#potc5 au

[wr1t3w1tm3]

Will Turner Wednesday Post!

Decadent

Potc5/Modern/Coffee shop/Will out of Water AU

SFW, a couple of f-bombs

Words: 3,269

She takes him to what she calls a coffee shop. A packed one at that. They wait silently in line, she preoccupied with a slim purple and black rectangle that glowed. Will busied himself with observing those around them. The strange new clothes, the many, probable majority of them women, and the majority of them garbed in trousers. My, wouldn’t Elizabeth have been pleased. Many tack away at gray and black machines which glow like the one in Mary’s hand. Some pour over books with garish colored instruments and a few speak with those across and around them. Two young women bustle behind what looks awfully similar to a bar top, preparing a myriad of things in a multitude of cups. 

“What’ll it be?” The blonde situated between a large glowing machine and a little wooden basket filled with multi-colored sachets leans against the counter, a small smile graces her weary face. 

Mary leans against the bar top, glancing behind the girl at a top lined with clear bottles of multi-colored liquids. For all he cares, the place could be an apothecary lair. It most certainly looks the part. “Um, can I get a large hot, ah, chai latte please. Dirty,” she turns to Will, gesturing at Joan with her chin, “what do you want, Will?”

He freezes, his mouth open slightly and his eyes darting about. He is completely out of his element, a fish out of water if one would. He couldn’t tell port from starboard if this were a ship, and it seems the girls can tell. Joan looks to Mary, who takes a step back to check a black board hanging above them. “Uh… just do a hot chocolate. Large still. And the dirty chai is my shift drink.” 

“When do you come in?” Joan asks, apparently writing on what must be a white cup. 

“I close tonight. Plus I picked up the next shift.”

“Aw, and right after break too?”

“Yeah. I need the money. Plus I had to stay over night in KC anyway because of how bad the snow was supposed to be this down south this morning.”

“Down south?”

“Yeah. Wichita is supposed to see more snow than Kansas City.” 

“Maybe there really was something to all that climate change stuff, huh?” A smile cracked Joan’s lips, and Mary nodded with a chuckle. “That’ll be five-twenty.” 

Mary produces a slim, colorful something from the black pouch hanging from her wrist. Joan takes it and slides it along the edge of her magic, glowing box. Will is able to see that the yellow specks on the pouch are, in fact, flowers of some sort. “Was you’re break good?” Mary asked. 

“Yeah, it was nice to just be home and rest.” Joan smiles and seems almost reminiscent. 

“Oh yeah. Slept in every day I could,” Mary adds with the same smile, “have a good one.”

“You too.” Joan sets the cups against the bar top with a hollow pop, at the end of a line about six long. 

“Come on,” Will turns to find Mary seated at the bar. She motions to the chair next to her, which remains empty for now. Will’s forced to squeeze past a few young women, who he hears giggle with each meek “pardon me” that escapes his lips. Mary rolls her eyes once he’s seated, turning to the other young woman behind the bar. “How was your break, Carolee?”

“It was great, love,” the young woman replies, turning to a gleaming silver machine set against the wall. Within a divot sit three tiny glass cups, two full with water, one being filled with an earthy brown liquid from the spout above. It smells strong, a little bitter, yet a might sweet. “How was yours?”

“It was fine, ‘sides havin’ to stay in KC overnight. Wichita was forecast to get anywhere from four to eight inches of snow.” 

“That’s south of here, right?” Carolee, her auburn hair tied back in a small ponytail not unlike his own, moves quickly, removing some little metal basket with a long handle from the machine and placing it at another. 

“Yeah. I was there over break.” 

“Funny,” she hits a button, and the machine begins grinding something brown and course into the little metal basket. It’s rather loud though. “We barely had any snow in Cody when I left yesterday to fly out.”

“I know. We’re in a la nina. Or el nino,” Mary shakes her head lightly, a dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. “Whichever one is less common. We haven’t had snow at all for the last couple years then suddenly we get a freakin’ dump truck piled on top of us.” 

Will has no idea what a dump truck is, but he assumes it’s something rather large. Carolee grabs the little basket, sets it against the bar, swirls then pushes the contents down with two different tools, and finally pushes it back into the machine. She presses a button just above it and with a bit of a groan, the same brown liquid pours from the machine into an empty glass cup. She takes one cup which is full and dumps it into one of the white cups on the bar top. In a metal pitcher she produces from who knows where, she pours something white - hopefully milk - and brings that over to the machine. She slips a gleaming metal wand into it, and with the flick of a lever it roars to life, pulsing into the milk. A moment later, she flips the switch back and sets the pitcher on the bar top. It steams as she gently hits it against the bar top, and with the white cup in her opposite hand she gracefully pours the hopefully milk into the white cup. The brown liquid from before rises to the top and once she’s nearly run out of milk, it comes to the surface and she adds a small heart. 

She sets the white cup down, and with a strong voice shouts out “Vanilla Lavender latte for Jack!” 

Will glances over his shoulder. A force of habit really. “...his name?”

“Will Turner. He’s apparently my cousin.” 

Apparently the women had continued their conversion without his knowledge. Will turns back to the bar top. Carolee looks him over, he can feel her eyes searching him with some intensity, at the same time she stirs the contents of another white cup. Her blouse is a rather garish orange color, with some words he can’t quite understand and what look to be several stains. She then turns to Mary, eyebrow cocked. “What do you mean apparently.” 

Mary leans back in her chair, drawing a knee up and holding it there with her hands. “Mom’s Mexican side. Nobody really talks ‘bout that side ‘cause there’s supposedly some gang ties in Chicago or somethin’.” 

Carolee’s eyes go wide. Will feels his do the same. Whatever Mary just said can’t be good. “Gees, girl, okay. Vernon!” She slides another white cup across the bar top and sets it next to Will, but she continues. Her conversation and her work. “Where are you from Will.”

“You said somewhere in England, right?” Mary jumps in, shooting daggers where his heart should be. “Brighton, right?” 

“Yes. Brighton.” He parrots. He has no idea where Brighton is, but Carolee is busy and doesn’t notice the brief panicked look that flies over his face. 

Mary shakes her head, chuckling a little. “I only managed to remember cause it’s the place that one British guy mentioned this viral video he made about how to American’s, the like, two hours it takes to get from Brighton to London is a day trip or whatever.” 

“That’s cool. What brings you to the states, Will?” 

“Work,” he says crisply, with a lick of his lips, “I was hired to work on ships not far from here.” 

“Somewhere in Kansas City, I think.” Mary adds. 

Carolee nods, sliding a cup to Mary. “Here’s your dirty chai. And you’re hot chocolate is coming right up.” 

“Thanks Carolee,” Mary stands, leaving Will alone for just a few seconds. A precious few seconds. 

Carolee asks a question. “What kind of work do you do on these ships?” 

Will glances out the window past Carolee’s head. “Mostly building them, though I have Captained a vessel before.” 

“That’s cool.” Carolee slides another white cup across the top, this time to him. Mary appears to his starboard, a shiny black thing in her hand. She takes Will’s cup, sliding it towards herself a ways and snapping the thing on top of it. Evidently it was some sort of a lid. “Thank’s Carolee. Have a good one.” 

“You too. Nice to meet you Will.” She turns back to the machine. Will stands. “And you as well, ma’am.” Mary practically forces the drink into his hands and he follows her out into the building the coffee shop resides within. 

He ducks close to her ear to whisper “You lie like a pirate lass.”

“I doubt that’s a complement,” she mutters, stopping, then motioning towards a fireplace on the opposite side of the building. “Nobody every sits over here.” 

They sit in two red leather chairs, one across from the other, the fire place between them. Mary takes a sip from her cup, through a small hole Will discovers in the black lid. She sets hers on a small wooden table next to her chair. Will opts to hold his, the warmth welcome as his hands have yet to fully warm from the frigid weather outside. 

“I meant that as a complement.” Will says, his tone even. 

Mary rolls her eyes, leans back in her chair, and crosses her arms. She really does look like Elizabeth now. Particularly a cross Elizabeth. “Elizabeth could lie with her hands on the Bible. There was nary a way any mortal man could tell.”

 “Lovely.” Mary whistles, then pauses. Suddenly, she leans forward and begins an interrogation “Where are you from really?”

“Port Royal. However, I was born in Glasgow.” 

“What year?” her voice is sharp. Her brow furrowed.

That… that is something Will couldn’t be sure of. He knows for a fact his and Elizabeth’s wedding was in 1728… or 9. “I lived there no later than 1729.” 

“Port Royal or Glasgow?”

Will frowns, he hadn’t been very clear, had he? “Port Royal. Elizabeth and I were to be wed at the fort in either 1728 or twenty nine. However, we were rather rudely interrupted by one Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company.” 

“Fuck,” she grumbles, glancing out at the main section of the great common room. A great frown has appeared over her face. “What were your kids name? You said something about a kid, right?” 

Will doesn’t quiet remember if he’d mentioned him, but that matters not now. “I had only the one, Henry.” 

“The one who married Carina?”

“Aye.” He did mention Henry.

“Did they have kids?” 

Will smiles fondly, nodding. “Several. William was the eldest, then Grace, Michael, and little Lizzie was the youngest.” 

“Did any of them have kids?” Something clicks, and Will glances from the dancing flames in the heart to Mary. She seems to be scrawling away at her forearm with a black stick. He shakes his head, unsure if he should chuckle or scold the girl.

Will turns back to the fire and shuts his eyes, trying to picture them. He’d only met a select few of them, the ones he was now forced to assume where the eldest. “I know of very few. William’s George and Henry where his only that I knew. Grace had an infant named Carlisle and I believe Michael adopted a child by the name of Finnegan after Andrew was born.” 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Will knows he should never have spoken them. Mary’s face clouds, and she reaches for her drink, taking a sip perhaps to hide her face. But her stormy eyes are harder to hide, even if they are kept locked away behind heavy spectacles. 

“This is going to be… difficult. Hell, that’s a fuckin’ understatement.” 

“If it is of any assistance, the last time I saw any of them was the 1820’s.” 

“We’ll see if it does,” She seems to consider something a moment, then she begins to ramble, “if I check the men’s names, and I back track from mom, there’s only like two or three generations I’m missin’.” 

“Is it possible?” Will finds himself asking the question with bated breath. 

“I need time,” she glances at something on her wrist. A watch, he guesses. They’d become quite fashionable to be worn at the wrist. “And I don’t have that now. I work in thirty minutes.” 

Will nods, standing. “I’ll take my leave, then?”

Mary groans when she stands, and turns back to collect her cup. ��Yeah, come on, I’ll let you grab your stuff out of my room.”

She seems to know the path better than he does. Once they return to her room and she clambers up to retrieve his blade, he mentions he’s not quite sure how to get back to the bluff from where they are. But Mary drops from the top bunk once again, and with a loose cough motions for him to follow. 

She leads him along a gray path that runs parallel to what appears to be the main black road. There are a few more adolescents milling about. When they jog to the gray path opposite them Will spies a young woman flinging herself into the tender arms of her patient love. He’s a tall, scraggly thing, topped with a bushy head of brunette hair. Mary mutters “idiota” as they turn along another, shorter black path where the gray path falls away. Mary contents herself with acting as a tight rope walker along the red raised edge, and he slips behind and treads along the grass to her port. Rising to their starboard is the grand stone building he’d first seen once he emerged from the wooded path. 

“What is that?” He asks. 

Mary glances at it. She only shrugs, “That’s the abbey. Monks live there.”

They continue in silence. She leads him along the black path until it abruptly turns gray and loose. They trek up the winding hill, sweeping wide around the trees. Mary avoids the weeping willow leaves all together, her face screwing in disgust as a hand searches her scalp for intruders. 

At the top of the hill and too their port is the cemetery, and to their starboard is the bluff. He starts towards it, cutting Mary off. A protest strangles in her throat as she catches sight of what is just over the bluff. Will looks back, a cheeky smile on his lips “Come along. Keep up!”

Grass crunching is enough confirmation for him, and Will bolts, full sail. He reaches the bluff first, slowing enough that his stop against the railing is graceful rather than painful. Mary slows much farther back and stalls a few paces from the ledge. Her hands hang at her sides, her mouth agape, eyes wide, barely blinking. 

Will moves to her, taking her hand in his and guiding her forward. No need to prompt, she follows willingly. He draws her along to the edge and sets her palm to the cold metal bar, his over top. Her other finds the bar immediately, and he lets his own do the same. 

The Flying Dutchman is a magnificent vessel. Davy Jones had spent far to long at sea, allowed the muck and scum to overcome her hull and crew. But Will, Will had always kept her sparkling. Her sails fluttered in the breeze, bleached white and perfectly mended. Her hull free of barnacles, decks scrubbed bright even through a hurricane’s volley of salt and wind. She is beautiful, she is faithful, and she is all Will has left in the mortal world. 

“Holy shit,” Mary curses softly, taking a single, faltering step back. “You… is that yours? Holy shit.” 

Will chuckles, “I should hope so.”

“Does it have a name?”

“The Dutchman. However, if I were to be precise, her full names is the Flying Dutchman.”

Mary splutters, pacing. “Je… Jesus fuckin’ christ! How… how the actual’ fuckin’ hell did you get that this far up the river?!”

“The same magic that allows me to walk upright deprived of my heart.” He offers her a hand, one she either disregards due to convenience or truely fails to take stock of. Will clears his throat and only then - after a little jump - does Mary quell her pacing and eye the hand.

“What’s that for?”

“Now that you have seen, oh thee of little faith,? Will ribs with a smile, “does our accord stand still?”

Mary nods with a humph, and shakes his hand. “Yeah, but I need time.” 

Their hands part. Will cocks a brow. His gut begins to churn. “How much?”

Mary hesitates, bobbing her head too-and-froe. It only further wittles at Will’s nerves. How long could it possibly take her to verify what he has said? Has he not provided proof enough?

“Three days,” she assures. “Give me three days to double check what you’ve said. To see if we really are related.” 

“Where should we meet?” 

Mary shrugs. “Here is fine. How about noon on day three?”

Will feels a frown tug down the corner of his lip “How will I know?”

“Listen for the clock. It goes off twelve times at twelve. I might be a minute or two late since I’ve got class right before then, but I’ll be here.” 

“Very well,” Will looks to the Dutchman again. “I’ll be off then.”

“Just, do me a favor and stay on your ship.” Mary’s voice is stern, though concerned. “I promise we can talk about this more later, I’m sorry I’m running so short on time, but you need a serious reality check as far as modern life and manners go and I don’t want you to get into any trouble or anything.” 

Something pangs against his chest. Will isn’t sure whether it’s grief, resignation, resentment… probably all of that and much more. He’s spent so long on the Dutchman, so very long away from land. The thought of returning there, even if it is for but three days makes his skin crawl. But he has no idea how long he’ll be, well, marooned here, no idea of what his fortune might hold, and he’s morbidly sure he’ll need help. He doesn’t want to acquiesce to such stringent terms, but he’s got as much a choice as he did when he became the Dutchman’s captain. 

“We have an accord,” he offers his hand with a smile his heart’s not in. 

Well, that’s not saying much as his hearts not even in him.

Mary shakes it again, though she appears bewildered. “Sounds good. I’ve got to get back, but I’ll see you at noon in a few days. Okay?” 

“Aye” Will nods, turning to the path. It twists almost immediately away through the trees. Scrawny little poplars and ashes, yet without any light from the heavens, they’re dying leaves block most the light. 

Mary throws a nonchalant “See ya!” over her shoulder, and she crunches back through the grass, to the path. Will, with a deep, clammy breath, ducks under a branch to begin his trek. It’s a ways down, and three days to wait. 

Compared to three centuries, those three days are less than a drop in the bucket. And for that, Will is incredibly grateful. 

[newsical]

Henry Turner and Carina Smyth Yale AU: Chapter 1

Hi everyone! This is chapter 1 of @elizabeth-svvann’s Yale AU . It will be cross posted to AO3 once I can make an account there. For now it will be available under the “Keep Reading” link. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 6170

Summary: Carina had always been one of the smartest people in the room her entire life. She graduated high school at 15 and is currently studying at Yale University to earn a Ph.D. in Astrophysics. Over the past year, the physics department has been hit hard with budget cuts, and the latest one was the nonrenewal of Carinas favourite professor, Dr Jack Sparrow’s contract. Enraged by this, Carina attends an annual Yale fundraiser to confront the Dean of the University, Weatherby Swann.

At the event, the first person she meets is Henry Turner, a classics student getting his master’s in said field. Henry is instantaneously smitten with her, while Carina is uninterested in him - her only purpose there is to talk to Dean Swann. All night she is unsuccessful in getting a moment alone with him. As she waits for her drink at the bar, she overhears two women gossiping about the Dean, mentioning all the favours and grants given to his son in law, Professor William Turner, over the years. The conversation then shifts to Swann’s grandson: Henry Turner. Immediately Carina formulates a plan to use Henry to get to his grandfather, in hopes that history repeats itself and Dean Swann’s nepotism will carry down to her as his grandson’s new girlfriend.

The guilt of using Henry soon starts to grow as she falls for the classics nerd with his terrible Latin jokes and constant babbling about Greek and Roman mythology.

To say she felt out of place would be an understatement. The looks the people were giving her made Carina feel like she was the world’s only dragon. She ran her hands nervously over her dress, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles, and told herself for the seventh time that she was not underdressed. Out of place, maybe, but never underdressed.

It took Carina a deep breath and a quick gulp of her water--surprisingly chilled--to remind herself why she was there. Without fulfilling her mission there was, of course, no purpose to be there. No reason to be dealing with the skeptical glances and glares of these posh muckety-mucks...In a sudden and odd change of circumstance, Carina felt eyes on her that were, for once, not scathing. A tall boy--tall-ish, Carina decided on second glance--with soft eyes watched her, as if willing her to notice him. Once she did, though, he dropped his eyes and began to study the guest list with an intensity Carina had thought him incapable of. She hid a smile. Ah, the price of shame.

Carina returned to her task. She scanned the guests, waiting to be awarded with the view of loose gray hair. No such luck. Carina caught herself pouting and drew herself up; she would not be defeated quite so easily. She was brushed by someone’s coat, but found that the presence did not leave as soon as it had arrived. Instead, it lingered, and with a sigh, Carina turned to fake her first conversation of the night.

To her surprise, she was not met with the sight of someone demanding to see her ID. It was the boy from before, and he fidgeted slightly before smiling sheepishly.

“Who are you? If you don't mind me asking, that is,” he asked before promptly turning pink upon realizing the directness of his initial question. Carina bit her tongue in disappointment. So she was being IDed, just not in the form of a black-outfitted security guard and rather a golden retriever-esque boy.

When she didn't answer, he tried again.

“I'm sorry to be too forward, it's just...I've never seen you before, and I couldn't find you on the guest list…” He trailed off and just stood there, shifting slightly.

“Come here often, do you?” Carina asked. The boy looked up, evidently startled at receiving a response. “You must be important.”

The boy grinned and looked down.

“Not really,” he said. “So what was your name?”

He was a persistent security guard, if that was his role.

“Carina. Carina Smyth. I'm not on the guest list, so don't bother checking,” Carina offered dryly. The boy’s eyes widened. There it was, Carina figured. She was going to be kicked out.

“Well, if anyone asks, you’re with me. Henry Turner,” Henry said, extending a hand. Carina raised her eyebrows, surprised at the boy's offer and slightly impressed, although she'd never admit it. She returned the gesture. The smile returned to Henry’s face. Carina was certain she'd never seen anyone quite so easily amused.

Certain he wasn't an intellectual, she turned away. No one that happy could harbor any real intelligence, anyhow.

“Wait,” Henry called. “Where are you going?”

“I'm looking for someone,” Carina replied, turning away once again.

“Oh,” said Henry. “Well, I hope you find them.”

Carina waved her thanks behind her and squeezed her way into the crowd. She figured she’d lost five, maybe eight minutes. She was determined not to be distracted again, but grateful to have someone’s name to give, even if it was that of a rich baby.

Carina tried, and failed, several times that night to find and speak with Dean Swann. She wasn’t just going to let Jack’s employment drop. Not without a fight, at least. Unfortunately, fate seemed to have other plans for her that night; there was no sign of the Dean. Upon nearing the end of the night, Carina was forced to accept that her mission had failed. She wouldn’t be talking to or even seeing the Dean. And there was no saying when Jack’s position would be revoked.

Carina sighed and dropped into a stool at the bar.

“Shirley Temple, please,” she muttered to the bartender that came to take her order. He nodded and disappeared. Carina prayed that he wouldn’t be too long before returning with the sugary goodness. She could certainly stand to eat her feelings at the moment. She leaned on her hand idly and let her mind wander.

“Did you hear that the Dean gave another grant to his favorite professor?”

Carina queued in on the Dean’s name. Three women were huddled at the end of the bar, stage whispering over drinks.

“Shut up. He did not.”

“Yes, he did,” the first promised.

“Which one?” The third lady spoke for the first time. She was considerably younger and had a more optimistic look to her than her counterparts.

“His son-in-law.”

“Oh.”

“God, if I could get that money, I don’t even know what I’d do…”

“Nepotism at its finest, if you ask me.”

“At Yale? Are you sure? I mean, Professor T--”

The other two women shushed the younger one quickly, nervously glancing around the room to see if anyone had heard. It appeared they were safe. They leaned in closer and spoke in hushed tones.

“That professor is great, though. I had him when I went here. As far as I remember, he was doing some pretty great work.”

“Sure thing, sweetie.”

“It was some of the most advanced that I’ve seen here!” the younger girl insisted. “Professor Turner is ahead of his time, I promise you that.”

Carina practically jumped out of her seat at the mention of a Turner....particularly one related to the Dean. Henry’s father, perhaps? Carina had sworn to stay invisible and talk to only those she needed to, but this lead was far too great to resist.

“Did you say Turner?” The women looked to Carina in shock and horror that they’d been overheard. Only the youngest looked calm. Then again, she hadn’t exactly been trashing the Dean’s son-in-law. Carina scooted closer.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she began, definitely not sorry. “Does this Professor Turner have a son? One named Henry, by any chance?”

The two catty coworkers exchanged glances without answering, but the younger woman nodded.

“Henry Turner is his son. He’s a real nice boy. Smart, too. He’s majoring in classics here.”

“Henry Turner goes to Yale?” Carina did a double take. The woman nodded again. “And he’s the Dean’s grandson?”

“Yep.”

“Doesn’t that smell a bit like...the old boy’s network to you?”

The woman laughed.

“No, no. Henry’s quite clever. He went to school with my younger brother and got accepted just about everywhere.”

Carina nodded thoughtfully, whispered a thanks and received a nod, and turned to the bartender who had arrived with a Shirley Temple in hand. By the time she had turned back around, the women were gone. Carina thanked the stars; she wasn’t in the mood to continue small talk, especially not while forming a plan.

Someone sat down so abruptly next to Carina that she jumped slightly in her seat. It was Henry.

“Carina! Hello again,” he said with a smile. He looked at the drink in her hand. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” Carina sipped her drink. “I’m in my sophomore year.”

Henry nodded. “How old were you when you graduated high school, then?”

Carina started to roll her eyes, but withheld the urge. If her plan was going to work, she couldn’t afford to make Henry feel like dirt on her heel.

“Fifteen.” Henry whistled. “I was homeschooled and just went through the grades super quickly, so here I am.”

“What are you here for?”

“What is this, Twenty Questions?” Henry grinned and looked down to hide the blush that was spreading across his cheeks. Carina spoke again, this time willing her voice to at least sound nicer. “I’m working to get my Ph.D. in Astrophysics.”

“The stars?” Henry asked, so unsure that Carina could do nothing but roll her eyes and shake her head whilst smiling.

“Something like that. And now, you. You don’t look too old, either.”

“I, uh, graduated a year ahead. Not nearly as cool as you. Sorry. I’m a bit young for my grade, so I’m eighteen and in my sophomore year.”

Carina nodded, not breaking eye contact.

“You look like an English major.”

Henry threw his hands up.

“I do not! Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Carina shrugged.

“Well, are you?”

“Um...sort of? Classics. It’s in the humanities, so, yeah. Technically.”

“Oh. Do you want to be a teacher?”

Henry just about fell out of his chair.

“Does every person in the humanities at Yale want to be a teacher?” he exclaimed.

“No,” Carina said smartly. “But you’re not everyone, are you? So do you want to be a teacher or not?”

Henry was silent and traced his hand on the counter of the bar.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” he admitted quietly.

“My dear Henry,” Carina patted his arm, “that will have to change.”

///

Carina was surprised when the head of the engineering department stood on a chair to announce the end of the night. He thanked everyone for coming, said it was a wonderful evening, blah, blah, blah. For someone so good at gaging time, Carina had completely lost track of it. Carina decided that it was entirely Henry’s fault. She couldn’t tell if she’d been there minutes or hours and was only sure that Henry was definitely in the right major; he wouldn’t stop babbling and spouting misleadingly named “fun” facts.

She was sure she'd never met anyone quite so outwardly passionate about their major. His whole face lit up and he'd wave his arms around when he told her about the myths he'd been learning. He knew all of them by heart. It was slightly annoying and, Carina supposed, endearing to some, if they cared...which she didn't. Carina set her jaw and forced herself to humor the young Turner, who, from Carina’s observations, was completely smitten with her. The Dean’s grandson. It was already working out far too well.  

The one benefit from meeting Henry was that Carina didn't feel quite so out-of-place. Of course, she was sure that there were soon to be further benefits, but those would only come when her new friend asked her out. Carina was sure he would; his eyes didn't leave her face once the whole night.

A crowd flocked from the bar to the door and flooded out of the room. Carina took that as her opportunity to leave, or rather, escape. She stood, smoothed her dress, and tossed her purse over her shoulder. Henry froze mid word.

“You’re leaving?”

Carina nodded, trying to ignore the apparent hurt in Henry’s voice.

“Everyone else is, so I imagine that it's our queue.”

“You don't strike me as someone who follows what everyone else does,” Henry said simply. Unknowingly, he'd called her bluff.

“You’re right,” Carina said stiffly.

“So why leave?”

Carina was left speechless. She racked her brain for words and sputtered for a moment until she saw that the act was making Henry smirk.

“Why stay?” Carina crossed her arms and tilted her head, mimicking Henry but with a much cooler expression.

“I know a place with really good arepas. Want to go?”

And there it was: her key to save Jack’s job. Carina could feel a thousand thoughts swirl around her mind in the second that ensued and tried to focus on those of monumental importance. She'd have to be tied down to Henry, which, to some girls, might not seem quite so bad. He was cute, both conventionally attractive and in a way similar to a confused puppy. He was also incredibly talkative--to the point of annoyance. But he was smart, smarter than Carina would allow herself to give him credit for; doing so would involve admitting that she had been wrong in her impression, and even on a good night, Carina could barely stand being wrong.

“Sure,” Carina said slowly. “Sure. Why not?”

Henry smiled and reached for her hand. Carina hesitated, then took it tentatively, and followed him out the door, barely pausing to put on a coat. New Haven in late November was a disaster. Actually, Carina was certain that it was a disaster just about anywhere in New England, but Connecticut was no picnic. It was cold and windy, and Carina had to hug her jacket tight around her to keep warm. It did nothing to protect her poor knees from suffering the stinging winter chill, but it would have to do.

Henry tugged at her coat sleeve, conveniently snapping Carina out of her daze.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen a blue pea coat before,” he remarked.

“I bought it two years ago,” Carina gave a slight twirl. “I’d never seen one this color, either.”

“It’s nice. It matches your eyes and everything!”

Carina tried, and failed, to hold back the smile that was twitching on her lips. Immediately, she was hit by guilt with the force of a bus. He was nice--too nice for her plan. No, no...he wasn’t. He was just as nice as the next person, and if she wanted to save Jack’s ass--employment, she corrected herself--she would have to make some sacrifices.

The two waited together at a crosswalk without speaking. Carina bounced on her toes, willing the little white man to appear on the sign with her mind.

“I swear,” she muttered, “if that sign doesn’t change in fifteen seconds, I’m walking straight into traffic.”

Henry choked on a laugh.

“So what are these arepas, anyways?”

“Heaven,” Henry said with wide eyes. He shook his head abruptly. “Uh, sorry. They’re...um, well...they’re sorta like--they’re the leaning tower of Pisa, except made out of Colombian food.”

“I see.” Carina nodded, trying to imagine such an image. She made a mental note to discourage Henry from being a writer--for his own good, of course, as well as that of a reader.

Just before Carina was about to charge into the street, the light changed and they were able to safely cross. Carina watched Henry for a moment and, consequently, was caught staring. He treated her to a bashful smile.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Carina shook her head. “You just seem to know where you’re going.”

Henry laughed and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, reached inside, and pulled out a picture. Carina took it. A beautiful woman laughed, pearly whites gleaming. She held what Carina could only guess was a small Henry on her lap. Her head was tossed back, and her hair, sun-blond, tumbled over her shoulders. She looked like a goddess.

“That’s my mother. Her friend, Alessandra, owns the place, and we’ve gone there all the time since I was little.” There was no doubt that the woman was Henry’s mother. She had the same eyebrows, light brown eyes, and lightly browned skin. Henry was the spitting image of her. Rather, Carina noted, he was a perfect split of his mother and the man she knew to be Professor Turner.

“She’s beautiful,” Carina remarked, desperately trying to brush off the sentimentality of it all.

“Thanks. She’s the best mom ever. You should’ve seen me at Halloween when I was little; she dressed me up as an animal cracker.”

“An animal cracker?”

“Yup. I was a pirate the next year.”

Carina laughed.

“I still can’t get over the whole animal cracker bit. Do you have a picture of that?”

Henry’s eyes crinkled. He shook his head and returned his mother’s picture to his wallet.

“I do, but it’s at home. I was quite the animal cracker.”

“I imagine you fit right in the role.”

Carina pretended not to notice and fought hard not to tease Henry’s change in gait as they neared a cozy restaurant that emitted warm orange light. Whether her legs were frozen or Henry was abnormally hungry and passionate about Colombian food, Carina struggled to keep up with him. With great effort, however, she succeeded--in heels. Henry pulled open a door and held it for Carina; immediately, she was hit by a rush of warm air, and hurried inside with a chattering “ohmygosh.” A bell jangled above as Henry pulled the door closed behind him. Finally, Carina silently thanked the stars, the cold was gone. Her legs began to tingle as they became reaccustomed to the warmth.

“Henry!” A tall woman with dark hair and a beautiful accent strolled over to Henry with open arms. He embraced her and returned the kiss on the cheek she gave him. When the woman released him, her eyes fell on Carina and lit up. She gave a small gasp and glanced at Henry.

“Who is this?” she asked excitedly.

“Carina Smyth,” he said. “Carina, this is Yolanda. She’s Alessandra’s sister-in-law.”

Carina nodded a hello. Apparently unpleased, Yolanda tittered.

“Come on in, sweetie. I’m a hugger.”

She squeezed Carina tighter than Carina had expected; she wasn’t used to hugs, especially from strangers.

“Is your mom joining us, Henry?”

Henry shook his head.

“Just two tonight, Yolie.”

Yolanda squealed and danced over to some menus. She returned and used said menus to direct them to a table. Carina could feel the eyes of the kitchen on her as she tucked her dress under her and took a seat. Once again, she was the spectacle of the evening. Carina wondered why she’d ever agreed to anything in the first place.

Luckily, Henry was slightly more awkward than she was. He started off the dinner by recommending a dish, then asked her if she had ever taken Latin.

“Of course!” Carina exclaimed. “Lots of classes would be a whole lot harder without it.”

He then proceeded to ask: “What does a frog that knows Latin prose composition say?”

“Latin prose composition has an effect on a frog’s vocabulary?”

“Scribbit!” Henry grinned at her, and Carina shook her head.

“You, Henry Turner, are a born classics major.”

“So I’ve been told.”

They were waited on by what Carina deduced as the entire staff of the restaurant. In other words, Carina imagined, Henry’s date was being sized up by the family. She expected that Mrs. Turner would have a report on her every move before Henry returned home. Or wherever a professor’s son lived.

Fueled only by sheer determination, Carina managed to finish her arepa. Henry watched her with great amusement as she struggled to fit the last few bites of her meal in her already full stomach. Carina wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction of her being unable to eat an entire arepa. Even though his Latin jokes were cheesy and terrible, she knew that he’d never let her hear the end of it, whether they were friends or otherwise.

“I’ll pay for yours.” Henry reached across the table for the bill, but Carina slapped his hand. Henry withdrew, rubbing the new red mark.

“You will do no such thing, Turner.”

“Yes, I will,” Henry insisted, attempting to make another grab at the check. Carina wouldn’t allow it and snatched it up.

“No, you won’t,” she said, waving a twenty in the air. “Not if I pay it first.”

Carina looked down for a split second to place the money in the bill. In that time, the gentleman-on-steroids lunged across the table and swiped the bill out of her hands. Carina was left in the same position, cradling the ghost of a bill. Henry grinned, handed Carina her twenty, and snapped the bill closed. He was far too smug for Carina’s liking.

“You may have won the battle, Turner, but I will win the--”

Carina was cut of by Yolanda’s return.

“All done, kiddies?”

Henry nodded and handed her the bill. Yolanda shook her head and waved her hands.

“No, no, no, no, sweetie. It’s on the house tonight. Anything for my favorite Turner,” she smiled broadly and pinched Henry’s cheeks, who attempted to smile through what Carina suspected to be pain. “Also, your mommy got me a really nice painting. I owe you all, Henry.”

Yolanda told them to have a great night, which she emphasized with a wink, and escorted them to the door. The entire kitchen staff waved at them through the windows. As she walked away, Carina smirked.

“See, Henry? If I can’t win, neither can you.”

“Apparently not,” was Henry’s astounded reply.

Carina made it about five more feet before stopping abruptly and crinkling her face in confusion. Henry turned.

“What is it?”

“I just remembered that I walked to the dinner,” Carina said.

“And how far’s your dorm?”

Carina paused for a moment, considered her once-again-frozen legs, and answered briskly: “Too far.”

Henry shook his head.

“I’ll drive you.” He pulled out his phone and checked a message. “...Right after I buy my mom groceries. Want to come with?”

Carina almost gave him a flat-out no. It was getting late, and tomorrow was a Saturday. She’d have to get up early if she wanted to make it to Claire’s for pancakes with her floormates. But then again, more time with Henry could equate to a favor, and she couldn’t risk the denial of that favor, not for anything. She could be late to pancakes; it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Sure.”

“To the apple store we go, then,” he said, turning left. Carina stuck her hands in her pockets and leaned into Henry as they rounded the corner with, as Carina reassured herself, the sole purpose of avoiding smacking into any dazed tourists or drunk college kids. The sidewalk wasn’t empty--it never really was. Groups of students and couples walked at alternating paces. The girls in the short dresses and heels giggled and stuttered quickly by, evidently freezing. Carina scoffed. At least she’d remembered to bring a coat.

One couple caught Carina’s eye; two lovers walked slowly, weaving left and right. Their eyes were fixed on one another’s face, and they didn’t once break their gaze--not even when the boy reached for the door and ushered the other in. Carina sighed. It seemed like that kind of love simply didn’t exist for her--never had and never would.

“Carina?” A hand appeared in front of her face. “You passed it.”

“What?” Carina looked to the store in front of her. “The Apple store is right there.”

“Uh...my bad,” Henry said sheepishly. “The little grocery store right next to it? It’s got piles of apples in front of it all spring and summer. I've always just called it the apple store. Sorry.”

Carina laughed.

“The apple store,” she said. “Well, we’ve all got our own names for things.”

Henry jogged past her to grab the door and held it open for her. Carina nodded to him, the closest that she could bring herself to thanking the boy that had dragged her around all night. Carina chided herself; Henry had no fault in her annoyance. She had the ability to turn him down each time he asked...why hadn’t she? It was nearing eleven--she’d had every excuse to leave. What on earth was keeping her? A ride home, she reminded herself as she stepped through a drafty area.

“She needs,” Henry paused and glanced at his phone, “milk, eggs, butter, vanilla extract…”

“Is she on a baking spree?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Coconut? Where the hell am I supposed to get coconut? It’s winter in Connecticut, for goodness sakes!”

Carina tried to hide her laugh, but a snort escaped her. Henry looked up.

“What?”

Carina lost it. Who was this boy, anyway? She had never met anyone, certainly no one at Yale, that would run his mother’s errands at 11:15 at night because she had decided to whip up yet another batch of who-knows-what.

“You, Turner, are quite a character,” she said at last. He nodded.

“I believe it. Do you know what shortening is?”

“Henry, how do you not know what shortening is?”

“Hey, it’s not as if I haven’t made cookies before! I’ve just never used shortening,” he mumbled.

Carina marched Henry over to the refrigerators. She pulled open a door, coughed at the cold blast of air that escaped, and pulled out a package of shortening. Henry, awe-struck, reached for it without a word and looked down at the mystery substance.

“So it’s like butter?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Thanks.” He paused. “So why does she need butter and shortening?”

Carina shrugged. The rest of the grocery run was only slightly less eventful; Henry knew what the rest of the ingredients were, and it took a mere three laps around the shop to locate the coconut. Finally, fifteen minutes from midnight, Henry and Carina made their way to the cash register. A girl with a nose piercing raised her eyebrow and popped her gum.

“Well, aren’t you two cute.” Carina felt her heart drop. “I thought you’d never leave. This all?”

“Y-yeah. Uh, yes. Thank you.” Henry’s stammering response granted Carina the smallest bit of relief; she hadn’t been the only one struck with such a reaction. While the cashier rang up their baking goods, Carina let her gaze wander so that she wouldn’t have to look at Henry after the moment of monumental embarrassment.

“Sour gummy worms?” Carina exclaimed suddenly, grabbing a package. “I haven’t had these in years!”

“You like those?”

Carina nodded vigorously.

“Jack, my, uh….uncle, used to buy them for me all the time. I practically lived off of them until I got about five cavities, and then he had to stop buying them.” Carina chuckled, relishing in the memories of sitting on the docks in New Hampshire with Jack, tossing gummy worms into the air and watching Jack catch them in his mouth. She decided not to go into the whole complicated situation with Jack and Yale and the even more complicated situation with Jack and herself; it was far too late for explanations, and it had been a long week.

“Do you want them?” Carina shook her head.

“You filled me to the brim with Colombian food, remember?”

“Ah, yes. I still can’t believe that you finished that. I thought you were gonna toss it all up on me.” Carina had felt the same way and felt her lips tug at their corners, but her phone quacked, effectively dissolving the moment. It was a call from Jack.

“Do you mind if I take this?”

Henry shook his head.

“Not at all. I’ll go get the car.”

“Thank you,” Carina stage-whispered and hurried to the back of the store for some quiet.

“Hey, Jack. What’s up?”

“Hello, love. I’m alright, how are things faring on your end?”

“Fairly well--”

“What’s that loud buzzing? Are you in the freezer section of a grocery store, or are you being devoured by thousands of bees? If it’s the latter, I’m afraid I’ll have to skip out on the heroic rescue.” Carina rolled her eyes and laughed.

“No, Jack. You were right with your first guess.”

“What on earth are you doing in a freezer section of a grocery store at this hour, love?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Hmm...I’ll have to go with shopping, but I’ve got to ask. Why?”

“I’m, uh…” Carina struggled to find the right words. “On a date? I believe it’s a date, at least.”

“Really?”

“I think. What’s it when a guy asks you to dinner at his family’s favorite restaurant and then invites you grocery shopping to pick stuff up for his mom while offering to drive you to your dorm?”

“Most likely a date, then. Who’s the guy?”

“A, uh, a Henry Turner. He’s from Yale. Not Harvard, don’t worry.”

“Wasn’t terribly worried, love. Turner, you say? Sounds awfully familiar.”

“His father is a professor.”

“Will Turner? Will Turner’s son?”

“Yes! That’s the one!”

“Must be a real dashing lad, then.”

“You know Professor Turner?” Carina was taken aback.

“Of course, love. We go way back.”

Henry burst through the door.

“Carina, there’s a police officer down the street and I’m worried he’s gonna ticket me for standing. Do you mind coming outside right now?” He sounded out of breath.

“Not a problem,” she said to Henry. “Jack, I’ll have to call you back.”

“Sounds wonderful, Carina.”

The line clicked and Carina hustled outside and all but dove into the passenger seat. Henry closed the door for her, raced around to the driver’s side, and started the car.

“Thank God. My mom would’ve killed me if I got a ticket.”

“She seems too nice,” Carina said, although she’d only seen the picture.

“You’re wrong,” Henry said with wide eyes. “She can be just about the scariest person you’ll ever meet--” His phone rang. “And that’s her right now. Hello? Yes, mom, I’m driving. Yeah, I know, but it’s fine...mom, it’s only...oh wow, it’s twelve. Yeah, I’ve got the groceries. Mom, can you wait a bit? There’s a girl in the car with me….Mom, please! It’s fine! I’ll be over in a bit, just after I drop her home.”

Carina shook her head.

“It’s fine. We can bring the stuff to your house first.”

“You sure?” Henry whispered, holding the phone away from his face.

“Of course.” Meeting Henry’s mother seemed like a great way to get a favor out of the Dean. Besides, if Carina would admit it to herself, she was curious. The Dean’s daughter was rumored to be a legend--she’d gone to Brown, but had been an Ivy sweep. There wasn’t a school that didn’t want her, and not only because she was the Dean’s daughter. Those sort of favors only applied to Yale. If anything, Carina had heard that her connections had made her entrance everywhere else harder, but she’d gotten in anyway.

“Okay, mom. We’re bringing the stuff to your house first...She said it was fine, I promise! You know what? I’ll just talk to you when I see you. Love ya, bye.”

Henry turned to Carina.

“Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Henry, isn’t your mother the Dean’s daughter?”

Henry winced and rested his head against the back of the seat.

“Yeah...yeah. She just doesn’t like when I tell people because she thinks that everyone’ll say that I got in on the Dean’s word and not my own hard work. You know mothers, they don’t want anyone taking away their baby’s credit.”

Carina didn’t really know mothers, despite Henry’s statement, but didn’t say a word about it.

“Since you graduated so early, I’m guessing it was your hard work.”

“Yeah, but people think what they want. They don’t know that the Dean has practically no say in admissions, at least not anymore.”

“Really? What does he have authority over, then?” Carina tried her best to be inconspicuous with her fact-digging, but she was fairly well convinced that she wasn’t doing a very good job at playing spy.

“Well, I don’t really know. Graduation, for one thing, and employment as well, I guess. I’m not too sure, though. Why?”

“Just considering becoming a dean.”

“I thought you were going for astrophysicist.”

“Who says I can’t be both?”

Henry laughed.

“No one, I suppose. You do seem like the type of girl that manages to do everything.”

“That’s because I am,” Carina said matter-of-factly.

Henry grinned, then leaned forwards and dug around for something.

“You’re not going to crash, are you?”

“Nope,” Henry replied, returning to his normal driving position. He handed her a bag. “Here.”

Carina opened the bag. To her surprise, it held a package of sour gummy worms from the store. Her heart fluttered slightly--who was this boy?

“You got these for me?”

“Yeah. Of course. I thought you could eat them for breakfast or something.”

“Breakfast? What on earth do you eat for breakfast, Henry?”

“I don’t know! It was the next meal I could think of!” Carina laughed--Henry was too easy to tease and too funny when riled up.

“Thank you, though. I’ll be sure to eat them for breakfast.”

“No problem,” Henry said, clicking on his blinker and pulling into a driveway. “We’re here.”

///

Henry struggled to open the door. He turned the key this way and that until Carina decided that she’d had enough and took it from him to try for herself. The lock clicked and the door opened on her first try. Henry looked at her over the bags of groceries.

“Beginner’s luck,” he joked while using his foot to push the door the rest of the way open. “Mom! I’m home!”

“Hey, Henry,” Mrs. Turner called, stepping out from behind the kitchen counter. “And hello there, Henry’s friend.” She looked at Henry directly after her statement, made a judgement based off his face, and winked at Carina.

“Thank you for letting my son drag you along to bring the groceries, dear,” Mrs. Turner said sweetly to Carina. Then, following Mrs. Weasley fashion, she turned to Henry and chided him. “What were you thinking keeping this poor girl out so late?”

“I wasn't--”

Mrs. Turner waved her son off and pulled a pen from the pile of blond stacked on her head. Her hair cascaded down in lovely golden waves--it was princess hair, Carina immediately noted. Henry had the same type, which she realized she'd been jealous of upon seeing it in the car. What was Henry to do with princess hair? It was an absolute travesty.

“And you are…?”

“Carina Smyth. It's a pleasure, Mrs. Turner,” Carina smiled slightly and extended a hand. This was a first impression she was determined to avoid screwing up, even if her hair had fallen flat and she somehow looked dumpy while in a nice dress standing next to Mrs. Turner in her pajamas--what sort of inhuman being was capable of such a feat?

“The pleasure is all mine, my dear. I was worried that Henry would get lost under his pile of classics and never make any friends.” She laughed.

“I have friends,” Henry pouted indignantly.

“I'll bet,” Mrs. Turner winked and leaned against the counter. She practically oozed swagger and power; Carina had no idea what she did, but she was certain that Mrs. Turner was someone in charge of something very important.

“So, mom. What was the baking stuff for?”

“Ah,” Mrs. Turner reached for the bag, which Henry handed over immediately. “It seems random, but I wanted to learn how to bake almond cookies.”

There was no “sorry for keeping you out late,” no excuse for the oddness of it all--Mrs. Turner lived unapologetically in her own image. Forget being an astrophysicist, Carina decided that she wanted to be Elizabeth Turner.

“Almond cookies? Why would you need coconut for that?”

“Flavor, Henry. Flavor. I see you found everything without a problem.”

“He didn't know what shortening was,” Carina said with the raise of her eyebrow.

“Henry, my darling Henry…” Mrs. Turner shook her head. “You will be spending more time in the kitchen with me! Come Thanksgiving, I'll have you baking like a pro.”

“Mom, you never spend time in the kitchen. And are you even any good at baking?” Henry asked tentatively, as if testing the waters.

“Absolutely not! But I'm sure you'll do well.”

“How can I--”

Henry was silenced by what Carina could describe as nothing other than “a look.” Mrs. Turner had raised her thick eyebrows and looked Henry right in the eye. Carina was glad that the look wasn't directed at her; she wasn't sure if she'd be able to stand her ground against Mrs. Turner, much like her son.

“Henry, don't keep poor Carina here any later! Let her get home,” Mrs. Turner shooed her son towards Carina before looking Carina directly in the eye and speaking again. “I hope to see more of you, Carina.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Carina stammered, all the while trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks. A compliment, or open invitation, rather, was quite a feat. It seemed to make the whole night worth it--the small talk, the snooping, and the horribly long date. Although, Carina forced herself to admit through gritted teeth, she had enjoyed some of it. Henry hadn't been nearly as dull or stupid as she'd expected the Dean’s grandson to be; she had imagined a brainless oaf who got by on legacy, while Henry had made one too many literary puns to be an idiot, despite his more-than-occasional cluelessness.

“Goodnight, mom,” Henry called, twirling his keys around his finger.

“Goodnight, love. And goodnight, Carina.”

“Nice to have met you, Mrs. Turner.”

“Same to you, Carina,” Mrs. Turner said with a nod. With that, Carina followed Henry out the door. She felt, for the first time in weeks, as if a weight had been lifted off her chest. Even though Jack’s employment wasn't yet secured, she was no longer as worried as she had been. With the Turners on her side and Henry wrapped around her finger, she could make things work to her--and Jack’s--advantage.

[intricatecaprice]

Scene Swap with @blukoffee​

Theme for this Swap: Food Scene: Capitán Salazar has not only survived to become human, but is now living with Carina Smyth: and for the first time in decades, is experiencing what it feels like to have a cold…

         … and Carina is having a hard time convincing him to stay in bed.

Pairing: Carina x Capitán Salazar

Warnings: None… although it is very sweet and fluffy This is a sort of mini-sequel, that takes place a few months after my Alternate Canon fanfic El Infierno.  AUTHOR’S NOTE: In El Infierno, Armando’s nickname for Henry is Niñito, which means little boy - and one day, I’ll get around to including that moment Henry Turner finally works out what his nickname actually means… but in the meantime:

“Por favor, Carina, estoy bien –” (Translation: Please, Carina, I’m better -)

“No, you most certainly are not!” Carina resolutely pressed Armando to lie back down. “You’re still sick, and you’re not going to get better unless you stay in bed!”

“But Carina,” Armando pleaded, even as she bent over to tuck the covers in once again about him, “Niñito is coming tomorrow –”

“I’m perfectly capable of managing things myself,” Carina scolded.

“Of course, of course,” Armando reached out a hand to stroke her face, “But I promised to help –”

Carina stifled a smile and sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s all done. Everything’s ready for tomorrow.” She took his hand in hers. “All you need to do is sleep.”

Armando sighed in frustration, his head falling back onto the pillow.

She made circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, and said soothingly, “You’ll feel much better in the morning, I’m sure.”

“Ah,” he sighed again. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be human. This is no time to be sick.”

He closed his eyes as she felt his forehead again.

“You don’t feel as feverish as you did yesterday, so that’s a good sign.”

“Mmmm,” he breathed in. “You’ve been cooking with sugar. I can smell it.”

Carina stroked her fingers down his face and smiled.

“Can you guess what I’m making?”

Armando took the palm of her hand and pressed it to his nose.

She couldn’t help giggling as he pretended to snuffle all over her hand, his stubble scraping her skin and making her squirm.

“Brown sugar…” Armando murmured, watching with wicked amusement as Carina attempted to compose herself while his tongue darted out against her soft skin. “Vanilla… coffee beans…”

Carina shivered as he let his lips slide up and down her hand, before cheekily taking one fragrant finger inside his mouth and tasting it.

“Armando…” She protested weakly.

“Caramel…”

He let his teeth rest just hard enough over her knuckle to hold it in place, and let his tongue wrap around the tip.

Carina barely stifled a whimper.

“And something else…” he closed his mouth over her finger completely, taking his time to suck from knuckle to fingertip.

She couldn’t help it now, a throaty moan escaping from between parted lips.

“Cinnamon.“ He looked up at her, his eyes glowing. “Dios mío, but you taste sweet!”

His gaze swept down her body.

"I’ve heard it said that if you put herbs in your shoes, you can taste them on your tongue…” He started to pull her closer. “I wonder where else you taste sweet, Carina…”

Carina’s cheeks instantly grew pink.

“That will be quite enough,” she jerked her hand away. “You, sir, need to be left alone so you can get better!”

A slow smile spread across his handsome face.

“But mi Ángel has been making my favourite… mantecados… and grinding coffee for our English visitors to drink.”

Carina gave a grudging smile, “I have.”

“No tea for Niñito’s English friend, then?”

“I rather think Officer Fields will prefer to have whatever Henry has,” Carina went to stand, “And since Henry has been quite convinced English tea is overrated, and your home-grown coffee is superior…”

“But is that all you are making?” Armando purred. “Perhaps, I should taste again…”

“Oh, Armando, really –”

But he had her hand in his again before she could step away.

Armando closed his eyes, pressing her palm hard against his lips again. “Mmmmm.”

“Armando.”

“Mi Ángel.”

She could feel him smirking against her skin.

“Armando, you must sleep.”

“Must I?”

He started to pull her gently forward once more. “Perhaps I need… incentive.”

“Incentive?”

“Sí…”

“What kind of incentive?”

Armando pulled her towards him until she had no choice but to lean in close.

“The kind of incentive,” he murmured in between leaning up to press kisses against her throat, “That reminds me of the advantages of being human again…”

“Well, El Capitán,” Carina gave in and lay down, folding her arms across his chest and pretending to be thoughtful, “That depends on your current state of health. I can’t imagine you could withstand any… rigorous discussion of the advantages if you are still sick.”

“But you said it yourself, Carina,“ Armando growled, pressing his arms around her.  "I am not as sick as yesterday.”

She pressed a finger against his nose. “You are still unwell.”

“But it is your presence,” he nuzzled against her neck. “You only have to be in the room, sweet Carina, and I cannot think, I am hot, I have trouble breathing…”

He rolled her to the side, nestling her inside his arms, his eyes dark with longing.

“Will you have pity on the man you have made so sick?”

“You wish me to cure you?”

“No!” Armando shook his head adamantly. “I am sorry, Mi Ángel, but there can be no cure.”

“Goodness me!” She put on a concerned face. “You suffer from a lengthy maladdiction?”

“A lifelong condition,” he smiled. “And each day, I slip deeper…”

“Then perhaps I can ease your suffering?

“Sí, por favor, Señorita… show some mercy…”

“You poor man,” Carina smiled, “Well, then, I suppose it’s only the charitable thing to do… but there are so many possible ways to do so, we will have to thoroughly try each and every one of them…”

Armando groaned in pleasure as Carina ran her hands up his chest.

“But only once you have rested.”

“Oh, por favor, Carina…” He protested.

“That’s your incentive,” she affected a stern expression, “Nothing until you’ve had a good night’s sleep first.”

“Ah,” Armando sighed. “So cruel.”

She wriggled out from his embrace, and reluctantly, he let her.

She paused a moment by his bedside, to stroke his unkempt hair back from his face.

“Te amo,” she said quietly.

“No te merezco,” he answered back, just as quietly.

“You’re wrong.” she shook her head. “I love you, Armando Salazar. Eres el amor de mi vida.”

SPANISH TRANSLATIONS:

Por favor, Carina, estoy bien – Please, Carina, I’m fine

Te amo –  I love you

No te merezco – I don’t deserve you

Eres el amor de mi vida – you’re the love of my life.

[celestialslytherin]

the man that laughed at uncle jack's joke in potc: dmtnt, was john lennon and that's a fact

[ninjacat1515]

No Mystery

His pulse was so fast, Jack feared he would keel over from a heart attack. Cold sweat beaded on his flesh, in every conceivable place on his body. He shut his eyes, picturing the long claws going right through them and across his throat. With each passing moment Jack counted his lucky stars, which had been running low of late. Alive for one more minute, one more second-

“I’m not dead. That’s interesting.”

Beneath his palm, he felt a slow and steady thrum; one that soothed his sore wrist and irritated elbow joints. His ears were filled with it, and it had a near instant calming effect, one that counteracted the sheer terror of being right next to a deadly monster.

“Maybe that’s how you lot get prey sometimes...please don’t get me, I am-tough, stringy and drunk!”

The vampire studied his face, blue grey eyes bright with intrigue and humor. Their vocal chords were damaged, but they clearly understood him. A bristly tongue licked Jack’s hand, which had a little cut across it. He snatched it back, scrunching it against his person.

“Nope! Nuh-uh! None of that!”

They snorted and moved around him, searching for other types of food. 

“Circling me like a shark, are ya? Well I’ve fought one, and can handle you!”

A nose snuffled his front pocket, locating some dried fruit. Jack winced and pushed at the face, realizing his was putting his hand dreadfully close to a mouth filled with nightmarish teeth. After ensuring all of his fingers were intact, the pirate tried to find a better spot for the mango, but there was none.

The vampire’s face was right in his before the rubbed their cheek against the side of his head; purr intensifying.

“Aha! I know this game very well, used to play with stray cats as a lad. Your charms won’t work on me.”

Growling, the vampire settled down on a warm rock, nursing the gash to their shoulder as it healed. Jack kicked the rest of the trap away, disgusted with the numerous old blood stains upon it.

“I can help bind that, take the edge off of the pain. There are ingredients to concoct a salve of sorts...gimme a moment.”

Bustling about to and fro, Jack gathered some plants and ground them up, adding a little rum to make a smoother paste. Smearing some on a spare piece of fabric, he edged closer to the beast and wrapped the bandage around the shoulder. Loud hissing from the sting of the alcohol caused him to roll away.

“Yeeeesh...sorry about that! Forgot...”

But the sting did not last, and a minute later, the vampire was no longer in a murderous mood. The looked so tired, one wing drooping to the side.

“So when do ya think you’ll be flying again?”

Eyes blazed at him and Jack chuckled, taking a few hefty steps backwards.

“No rush, mate! Just you’re the only ticket off these rocks at the moment.”

The vampire sighed, resting their head and letting themselves drift off. Jack pulled up a pile of brush and made his own nest; propping his head on his hat and arms.

“You know what, Benjamin was right. There is no mystery to surviving you, no magic. Only knowledge. Wish I had known this sooner, a big fat Salamander is giving me quite a few problems....but now I know all! He won’t be a challenge anymore.”

Under closed eyelids, eyes rolled as the vampire heard the boasting.

[serpensortiaslytherin]

A Potc5 au where Salazar's mama shows up on a ship of her own brandishing her sandal, glaring directly at both Jack and Armando.

[pirates-and-art-no-apologies]

Checked another post made about Magda & a “reptile enthusiast” that I read a little while back. It was brief, but super funny & totally fit Magda’s personality! In it, they explained that Magda is 8 ft long in his snake form, with 6 fangs & purple eyes! Sounded like a lot of fun, so I went for it!

If you want to read it, search on my page for the words “reptile enthusiast”...I’m sure it will come up

@officermxgda @officer-moss @piratesangel @ninjacat1515 @salmicka1

You all enjoyed the last set of drawings I did for Magda in his snake form, so here’s the most recent! @officer-moss I am currently working on your portrait! I’ll post those later tho!

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

I just realized something AMAZING

The Pirates of the Caribbean movies take place while the British Empire is still the British Empire, so before the Revolutionary War. We also know that during that time the Barbary Pirates were still a big issue in the Caribbean. If I remember correctly America used this to show off its Navy and helped defeat them. This established America as an actual force to be reckoned with. So that means during the Pirates of the Caribbean movies somewhere is a young Alexander Hamilton just chilling out in the Caribbean. Now I can't stop thinking about Alex as a pirate. Just imagine all the Hamilton characters as pirates.

[captain-of-the-silent-mary]

Silent Mary crew as mermen

working on drawing the SM crew as merfolk, an AU myself and @mouseandfriends​ have been discussing together. This is what we have for species so far

Officer Nico: thresher shark 

Lieutenant Lesaro: bull shark

Captain Salazar: eel (not sure on species yet)

Officer Santos: octopus or squid

Officer Moss: sailfish 

Officer Magda: manta ray

Officer Chris: megamouth shark

This is still a w.i.p, so things may be changed later, but I am excited to draw this and maybe even RP or write for it

[chtozaepta]

au where Carina spends her childhood on the Pearl 

i’ll be making more of this because dsfgjmdfljadfpaccsvjpf dad!Barbossa is all i need 

[bbtg-aesthetics]

(meeting in the pub AU) Biker! Armundo Salazar × Guitarist! Jack Sparrow ; Pirates of the Caribbian (salazar is 38, jack is 20) reblog/like if you like it

[raoulsiilva-blog]

Salazar + modern aesthetic

[parjiljehavey]

@ninjacat1515 @cheshire0824 @capitanarmandosalazar

The boy was terrified; Marisol could hear his heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird. She could taste the fear on him. She crouched down in front of him and tilted her head. He gulped and scooted back away from her. Well, that simply would not do. 

"What's your name, Nino?"

He stuttered when he spoke, "F-Felipe." Felipe looked at her and then at Armando and back to her. These two monsters had killed his uncle and brother, drinking their blood. He gulped. “What-what are you?"

"The owners of this land you were poaching on," Armando snarled, baring his frightening teeth. Felipe gulped.

"I'm so sorry! I t-told them that we shouldn't but-but they wouldn't listen!"

Marisol cooed at him and reached out to caress his face; he flinched at the touch, "Shh. It's alright little one, we won't hurt you, will we?" She looked up at Armando.

Armando chuckled, "No, we won't. My family has a tradition of leaving one alive, and we'll honor that." He offered Marisol a hand; she took it and rose gracefully. He looked at the boy, "If you return to my lands to conduct what you and your amigos did tonight, I won't be merciful."

Felipe jumped to his feet and nodded furiously. "Gracias, senor, gracias. You-you'll never see me again!" He turned and run as quickly as he could, tripping on a root as he went.

Marisol wished him a good night and he only ran faster. She giggled and turned to Armando. "Shall we take care of the bodies?"

He shook his head, "No. I will deal with them as I return." He stomped out the fire as Marisol cleaned the blood from her face. When she made to pull herself back onto her mare, Armando lifted her up. He walked beside her as they retrieved his gelding from where he'd been tied.

They rode on in silence until they reached the Ortega estate. Armando dismounted and offered Marisol help from her saddle. He lifted her and then set her on the ground. A groom took her mare to the stables to be brushed out and fed. “Give her extra grain, tonight.” 

“Si, senora.” 

Marisol removed her gloves, tsking at the bloodstains on them. Armando cleared his throat. “We will be departing for Castellón at the end of the next week. We leave for Almería in four days.” 

“I thought you did not wish for me to go?” 

Armando sighed, “I have changed my mind. You know the merchant world and will be more likely to recognize this pirate than I.” It was a practical decision, he had reasoned after she left last night. Marisol smiled brightly. 

“Well, then. Carlos and I shall meet you in Almería in four days time, Capitan.” She heard Esperanza begin to cry from the manor, likely wanting to be feed. “Buenas Noches.” 

Marisol turned away and made her way into the house. It was only after the door had closed behind her that Armando swung himself up into the saddle again, and left to dispose of the bodies and return home himself. 

[themuffinvampire]

Working again on Carina and her family, love them too much. AU suggested by @paulapuertonavarro

[ninjacat1515]

Vampire Armando Salazar

[hensleywrites]

batb 30 days writing challenge

10. sand

the sand is warm beneath his feet as adam walks out onto the beach, the sun beating down on his already highlighted hair. for a moment, he takes it all in - the cool, ocean breeze, the sound of the waves hitting against the shore, and the salty scent of the water filling his nose. he takes a few steps forward, letting the cool water run over his warming feet. he feels at peace...

until suddenly he finds a hand pressing against his side, feet slipped out from under him as he's pushed onto the soft ground and into the wading water, muddy chunks of sand flying into the air from the impact.

“hey!” he says, glancing around to find the source of this. he hears soft laughter, causing his squinted blue eyes to find a pair of chocolate brown, which light up in amusement. “what was that for?”

“you looked like you​ needed to cool off,” the other man says simply, before kneeling, straddling adam's waist as his hands move to grip his wrists, pinning him to the ground. adam huffs out a breath from the added weight, to which the other man only giggles again.

“you love me,” he says. adam rolls his eyes.

“we’ll see,” he says, smile tugging on the corner of his lips. the other man only grins before ducking down, pressing his lips to the blond’s. he tastes like the ocean, salty with a hint of sweetness. he's warm, though, tanned skin slightly heated in the sunlight. adam doesn't mind, though. he has cool water against his back and a warm boy in his lap. he couldn't possibly ask for more.