try_corsets | (no subject)

(no subject)

A pirate steals into the kitchen, stops in the shadows and looks around.

The Milliways kitchens are never fully asleep, but when it's so late it's actually early one can sneak in relatively undetected and snoop around. The refrigerators are large and fully-stocked, the aromas as appealing as during the busiest dinner hour. All a pirate has to do is ignore the rats and the rest is a veritable feast for the taking.

This particular pirate isn't after rum and something edible to chase it with, however.

Captain Elizabeth Turner, Pirate King and soon to be mother, simply wants some milk to ease the persistent burning sensation near her heart. It is one of many indignities she's been forced to endure lately, and she's not about to sit around and suffer on the Empress when relief can be had here.

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"Figures," is his dry remark. A few fluid motions, and the appearance of a throwing knife that disappears as quickly as it had arrived, and the jar is open. Hazelnut scented goodness fills the air, and Mike can't help but sigh happily.

He's just about to stick two fingers into the jar when he remembers his manners, and offers some to the woman first. "You want?" He may have been raised in a sewer, but he's not an animal.

...

You know what we mean.

"Does it?"

Elizabeth's head tilts, as much to get a better look at the jar as to punctuate her query. A restrained nod serves as her reply, and a series of oddly stiff strides carry her to his side.

The jar is quickly forgotten, however. She's staring again, only this time it's at his stomach.

His eyes follow hers, and soon he too is staring at his stomach.

"If we wait long enough, it'll do tricks."

A rare startled laugh escapes Elizabeth.

"It's almost as if..."

Her lip pulls up, showing her teeth in a smile that could easily be mistaken for a grimace.

"You look pregnant," she practically whispers.

"There's a perfectly logical explanation for that," he says with his grin softening.

He then waits the appropriate amount of time allotted for a really good punch line. "I am pregnant."

"No," Elizabeth immediately insists, "you're not."

Obviously.

"You're a man."

We aren't we the little sexist.

"Tell that to my uterus."

"Your what?" asks Elizabeth, very quickly.

Surely it's the warmth of the kitchen that makes her slowly shed the thick quilted overshirt she'd artfully arranged over her tall frame, to even out her bulk; not the desire to prove knowledgeable on the subject.

"I'm quite sure you're mistaken."

"Well so long as you're sure, I guess I'll...."

Now's about the time that Mike notices that the woman is starting to disrobe.

"Woah! Hold up there! I'm not that kind of guy!"

Elizabeth ignores this, mostly because she's not entirely sure she's still in control of this conversation.

"Yes, I am most decidedly certain you can not be pregnant," she reaffirms. "What a ridiculous idea. Who could have-"

Removing yet another tunic, she waves a hand in the air and lifts her chin.

"-made you that way?"

It's smug.

Does she really think he's the kind of guy to be distracted from his point by a nice set of breasts?!

Okay FINE, so he is! But that doesn't mean he's not going to put up a....wait a second.

Blink.

She...she's either pregnant too, or she's got some sort of malnourishment that Sally Struthers warns about where your belly gets all distended.

Good gravy, it could be both.

"Captain Jack Sparrow?" he says weakly, fighting back the urge to give the woman a hug. A hug which might break her in two, by the looks of her.

"What?" Elizabeth nearly squeaks.

She looks utterly horrified.

"Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Hey squeaking is good. Squeaking means she's so surprised she'll stop stripping. Mike'll take squeaking over the removal of any more of her clothing any day. Sweet chocolate Zeus, this poor girl!

"That's what they tell me. Of course, they also tell me I'm pregnant, so...what do they know."

Elizabeth is indeed far too startled to continue removing garments, though Mike needn't worry; one more sash and she'd be down to her normal attire. The rest simply helps create an increasingly implausible illusion.

"How?"

Beat.

"Why?"

The impossible is suddenly looking less so; such is the nature of Jack's wake.

"Have you met X?"

Recently?

"Is this some sort of trick question?"

Mike is slowly becoming more and more aware of the fact that NO ONE is driving this crazy train.

"She has an excellent nose for such things," Elizabeth declares, as if this makes infinitely more sense than anything he's contributed to the conversation. "I discovered."

Her eyes narrow.

One of the Barmen.

"Yes, of course." She glances at the door. "Your bar is having fun at my expense."

"I think it's more she was having her own fun at my expense, really.
...

Wait...did you just imply that my pregnancy was all a joke at your expense? Lady, I don't even know who you are!"

Elizabeth's eyes find Mike's face again, and she doesn't so much regret her words as quickly reevaluate how to proceed from here.

"Captain Elizabeth Turner," she offers eventually, straightening her shoulders. "I am acquainted with both Jack and your Bar."

Neither one cares for her much. At all.

With this in mind, she tries another smile.

"At the same time?"
Because...that might explain a few things...

Frowning, she parts her lips and gives him a puzzled, annoyed look. Why does it feel as if this exchange would benefit from the presence of an interpreter?

"I've been together with them a time or two, if that's what you mean. Not for a very long while, however. Not since before I was married, to be sure."

'Before I was married' sounds better than 'before we rescued Jack from the Locker, where I put him.'

An interpreter would be nice, because...well...what she's saying is SO not what Mike is hearing.

"She totally didn't tell me about that!?"

She turns her head and looks at him askance.

"It's a very busy place."

Beat.

"You really are pregnant, aren't you." Elizabeth is eyeing his stomach again. "Mike?"

His is the only Barman's name she knows.

And apparently, his body is a very busy body!
He nods.

"Michaelangelo, but yeah...just Mike. And yeah...I really kind of am. But it's not mine. I'm just carrying it for Bar."

"I see."

No, she doesn't. Not even a little.

"Jack always was inordinately fond of her."

Suddenly, Elizabeth laughs again and reels it in almost as quickly.

All she'd wanted was milk. Just milk.

"Apparently," he says sighing and running a hand through his already unruly hair. "The feeling is mutual. Or was...for at least one magical night."