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Jun. 15th, 2012


recognizance 1/?

It is almost summer on Midgard, and the last of spring's pollen is being carried by the wind like snow. It drifts aimlessly around, landing on the tall grass in small white piles. The few times that Loki has found himself on this realm, he has found solace in these peaceful moments. Moments where the only sound is the cool breeze through the trees as he silently takes in the world around him. It's in these moments that Loki can actually think, without having to answer to anyone.

And maybe, just maybe, that's why Thor has taken so fondly to this place. Unlike on Asgard, there is no Odin to answer to here. There is just a man and his thoughts.

It is because of this, that Loki feels a little disheartened when Thor finds him in one of these moments of solitude. He supposes it was bound to happen eventually, as Thor struggles with the idea of personal space and privacy. In particularly when it comes to Loki.

He approaches as silently as a man of his stature can, and lowers himself into the grass beside Loki. He sets Mjolnir down beside him, the force of its weight sending the small pile of fluff that Loki had been gathering fluttering away. Thor doesn't apologize, and Loki doesn't expect him to. It is not as though someone like Thor could understand the significance in this moment.


"Shh," Loki slowly begins to form another mound of soft, white pollen. "Look closely, Thor. Can you see it?"

Thor watches as Loki gently grazes a hand over the pollen, his breath catching as it shapes itself into the form of a wolf. It yawns and stretches as though waking from a great sleep and jumps into the palm of Loki's hand.


"I miss him, Thor. As I miss all my children."

Thor says nothing. It is not something he feels he has any right to comment on, though he has often tried to materialize the right words to do just that. He never could find them.

Loki has often blamed Thor for his children being taken, as easily as he would blame him for dropping a goblet of wine on the floor. It takes no effort for he believes it to be true. And is it? Thor could never be sure. All he could be sure of was that he had done nothing to stop it, and the guilt from that alone has haunted him endlessly. .

"Do you still blame me, brother?" Thor looks at Loki from the corner of his eyes. Loki keeps his gaze on the image of Fenrir, "Of course. I will always blame you. Whether it is true, is irrelevant."

Loki holds his palm out and places it in front of Thor's face. Thor watches as the wolf stares at him, haunches raised and snarling silently. "Your children, they blame me too." It is a statement more than a question, and Loki just shrugs. "Who can know for sure?" He blows onto Fenrir, and Thor watches as the wolf breaks apart into the pollen it was formed from and blows away.

"When you have children, I will ensure you feel the same pain I feel in this moment."

"Then I shall have no children." Thor places his arms behind his head and lowers himself into the grass. ”It is of no importance to me.”

Loki watches him and cocks his head, narrowing his dark, green eyes at his brother's nonchalance. "It is your duty to have heirs."

Thor scoffs at him, turning his head to better look at his brother. "If you will do no more than take them from me, it will do me just as well to not have any at all." Loki uncrosses his legs and moves closer to his brother. He reaches down and brushes Thor's golden hair out of his face. "I’m sorry. I shouldn't say such things."

"You are free to say as you wish." Thor looks up at the clouds. He can see all of Loki's children within them, and his heart grows heavy. "Will you have more?"

Loki shrugs. "I will always have more children. But will I truly have them, well that is an entirely different question. And the answer to it makes me wish I was incapable of it at all."

Thor watches as Loki lowers himself into the grass beside him. He is close to Thor, probably closer to him now than he has been in as far back as Thor can remember. He feels his heart start to race.

"Am I making you nervous, Thor?" Loki looks at his brother, amused, and then turns on to his side and presses his body up against the cold metal of Thor's armor. Almost automatically, Thor shifts and places an arm around his brother's shoulders, pulling him ever closer, and shakes his head. "No. Only happy, I suppose." Loki exhales a laugh, and closes his eyes. "Then how long has it been since you were happy last, I wonder?"

"I can hardly remember. But perhaps when we ventured to Jötunheimr together. Before…Just, before."

"I was unhappy long before."

Thor says nothing, just lies there with his brother in his arms. He listens. To the breeze blowing delicately through the trees and to his brother's steady breathing. He has not lain beside his brother since last they were children. And Loki has not confided in him in just as long.

Then, Loki was happy. Then, they were truly brothers.

He longs for those days again, though to tell Loki that would be fruitless, as Thor knows he does not wish for the same. If only Loki had not been so wronged...by everyone, including himself.

Most of all himself.

Thor stares up at the sky again, the dark clouds of his mood invading the playful antics of Loki's image of his children. Thor thinks about Fenrir and then turns to stare at Loki's face as his brother watches his conjures. The desperate need to be with his children...Thor feels his heart grow even heavier until he feels he will die from the pressure of it alone.

"Brother," he whispers, turning his head and breathing in the familiar smell of Loki's dark hair. "Let me repay you for all I have done to wrong you. Let me give you that which you want most, so that perhaps one day we can be as we once were."

Loki does not respond right away, and while Thor does not press the issue, he is saddened by what he can only assume is rejection. He closes his eyes, and he thinks.

About Asgard.
About Loki.
About Loki's children.
And about how he has failed Loki, most of all.

The sky turns dark then, and thunder can be heard in the distance. Rain begins to fall steadily upon the two of them and Thor almost feels guilty as Loki shivers beside him. "Stop brooding you fool." Loki pushes himself away from Thor and up from the grass, summoning a protective shield around he and Thor, preventing the rain from falling upon them further.

"I am sorry." Thor shrugs sheepishly and Loki sighs. "It's just a little rain. Considering some of your tantrums I’ve been witness to, this is hardly anything to be concerned about."

Thor frowns, "No. For everything else. For the loss of your children, especially." Loki furrows his brows and holds up a hand. "We need not discuss it further. What's done is done. It cannot be helped."

"Let me give you a child."

Loki turns and looks at Thor incredulously. "You've gone mad." Thor looks hurt, reaches out and cups the side of Loki's face in his right hand. "Please."

Loki pushes himself back and away from Thor's touch. "No. You...you'll take it from me. Just like all the rest." Thor shakes his head, "I won't."

Loki laughs; a laugh that borders on crying and points towards the sky. "Thenthey will, Thor! Odin will. That child would be your...your heir. Do you really think they would leave that to me? If so, you are more stupid than I thought."

"They won't know if we don't tell them."

"You don’t have to tell them! They already know, Thor. They see everything!”

“They can’t see you, they never could. Just as I know they can’t see this, because you prevent it. Loki, you have my word.”

“Your word is meaningless to me.” Loki spats, before grabbing a handful of Thor’s golden hair and forcing his brother closer to meet his gaze. “You will take this child just as you have taken them all. This child will be your heir and you will turn it against me. If you even allow it to know me at all. I see this, Thor. I know this!”

Thor’s eyes widen, showing hurt for only the briefest of moments before he reaches up and grabs Loki’s hand. He tightens his grasp, enough to remind Loki of the physical strength he’s dealing with, but Loki doesn’t release him. He holds Thor’s gaze, breathing heavily; his heart is racing, with anger and with doubt. Thor releases Loki and places his hand on his brother’s chest. The heart there, cold as it may be, is beating loudly and his touch does nothing but quicken it.

“Loki, I beg you. Let me do this for you. I would leave you right after its creation. Though, I shall still vow to protect you and your child from afar, as it may be."

Loki exhales through his nose, disbelieving. “You beg for no one, brother.”

To hear Loki call him brother warms Thor to the deepest core of his being. He once again reaches up and takes Loki’s hand in his own. This time, Loki lessons his hold, and Thor places the cold, slender hand on the side of his face. “I beg for you, brother. I always have.”

Loki gently moves his thumb over the rough hair that adorns Thor’s face. “You must forgive me for not allowing myself to trust your words as you wish me to.” Loki leans forward, leaning into the crook of Thor’s neck, breathing in his scent. He places a gentle kiss there, and smiles as he feels Thor’s breath hitch ever so slightly. He whispers into his brother’s skin. “If I allow you to beget me with child, know this: If you so much as touch this child or turn him against me, you will regret the day you came to me with this offering. You will suffer the pain I have suffered a thousand times worse and it will follow you no matter where you are, be it here or on Asgard. This is my promise to-”

Loki is interrupted by Thor’s fingers weaving their way into his dark hair. His head is pulled back and away from Thor’s neck and it is only a matter of seconds before his lips are pressed firmly against Thor’s. There is desperation to his brother’s kiss, so much so that Loki can taste it’s as Thor deepens the kiss, his tongue begging for entrance into Loki’s mouth. Loki allows it, and repositions himself so that he is straddling Thor, arms draped delicately over broad shoulders. He sucks on Thor’s tongue and is encouraged by the deep moan he both feels and hears in response. “Mmm…yes, you do crave me, don’t you, brother?”

“Get out of your clothes.”

“So demanding,” Loki purrs, as he magics his clothes away. “Now, you.”

Thor‘s eyes roam over his brother’s body, hungry. How long and how often he has dreamt of taking him. And now, here he is. Unclothed and willing. Though willing not without a purpose, but Thor cares not for purpose, as he works his armor off.

“You’re so dreadfully slow, you’re killing the mood.” Loki runs his fingers delicately down the front of Thor’s chest, and soon his armor is gone as well.

“Come. Give me my child. Give me the heir of the mighty Thor.”

If there is venom in that statement Thor chooses to ignore it and instead uses his strength to remove Loki from atop him and pin him underneath, stomach firmly pressed against the damp grass. It’s begun to rain again, and Loki removes the shield he had summoned earlier, willing the rain to fall upon them, creating small pools of mud where their bodies have dug into the soft earth.

Thor grunts his displeasure, and Loki turns his head to speak. “I want this to be as filthy as you are. Fuck me, brother.”

And so, he does.

Without compassion or tenderness, Thor pushes himself into Loki in one painful movement. Loki bites down on his arm as Thor thrusts into him, hard and deliberate. Loki shuts his eyes, willing away the tears which threaten to fall. Thor, as expected, is large and it hurts and Loki hates it, but he needs this. He needs what Thor is offering, and so when Thor wraps an arm around his slim waist, and pulls him up, back to chest, Loki cries out as though he likes the deeper intrusion. “More, Thor. Show me what you are capable of.”

The laugh that escapes Thor carries the same sound of conceit his words always do, and he leans back resting against his heels, taking Loki back with him. It is almost too much, and Loki can feel Thor’s cock in him so deep he feels as though he may die. It hurts, but the beginnings of pleasure are slowly beginning to touch the surface of Loki’s consciousness. As if he can sense this, Thor reaches down and grabs Loki’s cock in a firm grasp and begins to stroke him, slowly at first. It is then that the pain dissipates, leaving only pleasure in its absence.

This catches Loki slightly by surprise, as does the moan that escapes his lips. He leans his head back, resting it against Thor’s shoulder, and Thor takes this as an opportunity to bite down on the skin of Loki’s exposed neck. “Cum for me, brother,” he says as his fist thusly works Loki faster.

The sensation of Thor deep inside of him, and the way his hand is working him now sends Loki over the edge, and he spills upon his chest and abdomen. Thor chuckles softly, and Loki feels mildly embarrassed. Flushed, he takes a hand and runs it through the wetness on his body and brings slender fingers to Thor’s mouth. Thor moans his approval, and takes Loki’s fingers into his mouth, running his tongue around them as he sucks, tasting Loki for the first time.

Loki feels his cock stir again, and hates himself for it.

“Come brother, give me your seed. Enough of this.”

Thor smiles at Loki, bowing his head briefly, and then closes his eyes and concentrates as Loki slips his fingers from his brother’s mouth. “Give it to me Thor. You promised me. You begged me. Fill me with life.”

Thor suddenly looks very serious, and Loki feels his brother’s movements become erratic and desperate. Before long, Thor is crying out his brother’s name. Loki closes his eyes and wills life to take place within him, as Thor wraps his arms around him and holds their bodies close.

Loki swears he feels a warm wetness fall upon his shoulders then. Whether it is tears or rain, he does not know, and hardly cares. All he cares about is what has now taken place within him. After all, that was the entire purpose of this. Nothing more.

“Let go of me. You’ve done what you agreed, now leave me.”


“Enough!” Loki struggles against his brother’s hold and crawls away, grimacing as his brother slips out of his body. He is sore and tired, and is suddenly not in the mood for brotherly love.

Thor looks dejected, and watches as his brother magics his clothing back on. “Did it work?”

“Of course it worked.”

Thor nods, and sets his hands down upon his thighs, worrying on his lower lip. “How long?”

Loki shrugs. “It all depends really. He will come when he is ready.”

Thor stands then, and walks over to his brother. He is still unclothed, and so when he places two firm hands on his brother’s shoulders, Loki touches his chest delicately, and magics his armor back on as well.

Thor bends his head down enough so that Loki is staring into his eyes. His eyes appear black, if not for the slim ring of pale blue around his blown pupils. “He? You know already that our child is a boy?”

Loki begins to feel uncomfortable and pushes Thor away from him. “Of course I know. Don’t ask such stupid things.” He places a hand on his abdomen inadvertently.

“I see,” Thor means to step forward, but when he sees Loki’s eyes narrow in anger, he stays put. “Will it be –“

“A monster? Like my other children?”

Thor looks regretful, and for a moment, Loki fears he is about to be hugged and apologized to. He quickly intervenes those thoughts with a response.

“No, Thor. He will be as you are.”

“And as you also?”

“Of course,” Loki places his other hand on his abdomen and smiles slightly. “He is my son.”

“And mine.”

Loki glares at Thor, his green eyes growing darker in his anger. “In parentage, yes. and in that alone."

Thor frowns, and Loki watches as regret and sadness slowly wash over his brother's habitually stoic features, leaving in their place a dullness usually not seen in Thor. Loki frowns and takes a step back and away from him, as Thor reaches forward as if to grab hold of him and keep him there. As though the promises he has just made Loki were nothing but lies. Before he can reach him, Loki has vanished, leaving Thor standing alone in the storms of his sorrow.

May. 15th, 2012


(fill) Bruce/Tony + Baby : You Could Be Happy

"You know, I almost miss the old you. I'd say even the big green rage monster-you was better than this."

"Don't. Just...just don't."

  Tony frowned and considered disregarding the man's wishes, but by now he was starting to know better. In the past few weeks Bruce had become incredibly unpredictable, as Tony's repair bills were of evidence. Instead, he leaned against the door frame watching his lover stare blankly out of the window, towards the city below. The lights of New York were a blur beyond the glass as the cold rain of fall fell down to earth.

  There had been a time when Tony Stark had relished in this sight. With a glass of bourbon he would eventually join his lover by the window, resting his forehead against the cool of the glass, his breath fogging up the window just enough to creep into his view, but not so much to where he couldn't enjoy being on top of the world with this man beside him. Tony remembered the first time he had brought Bruce up to this room. The man's eyes had lit up like he had never seen the city before. And perhaps he really hadn't. Not like that. Not with him.

Lately, however, Bruce had taken over this ritual without Tony, to lament a life lost .

What could have been.

  Tony brought his glass to his lips, and took a long, burning sip. As much as the sight saddened him, it enraged him as well. Bruce wasn't the only one who had lost something, but together they had gained so much. But that so much, just didn't seem enough to Bruce. And that pissed Tony off. He had sacrificed a lot to be right here, right now with Bruce. And for what? For this? For a life of feeling inadequate and unwanted? Those two things were somewhat foreign to Tony, as least in the aspect that he used to be able to pretend he wasn't those things regardless if others felt them or not. But with Bruce...well, it was just too impossible to lie to himself about his self worth when it came to that man.

  Tony swallowed the rest of his drink in one long sip, and before he could stop himself, he sent the glass flying. It hit the wall only inches away from Bruce's face and bits of glass rained down to the marble floor. It seemed to happen in slow motion, and Tony prepared himself for the inevitable.

But it never came.

  Instead, Tony watched as Bruce sighed and walked over to one of the many closets, grabbed a broom and swept up the shimmering pieces of glass now at his feet. There was a part of Tony that was disappointed. Some remembrance of the Bruce he had fallen in love with would have been nice. No matter how big, green and...disastrous that would have been. Bruce seemed to sense the disappointment and as he brushed past Tony on his way out of the room with a bag full of glass, he placed a hand on the man's shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and apologized.

        * * * *

The warmth of lips upon his own woke him from a restless sleep.

"You fell asleep on the couch."

  "Yeah, well, the couch actually likes me," Tony mumbled as he turned his back to Bruce and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders. Bruce sighed and placed a firm hand on Tony's shoulder and pulled him back towards him. Tony kept his eyes shut and feigned sleep. His fake snores were absolutely ludicrous and almost, almost brought a smile to Bruce's lips. "Stop. You're acting like a child."

"That's what you want isn't it? You don't want me, or this, or..or us. You -"

  Bruce placed a large hand on Tony's mouth muffling the rest of his rant. With his other hand, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and cocked his head. "Are you done?"

  Tony nodded, and Bruce removed his hand. "And if you think for one minute that I'm not going to -" Tony was interrupted by another large hand and he narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Bruce chuckled. "I should have known better than to believe you. Look..." Bruce removed his hand, leaving it hovering a few inches above the other man's mouth - just in case -
"...you're wrong you know. I do want you. And this. And us. It's just...sometimes I can't help but think there's something missing. I mean, I suppose it's just in our nature to want to have children and - "

  "Further overpopulate the earth? Yeah, great. Look, you..are a man. I..am a man. It's not going to happen. So, you can either accept that and enjoy me - and I dare say you can enjoy me in more ways that you could ever enjoy a child - or you can not accept that and go stick it to Natasha or something else incredibly second rate to me." Tony crossed his arms across his chest, and looked away from Bruce, who smiled albeit sadly. "I suppose you're right. But...if we could... have a child, would you want to? With me?"

  Tony rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to Bruce. "If we were in the passionate throws of sex and somehow I miraculously impregnated you because you forgot to take your pill and grew radioactive ovaries, then yes. I suppose I would. And hopefully it wouldn't come out green and angry and kick my ass before it can even say 'Mama', which would be you, by the way."

  Bruce laughed, and it was loud and shook Tony to the core. It had been a long time since he had heard his lover sound so...happy. And while Tony might have wanted to believe he had been the force that had made him feel that way, he knew it was the thought of them having a child together. Something that really was impossible for the two men, but...

  "You have to excuse me for a moment. I'll be right back." Tony threw the blanket off of himself and called for JARVIS. Bruce watched him leave somewhat confused, then took his place on the couch, and fell asleep.

* * * * * *

"Absolutely not. I..that's asking way too much. And besides, what if my...what if it's genetic?"

  Tony made a disgusted face. "Who said you would be the one sleeping with her? She already knows I'm good in the sack, and I would hate for her to feel like she had to fake it to make you happy. With your self esteem issues and all of that. Besides, you're right. We don't know if it's genetic, though that's highly unlikely considering, but still...I'm just the better man for the job. And better looking. And you want him to be good looking right?"

"I'd like him to be healthy."

"What's all this talk about it being a him. There's a high probability we'll have a girl."

  "Miss Potts," Bruce pushed himself up from the couch he was sitting on and wrapped his arms around Miss Potts in a very tight bear hug as she entered the room.

"Don't kill her yet, she hasn't given you your baby." Tony poured himself a drink, mildly amused.

"Our baby," Bruce replied pointing around to the three of them.

"What do you mean yet?" Pepper glared.

* * * * * *

  The evening (the very late evening, as Tony would later lament) that their son was born, Bruce found himself picking Tony up from off the delivery room floor only seconds before his son entered the world. He remembers dropping Tony's body onto one of the hospital chairs, and then leaning over Pepper's bedside to take a look at what he had wanted for so very long.

"He's perfect," she cooed, pressing gentle lips to her son's forehead.

"Of course he's perfect, he's a Stark."

Bruce motioned for Tony to join him at the bed side without taking his eyes off of this miraculous child. "Banner, you mean."

"Banner? Oh, no. I fathered him. He looks just like me." Tony pointed at his son's dark hair. "He's a Stark."

  "And I just pushed him out! While you were resting peacefully on the floor, I might add," Pepper smirked at Tony who frowned. "I like Banner. It doesn't come with all the...news coverage."

"Whatever. Then I get to give him his first name."

"I can't wait to hear it," Bruce sighed.


"You can't be serious?" Bruce raised an eyebrow at Tony who scooped the baby up from Pepper's arms.

"Of course I'm serious. You like that, don't you little guy?"

Bruce watched, amused, as the child proceeded to spit up all over Tony's silk shirt, and start to cry, scream and writhe in the man's arms.

"Ah, the ragemonster appears. And so soon! Fine, he's a Banner all right. Take him. I need to clean this off before I barf myself."

Tony handed the child off to Bruce, who gladly took him, and with Pepper, named him Anthony.

Because anything was better than Ironman.

And because as soon as Bruce had laid eyes on him, he had fallen in love.

He was definitely a Stark.

Jun. 17th, 2011


Cause and Effect



Lieutenant Groves

He had attempted to begin an intimacy with the Commodore once. Under the guise of drunkenness, he had pressed the man up against the wall of his own office and had placed hungry lips against wary ones. Ones that did not open when his tongue so desperately sought entrance. Ones that did not smile, but frowned when he had managed to push his Lieutenant away and advised him to leave at once.

He had held on to a foolish hope, however, that Norrington had simply been taken aback and needed time for the prospect to sink in. And, once it had, he would come to Groves with an open heart and more eager lips.

The proposal to Miss Swann had eliminated any hope that Groves could dare cling to, however, and as he watched his Commodore slip only further away from him, the thought of staying under his command was an impossible one.

Groves stood atop the tallest wall of the fort. The wall that Miss Swann had so in-eloquently fell off of earlier that morning and looked down towards the rocks below that she had somehow managed to miss.

He sighed, and with one last, somber glance back towards Port Royal, Groves prayed that they would not fail him now as they had failed him earlier.


Commodore Norrington

Norrington slouched further down into the lukewarm water of his bath.

He watched intently as the ripples from his movement caused the jagged remnants of his whiskey bottle to bob around aimlessly.

He sighed and leaned back, resting his neck against the uncomfortable edge of the tub.

He realized now, much too late really, that he had invested far too much of his life fulfilling the expectations that others had held over him and to the duties and standards of the Crown. He had neglected the wants and desires of his own person and for that he was now suffering.

His proposal to Miss Swann had been based not on feelings of love or intimacy, but on those of duty. It was what had been expected of him by the Governor, the Royal Navy and by most of his men.

Most, but not by Lieutenant Groves. Groves had been vehemently opposed and rightfully so, but his bold actions had caught Norrington off guard and instead of reaching for what he had always wanted, he had pushed him away. And then Lieutenant Groves had done...that.

And now here he was, soaking in a tub of water quickly growing cold. The pain radiating from his wrists outdone only by that in his heart.

He shivered and closed his eyes, seeing Groves' face there. That childish smile that only Norrington could give him. He longed to see it again.

"Soon," he said, his voice echoing off the empty walls of the room. "We'll be together soon."


Lieutenant Gillette

Lieutenant Gillette had cared not for Miss Swann from the moment he had met her. His distaste for her only grew deeper when her reckless flirtation had caused not only the death of his best friend, but also that of his Commodore.

He had watched her intently since then, eying her every move. He had wanted to see her show a sense of remorse for what she had done, but it seemed as though the loss of two good men meant nothing to her so long as she had her blacksmith.

Wedding preparations for the two had been underway for some time and it was only a few days now until the ceremony. Gillette had had no intention of going, or even caring, but he had been placed in charge of standing outside her door each night, making sure her blacksmith did not get any bright ideas to take her purity before the wedding.

The assignment had been like a death sentence to him, only without the gratification at the end of it all being over in a matter of seconds.

One evening, he had heard Will Turner climb in through Miss Swann's window, followed by the sounds of kissing and laughing. He had also heard the young man decline anything further, even when she begged, for he did not want to 'risk losing her again.' A few more minutes of kissing and he had left the same way he had come in, leaving Miss Swann crying quietly after her loss.

Her crying wasn't so silent, minutes later, when she found herself beneath Gillette, pinned down by the weight of him. He forced himself on her and in her, with an intensity caused by days, weeks, months of suffering.

All because of her.

"You took everything from me," he looked down at her now but she looked away. "I'm going to take away the only thing of worth you have left."

And he did.

Her screams both deafened him and encouraged him. It wouldn't be long now, and so he continued to destroy the life that she had dreamed of every single night since she and Turner had returned to Port Royal.

When the Governor and a handful of Marines arrived, Gillette smiled down at Miss Swann. She looked at him, the sound of guns being cocked ringing loud in her ears.

"Thank you," Gillette smiled at her, genuinely.

She screamed.


Elizabeth Swann

It had been months since the wedding but she still would not let him touch her. He had told her he understood and would wait until she was ready, but she knew he was lying.

She had tried to give in to his desires once, after feeling guilty about denying him what was rightfully his. They had taken it slow, each move careful and calculated, his soft, careful voice telling her what was about to come so she could prepare herself. But, when he had placed himself between her legs, she had cried, apologized and dismissed him.

So perhaps it shouldn't have come as much of a shock when a rumor had gotten back to her that Will was soon to be the father of another woman's child.

It had hurt to hear those words, but she knew who was truly to blame for the situation. She loved Will and wanted him to be happy, but she knew he would stay by her side until the end, child or not no matter what she said to him.

So, in an act of what she considered grace, she reached for the vial of medicine given to her to calm her nerves and swallowed it all.

She would make the decision for him.


Jack Sparrow

It had seemed that the British Navy had pointed their fingers at him as the cause for everything, which was really not all that surprising, considering people were always blaming him for something true or not.

Will Turner had found him in Tortuga and had relayed everything that had occurred since his departure, warning him to be cautious.

Jack had brushed him off.

He had the Pearl again. He was untouchable, indestructible. Besides, the Governor had all but outright acknowledged he was a good man and had let him go. Technically. Which, by default had made the Governor, himself, a good man.

But now, as he lay face up on a large, singed piece of his beloved ship, he had to laugh at his own error in judgment. There were no good men, none besides himself anyways, and as he brought the one bottle of rum he had managed to grab before he had thrown himself overboard to his lips, he decided that the world didn't deserve him.

No, the only person who deserved Jack Sparrow was his beloved Pearl. And as he slipped his pistol out of his breeches and placed it against his temple, he was only all to eager to join her at the bottom of the sea.

May. 26th, 2011


OST SPOILERS (Drabble: This Night)

It had been only after Norrington was killed, that Lieutenant Groves began to realize just how little he had in this world.

Panicked, he had clung to Gillette like a parasite, rarely letting the last semblance of family he had out of his site for fear of the same fate befalling him.

Thus, when he had eventually been unable to prevent the inevitable and had watched, helpless, as Gillette collapsed to the ground, he assented to the fact that there was no longer a purpose for him on this god-forsaken ground.

Without them, there was nothing.

So, as he removed the British flag from his coat, and held it out with forced pride, he silently prayed it would be enough to warrant him a reunion.

May. 24th, 2011


Some Peace

It had been so very long now. But how long had it truly been? Days had turned into weeks, weeks had turned into a month or more. It all blurred together.

"Any word?" Lieutenant Groves did not look up when the door to his office opened, the sound of familiar footsteps approaching him slowly.

Gillette hesitated for a moment before placing the sword he had been carrying  on top of Groves' desk. "I received this upon Miss Swann's return to Port Royal."


Groves reluctantly reached out and ran his fingers along the length of the sword.

"So all hope truly is lost then."


"I'm so sorry."

* * *


He locked the doors behind him and made his way over to Norrington's bed. Slowly, he sat down and took in the room around him. It was still as he had seen it last, and so very much like James. Everything was in proper order, though by now most everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. Everything about James was slowly becoming memory.


He spotted the large, worn chest that James had been so taken with. He remembered the night Norrington had mentioned somewhat melancholy about how that chest was the last connection he had to his family. The heartbreak in the man's eyes had been painful to witness, and Groves had responded by placing a reassuring hand atop of James' and confiding in him that he considered Norrington to be his family, and that it would do him a great deal of honor if the sentiment would be returned. Norrington had smiled, taking Groves' face in his hands. He had kissed him, then, with a desperation Groves hadn't experienced from him either before or since.

"Of course," Norrington had said. "Always."

Pushing himself off the bed, he walked towards it, unlatching it and lifting the lid . He peered inside. There, folded perfectly in a way only James could manage, were the folded regimentals he had worn the day he had been promoted to Commodore. Groves ran his fingers across the course fabric, taking in each detail. That day had been bittersweet. The sense of pride he had felt towards his lover to this day was unmatched, but the knowledge of Norrington's intent to propose to Miss Swann had filled him both with fear and anguish. He hadn't argued against it for fear of losing what little of Norrington he might be able to hold on to, instead choosing to accept that she could give him all he could not and took to the bottle for relief.

Though, looking back on it now, that was his only true regret. Perhaps if he had said something more, or had even done something things would be different now. Perhaps Norrington would still be here, with him.

He held his breath as he gingerly lifted the coat out of the chest and brought it up to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, hoping to catch one last, lingering scent of James. But it was not there.

James was not there, here or anywhere. Nor would he be, ever again.

Groves stood and began to undress himself, taking care to fold everything just as James had done. After lowering his own uniform into the chest and shutting it, he began to dress himself in Norrington's Commodore regalia. As he fashioned himself in James' wardrobe, he allowed himself a slight smile. He had forgotten that Norrington had been so slender.


The realization, then, that he was already forgetting all of the small, important details that made up the bigger picture, broke him.

He hated himself for it.


* * *


He was wrapped in a strong, sympathetic embrace from behind. Warm breath heated his skin, and the accompanying tears almost tickled him as they slowly descended down the side of his neck.


A whisper, "What do you think you're doing, you fool?"   The words harsh, but the voice laced with concern.


Groves stood very still, looking out towards the dark expanse of the fort. It was a few hours past midnight and all was quiet.


"He told me that he would be fine, you know."


Gillette tightened his hold around Groves. "No one's indestructible Teddy, not even James."



Groves ignored him. "When we saw that the Dutchman had survived, the relief that I felt...if I had only known. If I had only known, I would not have abandoned ship."



Gillette could feel Groves begin to break and he released his hold only long enough to reposition himself in front of his friend. He took his face in his hands and leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on Groves' trembling lips. "Don't say that," he began to rub Groves' temples with his thumbs. "Don't ever say that." Gillette brushed his cheek up against Teddy's, keeping his hands on either side of his face. "I love you, please don't say that."

Groves turned slightly, leaning in towards the warm touch of his friend. "It hurts. So much. I just want the pain to go away."

Gillette nodded, "It will, eventually. I promise you. Just try and trust in that." Slowly, he proceeded to run his hands down the side of Groves' face, occasionally kissing a fresh trail of tears away. He cautiously moved his hands down Groves' neck, eventually resting them on the rope that was looped there. Holding eye contact with Groves, he carefully and deliberately worked at the line, loosening it enough to where he was able to lift it up and over Groves' head. His hands were trembling.

"I just miss him so much."

Groves finally allowed himself to be consumed by his grief, and he held onto Gillette, the weight of his despair pulling them both down onto the wooden boards of the stand. Gillette held on to him so tight that his arms began to hurt; he only tried to hold on tighter.


"I know, Teddy. I miss him, too. God, I miss him. Please don't make me miss you both."





While a career in the Royal Navy might have seemed somewhat exciting to the young Theodore Groves, the older one was finding himself to quite disappointed to realize that for each day of 'excitement' you could bet on at least three days of paperwork. And, oh, how he despised paperwork. It was so utterly dull and it made his hand hurt. Any excuse to shirk those duties was welcomed, but the problem with that was the more that he put it off (which was quite often) it piled up. It was a never-ending cycle of torture.

Really, the only thing worse than the paperwork was all of the standing around he had to do. It seemed to be required of him, and it was just so exhausting.

It was particularly dreadful to stand in during meetings that did not concern him whatsoever. What was the point? Especially when the meeting was between Governor Swann and Commodore James Norrington. Surely neither man truly expected one to slay the other, so why Norrington needed him and Gillette in there during such droll occasions was beyond him. Knowing James though, Groves assumed he probably just wanted an audience. The vanity of the man was sometimes unnerving.

Perhaps the worst of it all though, was the heat. It was always so bloody hot in James' office. All of the time. Add in a couple pounds of uniform and you were begging to die, just to be out of your misery. When Groves had first arrived in Port Royal he had been told that he would get used to the heat. Well, he was still waiting for that moment to come. It was a rare day indeed when his already uncomfortable regalia was not also stuck to every inch of his body with sweat.

The hat and the wig were the worst of it, however, so in an attempt to relieve himself of even an ounce of suffering, he had recently sheared his hair as short as he could. Norrington had protested, whining about "what am I supposed to grab onto now?" Groves had suggested what he considered to be a fair alternative. An alternative that Norrington had been all to willing to accept if this morning had been any indication.

Groves let his eyes close as he remembered their tryst just a few hours previous. He could still hear Norrington's voice thick with need, begging him for more.

The man was absolutely insatiable. Not that Groves' minded.

"Are you feeling alright, Lieutenant Groves?"

The Governor's voice brought him out of his head and back into Norrington's office. "Sir?"

"You looked as though you may be ill any moment and you made the most worrisome groan."

Norrington turned around at that and slowly ran his eyes over Groves. He flashed him a roguish smile, "Perhaps the heat is getting to you? It is rather hot in here..."

Governor Swann nodded in agreement, "It is indeed. Shall I fetch the physician, Lieutenant?"

Groves smiled, "Your concern is appreciated Governor Swann, but I assure you I shall be fine."

Norrington turned his attention back to the Governor, motioning for him to accompany him to the map table. With his back to Groves, he proceeded to discuss matters but not without occasionally bending over the table to point out a few distant locations on the map and providing Groves with a luscious view of his ass.

Gillette noticed and rolled his eyes. "Completely shameless," he murmured. He glanced over at Groves who was busy shifting his wait and repositioning his coats in an attempt to conceal his arousal. "As are you."

Groves ignored him, keeping his eyes on the Commodore.

"What would Miss Swann do, I wonder?" Gillette whispered to Groves. "She certainly had a way of getting the Commodore to tend to her needs rather quickly."

The mention of Miss Swann got Groves' attention. "What are you -"

He was cut off by a swift kick behind the knees, that sent him falling to the floor. "What - "

"Shut it, you fool!" Gillette quickly dropped to his knees beside Groves and placed his hands on the other man's shoulders holding him down. "Gentlemen," he called out, "Lieutenant Groves seems to have been taken by the heat. Governor, perhaps we should take you up on your offer to fetch the physician, yes?"

"Yes, yes of course!" Governor Swann quickly withdrew himself from Norrington's office. Norrington, as Gillette had suggested, rushed over to Groves' side, panic on his face.

Gillette stood up and placed a foot on Groves' chest, keeping him on the ground. "I figure you have ten minutes or so before Governor Swann returns. Not a lot of time, but enough to where I hope not to be subjected to such unabashed flirting. It's absolutely nauseating."

Norrington looked at Gillette, his cheeks flushed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Gillette made way to the door. Groves called after him, "Stay. Please?"

Norrington looked down at Groves, eyes dark with lust, and he turned to Gillette, hopeful.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I was merely locking the door. I know well as you how much our dear Commodore enjoys an audience."


May. 23rd, 2011



"My heart broke right along with yours, you know."

Norrington didn't look up when Groves walked into his sleeping quarters. He instead slumped back against the foot-board of his bed and brought the bottle of rum to his lips. He tilted his head back, and Groves watched as the liquid dissipated, inch by inch. When the bottle was near empty, Norrington set it down beside him, and lazily looked up towards Groves. "Lying to me won't make me feel better. You know well as I that you were hoping for this outcome."

Groves considered that for a moment, wanting to choose his next words wisely. "It's true that I did not wish to see you marry her. How could I? But to see you put in that position in front of the Governor, in front of your men...never."

Norrington exhaled loudly through his nose, smirking slightly. He wrapped his hand back around the neck of the bottle, making to bring it back to his lips. Groves shut the door behind him and made his way over to Norrington. He sat down beside him and reached over, placing his hand over Norrington's, and holding it firm, keeping the bottle where it stood.

"Don't. You'll drink yourself to death."

"It would be nothing less than I deserve."

"Don't be a fool!" Groves repositioned himself so that he was kneeling in front of Norrington. "You deserve nothing of the sort. You are not at fault here."

Norrington laughed, mockingly. "Oh, will you please shut it? You're always so bloody agreeable. When will you ever learn to stick up for yourself...do and say what Lieutenant Groves wants, and not what he thinks he should say and do out of duty." Norrington released his grip on the rum bottle and shook off Groves' hand.

"Is that why you think I'm here? Out of duty?"

"I see no other reason why you would be. Go away, Lieutenant. Leave me to myself if you would be so kind." Norrington dismissed him with a wave of a hand. "That's an order."

Groves did not move. Instead he let out an indignant laugh, and threw his hands up in annoyance. "I don't know whether to be amused or insulted that you consider me to be here out of duty. Perhaps these last few months meant nothing to you...which I could easily believe considering how little thought you put into the decision to propose to that...Miss Swann...but I assure you they meant a great deal to me. And if I am here right now, which I am, it's because I want to be, nothing more."

He stood up then and began to remove his accoutrements. His hat and wig were tossed to the floor, and his cravat and coat joined them soon thereafter. When he was down to shirt and breeches, only then did he kneel back down in front of Norrington. Slowly and cautiously he reached forward, removing the hat from Norrington's head and setting it atop the bed. Carefully he unpinned Norrington's wig and set it to the floor, along with his cravat.

Groves sat back on his heels. "Now I am just Teddy, and you are just James. So shut it about this being about my duty."

Norrington finally looked up, meeting Groves' concerned gaze. He smiled, sadly, and reached for the bottle of rum. Groves grabbed it before he could get his hands on it, and finished it in one swallow.

Norrington sighed. "Everything I'm feeling right now is well deserved. I proposed to Miss Swann more out of duty than anything else. Which makes me a hypocrite at the least, at the worst an undeserving fool who does not deserve much, much less your forgiveness."

"Even so, you have it. You've always had it. I know I can be a bit...obstinate at times, but I am easy to forgive when it is clearly the right course of action. Even if you had married her, my feelings for you would not have changed."

Norrington leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "I am sorry I hurt you, but I'm not sorry for what I did. It was the only choice that made sense. This...us...it's dangerous. And it's so difficult. It's gotten too hard for me to pretend I care nothing for you when we are performing our duties. It's gotten too hard for me to remember my place when I am near you, and I fear that I will be the one that sends us to the noose. I couldn't live with myself if that were to happen."

"Well, technically you wouldn't have to."

Norrington looked up, frowning. "Even so."

"So, maybe we can't push a carriage down the street together, or get married in the church...maybe we do have to spend the rest of our lives behind closed doors. Is that really so bad?"

Groves moved forward until he was straddling the Commodore's lap. Norrington made to speak but was silenced by Groves' mouth against his own. He relaxed under the familiarity of it all, and was all to glad to open his mouth to deepen the kiss when Groves tongue sought entrance.

After a few short minutes, Groves reluctantly pulled back, looking into those deep, green eyes. "This, right here, you and me...that's all I need. Why can't that be enough for you?"

Norrington smiled and leaned in, pressing his lips against Groves' neck. "It's always been enough. You've always been enough."

"Finally the man sees reason," Groves leaned his head back and moaned as Norrington bit down gently on the tender flesh of his neck. "Besides, a lot more can get accomplished behind a closed door than an open one anyways, you realize?"

"You're incorrigible."

"I do my best. Now," Groves leaned backwards, pulling Norrington down on top of him, "I believe you owe me some make-up sex, do you not?"

Norrington smiled against the warmth of Groves' chest. "You have no idea."


May. 22nd, 2011

Light Sigh


"I believe congratulations are in order?" Lieutenant Groves turned towards the door where Commodore Norrington stood with Lieutenant Gillette beside him and gave a slight, mocking bow. He motioned towards Norrington's desk, where he had set out three glasses and picked up the large bottle of Scotch he had brought with him. "I thought perhaps we might toast to your future happiness."

He pulled the cork out of the bottle of Scotch and tossed it flippantly to the side. Without being careful, he poured it into the three glasses he had laid out on Norrington's desk prior to their arrival, caring not about the splashes of liquid landing ontop Norrington's paperwork. 

Gillette cast a wary glance at Groves before walking forward and taking one of the two seats situated in front of the desk. Groves motioned for him to help himself before reaching for a glass for Norrington. He held it out it to him with a forced smile, then raised his own glass.

"To the Commodore's impending marriage."

Gillette nodded slightly and held his glass above his head. Groves tapped the rim of his glass to Gillette's and then to Norrington's. He swallowed his entire glass in one welcomed, burning gulp.

Norrington considered his own glass briefly, before setting it down on his desk without taking a sip. He turned to Gillette. "Mr. Gillette, I would like a word with Lieutenant Groves, if you please."

Gillette stood up, and cast a worried glance at his oldest and dearest friend. Groves was pouring himself a second glass, filling the glass to the very brim. He turned his attention back to Norrington, looking somewhat glad to be relieved of the situation,"Of course, Sir."

Norrington followed Gillette to the doors, unlocking them and leaning in close to him as he went to push them open. "Do not go far." Gillette gave him a nod and stepped through the doors, which were quickly shut and locked behind him.

Once they were alone, Norrington slowly made his way over to Groves, struggling with what he could possibly say. It felt like each step towards the other man took a lifetime. When he was finally standing beside to him, he felt very uncertain. Of himself, of the situation, of everything. He clasped his hands behind his back and spoke.

"Teddy, you must understand, I -"

Norrington was cut off by Groves' harsh laughter. "I must understand? Me?" He glanced down at the bottle of Scotch that was still in his hand, uncorked. He brought it to his lips, taking a long drink from the bottle, wiping his mouth off with the back of his coat sleeve."Preposterous."

Norrington sighed. "I had no choice."

At that declaration, Groves turned around and glared at Norrington. He felt his anger rise quickly and uncontrollably and he reacted to it by throwing the bottle of Scotch he had been holding to the floor. Small shards of glass swirled around their feet in pools of the amber liquid. "There's always a choice, James!" Without thinking, he grabbed at the front of Norrington's coat, tightly holding the thick fabric in his fists as he walked forward, causing Norrington to stumble backwards until he was pressed firmly up against the wall.

Norrington struggled against the hold. "What did you expect me to say? That I couldn't go through with it because I loved you?" Norrington let out an exasperated laugh. "It would have been the noose for us both! Would that have made you happy?"

Groves' grip faltered only briefly at the admittance of love and he struggled to find his voice. In the many months that had passed since this had started between them, he had longed to hear those words from that beautiful mouth.

But not like this.

Never like this.

Groves gave Norrington another harsh push against the wall and leaned in, pressing his lips against Norrington's.

His kiss was hungry, desperate... non reciprocated.

He felt his heart break into more pieces than he could ever bare to count in his lifetime. He pulled away, defeated, and placed his forehead against Norrington's. 

"You could have said no." He released his hands from Norrington's coat and placed them instead on either side of the man's face. He looked up into those all to familiar green eyes before placing what he worried would be his last kiss on those lips. "You could have said no, James."

"I could have. But I did not."

"Clearly." Groves smiled sadly and released Norrington's face from his hands. He stepped back and ran his hands down the front of his uniform. "And I suppose I cannot really fault you for that, can I?" He turned and made his way towards the door. He slid the lock free and turned to Norrington once more before removing himself from his quarters. "But for the record, I love you as well and yes, I would rather swing from the noose than see you marry that woman." 

With one last, sad smile at Norrington, he turned and walked away.

Light Sigh

Prompt Table - Pirates of the Caribbean

Emotions Prompt Table for 10_hurt_comfort 

Commodore Norrington / Lieutenant Theodore Groves


Up in Smoke


"Perhaps if you remove your accoutrements the whores would be more willing to approach you." Groves briefly glanced up from the bottom of his drink before returning his gaze to the amber liquid.


Gillette rolled his eyes. "Perhaps if you removed that scowl from your face I wouldn't need to seek the company of others. You're a bloody drag tonight, you know that? What's gotten into you?"


Groves refused to look up into what he knew were the concerned eyes of his closest friend. Instead, he finished his drink and stood up, straightening his coat, readying to leave. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. "Commodore Norrington has informed me of his imminent proposal to Miss Swann."


"Oh. Teddy, I..." Gillette frowned and stood up, not really knowing what to say. He grabbed his hat from atop their table and placed it on his head. He motioned towards the door, indicating they could leave.

Groves nodded but lingered behind a bit, stopping first in front of the large, stone fireplace. He hesitated for a bit, bringing the note up to his heart before dropping it into the flames.

He watched, emotionless, as the last ties to the one person he loved went up in smoke.

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