Disclaimer: Disney owns POTC even they did manage to royally muck it up in the third movie.
AN: Enjoy. More than a little alternate universe after At World's End but I'm sticking to my own little fantasy world and Disney be damned! LOL
"I think that you're going to have to go find Mr. Murtogg," Valentine advised Jack close to an hour later.
After their energetic coupling against the wall, both had been exhausted. Unfortunately, before Jack could lift Valentine off of the hook, the much abused device had given way and pulled from the wall, causing both Jack and Valentine to collapse onto the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Several minutes of highly amused laughter had yielded over to a growing passion and the next three quarters of an hour was spent with each of them showering the other with physical expressions of caring and love.
Now, with both of them once again sated, the floor was proving to be an uncomfortable bed and the manacles around her wrists were beginning to chafe. Sensing that Jack was reluctant to leave her side, Valentine wheedled, "Please Jack. We'll be ever so much more comfortable in the proper bed and just think of what I can do with full use of my limbs."
Jack wolfishly grinned and gave her a leering look, "Well now, that is a consideration. But have you thought that you may just be taking a risk in sending me after Mr. Murtogg?"
"A risk?" Valentine's bewilderment was clearly written on her face.
"An enormous risk, love. I may decide to ask Murtogg for the matching set of irons for your ankles, rather than request the key to set you free. Just think of the possibilities."
Valentine felt herself flush as a wide and titillating array of potential scenarios jostled for attention in her mind. Tartly she replied, "I think you'd better save that idea for another time. I imagine that it is going to be difficult enough to explain to James why there is now a gaping hole in the wall of one of his ships."
Jack eyed the hole from their vantage point on the ground beneath it. "Perhaps we could hang a picture over it?" he asked hopefully.
"Somehow, I sincerely doubt that will work."
"Well, I bloody well can't tell him the truth of the matter. He would likely have an apoplectic fit and die and then Katherine would be after my hide," groused Jack.
"Oh, I am not to sure about that, Jack. He might be much more sympathetic than you imagine. From all that Katherine says, the man in public and the man in the bedroom are two entirely different sorts of fellows." She gurgled with laughter at Jack's appalled and offended expression.
Jack jumped up and began pulling on his breeches. He pleaded, "I'll go get the key, if you promise not to tell or even hint to me anymore about the Commodore's sex life. That is a topic that I can live without thinking about."
Valentine laughed harder.
As he shrugged on his shirt, Jack complained, "What is it with women and not having the decency to keep such matters private?"
By now, Valentine was laughing so hard that tears were streaming from her eyes. "And I suppose that men are completely discreet when it comes to such issues? Don't fret Jack; I am certain that you will come off the victor when compared to Will and James. Of course, you shall have to remain on your toes, if you want to stay at the head of the pack."
Jack was about to issue an outraged decree that she refrain from engaging in any gossip regarding their private affairs, when he saw the teasing glint in her eyes. Before departing to fetch the key, he cockily assured her, "Don't worry about that, my love. I think that I can hold my own against a whelp and a stuffed shirt."
When several minutes later he returned with the key, he quickly set about proving the validity of his boast. Yet, as they later lay entwined in each other's embrace, his ego demanded that he inquire, "Still think I need to fear comparisons?"
Drowsily, Valentine muttered, "No. You have no need at all for fears. I love you, Jack Sparrow," and she fell asleep listening to the steady beat of his heart.
Jack gently brushed the hair from her face and inhaled her scent. It occurred to him, that for the first time in fifteen years, he felt true contentment. His future was full of unpalatable duties and obligations and his past was full of disappointments and regrets; yet, with Valentine at his side, none of this mattered anymore. Softly, he whispered into her ear, "I love you, Valentine Sparrow."
Several months later at the Governor's Christmas Ball…
As he whirled Valentine through a turn of the waltz, Jack gravely announced, "I love you, Valentine." She stumbled at his pronouncement and he barely managed to catch her before she fell. Jack smiled sheepishly at his less than suave declaration. He had been trying for months to work up the courage to say the words to her while she was awake and coherent. He had even practiced in front of the looking glass, but until this very moment his tongue had always frozen at the moment of truth. For some reason, tonight the words had just unexpectedly sprung forth.
Valentine smiled radiantly and chided, "Well, it certainly took you long enough to admit it during waking hours. I thought that I was going to have to spend the rest of my life feigning falling asleep so that you could continue to declare yourself in secret."
The meaning of her words penetrated and Jack was torn between annoyance and admiration. "You mean you have played possum these past months? Why you little cheat, that is not playing by the rules."
"Rules? What rules? I'm the wife of pirate, remember? I can't play by the rules if I want any chance of ever winning."
Jack grinned down at her, "Aye. You have a fair point there, Mrs. Sparrow. Now as the wife of a pirate, what say you to our finding a bit of privacy?"
Val and Jack laughingly departed the room in search of secluded nook.
In another part of the room…
"What do you think that was all about?" James asked as he and Kat finished their waltz.
"I do not know, but Val looked very happy."
"So did Jack. He has been disgustingly full of good cheer these past months."
Kat accepted a glass of champagne from a passing servant. Smiling smugly, she opined, "It's because he and Valentine are together again. See, I told you that they were perfect for each other."
Having heard this particular refrain not a few times, James observed, "Not even you, my dearest Kat, could have predicted that things would work out so well."
"Oh, I don't know, James. I believe that I am rather good at this matchmaking business. In fact, I think that my next project shall be finding someone for Jack's cousin. He seems such a lonely man and I know just the woman for him. I seem to have a feel for these things."
James snorted, "A feel for these things? Exactly how long did it take before you came to your senses and realized, that not only were you madly in love with me, but that the sentiment was reciprocated?"
Kat airily waived her hand and a bit of champagne sloshed over the edge. "That does not count. Besides, it was entirely your fault for being so damned reserved. How was a girl supposed to deduce that you loved her, when all you ever did was scowl and berate?"
More champagne spilt as she punctuated her point with another gesture.
It occurred to James that his wife was more than a little tipsy. He grinned in anticipation, for Kat was always delightfully open to suggestion when a bit worse for the wine. "Cease your plotting and come with me, my dearest wife. I do believe that it is time we took a stroll around the more secluded parts of the Governor's gardens."
As her husband hustled her out of the ballroom, Kat grinned to herself. Tomorrow she and Val would have interesting adventures to compare. Matchmaking could wait till later.
AN: I am not sure if I am allowed to post the following here. It will have POTC characters, but they aren't the main characters. Any know for sure?
By the way, this story is at Krickee's request.
The young woman stood half hidden behind the draperies. Taking several deep fortifying breaths, she prepared herself for what was an unpleasant duty. Apologizing was never fun and apologizing to a rival who had bested her was even less so. Yet, the insistent voice of her conscience decreed that apologize she must. Squaring her shoulders, she took a step forward intending to intercept the couple before they left the room. If she was going to eat humble pie, it was best to devour the slice all at once and this way she could discharge two obligations at the same time.
Before she could take another step, a large hand covered her mouth and she felt an arm wrap around her waist and lift her from her feet. Unceremoniously, she was hauled from her hiding spot and out through the French doors. It took a moment, but self preservation kicked in and she began to struggle against her captor. Her efforts only netted her a tighter embrace and a deep throated chuckle from her kidnapper.
She began to panic as she realized that this unknown man was carrying her further and further away from the party and any hope of rescue. Wildly, she began kicking and was pleased when she heard a grunt of pain.
"Stop that, you little witch. Just calm down. Believe me; your virtue is safe with me."
Ducking behind a row of hedges, the man set her back n her feet but keep her pinned against him with her mouth securely covered. "If I let go, do you promise not to scream or run away?"
Mutely she shook her head yes, thinking that the man was not only a criminal but a stupid one at that. Of course, she would scream and run given an opportunity.
The moment she felt his hands lift; she started to flee. Before she took more than three steps, her arm was caught and she was once again yanked against him with her mouth covered by his palm. However, this time she was turned towards him and could identify who was daring to manhandle her in such a fashion. It was that big blonde giant of man, Bertrand Sparrow. Her anger increased as she realized who her imprisoner was. Since arriving in Port Royal a week ago, he had been vocal in his low opinion of her. Now he was insulting enough to treat her in such a manner. Her eyes flashed fire at him.
Bertrand was amused at her indignation. The little firebrand had put up more of a struggle than he'd anticipated. He had pegged her as the daintily fainting type. Still, it did not really matter, for he had managed to drag her out of there before she spread more of her poison. He owed Jack a great deal and there was no way that he was going to let a little harpy like Millicent Witherspoon mar Jack and Val's happiness.
AN: If I am allowed to post here, I give you fair warning that this one will post more slowly than usual. I will be busy cleaning up punctuation in Peacock's Plumage and de-POTCing it so that I can enter it in a writing contest.