Usual disclaimers: If you recognise anything, it belongs to Disney. Anything else is mine.

Thanks as always to my beta, Pendragginink.

Chapter 14 – The Morning

Jack woke, yet again, to the very pleasant sensation of having Mab snuggled against him. He shut his eyes, partly savouring the feeling and but mainly wishing his thumping headache would ease. The storm had passed and bright, late morning sunlight flooded the cabin.

"It gets better after the first hour," Mab winced, clearly having been awake for some time, even if she had not felt able to move. Her head was resting on his chest, her breath tickling his skin.

"I don't think this one'll get better fer th' rest of th' day," Jack lamented, holding his head gingerly. He, though, was used to getting extremely drunk, but he wondered just how bad Mab was feeling. "You weren't bloody kiddin' about being able ter hold yer drink, eh?"

"You didn't sing though," she pouted.

"Did too!" he protested. "You fell asleep before I really got goin'…"

"I didn't hear you," Mab complained, for she had been looking forward to hearing to him sing.

"I never renege on m' bets," Jack defended.

"I didn't say you did," Mab sighed, showing no sign of moving from his chest. "I said I didn't hear you. You'll have to sing again," she said, smiling – then wincing – as she looked up at him.

"I don't bloody think so! Especially not at th' moment…" Jack retorted, softening his voice as he saw her wince. "All right," he sighed, not having the heart to disappoint her.

"Just not right now, though!" she pleaded.

"Oh good," Jack chuckled. "I thought you were some kind of sadist or masochist…"

"No, I'll leave that to you," she remarked, chuckling with him and then regretting it. She had never drunk as much as she had the night before and her head was pounding.

"I wonder how long it'll be before I'm missed?" Jack wondered out loud. "If someone comes lookin' fer me, we might be able to get help standin'." He frowned. "Ah, bloody hell!" he lamented. "They're probably all ashore – we'll be here all day!"

"And you locked the doors," Mab reminded him.

"Hehehe," he chortled, realising he had Mab alone in his bunk with little chance of interruptions. "We're well an' truly stuck!" he grinned.

"I could push," she offered, glancing up at him. "No? Are you sure you don't want a push?" she sighed, sounding disappointed as he shook his head in alarm.

"I don't want a push!" Jack protested, worried that she would actually do so. He held a hand to his head; shaking it had not been a good idea. "Knowin' my luck, I'd end up on th' floor in a heap!" She nudged him gently. "Gerroff!" he protested.

"Well I need the head, so are you moving?" Mab asked.

"You'll have ter climb," Jack teased, putting his hands behind his head and yawning expressively.

"Bugger you!" she cursed, easing across him and standing groggily. "Do you want me to unlock the doors?" she asked, wobbling alarmingly and grabbing hold of the bulkhead for support.

"Go to th' head first," he grinned, having enjoyed her sliding across his body. "You don't want ter have to swab the deck in your condition…"

Mab glared at him half-heartedly, before turning and weaving her way towards the head, unlocking the doors on her way back to the bunk. "Now, if you want to lock them, you can shift your arse," she threatened, not even bothering to ask if he would move as she climbed back across him.

"I'm not shiftin' it anywhere," Jack groaned, wishing she would slide in and out of the bunk a few more times, the sensation arousing him even in his still drunken state. "Bloody hell, I don't remember when I last drunk so much…"

Mab flopped face down on the pillow next to him. "Me neither," she admitted wryly, her voice muffled. "Seb would have given up before we even hit the floor!"

"Is he a brother?" Jack asked, not quite remembering who was who within the troupe although he could remember her telling him the names of all the troupe.

"My eldest brother," she reminded him.

"No stamina!" he chuckled. "Although I'm not sure I have any more…"

"I'll let you know when mine returns," Mab groaned, not even bothering to lift her face from the pillow.

"Bet mine does before yours," he teased, rolling carefully over onto his front and flopping an arm across her back, smiling to himself as she did not protest the intimacy.

"I'm all out of bets," Mab remarked. "Unless it is a bet to find food and drink?"

"I think there's still some food left from last night," Jack frowned, thinking. "I suppose I'd better go an' look…" he sighed.

Mab waved her free arm airily in command, laughing into the pillow. "Go on, then," she urged.

"Yes, M'am," he replied, sliding off the bunk and stumbling into the main cabin. "Dried bread an' weevils?" he offered, turning and holding up a piece of bread. "Or hard cheese?"

"That's all right, I'll pass," Mab groaned, grimacing at his offering.

"Me too," Jack agreed, dropping the unappetising food back onto the platter on the table before weaving his way to the head. "In fact, I don't think I want ter look at food ever again," he called back.

"Oh, I could," Mab admitted, struggling to sit up again. Despite eating well since coming on board, she still felt hungry. "Point me to the galley and I'll poison us with something," she offered as she sat up slowly.

"You want me ter walk that far?" Jack protested, fastening his breeches clumsily as he reappeared. He sighed heavily. "Oh, come on then…" he conceded, crooking his arm at her.

Mab took his offered arm, grateful for his assistance in climbing out of the bunk. "Galley?" she suggested. "Or do you fancy rowing and showing me what can be found in Tortuga?"

"Row? Yer expect me ter row in this state?" Jack spluttered. "We might make it in time fer supper," he joked as he opened the doors and staggered out onto the deck. A number of nearby crew, on watch, raised wry eyebrows as they passed, but did not comment, guessing Jack would probably still be hung over and, looking at Mab, reasoning that she was similarly suffering.

"I didn't say I expected you to reach shore," she remarked.

"So yer sayin' we'd just go 'round an' 'round in circles, eh?" Jack laughed, instantly regretting it.

"Probably triangles in your state," she smiled, her head hurting as badly as his.

"That'd be… interestin'," Jack reasoned as Mab followed him down the stairs, turning a sharp right to find the galley.

"Well, what have you got?" she asked, peering into various jars and pots that she could see.

"A fair bit, hopefully," Jack replied as he joined her in exploring the galley for anything edible. "Includin' hens," he added on hearing the plump brown birds clucking in the small cabin opposite.

"At least the stove is stoked and ready to light," Mab smiled, crouching down and adding more fuel to it from a pile of wood nearby before selecting a match from the tin matchbox and setting the tinder alight. She stood up, bashing her head on something hanging from the bulkhead. She looked up, wincing and rubbing her head. "I've found a ham," she remarked dryly.

"I wonder if they've laid?" Jack puzzled, still considering the chickens as he turned to reach the ham down. "Which is more than I have," he teased, stepping closer to Mab. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Jokin'!" he protested, holding his hands up in a conciliatory gesture, hoping he had not overstepped the mark and she would not punch him; he did not feel up to coping with being punched that morning.

Mab smirked at his response. "Go see," she urged hungrily.

"Bossy," Jack muttered as he went to the side cabin where the hens were kept, fighting his way in as they clustered around his feet, hopeful of a scoop of grain. "Bloody birds are tryin' ter kill me!" he cried, fighting to keep his balance and avoid the sharp beaks pecking at his toes. Mab followed, unable to help laughing at him – despite her head - until her sides hurt.

"Are you sure you haven't laid any?" she asked, chuckling at his actions, his arms flailing as he tried to defend himself against the creatures.

"Want ter check?" he asked cheekily, fighting his way out of the cabin with a prize of two eggs. He held them up to her proudly.

Mab peered down the back of his breeches, reasoning he could do little to prevent her with two eggs cradled in his hands. "No, you haven't," she shrugged, before turning and heading back into the galley.

"Might have slipped around th' front…" Jack suggested hopefully, hurrying after her.

"In your dreams," she retorted, laughing, wincing, as she reached for some flour, mixing it with oil, salt and water in a bowl. Jack peered over her shoulder, wondering what she was cooking, but thinking as long as it was edible, he did not care. He took a sharp knife and started slicing the ham, placing generous, if slightly crooked, slices on two plates that he took from a high shelf.

Mab kneaded the dough, before slapping it on the range and watching as it cooked on the hot plate while Jack sniffed appreciatively. After a number of minutes, she took a knife and flipped it over to cook the other side. When it was fully cooked, she tore it in half, placing each piece next to the ham before quickly frying the two eggs and putting them on top. "There," she smiled. "Breakfast… if a little late!"

"I'll sack Jones an' hire you instead," Jack insisted, picking up his plate and waiting for her as she made the stove safe and found herself a beaker of fresh water. He led the way back to the cabin, sitting at the table, the smell of the food – for once – not turning his stomach. He tucked in eagerly.

"You couldn't afford me," Mab teased as she sat next to him.

"I don't know," Jack winked, glad that his headache seemed to be easing slightly as he ate. "A couple of bottles of that rum should do it…"

"Sold!" Mab laughed, as she ate too. "Just not at this hour!"

"No, definitely not at this hour," Jack agreed, surprised at how fast she ate; she was clearly still famished from her time in the summerhouse. "Or fer th' next few hours come to that."

"This feels better," she grinned, wiping the yolk from the plate with what remained of her flatbread, determined not to miss a tiny morsel.

"It does," Jack nodded contentedly. "I might even be able ter manage to row in a straightish line…"

"Well, it's a pretty long quayside," she shrugged. "You should hit it sooner or later!"

"That's what worries me," Jack frowned. "I'd never live it down!"

"No?" she smirked at his discomfort. She did not know why, but despite being a pirate, she found she enjoyed his company.

"I could always make you row," Jack threatened. "See how you like it!"

"I can row," Mab shrugged. "But imagine your credibility in having a woman row you ashore? You'd never be able to show your face again!"

"Oh gawd," Jack lamented. "I can't win either way, can I?"

"No," Mab chuckled, stretching and yawning. "So do you want to stay until later," she asked, "or go now?"

"I'm not rowing yet," Jack protested. "Probably fetch all that delicious food back up!" He looked at her, considering. "D' you want a tour of th' Pearl?" he offered.

"Start at the top and work down, or at the bottom and work up," Mab teased.

"Work downwards," he grinned, "as ever!" He rose, pushing his plate away. "Gun deck then th' hold?" he offered innocently as if his words held no double meaning.

"Lead on then," Mab replied, standing and dropping a curtsey, laughing as she did so, before following Jack from the cabin. He guided her along the main deck and down the stairs, through the ship's gun deck to the stern cabins where the senior crew slept.

"Quartermaster, helm, ship's doctor an' sick bay," he announced, pointing at each doorway before heading quietly back along the gun deck, passing a few crew sleeping off the previous night's drinking in their hammocks. "Took that off a naval ship," he grinned, indicating a particularly grand looking cannon. "Sweet little thing, she is…"

"I'm sure," Mab said, discomforted, not liking guns and their noisy violence. She would never like them; they terrified her.

Jack did not notice her distraction and, taking a lantern from a hook next to the stairwell, he led Mab on down into the bowels of the Black Pearl. "Might even be able ter find you a dress while we're down here," Jack suggested, wondering if he had anything that would fit her.

"A dress?" Mab exclaimed excitedly. "Where?"

"I have plenty in th' hold," Jack laughed, delighting in her response. "We don't just deal with gold an' jewels, yer know!"

"Show me," Mab smiled, following him eagerly as he unlocked one of the doors and walked into a store with numerous chests in. "Not sure which ones they're in," he admitted, thinking there were more chests and boxes in the store than he remembered. "So, get lookin'!"

Mab blinked, momentarily stunned, before crouching down and opening one chest, and then another until her hand met with fabric. "How many dresses do you have?" she gasped.

"A few," Jack chuckled, turning to watch her as she started to pull several from the chest, holding them up to her. Dresses and any type of fine clothes were a good cargo; they did not weigh too much, did not take up too much space and did not spoil as foods could.

"What do you think?" she asked, holding up a creamy coloured dress to her.

"A bit short," he replied, shaking his head as he reached for another. "Try this one fer size," he suggested, passing a rich burgundy coloured dress to her.

Mab held it up, smoothing the skirts against her legs. "Well?" she asked, looking at him.

"I like it," Jack replied, thinking the low cut dress would show off her cleavage beautifully. "Have a look fer some more an' try them on later," he offered, remembering that he had taken more than one dress from the statuesque Dutch lady.

"I can only wear one at a time," Mab protested.

"See which fits best," Jack groaned, rolling his eyes. "No point in tryin' one on an' findin' it doesn't fit, eh?" he reasoned.

Mab shook her head, before grinning at him and rummaging through the chest to find another three dresses of a similar length. "There, happy now?" she laughed, never having seen such luxuries.

"Better," Jack grinned, envisaging the soft fabrics hugging her curves. "Come on…" he urged, eager to see the dresses on her.