Summary: "'Hate to say it, mate, but the second time 'ere was far more enjoyable than this one is lookin' to be.'" Jack and Barbossa have been marooned by the Pearl's crew, who happen to be tired of the constant change in command over the ship. As usual, the pair struggle to get along. One-shot. Post AWE, disregards OST and DMTNT.
Unlucky, As Always
"Hate to say it, mate, but the second time 'ere was far more enjoyable than this one is lookin' to be." Jack Sparrow remarked.
"Shut your trap." Hector Barbossa, the only other person on the island, glowered at him from where he sat on a rock.
The first man merely shook his head, turning away from his companion to look out to the endless waves. "If looks could kill…"
"Ye would've been thrown to the depths long ago if that be the case."
"Reckon so?"
"I should've drowned ye when we were swimmin'." Barbossa grumbled irritably.
"Oh, please. Ye'd go mad o' boredom long before ye did o' thirst." Jack pointed out. He would know. He was a veteran at the whole getting-marooned thing by now.
Barbossa snorted derisively. "Haven't ye anythin' better to do, Jack?"
He turned back towards him with an infuriating smirk. "An' let ye backstab me when ye follow? Preferably not, mate. 'M quite humored stayin' right 'ere."
The younger Pirate Lord backed away from the hopeless waves, settling himself under one of the palm trees at the edge of the beach to shelter from the brutal heat.
He had little else to occupy his mind besides the fact that he was stuck on the godforsaken island for the third time. Though he was thankful that the crew hadn't given them any weapons, even if it went against the Code. He and Barbossa would've been at each other's throats by now. And he was especially glad that the infernal monkey hadn't been thrown after them.
Jack sighed as he looked up at the sun. Time seemed to drag along without end. He supposed it could be worse. And at least Barbossa appeared to be suffering a bit himself; that man deserved a taste of his own cruelty.
"Ye seem awfully content with yourself over there." Barbossa commented, breaking his train of thought.
"Content." The younger pirate scoffed. "The crew marooned us, Hector. What, pray tell, is there to be content 'bout?"
He imagined Barbossa rolling his eyes. "Perhaps that ye still be alive? That not be much o' a curse, considerin' that ye got your way off 'ere twice b'fore."
"Aye, an' how many times am I goin' to repeat it b'fore it finally kills me?" Jack shot back, crossing his arms across the chest with a sigh. "It's a bloody joke."
"Ye didn't exactly have any choice when ye ran afoul o' me." The other man mused. "Didn't have but a soul help ye, no one to protect your sorry arse."
"I don't need anyone's help, mate. If anythin', they need mine. Bloody ironic how it works out for me though, don't ye think?"
"Ye be an unlucky man, Jack." Barbossa agreed, standing from the rock he'd been sitting on. "Now, why don't ye go along an' amuse yourself catchin' us somethin' to eat? I'll figure out what to do 'bout water."
The younger pirate reluctantly dragged himself to his own feet. "Might 's well. Not much else to do."