Elizabeth coiled herself in the linen sheets of Jack's bed while stretching her arms and giving a yawn. Her eyelids flickered open and her hand dropped through the air to meet the mattress where she believed her captain to have been. Curling up into a sitting position, she carelessly rubbed an eye with the sleeve of the cotton shirt Jack had given her to wear to bed. She frowned at his absence, the sunlight blinding her from the open window. This disappearing act that he'd practiced most commonly in the morning never ceased her frustration for she'd plead numerous times that just once she'd like to wake up next to him. It seemed wishful thinking wasn't enough.
"Mornin', love," a familiar voice greeted from the doorway. She turned to find a most offhand Jack leaning against the door frame, his chest bare of the shirt that adorned her tiny frame instead. Elizabeth grinned, falling back onto her pillow.
"I'm afraid you've missed my captain, you see he has trouble standing the sight of me in the morning so he usually flees before I even wake." He gave a lazy smirk before he paced over to the round table across the room that was cluttered with trinkets and bobbles from past adventures. In the midst of the disarray were a few oranges which he took into his grasp and gently pressed with his palms to check their ripeness before he decided on the best one. It had been a sight indeed, she found, watching him mindlessly peel back the skin of the fruit, bathed in the golden rays of dawn's light.
"Undressing what clothing's left on me with those eyes, are we now?" he waggled his eyebrows at her when he noticed her gawking. He shook his head, scolding her playfully, "How inappropriate, Miss Swann." Her head fell to her shoulder with a coy laugh and she took in the scent imbedded within the stitching of his shirt. The off-beat fragrance of rum and forbidden places blended with the refreshing scent of – "the sea," Elizabeth sighed, fingers idly wandering over the collar of the shirt. She looked back at Jack who faced her with a puzzled expression as he swallowed a piece of orange.
"It's nothing…" she mumbled, picking at a loose thread.
"Come now, Lizzie," he pressed but she waved off any kind of explanation. Suddenly he placed the orange down and let his shoulders drop with a rather exaggerated sigh. Curious, she watched him as he approached the foot of the bed with his cunning smile. "I'm afraid then that if you won't tell me openly then I'm going to have to use a different method of persuasion."
"Jack…?" she dragged out skeptically, rising to an upright position as he loomed closer to the bed. A mischievous glint in his eyes, she gasped, knowing all too well what he planned on doing. "Oh no, Jack. Don't even think—." With one swift pounce, Jack had pinned Elizabeth to the mattress with a knee on either side of her and began tickling her ribs. Squirming from under him with a wave of girlish giggles, he continued on, his lips planting sporadic kisses on her cheeks as she wriggled beneath his fingers, begging breathlessly for him to stop.
Finally, his fingers ceased their movement and she found herself trapped under him, her hands pressed against his scarred chest but never pushing him away. Her gaze faltered from him for a moment before she uttered, "Just a few minutes ago when you asked me what it was I was thinking about, it was your scent. You smell of the sea and rum and places I've never even been before though they seem so familiar." His expression fell and she worried she might have said something wrong. "Silly, really, I'm sorry if I've upset you," she apologized, turning away from him as if just his smoldering black eyes could ridicule her.
"No, you didn't. I've just never had anyone say something like that to me before," he divulged while she turned back to face him with an innocent glow.
"Tell me," she began to say, cradling his face within her palm but never taking her eyes off his, "What do I smell like?"
"To tell you the truth love, you smell like you haven't had a bath in weeks," he smirked and she swatted at his shoulder with mock-fury.
"No wonder the strumpets always slapped you, you're absolutely wicked," she cried and gently tugged on one of the braids that dangled from his chin. "Honestly, though," her voice lowered as she traced a thumb over his bottom lip. He smiled and slowly pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. As he inhaled deeply Elizabeth had found she had fallen into bliss.
"You smell of falling rain and the distant sea breeze playing off the ocean," he spoke softly, enrapturing her with his poetic claim. Elizabeth took the intimacy they shared into consideration and pressed her lips against Jack's, coaxing their scents to join as one. He tenderly pulled away from her mouth but allowed their noses to touch as his voice lightened, "Really, though, you need a bath." Elizabeth groaned, heaving a pillow at his head as he pulled her up into his arms with a laugh.