rapacityinblue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rapacityinblue) wrote2011-12-24 04:10 pm
rapacityinblue) wrote2011-12-24 04:10 pm
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Title: Fated
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Summary: PastLife!Pirates fic. Jack and James's first meeting.
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/James Norrington
Word Count: 486
Warnings: AU
Notes: Christmas Fic for Moony.
The bar was mahogany, polished to a high shine. James had spent most of his time here staring into it rather than raising his head to face his surroundings.
Technically, there was nothing to be afraid of. Technically, homosexuality was tolerated in today's society. And when you consider that they used to hang us from the yardham -- by the neck if we were lucky -- I suppose a little hazing is nothing to shy from.
'Us' was a new concept for his brain to process, and as unusual as the idea of 'a little' hazing. Even coming in here could be considered progress. His therapist would certainly think so. But he'd never believed in doing things halfway. For god's sake, James, if you insist on doing this, at least go about it right. He forced himself to look up.
It wasn't like he was in a den of hedonism. It was a right and proper pub, with high tables and green glass lamps. No pounding bass. Although there was an open space that could qualify as a dance floor, there was no writhing mass of bodies.
The men surrounding him were all sailors -- commercial, yes, if any were Navy he didn't recognize them -- but they were sailors still. Sailors first, and if they happened to be gay, didn't that make them no different from him?
I can't do this. The realization hit him as a fully formed thought. It came on so fast that he was barely sure it qualified as his own. But it left no room for hesitance. James stood, slid a bill across the bar to cover his tab, and spun on his heel to leave this place.
"Hey!" The voice followed after him, and at first he thought it was directed after someone else, and only after three repetitions did he turn to face the speaker.
Of all the men in the bar, this one was definitely not navy. He wore his hair long; the ends brushed his shoulders and were shaggy, either by design or poor care. Despite the winter chill, his jeans sported large tears, and he wasn't wearing a coat over his oxford and vest. "Too cold to go out without a drink to warm you," he said, in contrast to his own dishabille.
He had an accent James had never heard before. It wasn't really any of the dialects of the UK, and certainly not the Cockney rhyming slang that had been common to these docks for centuries. It was a warm way of speaking, warmer certainly than the drink he'd offered. And with the air against James's back promising snow, it was easy to step back into the soft glowing light of the pub. He found himself saying, "You know, that's a myth. Alcohol only warms briefly before lowering your core temperature." He'd seen a programme on it once.
He let the man lead him back to the bar anyway.
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Spoilers: None
Rating: PG
Summary: PastLife!Pirates fic. Jack and James's first meeting.
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/James Norrington
Word Count: 486
Warnings: AU
Notes: Christmas Fic for Moony.
The bar was mahogany, polished to a high shine. James had spent most of his time here staring into it rather than raising his head to face his surroundings.
Technically, there was nothing to be afraid of. Technically, homosexuality was tolerated in today's society. And when you consider that they used to hang us from the yardham -- by the neck if we were lucky -- I suppose a little hazing is nothing to shy from.
'Us' was a new concept for his brain to process, and as unusual as the idea of 'a little' hazing. Even coming in here could be considered progress. His therapist would certainly think so. But he'd never believed in doing things halfway. For god's sake, James, if you insist on doing this, at least go about it right. He forced himself to look up.
It wasn't like he was in a den of hedonism. It was a right and proper pub, with high tables and green glass lamps. No pounding bass. Although there was an open space that could qualify as a dance floor, there was no writhing mass of bodies.
The men surrounding him were all sailors -- commercial, yes, if any were Navy he didn't recognize them -- but they were sailors still. Sailors first, and if they happened to be gay, didn't that make them no different from him?
I can't do this. The realization hit him as a fully formed thought. It came on so fast that he was barely sure it qualified as his own. But it left no room for hesitance. James stood, slid a bill across the bar to cover his tab, and spun on his heel to leave this place.
"Hey!" The voice followed after him, and at first he thought it was directed after someone else, and only after three repetitions did he turn to face the speaker.
Of all the men in the bar, this one was definitely not navy. He wore his hair long; the ends brushed his shoulders and were shaggy, either by design or poor care. Despite the winter chill, his jeans sported large tears, and he wasn't wearing a coat over his oxford and vest. "Too cold to go out without a drink to warm you," he said, in contrast to his own dishabille.
He had an accent James had never heard before. It wasn't really any of the dialects of the UK, and certainly not the Cockney rhyming slang that had been common to these docks for centuries. It was a warm way of speaking, warmer certainly than the drink he'd offered. And with the air against James's back promising snow, it was easy to step back into the soft glowing light of the pub. He found himself saying, "You know, that's a myth. Alcohol only warms briefly before lowering your core temperature." He'd seen a programme on it once.
He let the man lead him back to the bar anyway.