Disclaimer: I own shnizit. (haha, that was really fun to write).
This takes place directly after PotC1 (I know, a little late). And, lets just pretend that Commodore Norrington didn't resign, and then become wanted for a hanging. That would be super.
I didn't really like Norrington in the first one, but in the second, he was really, really hot. I don't know how that happened, maybe it was loss of the wig, and the addition of grime and facial hair, but he looks really good. So, that was pretty much my only influence for this story. Oh, wait, also I kinda felt bad when Elizabeth didn't marry him, even though it was totally obvious she never would. But that leaves me wondering, is there any love life for dear old James? Well, in my deepest darkest thoughts, yes. And that's exactly what this is. Oh, and it was kinda influenced by my other story, cause I just made up a relationship, and I'm not sure if I'm ever gonna go back to that in my other story, so I'm just exploring it here. So if you have read my other story a lot of this will seem familiar, but it has nothing to do with pirates, or Barbossa, or anything like that. Enjoy.
CHAPTER 1
James Norrington walked in the door of his huge estate, brushing the stray dust off of his hat before placing it on the hanger. Once inside he was greeted by his live-in maid. "Good…" she looked outside through the window, "afternoon, James. How was, er, commandeering?"
He smiled at her. "Fine, how was maiding?" He chuckled slightly at his "witty" remark.
"Ha-ha-ha, well mine actually worked. I may have just taken your title and added I-N-G, but at least it ended up a real word."
He laughed again, hanging up his coat. "It may be a word, but it doesn't mean what you think it means. And I guess I'll just have to make maiding a word, won't I, Lea?"
She put her hands on her hips. "And how do you suppose you go about that? Hmm?"
He paused, his mouth open willing a thought to come. "I'll find a way."
A thought finally came to Azalea. "Oh! How'd it go with Elizabeth? She said yes, right?"
James sat in a chair and Azalea sat across from him. "Will Turner is the man she wants to marry."
"Oh." Azalea looked down at her hands, now folded in her lap. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." James remained still, staring out the window. "You look famished, I'm going to make you soup." She stood up to walk to the kitchen. He waved his arm and she sat back down. "I know this might not sound like much coming from your lowly maid, but you deserve better anyway. You know, someone who will love you back."
He turned towards her. "Thank you. And you know I don't think of you as a maid."
"I know. A charity case, right?"
"Of course." Azalea's mouth was agape in shock. "I'm aloud to have a sense of humor too."
She closed her mouth. "Oh right, I forgot…cause you never use it."
He smiled and shook his head. "You know what, I am quite hungry, soup sounds good." Azalea smiled and walked to the kitchen. James followed her to the kitchen. "Where's Emma?" he asked, noticing his cook was gone.
Azalea got a pot down from the cupboard. "Her son has pneumonia, I told her I could cook while she was gone."
"Oh. Well send her my blessing the next time you see her."
"Yeah, OK. I was wondering if I could bring them soup tonight. I mean, because he's really sick, and she can't leave him alone for too long."
"That seems like a good idea. I'll arrange a carriage for you to take until he gets better."
Azalea smiled to herself at his hospitality. She always knew he was kind, just sometimes he failed to show it. He once told her it's because he had an image to maintain, but she knew that was rubbish. She knew he had a hard time conveying himself to other people. It was easy with Azalea because he had known her since she was a young girl. But with other people, no matter what he said or how he acted, he was always uncomfortable. He had known Elizabeth since she was young, and he thought proposing was the right thing. It turns out he didn't know her as well as he thought. "The soup will be a while, you might as well get some work done."
"I have nothing to do for the day. They sent me home devoid of responsibility."
She raised her eyebrows. "Sounds fun. So you're going to stay in here and talk with me until your soup is done?"
"I expect you're hungry, or at least you will be by then. I just assume you'll eat with me."
She nodded then turned away from James, blushing. As a 15-year-old maid it was very uncommon for someone like her to be dining with the Commodore. The fact that she had a crush on him didn't help a bit. She put the soup on the burner and turned it on. "I suppose you'll want bread, yes?" She took the bread from the basket and got ready to cut it when he gave his answer.
"Yes, thank you. Also, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about." Azalea turned towards him. "Your birthday's coming up soon…"
She looked away, her blush starting to come back. "Oh, no…"
"Your 16th."
"You really shouldn't do anything."
He smiled at her stubbornness; she did this every year. "I have to."
"You have to? Why?"
"It's my obligation."
"As…my employer?"
"As well as your guardian."
The girl turned back to the bread she was cutting. "Guardians don't have an obligation to give gifts."
"Fine then, forget everything I said, I want to give you a gift. Better?"
She turned back to him with a playful sigh. "No. I can't prove an opinion wrong."
"Good. Now, I have to say I'm unsure of what to get you. You still have that wretched pirate hat, yes?"
She failed to hold back her smile. "Always will."
"As I thought. Well, I don't suppose you'd actually want a dress this year, would you?"
"If that's what you want me to have, then I guess it's time for me to mature. A dress would be wonderful."
"Perfect. I'll set up an appointment for you to be fitted."
Azalea turned back to the bread she was cutting. "Ow!" She jumped back from the counter, holding her finger in her other hand.
"What happened?" James asked, concerned.
"I cut my bloody finger." She made her way over to the sink, washcloth in hand. The cold stream of water stung her finger as she cursed silently.
James walked up next to her and took her hand in his. A shiver went down her spine. "It looks deep." He took the washcloth from her one of her hands and wrapped it around the other. Her heartbeat quickened as he held her hand in his. She looked down at her hand when he looked at her. He raised his eyebrows. "You're Ok?"
She glanced at his face before looking down at her hand. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. It was a bit of an overreaction, sorry."
He pulled the cloth off of her hand and peeked in, before putting it back on and applying more pressure than the last time. "It's still bleeding progressively. I'd say it was a reasonable reaction." He took her free hand in his and wrapped it tightly around the cloth. "Hold it there." She nodded and he turned away from her.
Azalea walked over to the pot of soup, which was nowhere near done. "It's going to a long while. You probably will want to do something better, like reading and such."
James sat down at the small table in the center of the kitchen. "I wouldn't want to miss anymore knife-capades." He stood up suddenly. "Ah, but I should set up an appointment, as well as a carriage. Send up Emily when the soup is done, I don't want you to have to walk up that staircase more than you have to."
Azalea groaned. "My ankle is fine.'
"Either way I don't want you doing that again. I know how clumsy you are."
"I promise to never fall down the stairs again. Now please, can I come tell you? Emily has bad knees."
"I saw you limping. And when you jumped back you must have injured your ankle further. Send Emily, I'm not going to argue about this." Without waiting for an answer from her, he walked up to his office.
Once James was out of the room, Azalea leaned back on the counter. He had so much concern in his touch, so much delicacy. She shook the thought out of her head and went back to the soup; nothing would ever happen between them.
X+X+X+X+X+X
Deep in thought, James didn't hear the knock on his door.
The door opened a crack. "James?" The door opened all the way and Azalea stepped in.
James looked up from his papers. "Didn't I tell you to send Emily up?"
"Didn't I tell you Emily has bad knees? Now, your soup is ready."
James gathered his papers together and stood up. He noticed both her hands were cloth-free as we neared her. "How is your finger doing?"
"Oh, it's fine." She put her hand down by her waist so he wouldn't hold it again, but it didn't work.
"Let me see." Azalea stared at his face as he inspected her hand. His eyebrows went up and down as her gently held her hand. "Yes, it looks better." He let go of her hand and the two continued out of the room. As they got to the top of the stairs, James turned towards Azalea. "How did you manage to fall down the stairs, anyway?"
Azalea turned away blushing. "I was carrying a tray that was bigger than me and I lost my footing. Plus, I had just washed the stairs, they were wet, everything added up and I fell."
"You are the most injury-prone person I know."
"And how many people do you know, exactly?"
James turned to her with his eyebrows raised. "A lot."
Azalea nodded. "Right…that didn't work."
"How many times have I told you to think before you act?"
"Well I didn't think that applied to insults."
"Of all the things you thought it might apply to, insults weren't on your list?"
"Not in the sense that I should come up with a good way to insult someone."
He paused for a moment. "Oh right, I guess it would have been better just to tell you not to insult people."
"That might have been a good way to start, yes. But you have taught me how to be a lady while dining. So, shall we?"
James nodded, taking her hand. As they neared the table Azalea let go of his hand.
"I'll get the soup."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Don't you ever want to be doted upon?"
"I'm a maid, James…plus, you already treat me like a princess."
James sat down in his chair at the dining table. "I suppose."
Azalea smiled, making her way to the kitchen. She came back out, moments later with two trays in her hands. "One for you." She set the tray down in front of James. "And one for me." She set the other tray in front of an empty seat before sitting down. "OK, now you know as well as I do that I'm not a very good cook, so if it's horrible, don't pretend it's not."
"Of course I won't…besides, you'll probably be able to tell by my expression."
She glared at him softly before looking down to hide the smile on her face, as well as her reddening cheeks. The two spent the rest of the dinner in silence, speaking every once in a while to discuss the weather and such. When dinner ended, Azalea cleared their plates and continued on to her other duties. When night came she settled into bed preparing herself for yet another day with her long-time crush.
There, chapter one's done. I always feel weird when I end a chapter, probably cause everyone's about to read it…well, not every, maybe a couple people if I'm lucky. PLEASE REVIW. If you want a bit more insight into their relationship, you could read We Named the Monkey Jack, my other story. It has some background info on them…and I like reviews. . But it's not Jamlea, it's Barlea. Yeah, I'm cool, I already gave them mix-names.
