Fine Men, Chapter 7
A Fine Sight More
by
Full headers in Chapter 1
Beta: Nancy
Beta: Nancy
"'Twas a devious thing you did, James," Jack announced upon entering James's office, a roomy area enclosed by the stone of the fort. The desk itself was of heavy wood, stained dark.
"Was it?" James answered distractedly, not even looking up from his paperwork.
"Aye, 'twas," Jack insisted, flouncing over to lean on the corner of the commodore's desk. "A fine stroke of tactics, as it were."
James smiled at his correspondence as he kept scribing. "I am a commodore, after all."
"And a fine sight more," Jack drawled.
James brought his chin up to look at Jack with sparkling eyes though his demeanor remained strictly proper. "And what brings you to Port Royal for this visit, Captain?" he asked mildly.
"Mmmm. I suppose the fair winds, Commodore. It's been nigh a month since I saw your smiling face," Jack said jauntily, doffing his tricorn.
James raised an eyebrow. "Has it been so long since you graced us with your august presence?" the commodore asked dryly. James knew perfectly well it had been twenty-eight and a half days, a fact that left him bemused as he kept his tally.
Jack hummed in reply. "You should know, Commodore... such a cunning riposte as what you executed is befitting the best of pirates," he said, shaking a finger.
"I am not a pirate," James objected, squaring his shoulders as he sat up straight.
"Perhaps you're a pirate at heart, buried under all that starch and linen, luv," Jack suggested just as Lieutenant Gillette entered with the day's post.
His attention split, James accepted the stack of letters with a frown of distaste. "Thank you, Thomas," he murmured.
"Of course, Commodore. Good day, Captain," Thomas tipped his hat to Jack and went on his way.
"'Tis no wonder your face remains so pinched," Jack said, poking at the piles of paper.
"The price of rank, I'm afraid," James said with a sigh.
"One would think a man of rank such as yourself could delegate such tasks as these on such a beautiful day as it is and take a sail across the bay," Jack said innocently, still perched on James's desk but peering out the wide window. "As it were."
"Not your most delicate of hints," James commented. He'd gotten better at following Jack's rambling sentences, although he still wondered if the pirate spoke in that manner on purpose.
Jack grinned back at the commodore. "And I find myself with a powerful thirst after such a long time at sea," he said directly. "Didn't want to drink all by my onesies."
James stayed utterly still for several moments, trying to calm his pounding heart before he stood. Tucking his hands behind his back, he took three deliberate steps around his desk, every inch the commodore as he stopped a mere foot from Jack's side, actually looking down since Jack still sat on the corner of the wooden workspace. He fancied he could feel the heat radiating from the pirate. "I'm sure you might find your choice of beverage in any of the common pubs," he said, his voice smokier than usual. James could see the hunger in Jack's eyes, and a shiver rippled down his spine.
"Ah, but what I crave is anything but common, Jamie," Jack rasped. "And such a fine vintage is not to be found in any pub. I've been mightily spoilt, you see."
James couldn't stop the twitch of excitement that caught him, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before forcing himself the two steps to retake his seat. The proprieties must be observed, after all.
Though he didn't look, James could feel Jack watching him intently, apparently unwilling to move his gaze; while at the same time, James couldn't make himself look up to see the man he'd thought about every day and every night since that blasted party. Now that he was but a breath away, he could hardly restrain the impulse to steal another kiss.
But it wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all, here at the fort, here where James was most the commodore.
"Now that I'm in port, James, how might you entertain me?" Jack asked, one hand moving around the paper on top of the pile near his knee.
James eyed the papers before daring return his gaze to Jack. "I? Entertain you? Why ever for?" The amusement clearly sparkled in his eyes.
"Tut tut, now, James, you make a fine host when you put your mind to it," Jack chastised with a flip of his hand.
"You mean I lay a fine spread and provide you with plenty of scotch to drink," James said drolly, knowing full well what the pirate was after.
"But of course!" Jack exclaimed. "'Tis one of your more redeeming factors."
James had to bite his tongue to keep back the scoffing laugh. "Jack Sparrow, I'll have you know I've many redeeming factors."
"Oh aye, you do," Jack said, his lips curling into a knowing smirk.
James snatched up a sheaf of papers and swatted at Jack's arm. "Get out of my office. One of us must work today." But a ghost of a smile tilted the corners of his mouth upward.
"Entertainment?" Jack prodded, refusing to budge from his seat. "Else I shall be obliged to find my own..."
"Down in the harbor pubs, I am sure," James muttered, remembering less than happily the women who'd clung to Jack that long-ago morning, the day he'd sailed on the Black Pearl. "I concede," he huffed, sounding greatly put upon, and indeed somewhat resentful that Jack would tease him so. Pubs, indeed. "Call at my home about eight this evening for dinner."
"Why, Commodore, 'tis a lovely invitation which I am quite pleased to accept," Jack said brightly as he hoisted himself off the desk and stood next to James's chair. "Shall I bring some humble contribution?"
Loosing his restraint just enough to allow himself to breathe, James let his lips pull into a tight smile and slowly raised an eyebrow as he looked Jack up and down meaningfully. "Yourself shall quite suffice. I shall provide...the wine."
The pirate blinked, but just as quickly narrowed his eyes. James broke into an honest smile at seeing he had surprised Jack once again.
"You take far, far too much pleasure in that, Jamie," Jack drawled, setting a hand on the edge of the desk in front of James and leaning over slowly. "Much, much too much pleasure."
"You cannot tell me, Jack," James said, his voice low and honeyed, "that you are condemning the pursuit of pleasure."
Dark eyes met light, and without warning, Jack darted forward to steal a flaming kiss before jerking back and walking away, leaving James shocked and short of breath. "I shall see you at eight, Commodore," Jack announced smugly. "And I expect a fine vintage on the table." With that parting shot, he was gone from the doorway, leaving James in the empty office to deliberate upon the surely sea-tossed relationship in which he found himself ensnared.
==
The eight o'clock evening hour was past dark, even for tropical Jamaica. Jack made his way through the streets, a bottle of rum under his arm, and stopped in front of the tall, imposing stone house with a grimace on his face.
"No sort of proper home," he mumbled as he climbed the step and knocked upon the heavy wooden door. Several moments later, the door opened.
"Good evening, Captain. I'm quite pleased to see you," said Lieutenant George Groves.
Jack blinked at him owlishly. "You are?"
George smiled thinly. "Yes. Please come in, if you like. Though I warn you... now is not... the best of times."
"Not the best of times? The commodore only this afternoon invited me for dinner," Jack said as he crossed the threshold and George closed the door behind him.
"Jack, I'm glad to see you."
The pirate turned his head to see Thomas Gillette descending the stairs. "What are you on about, Thomas?"
"James received some bad news today," Thomas said, stopping on the bottom stair and looking toward George.
"Bad news?" Jack echoed.
The two lieutenants looked at one another again. "Will you be staying the evening, Captain?" George asked more formally.
Jack frowned. "I had planned to stay the evening, aye. What is amiss?" He turned narrowed eyes on Thomas.
"Will you be staying the night, Jack?" Thomas asked more bluntly.
The pirate went very still as he considered his words carefully. "'Tis the commodore's home, and so, I would consider it his right to issue an invitation."
George scoffed. "Are you staying or not?"
Jack swayed a bit side to side, betraying usually hidden nerves. "Yes?" he answered cautiously, eyes darting between them.
Thomas rolled his eyes. "I swear, you're as bad as James," he muttered as he took Jack's arm and pulled him up the stairs. George followed along, chuckling quietly.
"We've been with him all afternoon and all evening. He won't listen to us, perhaps he'll listen to you," Thomas said as he opened a door.
"Will you tell me or not..." Jack stopped in the doorway, stock still, eyes widening in surprise.
James sat—no, sprawled—in a wide armchair. He'd stripped out of his jacket, cravat, waistcoat, belt and shoes, leaving only his stockings, trousers and shirt, which itself was messily unlaced. His hat and wig he'd tossed without care upon his desk, apparently practically ripped from his head because pins littered the floor and his usually carefully restrained dark hair was tumbled over his shoulders.
Most interestingly, he held a bottle in one hand that dragged along the floor each time he took a drink and let his arm collapse back down. Jack blinked.
"How long has he been like this?" Jack asked in a staged whisper.
"All evening," Thomas said.
"He's a ruddy mess, is what he is," George muttered. Thomas thwapped him upside the head, drawing a soft squawk.
"What put him in this condition?" Jack asked, practically boggling as he watched James raise the bottle for another drink, apparently ignoring them, as he couldn't possibly not hear them.
George pointed toward the desk. "Have a lovely evening, Jack. God bless you." He grabbed Thomas's hand and dragged him out of the room despite his lover's protests, and the door shut the pirate and the commodore inside. Jack watched James for a long minute before walking to the table and setting down the bottle he'd brought along.
Though remaining in his dazed drunkenness, James knew he was there and knew he was watching him. He simply couldn't bring himself to broach a conversation. Although, James thought almost hysterically, there was no reason to keep himself from Jack's company any longer, was there?
Leaning against the edge of the table with his arms crossed, Jack studied James for some time. "James, as much as I appreciate your effort to make me feel at home, don't you think this is going a bit far simply to be neighborly?"
James turned bloodshot eyes on the pirate and openly sniggered. "Neighborly? Ohhh no. Friendly. Yes, very friendly. That's what I'm going for."
Jack flinched in dramatic surprise. "I didn't know you had such a flair for the dramatic."
"I only observe the best, Captain Sparrow," James said, practically flailing with the bottle. "And you certainly have flair and drama down pat."
The pirate preened. "Work at it, I do. But you, James, you are much more the considerate, proper man. This is very unlike you, and I'm not at all sure I approve, mate."
"Don't bloody care if you approve or not," James muttered uncharitably.
Jack's brow rose slowly as he peered at James. "What if I said I'm not at all sure I like it?"
James squirmed uncomfortably. That was an altogether different comment, and James didn't care for how he felt about it. He settled on a soft hmmph as a reply, but he didn't take another drink. Yet.
The captain sighed. "Drink as you like, Jamie. I'll join you, even."
James looked up, actually finding himself able to look contrite. "I forgot you were coming to dinner," he said miserably.
Jack grinned. "Did you, now?" Mumbling in response, James grew more embarrassed and it showed in his flushing cheeks, which delighted Jack to no end. "Well, I'm here now, and according to Thomas and George I'm to stay the night."
"The night?" James echoed.
"Aye, luv. The night." Jack watched James intently. The commodore could feel those dark eyes intent upon him.
"All right," James finally said in a small voice.
Jack tilted his head to one side. "What's wrong, Jamie?" he asked softly.
James went totally still, even his eyes going unfocused as he stared at the wall, and the commodore seriously considered not answering. But Jack would plot and pry and plead and prod until he shared. "I have lost too many ships for a man of my rank to hold any favor with the Admiralty," he said bitterly before taking another deep swallow of liquor.
Jack blinked at him. "Too many ships? Three ships?" He winced, knowing two, the Dauntless and the Interceptor, were easily and correctly attributed to his influence. The other, the recent and much lamented Victory, however, he'd had no touch upon.
"Three ships too many for a supposedly celebrated commodore," James said.
"You're a fine sight more than 'supposedly celebrated.' What do we care about the Admiralty?" Jack ventured.
James snorted. "Right now? Not a bedamned whit."
Jack stifled a laugh. "Ah. But what about not now?"
The commodore winced. "The Admiralty decides who among rank receives postings and promotions. I would not have this command were it not for their orders."
The pirate put together what information he had and came to a very upsetting, very unacceptable conclusion. "And they say that you have lost too many ships?"
"Too many ships," James said blearily, leaning his head back after another long drink. He was getting sleepy, and although he wanted to bask in Jack's company, it was becoming progressively more difficult to fight off the allure of sleep and its accompanying release from the cares of the world.
Jack watched James begin to droop, and he moved to take the bottle from the commodore's lax fingers. He lifted one hand and laid it upon James's brow, gently brushing back his untidy hair. "Rest, Jamie. You need it. I'll be here to watch over you."
James let his eyes fall closed. If he could not have the Navy, but yet could have his life, he hoped he might be able to keep Jack Sparrow in it. Then the beckoning sleep drew him away.
The pirate's hand slid through James's hair for some time, and then Jack leaned to press a kiss to the corner of James's mouth. Jack straightened and took the mostly empty bottle of brandy—grimacing at the label—and set it on the table next to the more proper rum he'd acquired. It was then that his eye was drawn to a particularly folded and crumpled paper on top of others on the far side of the wooden tabletop.
Curious, Jack reached for it and flattened it on the hard surface, revealing the scripted text. As he read, his eyes narrowed further and further, and his lips pressed into a hard, flat line. Soon finished with the sad excuse of a missive, Jack crumpled it again, worse than before, as he looked to James with a near-feral, protective gleam in his eyes.
==
"Good day, Commodore."
James looked up from the writing desk in his study, surprised. "Jack, I did not expect you back so soon... It's only been two wee..."
"Aye, well, the Lady Sea, she directs me as she will, savvy?" Jack interrupted as he stepped into the room.
James nodded slowly, feeling the queue of hair rub against his neck. He was properly attired this morning, besides the jacket, wig and hat—a fine sight better than the night two weeks ago that James had only dim recollection of. Jack, however, was surprisingly attired all in dark leather and linen, bereft of the normal colorful accoutrements, barring the ever-present red headscarf, which itself even looked tinged with black. The serious set of the pirate's shoulders drew James's focus. "Is something amiss?"
"James, you know full well what is amiss."
The commodore's face hardened. "There's no avoiding what is coming, Captain. The admiral's arrival is bad enough. Now the news that his convoy will be attacked by a small pirate flotilla makes it ever so much worse."
Jack frowned. "We've two weeks before said admiral descends upon Port Royal and those pirates wreak havoc upon our lovely Caribbean. And I'll have you know there are several among us who are none too pleased about the prospect of having our balance disrupted." He rocked back on his heels, thumbs in his belt.
"And pray tell, who is we, Jack?" James asked irritably, wondering who Jack was naming as pirates—the directors of the flotilla or the Admiralty inbound.
"Everyone!" Jack said, gesturing expansively.
"Everyone," James repeated flatly. He closed his eyes on the now-constant feeling of dread curling in his gut. He'd decided that the admiral's visit, along with the tone of a second letter received, would almost certainly hearken the sudden end of his Naval career. The way things were shaping up, he'd be lucky to avoid being shot.
Jack's voice turned serious. "Aye, everyone. You know the residents of Port Royal support you, and your Navy men, of course. The English merchantmen as well, for you've managed to reduce the risk of pirate mischief by turning us—most of us, anyway—to other targets. And that most of us are quite pleased with you as well."
James thought the pirate looked inordinately pleased with himself. "I don't understand what that has to do with the admiral's arrival being marred by yet another pirate attack within my supposedly guarded waters."
"Ah, but those aren't your pirates."
Baffled, James leaned back in his chair tiredly. He waved his hand in a weak invitation to continue.
"Those so-called pirates, evil men, one and all, don't hail from Singapore or Tortuga or even the horn of Africa. They've sailed up from the south looking for easy pickings. And we, your pirates, are none too inclined to welcome them, much less condone their actions."
"Don't want to share the loot, I'd imagine," James muttered, wondering how much Jack had had to drink this morning. "And how is it remotely possible that I have my own pirates?"
"Well..." Jack began speculatively, but he managed to stop himself. "So I've come to tell you that we, your pirates, have agreed that beginning two weeks hence, none shall raid, pillage, plunder or otherwise pilfer one's weasely black guts out at any of the ports under your protection for the space of thirty days."
All James could do was stare. "I don't understand."
"I have a plan," Jack shared cheerfully.
"A plan."
"Yes, a fine plan."
"A plan."
"Pull yourself together, Commodore!" Jack barked suddenly.
James's spine snapped straight as his temper flared. "And what, pray tell, do you propose, Captain Sparrow? I have control of four ships, fast but small, a sorry number were my pirates not currently amused elsewhere."
"Yes," Jack confirmed. "But now we're ready to find something else to do." He walked to James's desk, laid his hands upon the polished top and leaned over it. "But you will owe us a favor. A rather large favor. Do we have an accord?"
James shivered at the thought of owing this pirate any sort of favor—a shiver full of anticipation and tinged with concern. He frowned.
Jack smirked, leaned over, and kissed that frown right off James's face. The commodore went very still as warm, deceptively soft lips slid against his own. He might have thought it a distraction tactic, but Jack lingered, and James could feel the prickle of Jack's mustache and goatee against his own clean-shaven face.
His eyes fluttered shut as he joined the kiss, tipping his head slightly to one side to facilitate Jack's advance, and as that curious heat seeped into him, he sighed soundlessly when Jack momentarily increased the pressure of his kiss. For the first time, James reached up to lightly touch Jack's cheek as they kissed; his fingers firmly but curiously coasted from braided hair to the corner of Jack's occupied mouth.
When the pirate pulled back, James still looked at him suspiciously, but it was more a reflection of intrigue backed by a spark of heat in his gaze. Jack could be quite convincing when he set his mind to it, the commodore thought wryly.
"What sort of favor?" James rasped.
Prev ::
Next
Leave a Comment
(If you're commenting about a specific chapter, please mention that.)
Read Comments
(Warning: May contain spoilers!)