Pirates of the Caribbean Oneshots

Cut It Out

The fire was burning low in the hearth by the time Rua's barking alerted Edward Teague to his daughter's arrival home.

"Good girl, it's only Ro, quiet now," he murmured, scratching her ears to quiet her as he sat back in his armchair, chin almost on his chest, eyes closed.
Anyone glancing at him would think he was asleep, which was his intention.

The latch clicked, and a forced giggle reached his ears, followed by a low, slurred mumble he couldn't catch.

Rapid footsteps came into the kitchen, and a low growl came from Rua as she sat guard beside her master.

"Tha' yer da?"
The voice, definitely male, was thick and slurred from alcohol.

"Aye."

From under his eyelashes, Teague watched his daughter and her visitor.

The boy was red-haired, a slight growth of stubble covering his jaw.
His eyes, a pale blue, never left Rowan, assessing her body in her breeches and waistcoat.

He sat, pulling Rowan onto his lap and holding her tight when she tried to get away.
"Ye promised...Ye promised I could..."
He licked his lips, his eyes shining as one hand strayed to his breeches.

Soon, he had undressed his lower half and was reaching to do the same to Rowan, who was swearing furiously at him as she tried to get away.

Suddenly and silently, Teague rose to his feet, his dark eyes blazing like embers.

The blade of a sharp knife glinted in the firelight as he slowly and deliberately crossed to stand before the half-naked boy who was trying to undress his daughter.

His shadow fell across the two of them, and the boy let out a very undignified squeak, eyes widening in fear as they landed on the Code Keeper's looming figure and the knife which was now inches from his cock.

Looking the boy directly in the eyes, Teague spoke.
"Cut it out, or I'll cut it off."

He twitched the knife so the cold steel kissed the boy's skin, just to empathise his point.

Then, never lifting his eyes off him, he stepped back and gestured imperiously to the cottage door.
"Get the fuck out, and if ye come anywhere near my daughter again, I will cut your cock off and then I'll shoot you."

Breeches around his ankles, stumbling in his haste, the boy hurried from the cottage and out into the night.

Teague spun the knife idly in his fingers as his gaze, softer now, ran over his daughter.
"Ye alright Ro? Did he do anythin' to ye?"

Rowan shook her head, standing shakily and burying her head against his chest.

"Is that a "no, he didn't do anything" or "no, I'm not alright" Astóirín?" he asked softly in concern, fingers gently caressing her hair.

"He didn't do anythin'. But if ye hadn't-" Rowan broke off, shaking, a sob rising in her throat.

Teague gently guided her to his armchair and sat her down, a hand soothingly rubbing her upper back.

"Cup of tea or glass of whiskey?" he asked.

"Irish tea," she murmured, brushing her dark waves away from her face.

"Comin' right up."

After a moment, a steaming, chipped mug was offered to her, which she took silently and sipped slowly, its warmth settling her distressed state.

Her father watched her quietly, his eyes gentle and concerned, a slight, thoughtful frown creasing his forehead.

"Would you really have cut his cock off?" Rowan asked curiously after a few moments, her mug held tightly in her hands, balanced on her knee.

"If he had put it into you without your permission, aye."

Teague stirred the mug of tea he'd made for himself, rings glimmering as he set the spoon aside and took an experimental sip of the drink.

He sat down, Rua leaving her place beside Rowan to lie at his feet, tail wagging as she watched him.

His toes ran along her ribcage, making her tail wag harder.

For a moment, the only sound was the soft crackle of the fire, and the calling of an owl somewhere outside.

Rowan's expression had become distant, her face turned to the wall, apparently examining the artwork which hung there by the fires light.

"Are ye alright?"
The question came again, soft but insistent.

"Aye Dad. I'm alright."

"Please don't be afraid to say if you're not-Rua, stop lickin' me toes."
Teague tucked his legs up under himself, keeping his bare feet out of the dog's reach.

"There's nothing wrong with being not alright, Ro. Just tell me if you're not, an' I'll do me best to fix it."

"Why aren't all men like you?"

Rowan's question took him slightly by surprise.

"What?"

"You never saw a woman as a possession, never tried to fuck anyone for the hell of it. You married Mum, you treat her as an equal, you respect Soracha and Sahara. You've brought Jackie up so he treats women properly, and taught me how to respect and treat people. Why aren't all men like you?"

Teague took a thoughtful sip of tea.

"I think it might be because me own Da was such a fuckin' arsehole an' I had to help raise three siblings, two of who were female," he replied after several moments consideration.

Rowan glanced at him as he mentioned his father, curiosity in her eyes.

"No, I ain't tellin' ye about him."
He shook his head, twisting the silver skull on his finger before raising his mug to his lips.

"He was my grandfather, don't I have a right to know what he was like?" Rowan inquired mildly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Teague gazed at the fire, chin resting in his hand, a brooding expression appearing on his features, enhanced by the firelight.

"No. He's dead a long time, and I'm not dredging up history tonight. Go on to bed if you've finished your tea."

Rowan hugged his shoulders.
"Thanks Dad. Night."

As she left the kitchen, Teague relocated back to his armchair, though his expression didn't change.

Eventually, he rose and went to an empty bed, with only Rua to ease the loneliness in his chest.