Polyficathon fic!
Aug. 30th, 2005 05:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
order_of_chaosTitle: Cream and Canaries.
Author:order_of_chaos
[Unknown site tag]Rating: PG-13/R
Pairing: Sparrow/Gillette/Scarlet
Summary: Established relationship fluff (possibly crack), set in Port Royal.
Feedback: Welcome and more than welcome. And please point out errors, so I can fix them.
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to the Mouse, not to me. This may, from a certain perspective, be considered a Good Thing.
AN: Written for [Unknown site tag]![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
hippediva for the PotC Polyfication. (Theoretically, there's a lot more to write, but I thought I'd missed the deadline by far enough.) The request was for Jack borrowing a frock, a set of knitting needed and a contraband copy of the Kama Sutra; no serious angst, death, or dropped stitches. No Kama Sutra, alas - I did write it, but it ended up as a different universe. I hope you enjoy the fic.
***
Cream and Canaries – Sparrow/Gillette/Scarlet.
Author:
order_of_chaos[Unknown site tag]Rating: PG-13/R
Pairing: Sparrow/Gillette/Scarlet
Summary: Established relationship fluff (possibly crack), set in Port Royal.
Feedback: Welcome and more than welcome. And please point out errors, so I can fix them.
Disclaimer: PotC belongs to the Mouse, not to me. This may, from a certain perspective, be considered a Good Thing.
AN: Written for [Unknown site tag]
hippediva for the PotC Polyfication. (Theoretically, there's a lot more to write, but I thought I'd missed the deadline by far enough.) The request was for Jack borrowing a frock, a set of knitting needed and a contraband copy of the Kama Sutra; no serious angst, death, or dropped stitches. No Kama Sutra, alas - I did write it, but it ended up as a different universe. I hope you enjoy the fic.***
Cream and Canaries – Sparrow/Gillette/Scarlet.
The Approximate Present
“That is adorable,” Groves announced gleefully, watching a tiny smile of genuine happiness flicker across his friend’s face for perhaps the sixth time that morning. It was good to see Andrew relaxed for a change. That, and it would make excellent blackmail material. “So, who is she?”
“She?” Fair skin, barely even freckled, did little to conceal Gillette’s blush at the memory.
“You know you’ll have to tell me sooner or later.” Smirking ever so slightly, Groves assumed an air of infinite patience, and waited.
***
The Recent Past
Jack was wet. Dripping. Dark eyes wide and begging as if the pirate were somehow uncertain of his welcome. The kohl that usually shadowed his eyes was smudged, running with the water that trailed its way down sun-bronzed skin. Lips parted. “Andrew, love. I…”
Gillette’s hands twisted into the damp shirt almost before he could think, pulling the pirate closer and drinking the words from his mouth, savouring the familiar tang of rum-flavoured gold. Jack surrendered easily, melting into the kiss. When they finally broke apart, he was grinning, reassured that Andrew hadn’t come to his senses while they were parted, despite being back in Port Royal now and no longer on leave.
Gillette poked him. “You’re cold.”
“You’re hot,” Jack countered. “I need a place to stay, love.”
“Of course you do.” Naval officer regarded pirate with amused condescension. “Come in, then.” He waited until the door was closed securely behind Jack before pushing him back into the wooden panelling and divesting him of weapons and clothes alike.
“I take it,” Jack gasped, “you’re not expecting any visitors.”
Gillette nibbled strategically on an earlobe. “I’m sure Scarlet won’t mind the view.”
“Red’s here?”
“She will be.”
“This day just got better.” Jack all but purred, arching into Gillette’s caress as firm hands dragged their way from navel to throat and played around his collarbone. His head tilted back, every line of his body projecting the lazy-delighted smugness of a cat that had somehow got both cream and canary.
“Oh?”
“Oh, yes, do that.”
***
The Even-More-Recent Past
He woke gradually, one warm body twined around his own, the other conspicuously absent. His sleepy exploration discovered soft skin, full breasts, familiar scarring over an otherwise smooth stomach – definitely Scarlet. Which meant Jack was missing. Andrew contemplated this for a while. There was a notorious pirate loose in Port Royal. He should have been worried. His lips twitched into a wry smile at the thought, because to be perfectly accurate, what he should have done was arrest Jack the moment the pirate had showed up, dripping and bedraggled on his doorstep, demanding a bed for the night. And the night after that, and so on. Certainly, he should have refrained from dragging Jack inside and ravishing him in the hallway.
Failing that, he should at the very least have been worried. And yet, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Andrew couldn’t shake the conviction that – idiot and imbecile though he be – Captain Jack Sparrow could look out for himself. He only hoped that Port Royal could do the same, and survive the no doubt impending chaos.
***
The Slightly Later Present
The sounds of a scuffle were lost to the organised jumble of Port Royal’s market day.
Two against one. He’d handled worse odds, but with these two – it wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to hurt them, he just wanted to escape. Jack wriggled and kicked, driving an elbow into the body behind him. His opponent moved with the blow, softening it and somehow trapping Jack’s arms at his sides as he did.
Scarlet hooked a foot between his legs and pulled, knocking him off balance – suddenly he was relying on Andrew’s arms around him for support. Strong arms, slender. Jack had always liked them.
Jack relaxed into his lover’s hold, gathering himself for a last struggle. Ready, and…
The flat side of a dagger slid under his chin, tilting his face up. “I wouldn’t try it, Captain.” Scarlet murmured silkily.
“Just tell me this has nothing to do with what I did to the governor’s wig,” the pirate asked plaintively. “It looks better pink, I swear. And I returned the knitting needles.”
“It’s not revenge, love. Would I do that to you?” Exaggerated innocence – that was his trick, damnit – and Jack knew even if he couldn’t see it, that Andrew was smiling his quick, infuriating smile into his tangle of hair.
“Andrew needs a lover he can be seen in public with," Scarlet explained, too cheerfully, "that’s without being hung, Jack – and I can’t be there, so you’ll have to go in my place.” The dagger trailed lower, tracing a not-quite-invisible line down his chest. “Savvy?” She flipped the necklace over his neck and stepped back to regard the result. Grinned.
Gillette spun the pirate around, flicked fingers appreciatively over delicate features no longer concealed by facial hair, and caught him again. “You make a very pretty girl, my love.”
“No!” Jack resumed struggling. “I can’t be a girl. I don’t want to be a girl. Andrew, love, please tell her you were joking.”
“Girl or eunuch?” Scarlet inquired, shifting her hand in such a way as to draw attention inexorably towards the dagger she was now holding just at crotch level. “Which do you prefer?”
“Fine.” The pirate visibly wilted, ignoring the fact that, thanks to the necklace, ‘he’ did not at present have any bits his lover could cut off. Not there, at any rate. “I surrender.”
He still managed to appear heartbreakingly miserable about it. Thwarted and plaintive and – “we’ll make it up to you later, I promise,” – altogether too manipulative for words, even if his treasures had learned to see through far too many of his tricks by now. Miserable, he reminded himself sternly. Concentrate on looking miserable.
The dagger vanished with a flick of Scarlet’s wrist. “You won’t have to wear a corset,” she offered consolingly.
“Oh.” Jack relaxed. “That’s alright, then.” He glanced up in time to catch Andrew watching him with open amusement. Smirking. Not fair at all, even if he had secretly wanted to try this. And they didn’t know that, did they? “Of course,” he added nonchalantly, “I’ll need to borrow a frock. That red one will do, I think, with the ribbons.”
Andrew’s smirk vanished without a trace. “No. That one’s mine.”
“I want it. And you’re currently male – you don’t need a dress.”
“That’s not the point. It’s mine.”
“Technically,” Scarlet interjected smoothly, “it’s my dress. I only lent it to Andrew for while he was stuck being female for a week.”
“You never asked for it back.”
“How about,” Jack suggested, before the conversation turned into a three-way war, “you give me the dress, we go visit this Lieutenant Theodore of yours, and then you can both have the pleasure of removing it from me once we’re done. What say you to that?”
In the interests of diplomacy, his lovers refrained from commenting that Jack’s suggestion would get Jack what he wanted, but failed to solve the original argument. They had an accord.
***
Later the Same Day, But Still the Present
“Theo, allow me to introduce to you the beautiful Robin Merivale. Robin - Lieutenant Theodore Groves, one of my oldest and dearest friends.”
The pirate smiled - prettily, but a pirate’s smile and mischief, none the less. Groves stared at him suspiciously. “You’re not related to Jack Sparrow by any chance, are you?”
“Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please,” Jack corrected, then, considering the company, added by way of explanation, “my cousin’s father’s sister’s nephew. Quite the black sheep of the family, t’ be honest.” He curtsied. “Delighted to meet you.”
The Lieutenant relaxed, returning the smile with interest. “Likewise.” He turned to Andrew. “Is that why you were worried about introducing us? Or did you think I would try to steal her?”
I wonder if I have feminine wiles? Jack fluttered his eyelashes experimentally. Theodore looked distracted.
Andrew blushed. “Stop that,” he hissed. He slipped an arm around Jack’s waist and pulled him closer. “I don’t want to have to fight anyone for you.”
Jack grinned. It seemed that his feminine wiles worked just as well in this form as they did when he was male.
***
The Evening of the Present
It was the crisp half-dark of evening by the time they got away, tired, a little battered, and in unreasonably good spirits considering the circumstances.
“That went well.”
“I thought so.” For a given definition of ‘well’, recognisable only to those suffering from overexposure to the pirate Andrew still had tucked securely against his side. No-one was hurt, the inn was still – mostly – in one piece, his best friend was still his best friend, and Jack hadn’t run off with him. “And here’s Scarlet.”
Jack wriggled out of his grip. “Hold on, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.” He stalked up to Scarlet and slapped her, dodged the return blow and danced back, grinning impishly. “Fair’s fair, love. I’ve always envied women the right to slap people.”
Andrew caught him from behind. “Home first, pirate-torture second, savvy?”
Scarlet nodded, the wicked glint in her eyes boding ill for Jack’s continued chances of survival. “Savvy.”
***
The Future, wig-crackfic (read only if you know what this means)
“Well, it’s certainly interesting,” Weatherby commented, inspecting his redecorated wig with more amusement than horror. “Striking. We might even set a new fashion.”
Cornelius favoured him with an aggrieved expression, then shut his eyes as the Governor settled him into place on his head. Maybe he would wake up and this would all be a nightmare. He doubted it.
“That is adorable,” Groves announced gleefully, watching a tiny smile of genuine happiness flicker across his friend’s face for perhaps the sixth time that morning. It was good to see Andrew relaxed for a change. That, and it would make excellent blackmail material. “So, who is she?”
“She?” Fair skin, barely even freckled, did little to conceal Gillette’s blush at the memory.
“You know you’ll have to tell me sooner or later.” Smirking ever so slightly, Groves assumed an air of infinite patience, and waited.
***
The Recent Past
Jack was wet. Dripping. Dark eyes wide and begging as if the pirate were somehow uncertain of his welcome. The kohl that usually shadowed his eyes was smudged, running with the water that trailed its way down sun-bronzed skin. Lips parted. “Andrew, love. I…”
Gillette’s hands twisted into the damp shirt almost before he could think, pulling the pirate closer and drinking the words from his mouth, savouring the familiar tang of rum-flavoured gold. Jack surrendered easily, melting into the kiss. When they finally broke apart, he was grinning, reassured that Andrew hadn’t come to his senses while they were parted, despite being back in Port Royal now and no longer on leave.
Gillette poked him. “You’re cold.”
“You’re hot,” Jack countered. “I need a place to stay, love.”
“Of course you do.” Naval officer regarded pirate with amused condescension. “Come in, then.” He waited until the door was closed securely behind Jack before pushing him back into the wooden panelling and divesting him of weapons and clothes alike.
“I take it,” Jack gasped, “you’re not expecting any visitors.”
Gillette nibbled strategically on an earlobe. “I’m sure Scarlet won’t mind the view.”
“Red’s here?”
“She will be.”
“This day just got better.” Jack all but purred, arching into Gillette’s caress as firm hands dragged their way from navel to throat and played around his collarbone. His head tilted back, every line of his body projecting the lazy-delighted smugness of a cat that had somehow got both cream and canary.
“Oh?”
“Oh, yes, do that.”
***
The Even-More-Recent Past
He woke gradually, one warm body twined around his own, the other conspicuously absent. His sleepy exploration discovered soft skin, full breasts, familiar scarring over an otherwise smooth stomach – definitely Scarlet. Which meant Jack was missing. Andrew contemplated this for a while. There was a notorious pirate loose in Port Royal. He should have been worried. His lips twitched into a wry smile at the thought, because to be perfectly accurate, what he should have done was arrest Jack the moment the pirate had showed up, dripping and bedraggled on his doorstep, demanding a bed for the night. And the night after that, and so on. Certainly, he should have refrained from dragging Jack inside and ravishing him in the hallway.
Failing that, he should at the very least have been worried. And yet, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Andrew couldn’t shake the conviction that – idiot and imbecile though he be – Captain Jack Sparrow could look out for himself. He only hoped that Port Royal could do the same, and survive the no doubt impending chaos.
***
The Slightly Later Present
The sounds of a scuffle were lost to the organised jumble of Port Royal’s market day.
Two against one. He’d handled worse odds, but with these two – it wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to hurt them, he just wanted to escape. Jack wriggled and kicked, driving an elbow into the body behind him. His opponent moved with the blow, softening it and somehow trapping Jack’s arms at his sides as he did.
Scarlet hooked a foot between his legs and pulled, knocking him off balance – suddenly he was relying on Andrew’s arms around him for support. Strong arms, slender. Jack had always liked them.
Jack relaxed into his lover’s hold, gathering himself for a last struggle. Ready, and…
The flat side of a dagger slid under his chin, tilting his face up. “I wouldn’t try it, Captain.” Scarlet murmured silkily.
“Just tell me this has nothing to do with what I did to the governor’s wig,” the pirate asked plaintively. “It looks better pink, I swear. And I returned the knitting needles.”
“It’s not revenge, love. Would I do that to you?” Exaggerated innocence – that was his trick, damnit – and Jack knew even if he couldn’t see it, that Andrew was smiling his quick, infuriating smile into his tangle of hair.
“Andrew needs a lover he can be seen in public with," Scarlet explained, too cheerfully, "that’s without being hung, Jack – and I can’t be there, so you’ll have to go in my place.” The dagger trailed lower, tracing a not-quite-invisible line down his chest. “Savvy?” She flipped the necklace over his neck and stepped back to regard the result. Grinned.
Gillette spun the pirate around, flicked fingers appreciatively over delicate features no longer concealed by facial hair, and caught him again. “You make a very pretty girl, my love.”
“No!” Jack resumed struggling. “I can’t be a girl. I don’t want to be a girl. Andrew, love, please tell her you were joking.”
“Girl or eunuch?” Scarlet inquired, shifting her hand in such a way as to draw attention inexorably towards the dagger she was now holding just at crotch level. “Which do you prefer?”
“Fine.” The pirate visibly wilted, ignoring the fact that, thanks to the necklace, ‘he’ did not at present have any bits his lover could cut off. Not there, at any rate. “I surrender.”
He still managed to appear heartbreakingly miserable about it. Thwarted and plaintive and – “we’ll make it up to you later, I promise,” – altogether too manipulative for words, even if his treasures had learned to see through far too many of his tricks by now. Miserable, he reminded himself sternly. Concentrate on looking miserable.
The dagger vanished with a flick of Scarlet’s wrist. “You won’t have to wear a corset,” she offered consolingly.
“Oh.” Jack relaxed. “That’s alright, then.” He glanced up in time to catch Andrew watching him with open amusement. Smirking. Not fair at all, even if he had secretly wanted to try this. And they didn’t know that, did they? “Of course,” he added nonchalantly, “I’ll need to borrow a frock. That red one will do, I think, with the ribbons.”
Andrew’s smirk vanished without a trace. “No. That one’s mine.”
“I want it. And you’re currently male – you don’t need a dress.”
“That’s not the point. It’s mine.”
“Technically,” Scarlet interjected smoothly, “it’s my dress. I only lent it to Andrew for while he was stuck being female for a week.”
“You never asked for it back.”
“How about,” Jack suggested, before the conversation turned into a three-way war, “you give me the dress, we go visit this Lieutenant Theodore of yours, and then you can both have the pleasure of removing it from me once we’re done. What say you to that?”
In the interests of diplomacy, his lovers refrained from commenting that Jack’s suggestion would get Jack what he wanted, but failed to solve the original argument. They had an accord.
***
Later the Same Day, But Still the Present
“Theo, allow me to introduce to you the beautiful Robin Merivale. Robin - Lieutenant Theodore Groves, one of my oldest and dearest friends.”
The pirate smiled - prettily, but a pirate’s smile and mischief, none the less. Groves stared at him suspiciously. “You’re not related to Jack Sparrow by any chance, are you?”
“Captain Jack Sparrow, if you please,” Jack corrected, then, considering the company, added by way of explanation, “my cousin’s father’s sister’s nephew. Quite the black sheep of the family, t’ be honest.” He curtsied. “Delighted to meet you.”
The Lieutenant relaxed, returning the smile with interest. “Likewise.” He turned to Andrew. “Is that why you were worried about introducing us? Or did you think I would try to steal her?”
I wonder if I have feminine wiles? Jack fluttered his eyelashes experimentally. Theodore looked distracted.
Andrew blushed. “Stop that,” he hissed. He slipped an arm around Jack’s waist and pulled him closer. “I don’t want to have to fight anyone for you.”
Jack grinned. It seemed that his feminine wiles worked just as well in this form as they did when he was male.
***
The Evening of the Present
It was the crisp half-dark of evening by the time they got away, tired, a little battered, and in unreasonably good spirits considering the circumstances.
“That went well.”
“I thought so.” For a given definition of ‘well’, recognisable only to those suffering from overexposure to the pirate Andrew still had tucked securely against his side. No-one was hurt, the inn was still – mostly – in one piece, his best friend was still his best friend, and Jack hadn’t run off with him. “And here’s Scarlet.”
Jack wriggled out of his grip. “Hold on, there’s something I’ve been wanting to do.” He stalked up to Scarlet and slapped her, dodged the return blow and danced back, grinning impishly. “Fair’s fair, love. I’ve always envied women the right to slap people.”
Andrew caught him from behind. “Home first, pirate-torture second, savvy?”
Scarlet nodded, the wicked glint in her eyes boding ill for Jack’s continued chances of survival. “Savvy.”
***
The Future, wig-crackfic (read only if you know what this means)
“Well, it’s certainly interesting,” Weatherby commented, inspecting his redecorated wig with more amusement than horror. “Striking. We might even set a new fashion.”
Cornelius favoured him with an aggrieved expression, then shut his eyes as the Governor settled him into place on his head. Maybe he would wake up and this would all be a nightmare. He doubted it.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-08-29 10:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 01:34 am (UTC)Poor Cornelius... *patpatpat*
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 03:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 11:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 05:01 pm (UTC)*giggle*
BWAHAHAhahahaha!
Oh, this is TOO rich! Such fun!
And I'd totally forgotten your wig-crackfic stories! Will we get more of them soon?
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 07:06 pm (UTC)That, and it would make excellent blackmail material.
This is so perfectly Jack I melted into a puddle and squeed at the same time. Damn near sprained something! *G*
His head tilted back, every line of his body projecting the lazy-delighted smugness of a cat that had somehow got both cream and canary.
I was just getting over the 'ravishing in the hallway' bit and you sprang this one on me:
And yet, despite all the evidence to the contrary, Andrew couldn’t shake the conviction that – idiot and imbecile though he be – Captain Jack Sparrow could look out for himself. He only hoped that Port Royal could do the same, and survive the no doubt impending chaos.
By the time I'd gotten over the shock of magical necklaces you did this:
“No!” Jack resumed struggling. “I can’t be a girl. I don’t want to be a girl. Andrew, love, please tell her you were joking.” And I dissolved into a hyena-snorting puddle.
Thwarted and plaintive and – “we’ll make it up to you later, I promise,” – altogether too manipulative for words, even if his treasures had learned to see through far too many of his tricks by now. Miserable, he reminded himself sternly. Concentrate on looking miserable.
If I hadn't been sitting on the bed, I would have fallen over. Scratch that. Did fall over. Poor girlJack. using all his wiles. *G*
This killed him---I could NOT stop laughing:
“How about,” Jack suggested, before the conversation turned into a three-way war, “you give me the dress, we go visit this Lieutenant Theodore of yours, and then you can both have the pleasure of removing it from me once we’re done. What say you to that?” So wonderfully, hilariously Jack!
You just about killed me here: I wonder if I have feminine wiles? Jack fluttered his eyelashes experimentally.
Dead. :::holding calla lilly on chest:::
“Home first, pirate-torture second, savvy?”
And why was I imagining Weatherby's 'redecorated' wig as a pink geisha job with the knitting needles thrust through it?
Brilliant, hilarious, utterly on crack and I love you! Thank you so much for a terrific foray into insanity. The asylum will send you the bill once I've settled into my padded cell and quit laughing. *G*
no subject
Date: 2005-08-30 11:18 pm (UTC)I shall take your praise and use it to squish the little voice in my head that keeps telling me I can't write anything but drabbles, then untangle the back-story to this.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 10:54 pm (UTC)I love the "quick, infuriating smile" of Gillette. And Cornelius is fantastic.
no subject
Date: 2005-09-01 11:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-16 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-09-17 04:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-18 01:19 pm (UTC)And ... and... CORNELIUS!!! *snort* How brilliant! I laughed out loud when Governor Swann actually rather liked his newly pink wig (which, himself, didn't like it too much *lol*). You rock!
no subject
Date: 2005-10-19 04:42 pm (UTC)I'd have to read the Kama Sutra myself, first :P
This was so fun, and I still have plotbunnies running around from it. And a seven-year-old mini-Jack pickpocket, son of Jack and Scarlet, who didn't fit in with the timeline. But terribly, terribly adorable, and stole Jack's compass.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-20 01:09 pm (UTC)*giggles*
Ahem. Haven't read the Kama Sutra either. Tell me if it's worth reading, once you've finished. :D
And I don't mind plot-bunnies! Just feed them and they'll do me good. :D See, the mere image of mini!Jack stealing Jack's compass had me smiling gleefully. :D