A/U for AWE, this was written for the 'Humor' Challenge at jechallenge on Live Journal.
Nice Hat
"Aye, well, I'll just be takin' my leave…"
Gibbs slides out the door as though the atmosphere in the Great Cabin is suddenly too hot to bear.
Which is unjust. Elizabeth is working hard at keeping her temper in check, in spite of the fact that this is the first time she and Jack have been alone since World's End – since their fateful encounter at the mast before his… his death. It should be a grave moment, fraught with weighty emotion on both sides. And yet, from the contortions of his mobile countenance, it appears instead as though he is doing his very best not to laugh.
"What," she snaps, "can you possibly be laughing at?"
A slight snort of ill-contained amusement escapes. "S-sorry," he says, clearly not meaning it. "It's the hat."
The hat. The hat Sao Feng had given her. Felt, with a wide profile and topped with a thickish spike. "It's a Chinese warrior's hat. Sao Feng said so."
"Did he? Enemy s'posed to sit on it, then?" And he grins outright. "It's just that it's…somewhat… phallic. But it suits you, love. Really."
"Phallic?" She frowns, suspicious. "Does that mean what I think it does?" Apparently so. She can see it in his eyes. Suits her! She snatches the hat from her head and advances purposefully, restraint kicked aside. "Perhaps one is supposed to hit the enemy with it!" And she does so, swiping viciously at him, again and again as he backs away, now consumed with ill-timed mirth. Bloody pirate! "You blackguard! You black-hearted devil! You… Jack!" This last because she's missed her aim and the spike in question has grazed his face, his eye perhaps, for he yelps and puts a hand to it. She throws the hat aside. "Jack, no! Are you all right?"
He isn't – there is a thin, bleeding cut on his cheekbone when he moves the hand – and he is, for quick as thought he grabs her arms, and, face still alight, shakes her a bit. "Enough o' that," he says, voice edged with laughter, but with menace as well.
"Let go!" She struggles, overcome by a storm of emotion and startled at the wiry strength of him, greater than her own in spite of the fact that they are nearly of a size. "Jack Sparrow, you let me go!"
"I think not," he chuckles, and somehow shifts them a few stumbling steps to fetch up against his bed.
He gives her a purposeful shove, and a cry escapes her as they fall together. She's filled with dismay at his weight upon her, his hands hard on her wrists, and his skill at avoiding her knee-to-the-groin tactics. "You bastard!" she hisses.
"Am not," he says, settling himself, and squeezing her wrists harder.
"You are! You are! You gave me to him!" The words burst from her before she can stop them, and she freezes suddenly.
"I did," he agrees. "Tit for tat."
She stares at him. "For revenge."
"Pirate. And to keep you safe."
Good man, her errant brain supplies. But she grinds her teeth, and spits, "Safe?"
"I'm thinking you're unharmed, and as yet unravished, love."
"He thought to make me his concubine!"
"If you were willing."
"I wasn't."
"Didn't imagine you would be."
He's smirking now, and her breast heaves with indignation, a flush heating her cheeks. How she hates being a pawn in his games. She squirms, ineffectually, then gives it up, for the moment. "He didn't know that. Do you know what they did to me? How they prepare one to be a concubine for the illustrious Sao Feng?"
He grins, slow and crooked, and there is a warmth in the heavy-lidded eyes. "I'd heard. Didn't you enjoy it?"
"Enjoy it?" She tries to knee him (again unsuccessfully) and snarls, "Shall we pluck every hair from your body, and scrub and oil and poke and prod you until you're ready to shriek and see how you enjoy it?"
"Every hair?" He raises a brow. "That's interesting."
"It was horrible!"
"Poor darling. And all for naught." And he surprises her with a kiss, light and soft, and moves his hips, suggestively. "Or was it?"
"You said it was for revenge." But her voice trembles slightly, and she knows he can feel the thudding of her heart.
"Ah, yes. So I did." He sets his lips to hers once more, and loosens his grip on her wrists, rubbing his thumbs against the soft skin.
Something inside her is slowly coming undone. She will not admit that there is any justice in this, that he is in any way entitled. But she cannot help her response, any more than she's been able to stop dreaming of him these last few months.
Eventually he draws back very slightly, and his breath is warm against her lips. "That fellow that said 'twas a dish best served cold must've been off 'is head. And I certainly owe Sao Feng one for the hat." The smirk reappears.
She rolls her eyes, keeping her own smile at bay. "Why is that?"
"Its phallic properties: most inspiring."
o-o-o