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dwgmHere’s another one for the ‘Bed’ challenge, longer at 430 words or so. Many thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hereswith for the beta work!
It’s sequelish to a couple of short post-CotBP things I wrote in 2005, 'A Fine Day', and ‘A Word in Private’
And here’s the new one…
~ And So To Bed ~
"You get some sleep," Ana'd told Jack, and took herself and his half-eaten dinner off to the galley. Considerably later, she went back out on deck, and Cotton, at the wheel, gave a significant nod toward the bow.
Bloody Hell!
Jack was lounging in a big coil of rope, nursing a bottle and staring out at the moonlit sea.
She stalked across the deck, gave the coil of rope a kick, and snapped, "What the devil? You'll be good for nothin' tomorrow, Jack!"
He glanced sideways at her, a bit bleary-eyed. "Couldn't sleep, love."
“Yer dead on yer feet!”
“Ain’t on me feet.”
“You’ve a perfectly good bed in there!”
He put the bottle to his lips, drank deep, then wiped his mouth. “Was thinkin’ about that, actually.”
She frowned. “Thinkin’ about yer bed?”
“Aye.” He hesitated, but then gave a shrug. “’Bout the last time I slept in it.”
The last time… Ana’s frown turned to a scowl. She said, slowly, “They came for you there.”
Jack said nothing, just took another swig of rum.
She sat on the edge of the rope coil. Near, but not touching. Presently, he offered her the bottle. She accepted it. It was good rum, the burn of it easing to a warm glow as it traveled down her gullet. She handed the bottle back. “What about a lullaby?”
He nearly choked on the liquor. “A—“
“Lullaby.” She smiled. “I put my sister’s boy to bed, sometimes, when I visit. He seems to like it.”
Jack began to chuckle, with real amusement, his shadows fading. He said, at last, “You’d do that for me?”
Ana swiped the bottle out of his hand again. “This once. Aye.”
She set the bottle down on the deck, got up, and was pleased to see him lift his hand, silently asking for assistance. She took it – warm, but for those rings, and fine-boned but toughened and strong, and too clever, as she well knew – and pulled him to his feet. She told him, as he swayed there before her, “Don’t get any ideas, now.”
He widened those eyes, and gave her that pretty pout. But then he changed tactics. “A story, too?”
“A story! Well, maybe. If you’re good.”
“Good?” He picked up his bottle, and raised it to her in a tipsy salute. “I’m always good, love. Even better than good. Don’t you remember?”
“That’s what I meant,” Ana said, dryly, and took him back to his cabin.
~.~
hereswith for the beta work!It’s sequelish to a couple of short post-CotBP things I wrote in 2005, 'A Fine Day', and ‘A Word in Private’
And here’s the new one…
~ And So To Bed ~
"You get some sleep," Ana'd told Jack, and took herself and his half-eaten dinner off to the galley. Considerably later, she went back out on deck, and Cotton, at the wheel, gave a significant nod toward the bow.
Bloody Hell!
Jack was lounging in a big coil of rope, nursing a bottle and staring out at the moonlit sea.
She stalked across the deck, gave the coil of rope a kick, and snapped, "What the devil? You'll be good for nothin' tomorrow, Jack!"
He glanced sideways at her, a bit bleary-eyed. "Couldn't sleep, love."
“Yer dead on yer feet!”
“Ain’t on me feet.”
“You’ve a perfectly good bed in there!”
He put the bottle to his lips, drank deep, then wiped his mouth. “Was thinkin’ about that, actually.”
She frowned. “Thinkin’ about yer bed?”
“Aye.” He hesitated, but then gave a shrug. “’Bout the last time I slept in it.”
The last time… Ana’s frown turned to a scowl. She said, slowly, “They came for you there.”
Jack said nothing, just took another swig of rum.
She sat on the edge of the rope coil. Near, but not touching. Presently, he offered her the bottle. She accepted it. It was good rum, the burn of it easing to a warm glow as it traveled down her gullet. She handed the bottle back. “What about a lullaby?”
He nearly choked on the liquor. “A—“
“Lullaby.” She smiled. “I put my sister’s boy to bed, sometimes, when I visit. He seems to like it.”
Jack began to chuckle, with real amusement, his shadows fading. He said, at last, “You’d do that for me?”
Ana swiped the bottle out of his hand again. “This once. Aye.”
She set the bottle down on the deck, got up, and was pleased to see him lift his hand, silently asking for assistance. She took it – warm, but for those rings, and fine-boned but toughened and strong, and too clever, as she well knew – and pulled him to his feet. She told him, as he swayed there before her, “Don’t get any ideas, now.”
He widened those eyes, and gave her that pretty pout. But then he changed tactics. “A story, too?”
“A story! Well, maybe. If you’re good.”
“Good?” He picked up his bottle, and raised it to her in a tipsy salute. “I’m always good, love. Even better than good. Don’t you remember?”
“That’s what I meant,” Ana said, dryly, and took him back to his cabin.
~.~
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Date: 2008-04-20 04:12 am (UTC)