the Dalaverse

Sparrington drabble ficlet for to cheer greenabsinthe up. It's more snarky than fluffy, but I hope that'll suffice :)



Barricade



“This is the last time I let you choose an inn, Sparrow.”

Jack’s eyes widened while his lips curved in a pout, the very picture of innocence. “Weren’t my fault, mate! How was I t’ know Billy Herlihy’d be docking today right when Mack Jones was in port? Them two’ve never gotten along, sure enough, but if I guessed all day I never would’ve guessed they’d want t’ settle their diff’rences in this fine establishment.”

Trapped next to him behind a tipped-over table and some chairs, James sighed in frustration. It was true that they’d already taken the edge off in the alley out back, but as Jack had proceeded to spend the ensuing meal winding James back up, he was now fervently reminded that one time did not even begin to account for two months of an empty bed, not even if that one time happened to involve begging and a brick wall. And thanks to bloody-minded pirates and their rivalries, they were not in a setting conducive to a more extensive reunion.

“Anyway, if somebody hadn’t insisted 'pon dessert –” Jack was cut off by something smashing on the top of their makeshift fortifications. They ducked to avoid the bits of shattered mug, but were unable to escape being drenched in its contents.

“Oh, wonderful,” James muttered, wiping the sticky stuff away from his eyes.

Jack sniffed, then ran his tongue over his lips. A sudden gleam brightened his dark eyes and he lunged forward to clasp his hands around the back of James’ head.

“What are you –mmphhh...”

There really was no better way to recover from an impromptu rum bath than having someone lick you clean, he reflected. It was to the benefit of both parties involved, and a tongue was so much more versatile than a wet rag. Warmer, too, and softer, and wrigglier...

A shadow falling across their huddled forms made them blink up at a dull, drunken face. The man tripped, bending over their table. With a tut of annoyance, Jack took the pistol dangling from his hand and thumped him on the head with it. James shoved him up and over, leaving them in relative privacy once again.

“All right,” said Jack, straightening the newly procured weapon, “looks like there’s a clear enough path t’ the door. We may yet make it outta this place unscathed. On the count o’ three, then? One –”

“Three,” said James, and shoved him to the floor.

Fortunately for his dignity – and he did have some left, even if Jack was completely lacking – the brawl was loud enough to drown out other more intimate sounds, and it lasted long into the night.