Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

The Dance

Through the crowded room, she spotted his dark head, topped with the magnificently feathered hat which served the dual purpose of hiding his dreadlocks and emphasing his status, not that it mattered here.

Her silk skirts rustling gently, she wove deftly through the room towards him.

His dark eyes, which had been busy scanning the room, focused on her, soft with affection.

"You're late."

"No, you're early."

He took her gloved hand in his, brushing a courteous kiss atop her knuckles.

"Well, I can't start dancing without a partner."
Her lips curved into a gentle smile.

"Good thing I showed up then. May I have a dance, my lady?"
With a smile in return, he swept her a low bow, his hand outstretched.

A single, heavy gold and ruby ring glittered on his forefinger and his knuckles were raw from recent wounds.

Her fingertips skimmed them lightly, the brush of her glove impossibly soft.

"You may."

They joined hands and his other settled upon her waist. The music was already playing as they began to move in time to it, weaving neatly through those who were also dancing.

He carried himself as well as any of the other men in the room, making it impossible to tell that his background was very different from theirs.
His deft feet moved perfectly in step with the music, as did his partners, her skirts swaying against his legs.

Attired in a freshly-washed, richly embroidered frock coat over an elaborately decorated emerald green waistcoat and a white shirt with lacey cuffs, he looked every inch a respectable aristocratic gentleman.

"Did ye get what you came for?" he asked, voice low, head close to hers.

"I did. Did you do what you came to do?"

"Aye. The bastard's dead. Fancy clothes an' a wig couldn't hide him. Slit his throat. Our assassin doctor has taught me a few useful things."

His grin was briefly feral, a dangerous glint in his eyes. It was gone as quickly as it had arrived, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear gently.

"You never told me who taught you how to dance," she commented quietly as he twirled her neatly in time with the music, then pulled her closer against him.

"I can't remember. It's part of Irish culture, like playing the fiddle and drinking whiskey. I know me aunts and cousins had a hand in teachin' somewhere, but other than that-"
He shrugged and waved a hand.

She smiled. "Well, you're very good. Naturally talented, I'd say, as you are at many things."

He laughed, that familiar deep, throaty laugh that bubbled up from the depths of his chest.

"Flatterer." He flicked his wrist, sending her into a twirl.

"Well, I'll call you a rogue then," she bantered.

"An' I shall always call ye treasure."

Their eyes met briefly and his lips brushed her cheekbone.

She looked him over. "Do I even want to know where you're hiding the murder weapon?"

"Nah," he replied, shaking his head.

They danced together in comfortable silence after that, the sound of their breathing and the rustle of fabric being the only sounds between them.

Throughout their dancing, they only touched while necessary. Here, they were playing a part, acting together.
It was torture.

In spite of the fancy clothes, the familiar scent of gunpowder and the sea clung to him. More than once, she caught his eyes flicking appreciatively to her cleavage, which was quite well displayed due to the cut of her dress, despite the small size of her assets.

"Stop looking, or you'll end up doing something you really shouldn't do here," she muttered sternly.

He laughed again while steering her between two older couples.
"Well, you are incredibly enticing, my love."

The last two words were too low for anyone else to hear, intimate and all the more special for it.

A sneaky kiss was quickly pressed to his cheek in return for them.

At that moment, a blond-haired young man with bright blue eyes tapped her shoulder. "May I have a dance ma'am?"

"Can't you see that the lady already has a partner?"
His voice was completely calm, but she felt his hand tighten just a little on her waist, an invisible gesture of possession.

"Surely you don't mind sharing her?"

"Yes, I do mind."
A tone of warning had crept into his voice, eyes turning ever so slightly darker.

Her thumb rubbed his hand in a silent reminder to control his temper.

The potential partner looked disappointed as he slipped back into the crowd to find another woman to dance with.

She smirked very slightly, changing her position as the music slowed and he started to guide her along with it.

"I must say, you look very handsome all dressed up," she said.

He smiled, his expression gentle, hand warm and steady on the bottom of her back.
"Why thank you. Just don't expect me to make a habit of it."

"It's really no different to the way you usually dress, though I like this waistcoat better."
Her hand played with one of the shining silver buttons on the garment in question.

"I wonder why," he said teasingly while she twirled him.

One slender, gloved finger traced some of the decoration on the waistcoat, decoration her hands had put there, just as they had put every stitch to create it, every button that held it closed.

He pressed a quick, discreet kiss to her hairline before continuing to dance.

They lost themselves in the music and their movements to it, forgetting, just for one night, that they were two notorious, wanted pirates.