A/N: Written for idan trradiak for a drabble challenge on my journal. It is intentionally short, complete, and will not be updated.

Enjoy!

Prompt: Jack/Elizabeth, 'rum or any kind of alcohol.'

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Ambrosia

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"I really cannot understand why you like this... bilge," Elizabeth informed him sloppily, wobbling rather alarmingly.

She was perched precariously on a branch of a tree which bordered the beach, feet bare and dangling carelessly in the night air. There was a bottle of something in her hand that was probably rum and definitely alcoholic. Her hair was down tonight.

Jack, sprawled in the sand, did not even bother to look up at her, only waved a hand as though that explained everything. "You're still drinking it, aren't you, love?"

That she was.

Nonplussed by the discovery, she hopped nimbly off the tree branch and faceplanted into the warm island beach. "Bloody hell," she said after spitting most of the sand out of her mouth and washing the rest down with whatever-it-was in the unlabeled bottle. "Remind me why I'm drinking it?"

"Because I asked you to," Jack replied sensibly. "Now get your pretty bum down here where a chap can see your face properly, it's no fun talking to a bleeding tree."

"Fine," she said, tossing her hair regally and staggering towards him. Being horrifically drunk, Elizabeth naturally missed the beach and landed on Jack instead. "Oh. Hello?"

"Why, hello," Jack said rakishly, smiling very, very widely and setting the rum (or whatever-it-was) carefully down in the sand in order to reach up and stroke her face with his ringed fingers.

Elizabeth, regardless of the fact that it was her own fault that she'd landed in his lap and thus invited the aforementioned lascivious overtures, laid him out flat with a vicious right hook.

This was them-- beaches and rum and curses, and stubborn refusal to let it be any more than that.

Elizabeth fell asleep draped across Jack's snoring chest and never thought twice about it.

He would have a black eye in the morning, and they would both have a hangover fit to slay the gods themselves, but they would be smiling anyway and would never be able to explain why to anyone else without it sounding awfully suggestive (mostly because it was, no matter how they denied it).

The sun began to rise, and both of them dead to the world for hours yet.

This was them as well, and for now it was well enough.

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