Pairing: Jack/Isabella, Ragetti
Word Count: 2,196
Prompt: Jack insists Isabella needs a haircut. At least four insults, two hurled bottles, and Ragetti must appear.
Summary: Drabble? What's a drabble? This is me not paying attention to the economics of words.
A/N: Dedicated to Mrs. Tina!
A Gypsy Rose
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The gentle waves rippled with music so sweet, and came gently, washing against the pebbly shores between the passage of Santo Domingo and San Juan. They sailed against the trade winds, heading east while the bright moon played on glimmering sail and mast, and threw its beams on deck and glancing oar. On and on she went, with every sail unfurled, the Hellride danced upon the surface of the sea like gypsy rose petals fluttering in a gentle breeze.
The salt spray of the sea could not compare to the thick, spicy taste of rum that numbed their lips. Though Jack had become quite accustomed to the lack of sensation, and he would quickly discover that his eager counterpart had not.
"Not much longer you'll have to wait," Isabella said, taking the last swig from her bottle, and tossing it out to sea. "Think of how bright the morning will be when we see shores on that horizon."
Aye, four more days until those shores were painted upon the sea before them, four more days until he would be granted what he longed for and desired, and three more nights where she would lie in his bed, bearing messages to a lonely heart until he bade her a mournful farewell.
Gentle knuckles caressed circles upon her cheek, feeling her body quiver, and he could not help but smile at her intimate response. The morning was already bright and sweet from where he sat. Despite the fact that it was the darkness of night that surrounded them upon the forecastle, the fire of her being brought him blazing torches in the shadows for him to see by.
She leaned back, allowing her hair to dance with the sea just as wild flowers in an autumn gust. Stands of her dark brown tresses caressed the sky, conforming to the will of the ocean while entwining with her surroundings, and he absorbed her as she turned to him, allowing a brief crack of light between their two fleeting entities.
"Do not mistake my intentions, Bella. I never regarded you as a pretty plaything for a summer hour," he said, suckling sweet remnants of his drink from his bottom lip.
"You tell many lovely stories, Jack. Though they are cruel, and force me to get ready for bed while it's light out, for I long for you to whisper them to me in the dark," she said, smiling. "Though, I am intrigued as to why your stories of me differ so much from all the others."
"The others had no loveliness in form, no special charm in their voice or winning grace. Only pairs of mournful eyes and looks of sadness when I lay me hands upon them. No, love. That's not you – never that," he said, gently tucking loose strands of her hair behind her ear. "Methinks, I've read some version of your story in your eyes, and heard a tale your lips refused to tell. Though, I will replace my voice with gentle murmurs and impious sighs, if it would be to your liking, and if you see me fit for such a task."
A rosy flush ignited the cool flesh of her cheeks, and her eyes grew so strangely pensive and so sad all the while, for she knew this bliss would not last through the week. A strong finger became present beneath her chin, playfully slithering snakelike fingers along the contours of her jaw line, and she welcomed his warmth as he lifted her face toward him, raising her to he whose tongue spoke such words of exquisite charm. Over her the plains of her saddened face, there came a happy smile reminiscent of a warm sun peeking over the crest of horizon, but she felt that she could no longer linger in such a vulnerable position.
"Would you like to know what your story sounds like?" he asked, sinking his teeth into the tender flesh of her cheek for a teasing nibble.
There was a spot to where she turned her eyes, and the vessel beneath them creaked with sweet messages to her ears.
She licked her lips quickly before she spoke. "You gaze at me with eyes that ask for me to tell the tales my lips never told - the history of my early life, the love that my heart felt in the days that I have long forgotten. However, I have already raised that heavy burden off of my heart, and I do not wish to relive it again. It lies now between me and the blessed dead."
As their glimmering ship swept the sea with unfurled sails, she found the strength to lift herself from the deck and departed from his side, though stumbling down the companionway from the effects of drink. She left Jack with an aching mind and heart, causing him to grudge the calm rest beyond the skies, he realized that he would not have her back again that night, and he would not call her back, for it was not in his nature.
The silence of early morning was a great treasure to those who loved the sea, yet there was always something or someone that interrupted such a splendor of nature.
"Jack?" called a small voice, accompanied by a rather boisterous scuffle. The helplessness in her cry caused a sly smirk to travel long his lips; perhaps he was wrong about her.
Though he rose to find something utterly different than what he had originally anticipated. He faced the woman who willingly fought and rebelled against the gods and knew nothing of fear, her eyes sparkled when she thought of battle, dreaming of her battalion's roar while the sequences from the charts and maps in her mind became reality, and her weapons quickly became her devices.
However, with a mind clouded with drink, she turned into an entirely different woman, and the great general could not even navigate her way around her own vessel, let alone pass by the rigging or the shrouds without some sort of mishap along the way. It looked as if her hair and the collar of her shirt were being devoured by the ship itself, and he could not help but laugh at the sight, for it was not like her to be caught in such a compromising position.
"What's wrong, Bella?" he said, chuckling as he leaned into his swagger. "It seems that there are more similarities between you and Gibbs than I had originally thought!"
"Oh, a thought crossed your mind? Must have been a long and lonely journey," she scolded, attempting to free herself from the backstays, though she winced in pain each time she pulled away.
"Stumbling around while utterly besotted on a pirate ship is a very dangerous endeavor, and even more so at night, no telling who you might stagger into," he reproached, tilting his head. "Though I must say, you do look rather lovely from this angle; even with all the other angles I've had the pleasure of seeing. Consider yourself lucky to have staggered into me, love, for another man would most certainly take advantage."
As she continued to pull away from her knotted cage, her shirt began to tighten along her body, revealing the bountiful curves that she had chosen to hide with the oversized linen sack. A swift rip in the hem her shirt elected to expose a familiar trail that Jack's lips frequently traveled - the tender skin of her hip and abdomen were in his line of vision again.
Isabella rolled her eyes, knowing the wicked desires his mind was capable of envisioning as his eyes overlooked her. "Are you going to help me?"
"I find that notion to be very inconvenient at the moment, considering that you'd most likely flog me once I get within arms length of you. No, I quite like the view I have from this perspective. Perhaps, I'll choose to indulge myself first, and consider the thought of setting you free at an undisclosed point in time," he said, folding his arms across his chest.
He pursed his lips, deliberating with himself for a moment – oh, what wicked thoughts he had. "Perhaps, we can come to some sort of understanding, you and I?"
With a free hand, she tugged on her shirt. "Or perhaps, I'll flog you later when the crew cuts me loose."
"Will you, now?" With a few strides he closed the distance between them, and studied her closely with a bottle of rum in hand. "Pardon me, darling, but you've obviously mistaken me for someone who will cower at your feet," he said with a smile, turning away from her to head in the direction of his cabin.
"What fun would I be if I didn't try?" she asked, managing a smile.
"Considering that you've given me no incentive to set you free - none at all, evidently," he said, sweeping an arm to address her question, though he still continued on to his destination.
"Jack!" she called out to him once more. "Please?"
Her request prompted a swift detour from his destination. "A plea from a woman who likes to fight," he said, sucking his teeth. "Very well, Bella. I've had my fun, and I'll grant you clemency this time around, considering that you were due for a haircut, so it seems," he said with a flick his fingers.
As Isabella turned to tug her collar free, she felt a pair of strong arms slither around her waist – a passing touch impelled by his physical force against her resistance. He quickly abandoned his bottle of rum upon the rail just as she abandoned her effort to pull away. She was no challenge to him at that point. Instead, she allowed his fingers to glide along the very edges of her exposed collarbone – the very same fingers that traveled the length of her thighs each night, refusing to let her sleep.
As he pressed her back against his chest, she tilted her head backward to rest within the crook of his neck, feeling an indescribable ecstasy as she melted into his touch, and it allowed her to feel whole again.
However, the familiar ring of a dagger's blade startled her out of her luscious delirium.
"A rather compromising situation this is, isn't it, Bella?"
She swallowed hard. "What ever happened to me being lucky to have staggered into you?"
"Don't you remember who I am?"
"I know that you're no saint," she said, feeling the blade travel just inches from her neck, and it caused her pulse to quicken in fear.
"Do not fear me. As long as what you are afraid of is something evil, you may still hope that the good may come to your rescue. Mark it well, darling," he whispered, cutting her shirt free from the backstays, and with a swift hand, sliced threw the tangled tresses of her hair. "If your very comforter turns into the person who makes you uncomfortable, then, indeed, there is no rescue possible. Your last card has been played."
An unexpected crash startled them both to silence, prompting them to turn, and discover the bright glimmers of moonlight upon broken glass at the feet of a familiar pirate.
"Cap'n?" stated a slightly confused voice.
To their dismay, it appeared that they had a witness - Ragetti, whose face was ridden with confusion as he watched a good portion of the scene unfold before his eyes. Ragetti certainly noted that Jack still held the dagger toward a partially exposed Isabella as if they were both frozen in their act.
With great apprehension, Jack released Isabella from his grasp, and cleared his throat nervously. "Mister Ragetti! I was just assisting Miss Isabella with a hair cut. You know how women are, and it is very admirable of you to offer your assistance, as well," Jack said, raising a knowing finger as he tucked her behind him.
"Oh?" Ragetti muttered, looking rather hopeful.
"Aye. Now, I'll be needing a proper blade, seeing that this one here," he said, holding up the dagger, "is no good. Believe we've got some good razors in one of the trunks we've got stowed away in the hull. Off you go. Step lively, now!"
With a vigorous number of head nods, Ragetti left Isabella and Jack to search for a new razor below decks.
His departure prompted two great sighs of relief, and they quickly returned to their natural composure. Unfortunately, the news of their late night rendezvous was going to be at the forefront of every ones mind by the morning, for word got around far too quickly on a pirate ship. Though, from the angry look that graced Isabella's face, Jack could deduce that it would be a long evening for him - one that would surely make him long for the gossip of the morning.
"I look terrible, don't I?" she finally asked, frowning as she pulled together fistfuls of her shirt.
"Bloody awful, to say the least," he replied, gliding his fingers through her chopped tresses.
A small smirk emerged from the corner of her lips, and then he remembered why he adored that woman in the first place - with all of her wonderful faults.
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