Rp for captjacksparrow

[stem_the_tide]

As is his wont, James wakens just after sunrise.  This is normal for him, as is the sight of the half-hearted sunlight streaming in through the windows, the smell of the sea in the morning.  What is not normal, however, is the bed he's lying in- deep and soft- the plush blankets covering him.  As his sleep-grimed eyes blink further, he notes that nothing in this room is at all normal, and for a moment he cannot recall where he is nor how he's got here.  But then his eyes alight upon the chair he had sat in the night before and there, sprawled in drunken sleep is Captain Jack Sparrow, and with a rush, James remembers all the tumultuous events of the previous day, down to his unaccountable worry about Sparrow before he fell asleep the night before.

Somewhat comforted by this memory (but not much), he slides out of the bed, stretching and yawning cavernously.  He can hear his spine crack loudly and winces slightly.  It is still fairly quiet aboard the ship, and as James begins to get dressed, he regards the sleeping pirate across from him.  The chair is closer to the bed than it was before, as though Sparrow had been watching him before he fell asleep (a notion which could be either disturbing or endearing- he cannot decide which), and Sparrow seems to have melted into it like a liquid; he's clad only in shirt and breeches, and James's eyes rest for a moment on the gaping V of golden skin exposed by the shirt before he looks away.  The pirate's head rests on his shoulder, and a nearly-empty bottle of rum dangles loosely from his fingers, cradled in the crook of his elbow; his mouth moves slightly in nonsense syllables.  He's as sloppy as ever sleeping, but the light of the rising sun on those high cheekbones and the black-painted eyes now closed give him a strangely feminine air.  James shakes his head; he's not usually prone to such poetic rubbish- it must be prolonged exposure to Sparrow, he decides.

Once fully dressed, he ties his hair back in a queue (no reason to wear the wig now, and privately he rejoices that he needn't wear the itchy, hot thing) and seats himself on the bed once again, his legs crossed under him.  He keeps his voice soft as he calls out.

'Sparrow...' it's almost sing-song, the way he says it, and he wrinkles his nose.  'Sparrow!  Wake up, man.  A captain should rise before his crew, should he not?'

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[commodore-jln.livejournal.com]

There's a quick, disarming flare of arousal in James as he watches Sparrow stretch, slow and entirely indecent, like some kind of cat, and James can feel a scowl twisting about his lips. Determinedly, he stares at a point on the wall somewhere to the general left of the door until Sparrow's left, at which point he allows himself to slump in his chair, one hand raking through his hair in a gesture of impotent frustration.

What the hell, asks the little voice in his head, was that about? You had the man spread out beneath you- you wanted it-

Viciously he silences the voice. He will not be second-guessed by his own subconscious. He does, though, feel a bit guilty for leading Sparrow on, encouraging him, and then panicking. Only he hadn't given the thing any thought to begin with; it was just teasing, flirting, and then very suddenly it had been very much more than that, and James was not ready for that. Either it was impersonal- a quick, good fuck- or it was something... meaningful, and Sparrow had already shown himself to be straddling that line in a most disturbing fashion.

He looks down at his lap, at the outline of his now-flagging arousal against his breeches and curses it vainly. That, right there, is the bane of all men, he thinks, and all men know it, but they don't give a damn, because it feels so bloody good.

Irritably he picks up the book again, wanting something to distract himself from his own thought until Sparrow returns.

[captjacksparrow.livejournal.com]

Once outside the cabin, Jack feels a bit better. Less annoyed at the turn of events. Calmed with the shift of the Pearl beneath his feet. The wind on his face. He looks up at the sky to spot the sun from earlier this morning but it's disappeared behind gathering storm clouds. He knew a storm was on the way and the give of the wind seems to say it's coming. And it's big.

Getting out of the Caribbean for the time being might not be a bad idea for many reasons.

The crew eyes him with too much interest as he swaggers past and Jack bellows at them to get back to work in his most Captain-ly tones. He finds Gibbs by the foredeck, hauling ropes and is about to request him to head for Hispanola when a part of his mind reminds him he left his compass in the cabin. With Norrington. Who is waiting to sign the papers to become his first mate.

Er... He can wait a bit longer.

Jack stays standing with Gibbs before going to take over the helm himself, directing them to the way he hopes Hispanola lies. They can gather supplies there before setting out across the Atlantic. Whatever Norrington does locked in the cabin Jack has no real interest. Or if he does, he pushes it away. The Pearl needs him right now. She comes before anyone.