A modern girl in a 19th century world (robes_of_earth) wrote in piratechallenge,
A modern girl in a 19th century world

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The Seventh Challenge

Title: Opportunity abounds.

Author: Penny-Elizabeth

Pairing/Characters: Barbossa (shock!)/Elizabeth (Barbossabeth? Elizabossa?)

Word Count: 993

Rating: erm…PG13ish.

Summary: A more extended version of events one night aboard the Black Pearl.

Disclaimer: As weird as it sounds, pirates belong to the cheese-eater...

Spoilers: none. Not even for those slackies who haven’t seen DMC!

Warnings: cocktease!Elizabeth

Notes: After Elizabeth has had her fill of food and the coin has had it’s story told, things mellow down and the rum makes things cosier.

Special Thanks: Everyone, doing everything everywhere. I love you all. You know, if you write a drunk character, it actually makes you feel drunk! *falls down*

Elizabeth sat slung across her chair, belly full of meat and bread, watching the candlelight glint off the Aztec coin. Barbossa had slung it around his neck for safekeeping, but his open shirt meant that it was still in view. Elizabeth lost herself in it momentarily; she could certainly see the attraction of it, the way the gold changed tones, deepening and lifting as the flame dipped and guttered…

“Something caught your eye there, Miss?” Barbossa said softly, breaking her trance.

“Umm- pardon? Oh…” Elizabeth blinked in the lantern light. “Oh, I was just wondering… You’ve been looking for that medallion for a long time, haven’t you?” she said finally, feeling the rum going to her head. Or was it the sway of the ship?

Barbossa smiled and slid the tip of the butter knife he was playing with between his chest and the coin, tilting it up so that the reflection dazzled Elizabeth’s sight like a mirror in the sun.

“Aye lass, a long time. It feels longer than it has been- it slows the days down like tar on your best shoes when there’s a lost object headin’ your priorities.”

Elizabeth nodded loosely. She picked up an apple from the plate in front of her and bit into it. Barbossa watched her, entranced. She put on a small show, taking effort to scoop the juice trickling down her chin with her delicate fingertips, turning the apple in her hand as if looking for the best place to bite next. The scent of it filled the cabin.

“It must be awful, never being able to feel satisfied.” She said, talking around her mouthful. “Never feeling full, or quenched…or replete in any way.” She let a trickle of juice fall down her neck and onto her chest before wiping it slowly away with her finger and rubbing it on the thick red fabric of her temporary clothing.

“Where’d you get this dress from anyway?” she said, her proper tones slurred a little by the rum.

Barbossa heaved a sigh and licked his lips slightly. “A woman.”

He was deep in thought about too many things, unnerved by her actions and undone slightly by her seeming refusal to be scared of him. It excited him as well -a headstrong woman was almost more attractive to him than gold.

“I should hope so!” Elizabeth replied, snorting.

“Think yourself blessed to wear it, it’s not been washed since the very hour I removed it from her.” He huffed, digging into the table with the knife. It was too late in the night for memories, he growled to himself -those memories especially.

Elizabeth made a face.

“Ergh!” She sat up straight, dropping the apple on the table. She fiddled with the fixtures and peeled it off herself. “Yuck. I think I’ll stick to my nightdress thanks.”

Barbossa strode over to her and yanked the dress from her. “You’re a spoilt little missy, considerin’ you’re just a maid…” he sneered. Elizabeth stood up to meet him, her temper spiced by the rum and the lateness of the hour. She opened her mouth to argue, but found herself kissing him instead.

His arms bound her like iron chains, pressing her ribcage against his. She tore away for a breath, still locked in his hold.
“You didn’t feel anything then, so why should that mean anything?” she said, interpreting the look in his eye. “And no matter what were to happen, you wouldn’t feel that either, so there’s no point.”

“Life is full of pointless endeavours, Miss Turner. As a maid, you’d know that.” He smirked at her. “Sometimes it’s more about goin’ through the motions, just to keep things running smooth.”

She wriggled free of his grip and staggered with the sudden freedom. Falling forward a few steps, she tripped on a rising board on the uneven floor and fell, landing on the bed. Barbossa crossed the room slowly behind her.

“You need to have this ship looked at,” she scowled, ignoring his allusion. “It’s full of inconsistencies.” She dragged herself up toward the pillows, and noticing a bottle of unopened rum on the side table, grabbed at it and yanked out the cork. Barbossa sat beside her, threw the dress gently on the end of the bed and kicked his boots off. Elizabeth looked at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Makin’ myself comfortable.” He replied, leaning back on the headboard and tilting his hat over his eyes. “It is my bed, don’t be forgettin’ that.”

She eyed him. “Lining up an opportune moment is more likely.”

Barbossa grinned from under the black felt brim. “It’s not within my honour to act out such scurrilous an action.”

“Honour? What would you know about honour?” she yelled angrily. “You’re just a pirate!”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Miss Turner.”

Narrowing her eyes briefly, she sat up, picking at the bottle’s label with her fingernails.

“Was she special?” she said in a low voice, casting an inebriated look at the dress.

“More precious than gold, but I frittered her away, just as I did the yellow coins.”


“Don’t know.” Barbossa said, bad temperedly. “Don’t want to think about it if you don’t mind.”

“Why?” she repeated drunkenly. Barbossa sat up and lifted his hat.

“If you must now- it’s more of’n than not we only fully appreciate what we ‘ave when it’s up and gone. I never appreciated what I had, so it up and went.”

Elizabeth made a noise of understanding and took a swig of the drink, but the bottle missed her mouth by half an inch and the liquid slithered down her neck. Barbossa watched it slide smoothly down her breastbone and into her cleavage. Elizabeth tilted her head back.

“Oops.” was all she said.

Barbossa eyed her.

“Unless you’d prefer me to up and went.” She murmured, dropping back on the pillows, “This would be that opportune moment, I’d say.”
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