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Delay Box

"Captain!" Countless crewmen stared down at the high swells, the ocean a deceptive blue. White froth brillantly camouflaged an equally white wig succumbing to the tide. "Captain, there's something down there..." Sparrow raised an eyebrow.

"Aye?" He walked towards the gunwale, steps calculated. Heel, pause, toe, pause. Sparrow, face utterly confused, stared down at a floundering violently splashing mass of...

"Isn't that the Commodore?" He repressed a smile. A violently splashing mass of seaweed covered commodore.

"Well, what are you waiting for, drag him in."

Norrington was having a panic attack. He was in the ocean. He was drowning. He coughed violently, struggled to stay afloat. He was a navy man! He knew how to swim, so why was his body disobeying him so resolutely? The waves were hardly helping, dragging him under whenever he began to make headway. Suddenly, an angel came to him. No, angels. Gurgling with happiness he outstretched his arms to his winged saviors. And then the glare of the sun subsided. Not angels, PIRATES. Oh lord oh lord. He began to violently paddle in the opposite direction. In a flurry of ropes and splashing water, James Norrington found himself flopping like a fish on a deck. A strangely familiar deck...

"Decided to go for a little swim, Commodore?" Norrington, still regaining his stately composure, was flabbergasted. This, this was the Black Pearl, which meant... He looked up and found himself staring into the eyes of none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Oh, god. I've died and gone to hell," He muttered.

"Not quite" The pirate grinned. Ivory and gold. Norrington's head was pounding, the sun was so bright... reflecting off the water... Wait, he thought, did... Sparrow just save me? He rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"He'll bag us a hefty ransom, eh boys?" Sparrow laughed, echoed by his some of his crew. The rest of the crew had a look in their eyes which spelled danger. Danger for the Black Pearl, danger for Norrington. A pirate-hater wouldn't last long in this crowd. If that's how they want to play this game, Norrington thought, I might as well be cordial and play with them nicely. Sparrow turned to speak to him once again, Norrington took this opportunity to spit in the man's face. Instantly there were at least five swords and knives aimed at vital organs, now Norrington was in control... as the adrenaline set in, he felt his composure return. His eyes became deadly. Sparrow for the most part was having trouble deciding whether he wanted to look disgusted or shocked. Busily wiping his face with his sleeve, Norrington became aware that the pirate was neither shocked nor disgusted... he was buying time. His mouth twitched into a momentary frown.

"Let's see you do that again," Sparrow said, eyes narrowed and face dangerously close. Norrington couldn't figure out what he was planning, but figured he couldn't pass up a chance to spit on his most hated foe twice in one day, regardless of the possible consequences. However, instead he found himself mid-kiss with said foe. Norrington's eyes opened wide with shock. All around him he could hear murmuring, but he couldn't pay attention. He roared in protest, but was muffled. His face went crimson. He tried to pull away, but a strong hand held his chin with furious possessiveness. Swords and knives still turned on him. Helplessly, Norrington continued to pull away. His entire body was burning with anger and embarrassment. Sparrow's gone mad. Stark raving mad! Exhausted from nearly drowning, Norrington soon lost the will to fight the unwanted kiss. His body traitorously was beginning to feel something other than anger. He was freezing cold and soaking wet, and the other man was ragged and warm from the strong sun. His body was instinctively clinging to the comfort, the warmth... His eyes slid closed. Surreal, Norrington thought, a navy commodore kissing a pirate. Norrington tentatively began to kiss back. This rewarded him with a hard shove. His eyes flew open and he found himself in a jumble of legs and swords staring up at an overly pleased Jack Sparrow. That. Bloody. Tease. Norrington's eyes burned with a renewed fire. No one embarrasses James Norrington. No one.

"Throw him in the brig." He turned from him, swaying ever so slightly as he walked.

Norrington was seething. Absolutely seething. He had offhandedly wondered if the Black Pearl even had a brig, but soon enough he found himself in shackles sitting amongst barnacles and other unmentionable detritus of the nearest approximation to a jail the ship possessed. As various swarthy and disreputable looking characters dragged him down to these murky depths he remembered shouting repeatedly "I'll see you hang for this, Sparrow! Mark my words, you'll hang!" Distant memories now as he buried his head in his hands, nearly shaking with anger and confusion. First his own men turning on him, then this. He was still soaking wet, and the damp air was doing nothing to make him more comfortable. If this wasn't hell, he didn't know what was. Norrington slowly became aware of heavy, clunking footsteps.

"Sorry about me crew, mate. They're a bit quick with their swords to people's throats. In particular, navy throats." Sparrow said, not really sounding all that sorry. He was alone. Somehow this scared Norrington even more. "Now, for fear of getting all friendly with the enemy, I brought you a change of clothes. A lot more fashionable I might add,"

"I do not need them." Norrington said resolutely, although his freezing body thought differently.

"I'm sorry, but I insist. I don't like my prisoners dying on me, Commodore." He forced the clothes into the other man's hands.

"Now how exactly do you expect me to get undressed with these shackles on?" Norrington all but growled. The pirate was playing with him again.

"Well, I could rip off your clothes off you in fit of intense passion," Sparrow savored his dumbfounded look and paused for effect, "Or I could just unlock your shackles." He quickly finished. In retrospect, Norrington was sure this was the man's strange way of flirting. However, at this very moment, he could only think of how appalled he was at how straight forward the pirate was being. He also found he really, really did not like being teased in this way. He was clueless as to how Sparrow was having such an effect on him. He decided it would be best to confront that damned Sparrow before things continued, a prospect Norrington didn't even want to consider.

" Like hell if I'm going to undress in front of you. What's the bloody idea of kissing me, anyway? Have you gone more crazy than usual?" His voice lacked the fire which he had initially intended.

Sparrow humored him and turned around, although to Norrington's surprise, this made him feel no more comfortable.

"My dear Commodore, the more pressing concern is why you were in the drink splashing around like a dying narwhal. What happened to you, mate?" Norrington figured it was pointless to point out that he had deftly avoided the question.

"Well, you can stop calling me Commodore... Thanks to you, I no longer have that position nor the loyalty of my men. They're calling me a pirate sympathizer. I'm a laughingstock, Sparrow. Some young upstarts thought it would be funny to dump me in and watch me drown. Pity, you won't get your ransom, I fear." He admitted. It was then Norrington saw a noticeable change in the man's eyes. The very mention of betrayal brought back bad memories for Sparrow, old fears. In the back of his mind, he considered using this momentary distraction to knock the pirate out and run for dear life... although, that seemed a bit cruel, and after all, they were at sea, to where would he run? He could steal a life boat, get a decent distance between himself and the pirates. However, only temporarily before the inevitable gunshot to his back. Escape, he realized,was only a fantasy to him now.

"Well then, I shall have to find something else to call you by now, won't I?" The pirate's eyes had returned to their previous mischievous glitter. "What hmm, Norrington? No too frumpy," Sparrow returned the man's glare with a trickster's grin, "No, you don't look so fancy now without that wig and all that brocade, James." Norrington's heart stopped. Never had his own name been said in a manner more seductive and beguiling as this. His traitorous face went red again. Sparrow was most definitely intending to kill him by means of sheer embarrassment.

"Don't you have a ship to be captaining?" Norrington sputtered.

"Why, yes. However, I also have a prisoner to drink with." He said, dusting off a very ancient looking bottle of rum. He replaced the shackles, giving a small glance at the new clothes. Norrington was almost positive they had to be Sparrow's given the cut and the size... and this was doing nothing to lessen his seemingly now permanent blush.

"You look so much better like this," He observed, handing Norrington the bottle. The rum warmed him further, if not for the shackles and the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, he might have felt... happy in this moment. The very concept that this pirate could make him happy was so alien, so absolutely far fetched it was making his head hurt just considering it. Sparrow had not returned his clothes, and Norrington feared he most likely was planning on keeping them. Something, although, told him that the gold buttons and expensive brocade was not what made them valuable to the pirate. He handed the bottle back to his captor who took a self-satisfied swig.

"Join my crew."

"What?" Taken utterly by surprise, Norrington simply stared.

"Did I speak French? Join my crew, James." Again with his first name. And he was staring him in the eyes. This was entirely too much information for Norrington to take in or digest. He ran through every possible response in his mind, his face went blank. How could he possibly respond?

"After all, you can't go back to Port Royale, mate." He had the audacity to laugh. The man had reduced him to a simpering fool in love, and he laughs. Norrington decided he needed a bit more of that rum, perhaps something stronger.

"You can't trust me," Norrington tried, this was the best excuse his rum-addled brain could think up. "I tried to kill you."

"Ah, yes, and you did such a good job of it, too." That blasted smile again.

"What will your crew think?" He kicked himself the instant he said it, too damn affirmative.

"They'll think 'That man looks rather ravishing in those brilliant clothes' most likely. That or they'll think I'm crazy and humor me, you noticed, I'm sure, that only half my crew was surprised when I kissed you." He had noticed, if only fleetingly, "Ol' Jack went crazy from heatstroke, rode on the backs of sea turtles, you know the story." Sparrow was talking with his hands now, quite animatedly. Norrington couldn't figure out if this was a good or bad sign. "Anyway, point being, I'm the captain, captains get what they want."

They also get mutinied against, thought Norrington, who had the good sense not to say it aloud. He also knew the pirate had also left off the end of his own sentence. Norrington figured it would end something like 'And I want you, James.' Perhaps this was his own infinitely cruel imagination putting words in the pirate's mouth. No matter what Sparrow said, Norrington felt the danger in this situation. Danger which he knew the Captain was blatantly ignoring. Sparrow fancied him, he forced himself to admit and accept, he wasn't thinking clearly. His crew would absolutely tear him apart for this, and after Sparrow, he would be next. Victims of of vicious pirate justice. Trust, Norrington considered, could perhaps be Sparrow's greatest weakness.

"I can't." Norrington couldn't believe he actually sounded disappointed. How long had he been living a carefully calculated life? However, the risk here he wasn't willing to take was putting his, yes his, captain in danger. "Let me escape."

"Well aren't you cocky? Prisoners asking to escape, what next?" He laughed heartily. "I'll let you escape, pet, but at what cost?" He grabbed Norrington's chin and it was that morning all over again. Norrington met his eyes defiantly, passionately.

"My captain." Norrington said confidently, lovingly, before surprising the aforementioned captain with a violent, greedy kiss. He heard a click and felt his shackles fall away. Thus freed, he threw his arms around Sparrow, holding him.His only real friend. He would miss this.

"This is only temporary, James," Sparrow said in a strangely emotionless voice, "The next time I ask you, you will say yes."

"I already have," Norrington breathed as the life boat lowered into the moonlit water. A perversely elegant scene, one which would replay forever in his dreams.


Inside a carved mahogany box Jack Sparrow kept a very elegant jacket which he allowed no one to touch.