Tobacco Pipe

By: Emmy

A/N: This is, in a way connected to my story, Killing of the Last Light. However, it lacks a lot of the humour from said story because this is written from Norrington's POV and is a bit... less innocent. And yes, this can be seen as slashy, but I think realisticly, that, Jack would go to any extreme for his freedom. Lastly, I'd like to tell you all that I didn't find it easy to write Norrington because I think he's a little bit 2D in POTC, at least there isn't enough of him to get a good idea of his charater, so please excuse me if I interpreted him wrong or differently to you.

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Commodore Norrington wasn't in a particularly good mood. If the truth were to be told (which was happening less and less each passing day, he'd noted) then it would be said that he hadn't been in a good mood for a fairly long time. Maybe a year or so.

He wasn't even happy that he was finally getting married to Elizabeth. It was too far ahead to think about, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't see them as a married couple. But he hadn't been able to see himself feeling pity for a certain pirate either (which he didn't, he reminded himself sternly.)

It didn't help that that very same pirate happened to be in his cabin, he'd seen those two officers (Murroy? Multog? No, not that it mattered) escort him in. Nearly an hour ago. But for the love of the good lord above he couldn't seem to bring himself to face those eyes. He'd seen the man as they boarded the Dauntless, noted the lack of sarcasm, the pinched face, but worse of all was his eyes. He couldn't describe them, and if he could he didn't think he would. His men looked haunted, the pirate looked dead.

Well he wouldn't be labeled a coward, running from the unavoidable was rather stupid, (he'd learnt that during the eighth year of his life) so he might as well face the music… or captain (depending on whether he was meant to be talking, thinking, in the literal sense.)

He nodded his farewell to the sailor at the helm (don't know who that one is, must be new, he reassured himself) and made his way to his cabin. Once he reached the doors (which had a few planks boarded over the mysteriously smashed windows) he recited that passage from the bible in his head.

The opened doors revealed a Captain Jack Sparrow who was busying himself by giving an incredibly thorough inspection of the Captain's (temporarily Commodore's) quarters. He entered and closed the doors hurriedly (James didn't wish to delve into the reasons behind his actions any longer) and found himself breathing in the sacred scent of tobacco. It was then that he noticed that the Captain was not only invading his privacy but smoking his own pipe (was there no end to the insanity that seemed to follow this man?)

"Commodore!" false cheer had returned to Sparrow's voice, and Norrington fleetingly wondered if he had dreamt the serious man up in the aftermath of his greatest battle yet, "Here I was thinking you'd forgotten about me!"

Each of his words was visualized in small clouds of bitter smoke and accented with several hand gestures. Lord he wanted his pipe back. No, he needed his pipe back. He followed the pipe's journey to Mist-Captain Sparrow's lips with his eyes. He hadn't noticed before, but that man had women's lips. Actually, now that he thought about it, most of Sparrow's features were on the verge of feminine, maybe it was feline. Not that it mattered.

"You happen to have the ability to leave a bad taste in one's mouth, that, despite one's attempts, remains in all its bitter glory," maybe that was a bit rude to say to someone that you were going to have to kill fairly soon. But the man was smoking his pipe!

An eyebrow was hoisted to the heavens in obvious offence and eyes that had been watching his one free hand as it traced their progress on a map rose to meet James's.

"What is it that you wanted to speak with me about, Commodore?" there was a very subtle sarcastic twist to his title that drove James near insane.

"As you are well aware, your life is in my hands," James punctuated this remark with a bold step towards the Captain (Pirate, he is not a Captain).

In reply the Ca-Pirate took a step towards him, their toes were touching and he realized with a start that he was a little taller then the man. They were so close that James had trouble keeping his ground, Sparrow knew how to get under one's skin, so James decided that he wouldn't move and he wouldn't let his breathing quicken (he honestly didn't know why that was a necessity) simply to spite the rogue.

"I am aware that everything I own, including the salt on my skin," here he cast a rather discomfortingly long glance at James's lips, "is at your mercy."

James desperately tried to distract himself from the obvious (that he couldn't quite believe existed) innuendo in that voice and the incredibly tempting scent of tobacco on his breath. His only source of distraction, however, was another inhale of the very same tobacco tainted smoke. He shifted uncomfortably only to discover that their chests would be but for a hair's breadth touching and Sparrow was watching him very closely from beneath his dark eyelashes.

James honestly couldn't remember being in a situation this uncomfortable.

It was made more comfortable when Jack (what? He had meant Sparrow, truly) exhaled and he caught himself inhaling the secondhand fumes. He really wanted his pipe back. Sparrow was closer still, now, and his lips were a little slack.

Oh good lord! The man didn't actually mean to – but yes – he did. And in that moment James almost wanted to let him. But it was fleeting and he knew that, as well as the ensuing disgrace, self hatred and almost certain sentence to hell that this wasn't about feeling, it was about leverage. Not about love or attraction, but about bargaining and desperation.

Which was why he snatched his pipe from the loose grip of the pirate, took a step back and inhaled for what felt like a single, heavenly year. When he felt brave enough to look the pirate in the eye again he realized the man was grimacing and imagined that the man was restraining for his sake (what a gentleman! He scoffed sarcastically in his head) from swearing quite explicitly.

"My decisions, however, are not my own, but made according to the law," yes, if he continued on like they hadn't nearly – uh – hadn't nearly done that then he might manage to seem in control!

In reply Sparrow merely scoffed and continued his unauthorized inspection.

"However," he continued, careful of his wording, "if you, by some miracle manage to find that you've defied death I'll have to spend a day preparing the Dauntless for our chase because I find that I feel most comfortable when she is stocked to her full capacity."

He was careful to keep his smirk as under control as possible. Sparrow's head jerked up so suddenly that his hair ornaments jingled and his eyes narrowed slightly.

"I hear that it takes a day to clean her decks, mayhap it'd be in your favor to clean her up a tad before coming after any mysteriously escaped captives, you might want to impress them if you manage to capture them."

Oh, so he wanted to push his luck did he?

"I'm afraid that any scoundrel that finds himself caught will be in the brig before he has time to notice the cleanliness of the decks."

"Even if he helped you defeat a crew of undead pirates?" Captain Sparrow inquired hopefully.

James placed a guiding hand on Sparrow's back and walked him to the door, just before opening it he replied "I've never had the pleasure of meeting such a scoundrel."

The door was opened, the pirate was deposited on those two officers by Commodore Norrington and James shut the door on his duties and relaxed again. Only to tense at the memory of lax, tobacco tainted lips.

A/N: please review and tell me what you think.