Seraphic,
by Nicole (PineappleIce/SulliedxUnusual)
Pairing:
Sparrington
Warnings:
Slash, DMC spoilers, swearing
Chapter
Rating: Teen
Summary:
Jack Sparrow finds that he can go anywhere he wants after his death,
and where better to go than to James Norrington, the man responsible?
James is living in Port Royal and finding that life was much lighter
on the Black Pearl. When Jack finds him, both their worlds get turned
upside down... again.
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Disclaimer: I really, really, really wish I had the power to make Sparrington really happen. As I own nothing at all, I do not.
Author's Notes: Should most likely not be starting a new fic, but I can't help myself with this. Not sure how often this is going to be updated. You'd be best adding it to your alerts to keep track. :-) Feedback please!
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Seraphic
Chapter
One: Introduction
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Rain, rain, rain. James Norrington was sick of the bloody rain. All it seemed to do in this blasted town was rain. Ever since Beckett and his bloody East India Trading Company had arrived, the bastards, the weather had been miserable. But that suited his mood just fine. Just fine indeed.
He had expected everything to be wonderful again as soon as he handed that bloody heart over to that pompous bastard Beckett. Now, he wasn't sure why he had thought that. Beckett had lazily informed him that he could eventually be Commodore again, but he was going to have to work for it. Basically, James was Beckett's slave. And he was not bloody happy. He reached for more rum.
He was staying in Beckett's house. It was a tiny, cold room that was always dark and bleak. Beckett did not seem concerned about feeding him, but his wife seemed to have a soft spot for James. She was tiny, plain, quite easily the ugliest woman James had ever seen, but very nice to him. And he appreciated it. Then again, darling Cutler did not seem to treat her well. Not that he seemed to care about anyone else anyway. Bastard.
James had thought he might get off the rum as soon as he left Tortuga. But in this cold, cruel new world that was Port Royal gone so, so wrong, rum was often the only thing that could get him through the day. He was using the small wage Beckett was paying him on this drink he had previously regarded as vile. Actually, he still regarded it as vile.
And he still wasn't allowed to wear a bloody wig. Beckett said he had to 'earn it'.
Bastard, bastard, bastard.
James drained the dirty glass of rum, then decided it was time to get some sleep. After all, God only knew how many tasks Beckett would have him doing tomorrow.
As he lay down on the bed, wrapping himself in the thin sheet, he listened to the wind and rain lashing against his window. He closed his eyes and thought, just for a moment, that he missed the free, wonderful time aboard the Black Pearl, the time spent with that eccentric Jack Sparrow.
But it was only for a moment.