Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of the characters,
so please don't sue me.
**************************************************************************** ****************
"I'll braid this in a minute. Your clothes are probably ready for the dryer
by now. We should go back and check." Jack looked speculative.
"Oh, I don't know. It's a bit hot for trousers. Maybe I'll just run around in
the buff." I laughed, imagining a naked Jack running madly around like a
decapitated chicken.
"I don't think that's a good idea. Imagine the sunburn you could get." Jack
winced.
"Good point. Let's go get my trousers." We meandered back to the cabin,
Jack fitting his new rings onto his fingers and wiggling them experimentally. The
clothes were indeed done when we got back, so I stuffed them in the dryer.
While Jack was being hypnotized by the spinning clothes in the dryer, I hopped
in the shower for a quick rinse, after carefully putting Jack's gifts safely by the
sink. When I was salt-free I reemerged, toweling my damp hair. Seeing that Jack
was still fascinated by the tumbling clothes, I sat cross-legged on the futon and
began braiding the hair Jack had given me. It didn't take too long, and when it
was done I strung the ruby ring onto the braid. The darkness of Jack's hair went
very well with the blood-red ruby.
"Jack," I called. He looked up from the dryer. "Can you help me get this
on?"
"But of course," he said, getting up and climbing onto the futon behind
me. He parted my blond hair out of the way, then looped the braid around my
neck and began tying.
"What knot is it this time?" I asked jokingly. He finished the knot, and I
was about to turn around to face him when I felt his arms wind themselves
around my middle. He put his head on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.
"Love knot," he breathed, giving me a tight squeeze. I nearly melted. I
swiveled my head around and our lips met. We kissed slowly, and one by one
my reservations faded and were gone. Then the dryer buzzed. Jack sighed and
stood up, his hand running up my spine and toying with my earring before he
strode over to the dryer and pulled out his trousers. He held them in his hands
and grimaced.
"They're all hot," he complained. I rolled my eyes at him playfully.
"Of course they're hot. They've been in the dryer." He smirked.
"Oh yeah. Well, now I've got me trousers back, it seems a shame to just
get them all dirty again by putting them on."
"Well, there's always the shower," I said.
"Shower of what, love?" asked Jack, no longer surprised by the quirks of
the modern world.
"Water. You turn a knob and water pours out of a spout. You stand under
it and wash." Intrigued, Jack followed me to the bathroom. I showed him how to
work the knobs, then quickly exited as Jack's blanket fell to the floor and he
stepped into the shower. I waited in the kitchen, getting out two PB&Js for our
lunch. After about 30 minutes, I started getting concerned that he'd somehow
managed to drown himself in the shower. I went up to the bathroom door and
listened. There was no shower sound, so I knocked.
"Jack? Is everything okay?" I asked through the door.
"Corking," came his prompt reply, and he opened the door suddenly. He
was standing there with a towel wrapped expertly around his waist as if he'd
been using towels all his life. He was retying his bandana and wringing water
out of his hair.
"Brilliant contraption. Honestly, between this and those sandwiches I may
just have to stay here forever."
"Maybe so," I said, my heart sinking as I thought about Jack leaving. In
reality, I had always known that he'd have to depart someday, but for a while I
had conveniently forgotten that fact. For a moment I felt weighed down by the
inevitability that whatever grew up between us would be cut short. The next
second, I threw it off my shoulders. I'd never allowed the future to taint the
present, and I certainly wasn't going to start now. Besides, I thought to myself,
Jack probably can't handle commitment any better than I can, which isn't well.
Suddenly I came back to reality, and realized that I must have been staring at
Jack for the last 30 seconds with God-only-knows-what expression on my face.
"Sorry," I apologized, "I spaced out for a second there. Would you like
some lunch?" Jack looked down at his towel. "After you've changed, of course,"
I added. He grinned.
"Lunch would be spiffy, thankee. Be out in a minute." He sauntered back
into the bathroom and slowly shut the door. I returned to the kitchen and began
looking through the cupboards for something to go with our PB&Js. There was
tons of stuff on the shelves: bleu cheese, mayonnaise, sardines, and most
horrifying of all, Spam. I shut the cabinet with a shudder of disgust at my
parents' taste in food and sat down at the table, waiting for Jack. I didn't have
long to wait; about a minute later Jack came sashaying into the room and
plopped down in the seat across from me. I tossed him a sandwich.
"Here's lunch. Sorry, but there's nothing to go with it, unless you fancy
Spam." Jack bit into his PB&J then said around a mouthful of food,
"What's Spam?" I pulled a face.
"No idea. That's why I'm afraid to eat it." Jack smiled and continued
eating. I began munching on my own sandwich, then I noticed something.
"Jack, you took off the bandage!" It was true; the wrappings were gone,
but his cut looked quite good nonetheless. He shrugged.
"It got wet. But I don't need it anyway, do I?" He looked quite proud of
his extraordinary healing ability. "I bet it won't open anymore, either." He
proved his point by flexing his muscles first one way, then the other. He caught
me staring at him wistfully, and winked. I smirked back at him.
"Are you ready for action, then?" He licked his lips and narrowed his
eyes, looking like a cat preparing to pounce on a mouse.
"Locked and loaded, love."
"Good," I said, standing up and clearing off the table, "You can help me
gather firewood. I thought we might have a bonfire tonight." Jack looked
nonplussed for a second, then his face lit up.
"Bonfire! I love bonfires! I'll bring the rum!" I laughed.
"Go ahead, but I've got to warn you that I don't drink." Jack's eyebrows
shot up and he blinked rapidly.
"You don't? But what about the rum?" he said, gesturing to where I
supposed he'd hidden it in the futon.
"That wasn't mine, remember? It was behind the fridge." He looked
speculative, then beamed and stood up.
"All the more for me, then. Now, firewood?"
"Right," I said, and we walked out to the porch. "We might be able to find
some in there." I gestured to the large palm tree grove that covered the center of
the island. Jack clapped his hands together.
"Well, I guess we'd better start looking then, eh?" He hopped off the
porch and I followed him into the trees.
**************************************************************************** ****************
"I'll braid this in a minute. Your clothes are probably ready for the dryer
by now. We should go back and check." Jack looked speculative.
"Oh, I don't know. It's a bit hot for trousers. Maybe I'll just run around in
the buff." I laughed, imagining a naked Jack running madly around like a
decapitated chicken.
"I don't think that's a good idea. Imagine the sunburn you could get." Jack
winced.
"Good point. Let's go get my trousers." We meandered back to the cabin,
Jack fitting his new rings onto his fingers and wiggling them experimentally. The
clothes were indeed done when we got back, so I stuffed them in the dryer.
While Jack was being hypnotized by the spinning clothes in the dryer, I hopped
in the shower for a quick rinse, after carefully putting Jack's gifts safely by the
sink. When I was salt-free I reemerged, toweling my damp hair. Seeing that Jack
was still fascinated by the tumbling clothes, I sat cross-legged on the futon and
began braiding the hair Jack had given me. It didn't take too long, and when it
was done I strung the ruby ring onto the braid. The darkness of Jack's hair went
very well with the blood-red ruby.
"Jack," I called. He looked up from the dryer. "Can you help me get this
on?"
"But of course," he said, getting up and climbing onto the futon behind
me. He parted my blond hair out of the way, then looped the braid around my
neck and began tying.
"What knot is it this time?" I asked jokingly. He finished the knot, and I
was about to turn around to face him when I felt his arms wind themselves
around my middle. He put his head on my shoulder and whispered in my ear.
"Love knot," he breathed, giving me a tight squeeze. I nearly melted. I
swiveled my head around and our lips met. We kissed slowly, and one by one
my reservations faded and were gone. Then the dryer buzzed. Jack sighed and
stood up, his hand running up my spine and toying with my earring before he
strode over to the dryer and pulled out his trousers. He held them in his hands
and grimaced.
"They're all hot," he complained. I rolled my eyes at him playfully.
"Of course they're hot. They've been in the dryer." He smirked.
"Oh yeah. Well, now I've got me trousers back, it seems a shame to just
get them all dirty again by putting them on."
"Well, there's always the shower," I said.
"Shower of what, love?" asked Jack, no longer surprised by the quirks of
the modern world.
"Water. You turn a knob and water pours out of a spout. You stand under
it and wash." Intrigued, Jack followed me to the bathroom. I showed him how to
work the knobs, then quickly exited as Jack's blanket fell to the floor and he
stepped into the shower. I waited in the kitchen, getting out two PB&Js for our
lunch. After about 30 minutes, I started getting concerned that he'd somehow
managed to drown himself in the shower. I went up to the bathroom door and
listened. There was no shower sound, so I knocked.
"Jack? Is everything okay?" I asked through the door.
"Corking," came his prompt reply, and he opened the door suddenly. He
was standing there with a towel wrapped expertly around his waist as if he'd
been using towels all his life. He was retying his bandana and wringing water
out of his hair.
"Brilliant contraption. Honestly, between this and those sandwiches I may
just have to stay here forever."
"Maybe so," I said, my heart sinking as I thought about Jack leaving. In
reality, I had always known that he'd have to depart someday, but for a while I
had conveniently forgotten that fact. For a moment I felt weighed down by the
inevitability that whatever grew up between us would be cut short. The next
second, I threw it off my shoulders. I'd never allowed the future to taint the
present, and I certainly wasn't going to start now. Besides, I thought to myself,
Jack probably can't handle commitment any better than I can, which isn't well.
Suddenly I came back to reality, and realized that I must have been staring at
Jack for the last 30 seconds with God-only-knows-what expression on my face.
"Sorry," I apologized, "I spaced out for a second there. Would you like
some lunch?" Jack looked down at his towel. "After you've changed, of course,"
I added. He grinned.
"Lunch would be spiffy, thankee. Be out in a minute." He sauntered back
into the bathroom and slowly shut the door. I returned to the kitchen and began
looking through the cupboards for something to go with our PB&Js. There was
tons of stuff on the shelves: bleu cheese, mayonnaise, sardines, and most
horrifying of all, Spam. I shut the cabinet with a shudder of disgust at my
parents' taste in food and sat down at the table, waiting for Jack. I didn't have
long to wait; about a minute later Jack came sashaying into the room and
plopped down in the seat across from me. I tossed him a sandwich.
"Here's lunch. Sorry, but there's nothing to go with it, unless you fancy
Spam." Jack bit into his PB&J then said around a mouthful of food,
"What's Spam?" I pulled a face.
"No idea. That's why I'm afraid to eat it." Jack smiled and continued
eating. I began munching on my own sandwich, then I noticed something.
"Jack, you took off the bandage!" It was true; the wrappings were gone,
but his cut looked quite good nonetheless. He shrugged.
"It got wet. But I don't need it anyway, do I?" He looked quite proud of
his extraordinary healing ability. "I bet it won't open anymore, either." He
proved his point by flexing his muscles first one way, then the other. He caught
me staring at him wistfully, and winked. I smirked back at him.
"Are you ready for action, then?" He licked his lips and narrowed his
eyes, looking like a cat preparing to pounce on a mouse.
"Locked and loaded, love."
"Good," I said, standing up and clearing off the table, "You can help me
gather firewood. I thought we might have a bonfire tonight." Jack looked
nonplussed for a second, then his face lit up.
"Bonfire! I love bonfires! I'll bring the rum!" I laughed.
"Go ahead, but I've got to warn you that I don't drink." Jack's eyebrows
shot up and he blinked rapidly.
"You don't? But what about the rum?" he said, gesturing to where I
supposed he'd hidden it in the futon.
"That wasn't mine, remember? It was behind the fridge." He looked
speculative, then beamed and stood up.
"All the more for me, then. Now, firewood?"
"Right," I said, and we walked out to the porch. "We might be able to find
some in there." I gestured to the large palm tree grove that covered the center of
the island. Jack clapped his hands together.
"Well, I guess we'd better start looking then, eh?" He hopped off the
porch and I followed him into the trees.