Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Brethren Court (2)

The hall below was a mess of shouting, brawling pirates around a long table.

From his seat on the balcony, Edward Teague adjusted the tuning of his guitar and rolled his eyes.
They were never going to decide anything at this rate.

He was seriously considering firing a shot or two into the chaos, just to shut them all up, when the door opening behind him made him glance over to see who it was.

"Christ, it's a fuckin' madhouse down there."

"You're tellin' me." Teague smiled wryly at his best friend as she seated herself on an old barrel. "I'm very tempted to shoot the lot of 'em."

Soracha winced as she settled herself, taking a flask out of her pocket.
"What's stoppin' ye?" she asked, raising the vessel to her lips.

"Mainly, the fact I couldn't be bothered. Nobody's done anything to deserve being shot yet."
He chuckled slightly, plucking thoughtfully on his guitar strings.
"Not that I need an excuse, really."

"No, ye don't," Soracha agreed, her gaze flickering to the hall as she took another drink from her flask.

"How long are you stayin' here for?"

He waved a hand, rings glittering.
"No longer than I have to. Probably be leavin' in the morning-or whatever time I get up at, cause it certainly won't be morning."

"An' are we goin' home then?"

"I'd say so." He continued playing, his gaze softening as it strayed to the figure standing at the head of the table below.

She had her back to him, so all he could see was her waves of brown hair, the black of her frock coat hiding her lovely derriere and legs.

Still, his eyes were drawn downwards, and rewarded when the coat was shrugged off and thrown over the back of a chair.
Now he had an unobstructed view of her whole figure from the back.

Smirking, he continued to play while admiring the perfection of the woman who held his attention and affections.

Soracha chuckled, evidently noticing what he was doing. "Thinking about what else that lovely long table could be used for, hm?" she asked, eyes glittering playfully.

"Of course not. I am definitely not thinking about what I would like to do with my Pirate King on such a surface, one which is so important to pirating society. All the decisions that have been made around that table, I couldn't possibly defile it in such a manner."

Shaking his head, he was laughing by the time he'd finished speaking.

Soracha grinned, then glanced over at the sound of someone approaching.
"Ye are not supposed to be here," she said firmly to the young boy.

"I just wanted to see Da."

Jack looked at her with disappointed eyes.

"Well, you've seen him now, so off ye go before Sahara comes lookin' for ye."
The Irishwoman's tone was surprisingly stern, and Jack bounced up, hugged his father swiftly and darted out of sight.

Grinning and shaking his head, Teague adjusted his guitar turning, beginning to strum an old Irish melody.

"Ye are definitely goin' to "defile" that table later, ain't ye?"

"Oh aye. Defile it very thoroughly. The importance of it be damned."
He glanced at her with sparkling eyes, knowing she'd already figured he didn't mean his earlier words about the tables importance.

A smokey laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head, auburn hair rippling like flames over her shoulders, the candlelight making sparks in the strands lightened by the sun.

The sound of glass shattering drew Teague's attention back to the meeting. Below him, Captain DeLuca had Captain Búrason by the throat. Carmen Vaquera had a broken bottle neck held aloft; it had obviously been her smashing the bottle that had gained Teague's attention and abruptly jerked his thoughts away from what he was intending to do later.

Captain Vaquera was a pretty woman, a few years older than him, with curly dark brown hair and calculating chestnut brown eyes.

Those eyes were currently glaring fiercely at his wife, as she sat with her chin propped in a cupped hand, watching what was going on.

After a moment, Captain Vaquera rose and stalked towards the top of the table where Roxanne was sitting, the silver hilts of her twin swords glittering at her hips.

Teague's watchful gaze followed her, as his fingers plucked out the notes of the lively Irish tune he'd learned in a Kildare tavern while recruiting crew a year back.

"D'you remember the lyrics you wrote to that?" Soracha asked.

"Of course. One of the many things I've written for Roxanne."
A gentle smile touched his lips as he continued watching what was going on.

Below him, the body language between Roxanne and Captain Vaquera indicated an argument, though he couldn't hear what was being said over the noise in the room.

"D'ye remember the night we sang "Greensleeves" in the manor? In the house, not the garden."

"We were so drunk. Mum's poitín is wicked stuff. My fuckin' hangover was somethin' awful. I was sure I was dying."

Teague shook his head at the memory, hand going to his pistol as Captain Vaquera had her swords partly drawn.

He set his guitar down.
"C'mon lass, don't make me shoot ye," he muttered.

"Ye can't call her a 'lass', she's older than ye," Soracha said, sipping from her flask again.

"I shall call her whatever I wish," Teague replied in a dignified tone, though there was a playful glint in his eyes for a second.

It was gone as quickly as it had come, as two resounding gunshots finally made silence fall.

All heads turned to the balcony.

Edward Teague was not the most physically imposing man, being neither overly tall or powerfully built.

However, his fixed stare, dark eyes glittering like jet in an otherwise expressionless face shaded by a hat, was capable of terrifying most.

Surrounded by a haze of pistol smoke, the weapon still held aloft, he descended the stairs into the now silent hall.

"I am dismissing this meetin', before I have to waste eight bullets shootin' eight of ye individually. Carmen, put the swords away before I shoot you in both wrists."

Glaring at him, the woman sheathed her weapons, turning on her heel and striding from the hall.

Teague let a wry grin twist his lips briefly as he put his pistol away again.

His footsteps were silent as he crossed to stand behind his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her head.

"I could have handled that," Roxanne murmured, turning her head to kiss his lips softly.

"Mm, I know. But I can do it quicker, and now this table is finally free for what I've been thinking about doing on it for the last three hours."

"Oh, and what would that be?" Roxanne asked quietly, her lips inches from his as she stood facing him, a glimmer in her eyes.

Teague smirked.
"All sorts of acts of debauchery to me lovely King upon this very important table."

She smirked back and nipped his neck, just under his ear where she knew he liked it.
"Well, stop talking and start undressing. Your King is waiting."

A/N Thanks to MaybelleMourier and JasonMurray29 for the use of their OCs.