there are women for whom that would be simply another evening, but to demand that as an obligatory condition of marriage?”

He looked genuinely concerned by the prospect.

“No demand necessary; I already expected it.”

“Elizabeth, that’s horrific.”

“Why propose to a woman at all if you think it’s such a cruel imposition?” asked Elizabeth promptly.

“Companionship, for one-“

“You said you had Miss Bolger teach you all of those tricks so that you could ‘give me a memorable wedding night,’” exclaimed Elizabeth in an exasperation that bordered disgust, “now you’re telling me you didn’t even plan to consummate our marriage?”

“Not immediately- not by the time you had actually accepted-“ he snapped.

“Oh, so then you changed your mind? I suppose you thought I was too damaged by Captain Barbossa- in spite of all evidence to the contrary-”

“Your trepidation was clear,” James said, the familiar glare returning to his face. “That’s why. Because you seemed pleased but lacking in anticipation, which would appear to have indeed been the case-“

“I suppose then that in that, as well as in everything since, I would have had to have taken the lead!” retorted Elizabeth.

“If it had come to that, I would have gladly bedded you-“

“Oh! Good!” Elizabeth snapped, then faltered, eyes unfocusing. “Oh…”

James did not exactly roll his eyes, but he spent a good second or so looking as though he were trying to spot something just above and to his right while sighing in exasperation.

“Morbidly cool?” he said. “Is that what you think?”

Elizabeth, meanwhile, had folded her arms over her chest and resolutely stared into the ceiling until her eyes could pick out distinct shapes again.

“You’re full of pretty words, but when it comes down to the act, you are very aloof, and now you are telling me you never dreamed of me and did not, in fact, even intend to take me to your bed when we married; does that not seem to you an unusually chilly attitude to have towards women and love?”

“Is this another navy joke,” he said flatly.

“No! You are an unusual man!”

“I am merely temperate-“

He immediately caught himself and added, before she could, “Temperate in matters of sex, at least.”

“I would prefer something more complimentary,” said Elizabeth, still disgruntled.

“It may be that your understanding of what is usual is tainted by pirates,” said James, “and Sparrow in particular.”

“But that’s what I want,” said Elizabeth, now smacking him with her pillow.

“Elizabeth!” This was of course somewhat muffled by the pillow, which she pressed into his face in the few moments it took for her to swing her leg over his waist again. By the time he had pushed it off, she was able to lean in and kiss him. He closed his eyes and leaned up and into it, though as soon as they had parted he repeated, in some offense:

“Morbidly cool? Morbidly? Really-“

“Disprove it,” she whispered, brushing her hair behind her ear so it no longer fell into his face.

“Elizabeth, that’s not how it works-“

“I am just a blushing maid. You have to show me how it works-” said Elizabeth, smirking.

“Am I going to be tasting you, then?” James said flatly. “I thought you wanted the opposite.”

“I do-”

“That’s going to put the onus of proof on you, sweetheart,” he retorted.

“Oh, no, it’s quite the opposite,” said Elizabeth, with her lips moving against his as she spoke. “You see, James, you are going to have to endure pleasure for a change. Do you think you can cope?”

He began to laugh at this.

“Do you really think so poorly of me-“

“Yes, very.” She kissed him on the nose affectionately, then on the mouth with something far headier than affection. “...get it up for me, James?” she asked in a whisper, almost blowing the words across his lips, like smoke. Her eyes sparkled.

“You’ll have to help me with that,” he said, brushing her hair from her face.

“Tell me what to do,” she said, though she turned her head and caught his fingertip in her mouth somewhat intuitively.

“You can’t start all at once,” he said, as though lecturing her on the finer points of naval procedure. “Kiss me first-“

She was eager to do so.

“All right,” he said, breathing evenly. “You might try moving downward, very gradually-“

“Is this helping?” she asked, her own breathing decidedly not so.

“That was for luck.”

He grinned. Elizabeth snorted.

“James, can you tie my hair back first, it’s getting in the way-”

“You know I can, though I’ll have to sit up a bit-“

“Permitted.”

“How gracious of Your Majesty. Have you anything to tie it with?”

“No.”

She probably did, but that meant she had to get up, which she did, reluctantly, with a groan. She returned to him with a leather thong and sat on the edge of the bed, her whole manner betraying petulance. James sat up behind her and studied the situation at hand.

“Mm. I’d better plait it, or else this is going to get in the way,” he commented, stroking the shorter hair that fell around her face.

“Do whatever you must so that I may do whatever I want.”

The only way to keep the front of her hair in with the rest was to begin it as two plaits- one on each side- that began rather high on her head and then joined at the back of her neck, where he tied the loose ends together with the leather thong she had brought him. It wasn’t the neatest job he’d ever done, but it would do.

“Why do you know what you’re doing?” asked Elizabeth, feeling as self-conscious as though a maid were serving her.

“I’ve lived at sea for most of my life. One learns things.”

“Mm.”

“And I never was one for putting tar in my hair.”

“Mm.”

He rolled his eyes. “What now-”

“Oh, I know better than to say anything.”

“Oh, no, come out with it then-”

Elizabeth very delicately shook her head, seeing as she could hardly move it. After a moment, she endeavored to change the subject. “I used to do this with Amelia.”

“With- oh, yes.”

“Don’t you remember her?” asked Elizabeth, indignantly.

“It took me a moment. I was always more focused on you.”

She looked momentarily stunned out of concentration at that. “Well, not always.”

“In situations where she was present, typically-“

Elizabeth quickly flipped through the catalogue of memories containing James Norrington in Port Royal and found that, as much as she had believed herself to be aware of his intentions, she had clearly overlooked his feelings in nearly every instance.

“I wish I had known your heart sooner,” she said, sounding nearly wistful.

“You speak of her often,” said James, who was in no hurry to rake over the topic of who should have noticed whom again. Elizabeth colored at having this brought to her attention.

“I am…. Realizing things,” said Elizabeth, cautiously.

He leaned around her to meet her eye.

“Yes?”

“Busybody,” she exclaimed affrontedly, and flicked him in the nose.

“You brought it up-“

“...I suppose we have our Spanish acquaintance to thank for the revelation,” said Elizabeth, looking decidedly away from him now. “It is not frowned on for girls to be close. It is not scrutinized.”

“You-“

No sooner had he begun to ask what she meant did he realize he already knew. He leaned back on his hands.

“I see.”

“If she had been a boy I suppose it would have been extremely obvious,” said Elizabeth with a self-conscious laugh. “Though we wouldn’t have been permitted the friendship if she had been. I was inconsolable on her wedding day. Estrella told me I had, or would make, other good friends. I said it wouldn’t be the same. You know, it really did not seem unusual at the time-”

“Perhaps it isn’t,” he said. “Heaven knows I’ve seen such things between men-“

“Lends a new layer to my blindness to your feelings,” said Elizabeth, laughing feebly. She felt light-headed. “It is your fault I am thinking of this; you kept maligning stays.”

“You haven’t seen what most men have on beneath their clothes; it rather destroyed any eroticism stays might have held for me,” James said in blunt dismissal. “That does not assume the same of you-“

“It seems illogical to find so attractive on other women something one wears oneself without arousing any similar feelings, but, with all the clarity of hindsight, it seems I did,” said Elizabeth, now venturing to look back at him, very flushed beneath her tan. “Perhaps you have not seen stays and stockings in the right context.”

“In lovemaking. That’s what you’re getting at. Well, I have, and I remain unimpressed-“

The right context resurfaced in a memory of Amelia undressing before climbing into Elizabeth’s bed, which had not been an uncommon event when they were girls. Elizabeth could not stop bringing these memories to the light of day; they all seemed very different now, with all she had learned, or been teased over by James. Namely, the flirtatious way Elizabeth treated her friend - the little games they had played, rehearsing their wedding nights together - and the recurring jest that they ought not to get married at all, but run away and become bandits (or astronomers, witches, shopkeepers, seamstresses, circus performers - whichever new strange profession, or present chore, was on their mind at present, but for Elizabeth, it was always bandits, unsurprisingly). If Amelia had ever taken that seriously, Elizabeth suspected she might have, too.

“No, not lovemaking. Just… worn. But on the body of a woman of whom you are very fond, who is… who is talking to you, and about to slip into your bed.”

James wisely decided against arguing this point further and clapped his hand on her shoulder in a way he hoped was comforting.

She squinted at him.

“You’re taking this quietly.”

“It’s long past,” he said.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” she asked, attempting levity, but clearly anxious for his answer.

“Why would it bother me?”

“I don’t know, some notion of female sexual purity?”

“Elizabeth.”

He was practically scowling.

“Jealousy, more like. I thought you might be jealous.”

“Would you prefer I make a perfunctory attempt to smother you while railing about faithlessness or something of that nature? Personally, I’m rather tired for that-“

“Can’t you take anything seriously? Aren’t you in the least bit bothered, if not by this - then by Jenny and Angelica?”

“What do you want me to say, Elizabeth? I am trying to think well of you-“

“I don’t know,” she said, frustrated. “I suppose I keep trying to pick a fight and I don’t know why.”

“I suppose it would be dishonest to claim the idea does not give me some pause- but Elizabeth, I will not judge you-“

She gave him a wavering smile. “Oh… That does not displease me.”

“It would be poor of me indeed, after all that nonsense I witnessed in the navy, to treat this as some insurmountable difficulty,” he said, very firmly.

“That’s not what I thought you’d do,” Elizabeth laughed, smiling so widely all her teeth were showing. “I just thought you would be bothered. A bit jealous. Perhaps beg me to reassure you I still wanted you-”

“You wanted me in your mouth a few minutes ago.” said James. “I am rather reassured.”

“I still do,” said Elizabeth, leaning in and kissing him impetuously.

“Good.”

“I always thought it took very little to excite a man,” said Elizabeth, leaning in to push him onto his back again. “That’s what I’ve always heard.”

“That’s a good story for a man who wishes to conceal his poor longevity-“

“Oh, please. What does it take? Because it seems to be more work for you than for me-”

“It’s not as though I research it!” James sputtered indignantly.

“Still, you have to admit, this is a bit of a reverse from the usual,” she said, before moving her mouth to his bare chest again.

“Not the way I recall it,” he grumbled.

“Hm? What do you recall, then? Have you got more Lettie Bolger Life Lessons for me?”

“I recall it taking a good third of an hour to deal with anything below deck!”

“Suppose I have my work cut out for me, then,” said Elizabeth.

She prioritized his scars first, since he had alluded to them being an insecurity and she did, after all, like his body better for having them.

“What are you doing-“

He sat up just a little, then realized and lay back down. “Ah.”

“You don’t enjoy this?” asked Elizabeth, leaning back, somewhat hurt.

“I can’t feel much there- the nerve endings are quite gone.”

Elizabeth laughed shortly in surprise. “James, you said you would teach me. So tell me what you need me to do. Tell me… tell me what entices you.”

He stared at her.

“You, for one-“

“Apparently not enough,” said Elizabeth, finding the inside of his thigh and rubbing it.

James flinched and instinctively half-rolled his hips away from her, before realizing he’d done so and laying down flat again.

“You seem to want a very specific response-“

“Yeah? The one that enables this whole enterprise?”

But she had withdrawn from him regardless, resigned but seeming cheerful about it. “James, let me be the noble one, the one who does not require this as an obligatory condition to loving you.”

“Elizabeth-“

“You don’t owe me this.”

“I want you to have it,” he retorted.

Elizabeth smoothed the braid off her shoulder.

“Oh? Don’t tease me, James.”

“You don’t suppose we can reverse things and give me a bit of a running start, do you-“

“Reverse things?”

“Let me start off on you-“

Elizabeth’s eyebrows lifted. “I can’t say I am opposed, but - is that- really. Do you think that’s going to help, or are you anxious to be out of the spotlight-”

“It certainly worked last time,” he said, in a tone that could only be described as ‘grumpy’.

“Why didn’t you say so?” asked Elizabeth, in firm disapproval. “I would have sorted you out, you should have let me-”

“I wasn’t about to drag you into that!” he said with a horrified grimace. “As though it were some kind of automatic exchange-“

“James,” said Elizabeth, looking ready to have an aneurism.

“It was easier to think of you and your pleasure-“

“My pleasure is in being here with you. If that is all that matters to you you can stand by the bed and watch me pleasure myself-”

His eyes widened a little at that. He looked away.

“Well?” she demanded. “I tell you, I shall make good on that threat-”

“I would appreciate it if you did not,” James said, in a very low voice.

“Why, what do you think I do on nights where you’re not around-”

“Oh, God-“

He covered his face with the crook of his arm.

“Elizabeth, is this really necessary-“

“James, my God, you blush like a girl. I take it back! I shall pretend to be as sexless as a doll for your sake. Only let me see your beautiful face again-”

He wasn’t blushing when he lowered his arm, but his breathing was deep and a little too slow.

“Elizabeth- that’s- no, don’t do that-“

She backed off from where she had been leaning over him. “James. Look. I’m not trying to hurt you.” Elizabeth sighed and approached him from a different angle, lower down and leaning against him, resting her head gingerly on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his chest. She tilted her head back to glimpse him. It wasn’t the best angle for it, but she thought he would prefer this. “Or- or scandalize you. If you aren’t enjoying it then neither am I,” and she meant it, punctuating it with her fingertip on his lips, like a kiss by proxy.

He let it linger for a moment and then gently moved her hand away.

“It would be easier to enjoy it if I had any assurance of yours-“

“In what way?”

“If you would please let me start on you-“

“James,” she laughed.

“Just how sexless do you find me?” he asked, aghast. “Good God-“

“I don’t think we are on the same page at all,” said Elizabeth, helplessly lost, but laughing about it still.

“That makes two of us,” James muttered.

“James, I don’t find you sexless,” she ventured to begin, after a moment’s pause and silence left them no further to understanding each other. “Perhaps a bit tepid, but you make a good show for yourself when you get up to it.”

The pun was wholly intended. Elizabeth leaned up on her elbow to whisper coyly in his ear, her fingertips lightly resting on his jaw. “And I do not mean to underrate the particular manner of joy you bring me…”

“I know, I know,” he said. “Please understand, it’s- it’s complicated.”

“Would you like to tell me, Captain?”

“Is that an order?” he asked unhappily.

“It is a request,” said Elizabeth, settling against him again.

He moved his lower body away from her as well as he could, with a brief flare of panic that if she realized he was aroused that would be that.

“I would prefer to just- switch first, if that’s all right with you.”

“James, I understand that you are concerned about my reputation,” she said in frustration, “but-”

“I just told you the last time I enjoyed it,” he said, forcing himself to sit up. “Elizabeth. Please.”

She bit her lip. “I’m not opposed, I am just - concerned,” she said, looking up at him. “James, much as I love you for my dog, it brings me… far greater joy to know we are happy together.”

He nodded.

“I understand,” he said, turning to look at her. “But I fear it may be some time before that gives me the happiness you speak of.”

“This is ridiculous, I mean-” Elizabeth bit her lip again, this time to shut herself up. “Are you telling me everything?”

“It’s easier to know I have pleasured you first,” he repeated stubbornly. “It’s-“

He rubbed one side of his face with the flat of his hand, exhausted.

“Elizabeth, I just told you- in Tortuga-“

“Is that all it is?” asked Elizabeth in a flood of relief. “That’s it?”

“Am I some sort of weeping maiden for that now as well?” James asked sourly.

Elizabeth reached up and touched his cheek, a warm, open-palmed caress.

“I thought this was some fixation on that dog business!”

“Oh, God-“

“That you were neglecting yourself in my favor out of some need to debase yourself- oh, come down and kiss me, idiot.”

“Elizabeth!”

His offense did not prevent him from following her instruction. This was a welcome antidote to all of Elizabeth’s concerns; she could taste his tongue if not the rest of him, and finding his hands, she guided them up to her breasts - “because I know how fond you are,” she whispered teasingly to him.

“I’ll be better afterward,” he murmured. “It just takes… time…”

“Touch me, James-” She leaned upward to kiss him again.

“Mm.” He smiled into the kiss.

She was still nearly exposed, and all the lovelier for it. While it wasn’t exactly touching, James dipped down to kiss her on the collarbone, then back again to her throat. Her hands found his hair again, but pettingly, now, lovingly - he would have had none of that in Tortuga, she would bet. He leaned into it with a low laugh and gently kissed the underside of her jaw.

“Better.”

If it was her enjoyment he sought, she would not hold any of it back for the sake of propriety, or even a sense of building pressure, and so when he kissed her, she arched, and when he laughed against her throat, she moaned his name.

“Yes…?”

There was the lightest impression of teeth in that same spot.

Elizabeth had been making a conscious effort before. This wretched noise was purely involuntary. “James!”

“Too much?”

This wasn’t a sudden, severe blurt of concern, though; he spoke it directly against her throat, as though to kiss her bruise better.

“No,” she gasped. “I merely- cannot believe- James, this is very good-”

“Hm?” He was moving downward now.

“Going - bit fast, aren’t you-” She clutched at his shoulders helplessly, but did not stop him.

“There’s plenty in between, wouldn’t you say-“

“Oh- yes-” She struggled to maintain some authority, but she was having a hard time maintaining speech in the meantime. “I’ll - allow it-”

“By your leave, then, Your Majesty-“

Elizabeth let him kiss her a while longer, squirming underneath him, before she sat up in some agitation and yanked her shirt over her head, unable to take that nonsense any longer, thank you.

“Elizabeth-“

This cry of surprise did not prevent him from burying his face in her chest, which drew yet another wretched gasp from her, and she was soon after cooing his name.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” he said between kisses. “That’s another duty of mine, I should think-”

He lifted his head to look at her.

“Protecting this beauty-”

She scowled in the midst of it. “What.”

“I never said I would love you less without it,” he said, halfway muffled by a kiss on the hip.

“My looks, not my - mm. Life? Really, James?”

“I thought the second was already implied. Hence-”

Kiss, kiss.

“Another duty-”

“You are ridiculous- maybe one of my duties is protecting yours, hm? Wouldn’t that strike you as a funny thing for me to say?” she asked, slipping her fingers through his hair and pushing his head back via a palm against the forehead to look up at her, so that she could lift her eyebrows at him.

James smirked and went back to kissing her. She laughed out loud at that, and permitted this too. Her breath hitched in her throat, yanking her out of the plan to tease him further. And was it so strange to James to see things that way? A little weird, perhaps - making her feel too much like the maiden he had once seen her as - but she could put up with a little weirdness to hear James tell her she was beautiful again.

In the meantime, James’s hands had found the button flap of her breeches. He rubbed her hips through the fabric with his thumbs.

“May I-”

“Is this…” She struggled to form words again, and in this case found it especially difficult, for fear of saying the wrong thing. “...does this please you?”

“Very much-” he blurted, a little too quickly.

“Promise?”

“Are you… reluctant?” he asked, frowning.

“I want to make you happy - tell me you are-” Her voice rang small and vulnerable in her own ears.

“Yes, I’m happy,” he said, in a tone of good-natured exasperation.

“You have to say so!”

“Elizabeth-”

She was laughing, but herself exasperated, in her own way. “I can’t precisely tell-”

“May I?” he repeated, a little more emphatically. “Or are you going to sit there shirtless as a sailor-”

“I am a sailor,” said Elizabeth, muzzily and imperiously.

“Lisbet-”

It was unclear if this was an intentional diminutive or if it was just the muffling of his mouth against her hip again talking.

“One thing first,” said Elizabeth, moving herself to a sitting position by wrapping her leg over him and using him as leverage. (This had the unfortunate side effect of pulling his head between her thighs for a moment; she prayed he minded it very little.) Then she divested him of his own shirt.

“I don’t think it’s proper you should wear more clothes than me,” said Elizabeth. Now she was smirking.

In the bright daylight, the scars on his back were much starker, though by now James felt no need to remind her that they existed before she looked at him. He moved upward again, remembering her appreciation of the others- he could not imagine his back as anything but a neutral factor- and kissed her once more on the mouth.

Elizabeth pulled him to her waist and her hips like she was welcoming him back home, opening her mouth and her legs for him, opening her heart to him, and holding none of it back.

“May I say something?” he asked.

“Anything, darling, what is it?”

“Right.”

He nodded, as though catching his breath.

“...I love you.”

Elizabeth melted.

“Oh. Oh, James.”

“I hope that’s not too forward-”

She shook her head distractedly, then leaned up to kiss him again, urging him to believe she loved him too, even though she could not, not in this moment, bring herself to say it.

“-good,” he said, beginning to smile again, and then kissing her harder.

Elizabeth wrapped her leg around his waist and rocked against him, one hand exploring his chest while the other sank into his hair and gave her some leverage to kiss him back as good as he gave.

“And am I pleasing to you-”

“Can’t you- tell?”

“It’s good to hear it,” he volleyed back at her, more than a little smugly.

“I can barely breathe-” she gasped, which was true. “What more do- you want-”

“I want to hear you say it. Is that so much to ask?”

“I shall if - Tell me again that I’m beautiful,” Elizabeth commanded, without any sense of shame. At this point, they were long past shame.

“I shall tell you that as often as you like,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It would please me if you would tell me now,” said Elizabeth, turning his face to hers with her finger beneath his chin.

“You’re radiant-”

Elizabeth beamed at him, but brushed her hand over her own hair now, shyly. She had no shame, but she was not that brazen yet, either. “Oh, I wish I could have you, James,” she broke out unthinkingly. “Do you suppose-”

“-now?”

Elizabeth was reluctant to speak on it. “Oh, it’s not fair-”

“Elizabeth, what is it?”

“I wish - I want you inside of me-”

“I- Elizabeth, again, I’m very willing,” he began, “but if anything happens, the greater burden will be yours, and I don’t wish to heedlessly give that to you-”

“I know, I know- I’m not asking, I am merely…” She sought the right word, then happened upon it abruptly. “- complaining.”

She smiled at him in visible distress. It was unfortunately an expression he had seen her wear during their engagement, though this time, at least, she was happy to be with him.

“You’ll think of something, I’m sure,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

“I could probably rut between your thighs,” he said uncertainly, “but I do not know what you would get from that. That’s more of a… men’s hobby.”

She guided his hand there instead, meeting his eyes and flushing for the sake of what feeble stake she still had in her modesty. She wanted to speak again, but faltered a moment, taking his hand and squeezing it while she sorted out her words.

“... James, let…. James, make me say your name. I want anyone passing by to know what you’re doing.”

“With my-” He took her hand and kissed it.

“How do you want me, sweetheart?”

“Whichever way you want, so long as I have you-”

“Are you certain you want it out in the open like that?”

“As though it isn’t already! Wouldn’t you rather be overheard pleasuring me than have it assumed I’m going at you every night with some sort of- I don’t know, implement? What do women use?”

James blinked.

“We’ll talk about that later-”

“Let them all know you are a man, then, hmm? As well as my dog.”

“Lisbet,” he groaned, and this time it was clearly intentional, though rather undermined by the kiss with which he followed it.

She accepted him with parted lips, fingers in his hair again.

“May I…?” he asked for a third time, and more softly and tenderly than before by far.

“Please-” she pleaded, eyes seeking his with as much vulnerability in them as passion.

James kissed her and began to lean her back on the bed again, pinning her wrists near the headboard as he kissed down her body in turn.

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, more in private wonderment than to fulfill her request. “Good God-”’

Elizabeth squirmed again, pulling one hand free to touch him and maintain some sense of agency in all of this. She had no smart reply to what he said, though. She felt overwhelmed listening to it.

“I’m going to unfasten your breeches now. Are you ready?”

“Yes-”

“And your drawers after-“

It felt a little bit like her lungs were closing up. “Oh - yes-”

Her hair-petting approached frantic levels. He didn’t even get to it right away- with her drawers down, James had access to her inner thighs as well. He kissed one of them.

Elizabeth was already making good on her promise to alert anyone passing by the door to her cabin.

#potcsuggestions #pl: the black pearl #ch: her majesty if you're nasty #ch: firing squad #long post

3 notes · View notes

littlebitoffanfic · 8 years ago

Text

Honourable

Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean Characters: Barbossa, others mentioned Relationship: Barbossa/reader Request: We need another Barbossa one! I don’t care what the plot is but im sure you will do great 😊

It was late at night and you were sitting in your bed reading a book. You were only just back and still in your day clothes which consisted of ¾ black trousers and a grey blouse but you had taken your hair out the tight bun. You lived in a small cottage just on the edge of the forest where the land met the sea. You stayed here because of your brother. His ‘adventures’ meant you preferred to keep your head low. You had sailed with him for years but he grew scared for your safety on the sea so requested you stay on land. You had accepted because you had always wondered what it would be like. But you quickly grew bored and longed to go back to the sea but you knew you couldn’t till he came back. Tonight, you wondered about him. The infamous Jack Sparrow. Last you had heard, the east India trading company had been chasing him. You were pondering his whereabouts when you heard a clatter from downstairs which made you just out of your skin. Placing the book to the side, you reached under your pillow and pulled out your knife which using your other hand to pull your draw open and retrieve your gun. No one lived near for at least 10 miles but you didn’t mind because you could take care of yourself. Darting to the door, you pressed your body against the wall beside it so that if someone came into the room, you would be hidden by the door. sure enough, you hear the sound of footsteps and hushed voices. The low murmur of at 2 men made a shiver run down your spine. If you were going to be killed here and now, you weren’t going down without a fight. As the footsteps stopped and the door opened, you took a deep breath. 2 figures entered your room before you pounced. You high-kicked one man against the wall and as his body hit the wall with a thud, you swooped the same leg low to knock the other mans legs out from under him. He fell not far from the man who was against the wall. You saw them both starting to scramble to their feet so you moved to press your foot against one mans throat and the knife against the others. They both gasped and as you applied more pressure to your foot, the man against the wall began to gasp for air. Hearing shuffling from behind you, you twisted your torso and pointed the gun at the sound. “’ello.” A familiar voice chuckled and you came face to face with your brother. “Jack?” You cried out in both joy and shock. You quickly lowered you gun and gave him a smile, totally forgetting the 2 men till one let out a gasping sound. “They with you?” You asked cautiously, glancing back which caused Jack to laugh. “Aye, better let them go.” He chuckled and you pulled away, allowing both men to fall to the floor. “sorry.” You shrugged, knowing full well you had enough reason to attack them but apologising nonetheless. The taller and lankier of the two got up and went to the window to look out. Just then, you heard a number of different chuckles and laughs coming from the hallway. You moved to look past your brother only to see 5 men behind him. You couldn’t see much of the mens faces due to the darkness but judging from their tattered appearance, they were pirates as well. However, one man caught your eye, maybe because he was the only one you could see. He was a good chunk older than you but he was incredibly handsome. He wore a large, black and rather ragged hat along with a long dark coat. The second his eyes met yours, he flashed you a smile which sent a shiver down your spine. Frowning to yourself, you turn back to your brother. You saw that smirk on his lips which meant he was up to something. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you sighed. “Jack, what have you done now?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. “you haven’t changed a bit.” A rough but familiar voice chuckled from the hallway and caused you to jump. “Gibbs?” you smiled as the very man emerged from behind the man with the hat. When he was clean, you walked up to Gibbs and wrapped your arms around his neck. He was a loyal friend to both you and your brother and like a brother to you. “Nice to see you.” He chuckled. “So, whats my dearest brother done now?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. You never got an answer. “They’re coming!” The tall lanky one cried out, making jump and turn to look at him. “We need to go. NOW!” Gibbs growled as you ran over to the window to see what was happening only to see at least 50 men, some on horseback and carrying lit torches, marching to your home. sighing, you turned and glared at Jack as you ran over to your bed. Crouching down, you pulled out a large shoulder bag that was filled with everything important. You had spare clothes, money, document (that might be fake) etc. You also pulled out your sword. Swinging it over your shoulder, you pushed your feet into your boots that were by the bed and positioned the weapons around your body. Your knife was in your boot and your gun on your belt. You held your sword in your hand, knowing it was the weapon you were most skilled in. You grabbed the book off your bed. “Why you taking that?” Jack asked, obviously trying to rush you. You just shrugged. “Im nearly finished.” You replied. “Lets go.” You spoke, walking past your brother and the others. They watched you with wide eyes as you half ran down the stairs while pulling your hair out your face. You all got out the back door and into the forest by your home in time. When the soldiers came to your house, they didn’t enter. They simply held the torches to the building. You watched as your home for the last 3 years was burnt to the ground. You were all hidden within the forest and that meant the soldiers never saw you as they started to head back from where they came. A arm wrapped around your shoulder and you turned to see your brother offering you an apologetic look. “You owe me big time.” You didn’t bother hiding the sadness in your voice as you turned to face him. Behind him, all the others stood, watching you closely. “So, whats going on?” ----------------------time skip -------------------------- You had been aboard the black pearl for a few months now. You still didn’t full know how the east india trading company found out where you lived but you assumed it was because of Jack and he was too embarrassed to tell you. But you loved it. You belonged at the sea. It was more your home than anywhere else in the world. Gibbs knew this and always told you how natural you seem to fit into the life of a pirate. You found out the names of the men you had nearly killed were Pintel and Ragetti. They were really rather funny but never seemed to push you. They were polite and curious to you. They gave you more respect than your brother or anyone else for that matter. You had apologised a little more when you found out Jack had sent them in because he knew you would attack. You felt bad that they were used like that so you tried to make it up to them. Cotton and Marty were two other men who had been there that night as well. Then there was Barbossa. He was the captain of the ship. Well, him and Jack seemed to dispute this but you would rather answer to him than to your brother. While you loved Jack, he was rather rash and, in your opinion, insane. Barbossa, on the other hand, seemed to be collected and have an aura of control about him and you loved it. He seemed to enjoy your company. He requested you join him at dinner most nights which made Jack irritated. At first, you just did it to annoy Jack but now you actually enjoyed his company. He was witty and charming. The more time you spent with him, the more you began to find yourself falling for him. It was stupid and you knew it. He was a pirate. Your brother had made it quite clear in your life that a pirate would use you for sex and leave you. He also told you that pirates would rather use prostitutes. But that didn’t stop you from thinking. It was those thoughts that plagued your mind tonight. You were sitting out side, watching the waves crash against the ships sides. You were leaning against the side of the ship. Footsteps alerted you to the presents of someone behind you so you glanced over your shoulder to see Barbossa. “good evening.” You nodded with a smile at him. You hadn’t seen him much today because he was in his office. “aye, ‘till a lovely night.” He nodded, glancing up at the stars. It allowed you a chance to gaze over his features. His face had many scars across the tired skin, his beard wispy and whitening. But he had a handsomeness about him that you couldn’t deny. The whites of his eyes were slightly yellow but you couldn’t help but be taken aback by the brilliant blue in them. They were like the sea. Like he had spent a life time looking out over the sea and it had taken to his eyes. Absolutely stunning, you thought to yourself as he moved forward stand by your side and stare at the sea. Why was he so intriguing to you? You had met many men before of his character. All pirates and captains and yet here stood a man who had you weak at the knees for no apparent reason. Quickly, you decided that it wasn’t anything to do with his character but his mannerisms. Unlike other pirates who had invited you to dine with them, he held pleasant conversations with you rather than just hold you. Unlike other pirates who had stood beside you on a warm night, he seemed to enjoy the comfortable silence than try and strike up an awkward conversation. Unlike other pirates who knew of your relation to Jack Sparrow, he didn’t seem to hold it against you. On many times, he had cursed your likeness to your brother but it was more of a fond way. Like when you would steal an apple out of his hand. “What be troublin’ you, my lass?” Barbossa asked, pulling you from your thoughts. You didn’t notice him turning and looking down at you as you gazed up at you. “Nothing, just thinking.” You smiled and pushed yourself out of your leaning pose so you could stand by his side. That was another thing. When you stood by his side, he treated you like an equal. Something you had never received from anyone other than your brother. “dangerous.” He smirked at his witty comment. You frowned and lightly nudged his arm with your elbow but you couldn’t hid the small smile. His wit alone was enough to draw you in. You hardened your frown and crossed your arms over your chest to stare out at the sea. All he did was chuckle to himself. But what he did next surprised you. He reached out and cupped your cheek in one of his hand. He then moved your head so you were looking at him with wide eyes, confused at his actions. “Yer smile is too pretty to hid behind a frown.” He muttered, his voice low at his thumb gently swiped over your cheek. His hands were hard and callous after years at sea, but they were welcomed. Before you could process what you were doing, you reached up and gently placed your hand over his. You glanced down at the floor but couldn’t hid the smile or blush. The closest thing you got to compliments were about your body. Hearing his compliment your smile blew you away. “Barbossa, i-“ You glanced back up to look in his eyes when he interrupted you. “Hector. While we’re alone.” His tone was soft and welcoming, the heavy pirate accent only adding to his allure. You had never heard anyone call him by his first name even though most knew it. As he spoke, his slipped his other hand around your waist and gently pulled you towards him. “Hector.” You corrected yourself, enjoying the small smile he gave you when his name rolled off your tongue. “i-“ Once again, you were interrupted. The crew flooded onto the deck in search of more rum which made you jump away from Barbossa, slightly afraid of the thought of Jack finding you in the arms of Barbossa. You were sure Jack would hit the roof. You heard Barbossa gave a low chuckle and felt his hand on your lower back as he leaned down to whisper in You heard Barbossa gave a low chuckle and felt his hand on your lower back as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Come to me cabin later.” His voice was low and had a slight growl. It made a shiver of pleasure run down your back as Barbossa walked away. You watched him leave when you realised you were panting slightly. --------------time skip -------------------------------- You never went to his cabin. you wanted to, with all your heart but to be honest, you were afraid. Jacks words rang in your head loud and clear every time you thought of going. You didn’t want to just be a pirates whore, no matter what your feels had developed into. And because you couldn’t see any other outcome to the situation, you didn’t go. You barely slept last night. Every time you managed to drift off, he would appear. God knows how many times you dreamt of him in different situations and not always child-friendly. As you stepped on deck, you winces as the bright sun hit your eyes. You didn’t doubt that you had bags under your eyes and by the looks of passing crew, you were right. Then you saw him. He was bellowing orders so hadn’t noticed your arrival on deck. You notice he also looked tired and seemed to speak a little rougher than normal. A part of you wondered if he had been up all night waiting for you. He seemed to sense that someone was watching him and looked down to see you. You saw his eyes widen ever so slightly and his mouth twitch. There was a flash of something in his blue eyes that you could have sworn was pain but it was quickly gone as he turned his back to you and walked away. The feeling of regret washed over you. Maybe you had been wrong. Maybe he just wanted to talk last night or show you his maps which was a common thing that the two of you did. And you had not shown up. You knew if it were the other way around, you would be livid. As you set to work, you decided you would apologies and, if he should ask, explain your reasoning’s for not going. -------------------time skip----------------- Night had fallen and most of the crew had settled into sleep for the night. You lay awake, waiting for Gibbs to fall asleep. Jack was still drinking but if Gibbs saw you sneaking out, he would defiantly tell Jack. But when you heard his snoring, you left. The night was calm and cool once again. The stars dotted the sky as the moon shone down and bounced off the waves. If you weren’t so nervous, you would have enjoyed the view as you walked across the deck to the captains quarters. You couldn’t see through the glass on the door but there was light inside so he was still awake. Raising a shaking hand, you knocked 3 times on the door and waited. “Come in.” He called, his voice sounded irritated to be interrupted. As you took the handle in your hand, you prayed that he would hear you out before opening the door and stepping inside. You had been in the captains quarters a few times. It was actually made up of 2 rooms. The first was more of an office/dinning area and through another door lead to a bedroom. “What?” A voice snarled at you as you entered but as you looked at the desk, you saw him leaning on his desk and pouring over a map. He didn’t look up as you entered so didn’t know it was you. “Apologies for the intrusion. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk?” The second your voice filled his ears, his head snapped up to look at you. He didn’t scowl or snarl at you, rather just gazed at you with an expressionless face. He nodded to the seat in front of his desk and you hurried to sit in it. Your heart was racing as you sat before him but you were thankful he was going to hear you out. You expected him to sit down but instead he walked around the desk to lean against it. This was something he did often with you. It was almost as if he didn’t like the distance the wooden object put between you two. “I wanted to apologies for not attending your invitation last night.” You spoke clearly, keeping your voice steady and a matter of fact way. You hoped the apology alone would be enough for you both to move on from this. You hated that he hadn’t spoken to you all day or sought you out as evening fell. “Why did you no come?” Barbossas voice was thoughtful and quizzically which caught you off guard. He had avoided you all day as if you were the plague and now he was speaking to you like everything was fine. Or were you overthinking it? “I-I misunderstood your actions, captain. And I apologies for that as well.” You pushed yourself up to your feet. His hard gaze was starting to take its toll on you. But you saw a frown dawn his handsome features when you moved away from him. Hating the look, you turned your back to him. “’Ave my actions towards yah been anything less than honorable?” Barbossa’s voice snapped at you, taking you by surprise. He had never snapped at you before just like he never barked orders at you. And you didn’t appreciate being talked to in that manner. “I didn’t say that, now did i?” You turned on your heel, glaring at him. “Nah, but I know what yah thinking.” Barbossa stormed over to you, his features controlled into anger. “No you don’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t have spent the whole day ignoring me!” You growled, standing you ground and squaring up to him despite him being a good bit taller than you. “Then you should ‘ave been here last night!” Barbossa snarled down at you. “I’m not one of your whores from Tortuga!” You finally snapped, screaming at him the thoughts that had clouded your mind for the last day. But the moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. Dropping your gaze from his, you stared to the side, blinking back the tears that fought to fall from embarrassment and heart ache. You expected him to roar at you for what you had said to him, not that you were wrong. It was more his positions and what you had said was disrespectful. But to your surprise, he raised his hand to cup one of your right cheek. His palm was warm and welcoming as you allowed him to turn your face back up to look at him. His eyes had softened and the anger from earlier seemed to have vanished into thin air. “I know you’re not. You never were. You’re ah lady.” Barbossa voice was soft as his thump rubbed small circles on your cheek. It made your heart melt. You could see he truly thought you were a lady and he had never treated you as anything else. You could see how much you not turning up last night had hurt him, even if he didn’t want you to know. But having him so close made you mind fog as your eyes darted to his lips and you couldn’t deny them any more. “I’m not a lady.” You gently wrapped your arms around his neck and you saw him raise an eyebrow. “I’m a pirate.” You breathed, smiling at him. Barbossa seemed to be unable to control himself as he slammed his lips onto yours. You were stunned by the sense of desperation behind the kiss but didn’t question it as you returned the kiss without question. his hands moved down your body to grip your waist and pull you against his body before wrapping his arms around your waist to secure you there, not that you would move. There was a sense danger in the kiss which quickly became addictive. You pulled back from the kiss to gasp gently for air, your eyes fluttering open. You saw the warmth in his eyes that you only saw when he looked at you, the way he held you gently but tight. “Bar-“ Before you could finish saying his last name, you saw him frown and instantly knew why so you corrected yourself. “Hector, im sorry about last night.” You looked away. All formalities seemed to drop away when you were with him. The two of you were able to speak one to one without having to focus of social graces. “Nah, its me who should be apologising. Never wanted you thinking I thought so low of yah.” He muttered, leaning to kiss your forehead which made you smile and your cheeks burned. You looked up at him, your hands running up the back of his neck. You felt a shiver run down his body. You loved that your simple touch could have such a impact on one of the most feared pirates. It gave you such a rush. You slowly began to press soft, butterfly kisses to his neck and training them up his jaw line. “What do you say we make up for lost time, captain?” You mumbled seductively in his ear, half moaning the word ‘captain’. “oh, [y/n].” Barbossa half chuckled as he reached up to take off his hat but you caught his wrists. “Keep it on.” You breathed, smirking. Barbossa’s eyes widened for a moment before he returned your smirk. “whatever god deemed a pirate like me may have you beside me, I don’t know.” Barbossa chuckled before he scooped you into his arms and carrying you through into his bedroom.

#pirates of the caribbean #hector barbossa #barbossa x reader #barbossa/reader #hector Barbossa x reader #hector Barbossa/reader #reader insert #request

105 notes · View notes