louiselux | Snippet for Enigel: Crowley/Jack Sparrow

Moving with the speed of a glacier, that's me. Here's an easter snippet for you,

enigel: Crowley/Jack Sparrow and gold.

The island of Tortuga, north of Hispaniola, was small, hot and turtle-shaped. None of these things made it popular with pirates. The thing they did like about it, and that attracted them in cursing, rum-swilling boatloads, was the rocky coastline that dashed the ships of the unwary, and the unwary themselves, into tiny pieces before they could land and start causing trouble.

Crowley liked it. A lot.

So many bad people in one place made his job a lot easier and sometimes he found someone with a body so hardened to alcohol abuse that he could keep up even with Crowley's immortal liver. Aziraphale, if he'd been there, would have disapproved and would have tried to finagle some sort of agreement whereby the piles of gold and jewels went towards setting up hospitals, beneficial funds and schools for the pirates' children, and other boring things. Crowley was happy with the gold as it was-- shiny and copious and sometimes made into teeth, mostly by the flashier pirates. Flashy or not, Crowley didn’t mind as long as they could drink a lot and he could tick them off as damned at the end of the day without having to put in too much effort. And if he sometimes just got too drunk and forgot the proper documentation, or his pencil, or who he was and what he was there for, no one had to know and there was always tomorow.

Crowley was in a bar in the really dreadful part of town, which was just two doors down from the bad side and not very much different except that Crowley was there and the folk around him were starting to feel excitingly tarnished. He was feeling very pleased with himself.

He'd just spotted a very flashy pirate indeed, with gold teeth and stylish big trousers and an air of trouble hanging around him like a haze.

It only took one look, across a crowded brawl; their eyes met and Crowley grinned. Now the man was weaving through the scrum towards him, affecting a casual, rolling gait. Crowley had time to admire the flash of his gold tooth and the little coins that glittered on his clothes and the dark-rimmed eyes. He liked gold.

'Hello Sailor,' the pirate slurred and Crowley realised from the fumes that the rolling gait was not only casual, but also drunken.

'I'm not actually a sailor, but let's have a drink anyway.'

This one would be easy enough. There was a devilish gleam in his eyes already and Crowley hadn't even had to do anything. Crowley smiled his best alarming grin and the man returned it, fierce and challenging with lots of white teeth. Crowley blinked. This was going to be a really good one.

*

Hours later Crowley was more drunk than even he thought he could get and was wondering how the pirate, Jack, could possibly be still conscious. He slumped forward over the table and leaned his head on his arm. This hadn’t gone as well as he'd wanted it to and he was fuddled and annoyed. This bastard could drink a lot.

'Le's get this straight,' Crowley said, squinting up at him. 'Tell me again why you won' sell me your soul.'

'Well, it's like this,' Jack said, his head cocked thoughtfully. 'I don't give anythin' away for free. Not even to someone like you. An' you do ask so nicely. You could say it's against my policy. My dear old Ma used to say, 'Son, you're going to straight to Hell.' He frowned. 'Lovely woman, my mother. Anyway, the point is,' and he leaned down until he was far too close to Crowley's face, then smiled sweetly, 'it's mine and you're not 'aving it. What if I need it later on?'

Crowley had a distinct feeling that it was better to give in before he passed out from the accumulated rum fumes. The conversation had been turning in similar inebriated circles for a long time now.

'Aw, bugger,' he muttered into the table top, with a little sigh.

It was Jack's turn to blink, and then to grin, his gold tooth winking in the dim light. 'Funny you should mention that,' he whispered in Crowely's ear, 'I was just thinking the same thing myself, about you. Want to come along to my ship?' He laid his hand over Crowley's, stroking it in a manner that was mostly comforting but had hints of some specific kinds of activity that he was thinking Crowley might like.

Jack Sparrow had a dangerous smile and wore lots of gold and had a general air of trouble. He'd had far worse offers from far worse people. Crowley let himself be tempted.

'Yeah,' he said.

Anyway, he could always try the damning again in the morning if the subject arose.

Jack tugged at his hand. It was time to sober up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

runcible.livejournal.com

OMG, months back I wrote a fic where Jack Sparrow gets asked by the devil to sell his soul!

But you did it better. :D

From:

the Iberio-Swiss divide

Snippet for Enigel: Crowley/Jack Sparrow

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