Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters,
so please don't sue me.
**************************************************************************** ****************
Three hours later, after I had explained telephones, TVs and microwaves
to the best of my ability, Jack and I finally ran out of things to say. The sun had
gone down, and I just then realized that I was still in my bikini and Jack was still
shirtless. I shivered as I stood up from the futon where I had been sitting next to
him.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm freezing. I'm going to go change.
There's a blanket on the couch if you want it. Would you like to borrow a shirt or
something?" Jack stood up too and began to stretch, then stopped, wincing.
"It is bloody cold. And I wouldn't mind getting out of these for a while,"
he added, making a face at his still-damp trousers. "A pair of pants for tomorrow
would be just corking, thankee." So I went into my room and changed into my
best-looking pajamas (How often do you get a slumber party with Jack
Sparrow?) and then searched through my father's trousers before finally finding
a suitable pair for Jack. I returned to the living room/kitchen, only to discover
Jack busy conducting a thorough search of the cupboards. He turned around
when he heard me enter and beamed widely, waving an almost-full bottle of
amber liquid in my direction.
"Lookee here, you do have rum after all! Pretty old and dusty though.
Probably been behind the fridge for years. Still, " he added merrily, "it just gets
better with age. Like me." He grinned at me, and I laughed appreciatively,
secretly thinking that truer words were never said.
"Whatever you say, captain. I've got your trousers, but I'm not sure
they're the right size." I held them up, and Jack recoiled in disgust.
"Me wear those?! Sorry, love, I'd look like one of Norrington's bloody
soldiers. Thankee, but no, I'd rather sleep in the buff tonight." I nodded and
smiled, trying to remember what 'in the buff' meant. Maybe it was some kind of
pirate slang. Jack smiled back slyly, and we stood there staring at each other for a
few moments. Then his grin grew wider, and he shrugged.
"Well then, if you don't feel like your own bed tonight, that's perfectly
cricket with me," and he started undoing his trousers.
"Wait," I said, thoroughly flustered, "What are you doing?" He raised an
eyebrow at me.
"I told ye I was sleeping in the buff. You had no problem with that a
second ago." I blushed, suddenly recalling my vocabulary.
"No, there's no problem, it's just.I." I trailed off lamely, looking at him
for understanding. He smiled agreeably back at me, though he looked slightly let
down.
"Ah, I see. In that case, I'll escort my lady to her chamber and bid her
goodnight gentleman-like. Maybe later, eh?" I was both relieved and terribly,
awfully disappointed. I managed a "Thank you, Jack," and he took my arm to
lead me down the hallway, but not before carefully stowing his precious rum
somewhere in the futon. When we reached my room, he took one look at the
assorted clothing and souvenirs scattered over the floor, then swept me up into
his arms and carefully stepped across the rubbish field. He deposited me neatly
on my bed, then bent over me.
"Goodnight, love," he said softly, never taking his eyes from mine, "See
you in the morning then, eh?" I reached up and tugged on one of the locks of
hair that was tickling my nose.
"Goodnight, Jack," I replied. He leaned down and kissed me, passionately
yet gently. Then he chuckled and hopped out of the room, turning off the lights
as he went. I turned over in my bed, reflecting that this was quite possibly the
best day of my life, and fell asleep with Jack in my thoughts and a faint savor of
rum in my mouth.
**************************************************************************** ****************
Three hours later, after I had explained telephones, TVs and microwaves
to the best of my ability, Jack and I finally ran out of things to say. The sun had
gone down, and I just then realized that I was still in my bikini and Jack was still
shirtless. I shivered as I stood up from the futon where I had been sitting next to
him.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm freezing. I'm going to go change.
There's a blanket on the couch if you want it. Would you like to borrow a shirt or
something?" Jack stood up too and began to stretch, then stopped, wincing.
"It is bloody cold. And I wouldn't mind getting out of these for a while,"
he added, making a face at his still-damp trousers. "A pair of pants for tomorrow
would be just corking, thankee." So I went into my room and changed into my
best-looking pajamas (How often do you get a slumber party with Jack
Sparrow?) and then searched through my father's trousers before finally finding
a suitable pair for Jack. I returned to the living room/kitchen, only to discover
Jack busy conducting a thorough search of the cupboards. He turned around
when he heard me enter and beamed widely, waving an almost-full bottle of
amber liquid in my direction.
"Lookee here, you do have rum after all! Pretty old and dusty though.
Probably been behind the fridge for years. Still, " he added merrily, "it just gets
better with age. Like me." He grinned at me, and I laughed appreciatively,
secretly thinking that truer words were never said.
"Whatever you say, captain. I've got your trousers, but I'm not sure
they're the right size." I held them up, and Jack recoiled in disgust.
"Me wear those?! Sorry, love, I'd look like one of Norrington's bloody
soldiers. Thankee, but no, I'd rather sleep in the buff tonight." I nodded and
smiled, trying to remember what 'in the buff' meant. Maybe it was some kind of
pirate slang. Jack smiled back slyly, and we stood there staring at each other for a
few moments. Then his grin grew wider, and he shrugged.
"Well then, if you don't feel like your own bed tonight, that's perfectly
cricket with me," and he started undoing his trousers.
"Wait," I said, thoroughly flustered, "What are you doing?" He raised an
eyebrow at me.
"I told ye I was sleeping in the buff. You had no problem with that a
second ago." I blushed, suddenly recalling my vocabulary.
"No, there's no problem, it's just.I." I trailed off lamely, looking at him
for understanding. He smiled agreeably back at me, though he looked slightly let
down.
"Ah, I see. In that case, I'll escort my lady to her chamber and bid her
goodnight gentleman-like. Maybe later, eh?" I was both relieved and terribly,
awfully disappointed. I managed a "Thank you, Jack," and he took my arm to
lead me down the hallway, but not before carefully stowing his precious rum
somewhere in the futon. When we reached my room, he took one look at the
assorted clothing and souvenirs scattered over the floor, then swept me up into
his arms and carefully stepped across the rubbish field. He deposited me neatly
on my bed, then bent over me.
"Goodnight, love," he said softly, never taking his eyes from mine, "See
you in the morning then, eh?" I reached up and tugged on one of the locks of
hair that was tickling my nose.
"Goodnight, Jack," I replied. He leaned down and kissed me, passionately
yet gently. Then he chuckled and hopped out of the room, turning off the lights
as he went. I turned over in my bed, reflecting that this was quite possibly the
best day of my life, and fell asleep with Jack in my thoughts and a faint savor of
rum in my mouth.