Notes: Straight off I think I should give the warnings and explain this a bit. A fellow RPer and I were throwing around unlikely pairings for PotC (slash and non-slash), and I challenged the said, fellow RPer to write one of the mentioned pairings—stating that if she did so, I would write one of any pairing specified. Hardly missing a second, she replied with Norrie/goat. Now, I'm not really into human/animal sorts of writing, or relationships, but I said I'd do any one, so here we are. This is supposed to be a humourous, and non-explicit "Goatington" story, with little touches of Sparrington, Norribeth, and Sparrabeth, because, I hardly do this, why not throw in some other popular pairings while I'm at it?

So, if you can't handle slash relationships, or even the thought of...Norrie/goat (even non-explicit), please don't read this.

Title: "The Way Things Shouldn't Be"
Author: Hildwyn
Rating: Adult (well...the world makes an issue with human/animal relationships, hence the higher rating, even though there is nothing explicit)
Disclaimer: Not mine. And not making money off of it.
Summary: James Norrington during DMC, unrequited love, disturbing dreams, and how things never should have been.
Pairings: Goatington, Sparrington, Norribeth (mentions), Sparrabeth (hints)

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The Way Things Shouldn't Be

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Things tended to have a habit of not working out the way you had intended them. If the world had turned out the way it should-- the world according to James Norrington, then there would be no damsels in distress who chose pirate blacksmiths over respectable commodores, wig pins would never tug painfully at your hair, pirates would be a bygone menace, and what the hell...he'd have a flag rank. Since it was the world according to himself, Norrington figured there was nothing too morally ambiguous about facilitating one's advancement through the ranks. So Rear Admiral it should have been.

There would be no Black Pearl, or being a crew member on her, no having a goat shoved into your arms (surprisingly soft), no Sparrow lording his position over him (quite literally), and no trying to ignore the way your body reacts to the presence of your former fiancé. Certainly there would be no waking up hard in the middle of the night after a dream of soft brown eyes, slender delicate legs, soft lashes tickling his skin, a tongue sliding out from behind perfect teeth, licking behind his ear. No dreaming of the tongue retreating and the mouth going down nibbling at his neck. No reaching up tracing the face of his lover, stroking the soft features to the top of the head, feeling the hard curving horns, or the beard tickling him, the silky fur...

Norrington's eyes shot open and he jerked, upsetting the hammock and spilling himself to the ground.

That was wrong, so very wrong—that dream. It would have been simply wrong if the object of his desires had been Elizabeth, but no...in the world according to his design there would have been none of that goat business. There should be none of that in the world as it is. Even on a pirate ship.

It had to be the air. Stuck here below decks the air became rank overnight with little circulation, and most of the crew members sleeping softly...some not so softly it was not going to be conductive to good dreams. Rank too, with the scent of unwashed men several days out of port.

Port...that would be nice, Norrington thought. It would probably help wipe out the memory of that dream. Fresh air—that would probably help chase away the sins of his dreams. At the very least, he would be able to breathe without feeling like his throat was closing up on him, or that he might be sick.

Norrington fled to the open air on the deck, feeling the refreshing sea breeze cool his skin. Taking a few deep breaths he was able to convince himself that the horror at his dream was unfounded. Dreams meant nothing, and besides, he did not just dream about copulating with...livestock. He leaned over the rail, looking down at the inky water as it slid past the hull. A creaking of wood—different from the usual groans of a vessel at sea, followed by raised voices from behind him drew his attention. He turned aft to see what all the commotion was.

The door to Sparrow's cabin stood open, a diminutive figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the lamplight inside. Honey-golden hair spilled out from the woolen tricorne on the figure's head and a high-pitched voice gave away the identity of the person rather easily. Though her voice was shrill, and tended to carry, Norrington could not make out Elizabeth's words.

"Ah, former Commodore," came Sparrow's voice from within the cabin. As Elizabeth turned around to look, Norrington fled swiftly for the safety of the lower decks—he did not wish to see Elizabeth and think upon what she had been doing in Sparrow's cabin—he did not want to think that she had gone so far as to bed the pirate, but the whole world had been turned upside down already. Not seeing her would help, and she would not follow him below decks. Brave though she may be, the lower decks on a pirate vessel were no place for a woman to be, even if Sparrow had promised swift action against any who would lay a hand on her.

He did not think of where he was going, simply moving for the sake of getting away. His flight brought him to the animal pens on board. As Norrington squinted in the darkness, two eyes looked back at him, mournfully—the goat from earlier. It moved against the pen, pulling itself up to look at the man, its mouth opening to issue forth a rather loud call.

"Shhh!" Norrington said, realising belatedly how odd he must have sounded, trying to shush an animal. He stepped forward when it looked like the animal was about to call again, and awkwardly patted the animal on the head as best he could.

"Come to roll around with the animals?"

Norrington turned, his hand held stiffly above the goat, and a look of surprise upon his face. Sparrow stood leaning against the wall.

"I beg your pardon?" Norrington said, when he had recovered from his surprise.

"That's right, I'm sure you Navy folks are too straitlaced to find their releases with the passengers. Then of course that's why there's a rule about that in your Articles of War. People only make things official and into rules when somebody has done what they just want to outlaw," Sparrow said with a grin, his gold teeth reflecting what little light there was.

"Of course, if you've been needing a little relief and aren't about to stoop to giving yourself a hand, I'm sure that I could help you with some of those urges."

Norrington tried to take a step back from the pirate, forgetting about the pen behind him, and ended upending himself and landing back-first over into the pen. He quickly threw his arms up to protect himself from any from the animals sharp hooves, and whatever else they may do.

A hand reached in, getting a good grip on his coat and pulling him forward out of the pen.

"Seems I rescued you, former-Commodore, from a dangerous liaison. However, since I'm a pirate, and not normally in the business of rescuing, don't mind if I take my payment now."

In the span of a couple of seconds Norrington found himself pinned and being very suddenly kissed by Sparrow. It wasn't bad, the man was a surprisingly good kisser. When Jack broke the kiss, Norrington paused only long enough for breath before going in pursuit of the man's lips. He hadn't been with another in a long while—that's why he found this so pleasant—that was it, no other feeling involved, and for heaven's sake, nothing to do with attraction. Only convenience.

But as Jack's beard tickled the bottom of his neck, Norrington was reminded distinctly of the goat and his dreams.

Damn!

This was not how the world was supposed to be.

Fin.