The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors (halfshellvenus) wrote,
The Coalition For Disturbing Metaphors

Supernatural Slash Fanfiction: Fortune's Fair Disregard (AU Sam/Dean PirateFic-- the Romantic one)

Title: Fortune’s Fair Disregard
Author: HalfshellVenus
Characters: Sam/Dean (Pirate AU, Slash, Romance)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Pirates and romance on the high seas, featuring a handsome captain and a comely cabin boy.
Author's Notes: This is the first pirateFic, because I could not get a smidgen of crack the first time I tried this. The cracky PirateFic is here, and both are to be blamed on the workings of summercon (and impertinence in particular).

Serendipitous visuals by leyna55 to get you in the mood can be found here.


There be those that love the sea, though the sea cares not for their sorry fates.

Sailing the black waters in search of new fortune, ‘tis a long and lonely journey such fools undertake…

“Avast! ‘Tis an island off t’ starboard!” The night crew boasts better sightings than the darkness should allow.

“Hard about!” shouts the captain. Through the spyglass, the view promises opportunity. Lamp lights, though the island be small.

“Aye-aye, sir!”

The ship swings mightily, sea-swells striking the hull.

“Just as I said, is it not?” the voice drifts in quietly from behind. ‘Tis the tall lad they picked up last November, a browbeaten clerk from a merchant’s storehouse who’d longed to escape such a puny, useless life. A gangly fellow, though not overmuch, given to books and legends and maps. He possesses a knack for finding decent prospects, and a favored position that ‘tis rumored includes the captain’s bed.

“Arr, an’ it be,” the Black Angel replies. “Be they riches ahead, or rum for the hold?”

“Likely both,” says young Samuel, and his captain is pleased.

“Under cover of night we’ll go, and bring the spoils in well before dawn.” The Black Angel is none so fearsome as his father Deadly John, but when a plan goes poorly then ‘tis said his mercy is scarce. Samuel hopes to be spared the knowing of it; he needs no muddying of the image in his heart.

The ship steers gently into a hidden cove, and then the longboats are brought forth for the evening’s skirmish. Four in all, each ten men strong, they pull quietly toward the shore where the scattered lights beckon.

The Captain rides with the first boat, leading the silent charge into the town. In teams they attack the big houses first, taking their pick from the richest they can find. To the merchants and taverns next they go—for hordes of supplies and drink and the free-flowing stashes of coins.

“Take only what you may carry,” the Captain cautions. Greed sings in a pirate’s blood, but few fortunes are worth the stocks or the gallows.

“Yon maidens can be made to walk,” the first mate says. Some eight of them tremble nearby, all of them half the girth of their would-be captor.

“’Tis a bonny bouquet ye have found, me boy.” A comely flaxen-haired girl catches hold of the captain’s gaze. Her eyes shy away from his, out of fear or some clever form of coyness. He cares not what the reason—he is a man of appetites, savoring beauty and challenge both. “Take them with ye then, and keep the blushing milk-rose lass for me.”

Townspeople are gathering, some with weapons and desperate resolve.

“Our mission is at an end,” shouts the Captain. “Gather, me crew, and return in haste!”

‘Tis a clash of steel in the night that marks their passage—angling backwards to the ocean, battling heartily as they go. Bundling sailors and spoils into the boats, they swift-stroke in haste toward the escape that waits at the ship.

Dark-haired Samuel leans over the railing, watching movement in the dark. There, under the moonlight, comes the Captain’s return. Samuel is giddy with relief, his limbs a-tremble as the boats are docked below.

Hand-over-hand he works beside the others to pull the cargo up on deck. Golden goblets, silver place-settings and scores of candlesticks mark the first load. The Captain comes in after the second, his eyes aglow with the bloodsong of a pirate’s post-victory thrill.

“Captain, you look well,” Samuel bursts out.

“That I be, dear lad, that I be.” The Captain clasps Samuel’s arms, brimming over with energy. He is radiant with the hunt, as handsome as ever to Samuel’s eyes.

“There be riches and wenches from the haul,” the Captain says. “Ye shall have your chance as well—any lass that ye desire.”

Samuel’s face stills, his gaze dropping toward the deck. “’Tis generous,” he murmurs. “But I have no need of it.”

The Captain steps closer, makes his plea in quiet tones. “Lad, ‘tis but harmless,” he says. “I mind it not if ye wish it.”

“But I do,” Samuel says. His affair with the Captain has made him as happy and whole as a man dares hope. Is it not the same for Captain, then? Is Samuel a convenience and nothing more? “All I might want or need is here,” Samuel admits. He pulls back, never meeting the eyes that would wound him farther. “I’ll make my bed in the galley.” He slips below the deck, determined to keep his dignity as best he can.

Revels echo across the deck, the crew quashing flagons of rum and fiddles playing merrily over the cries of the unfortunate girls. In the galley, Samuel welcomes the comfort of the ship’s cats against the loneliness of the night.

A hand brings him out of his sleep. “Is it morning already?” he asks.

The face looking down at him is as familiar now as his own. “Nay, but I would not have ye stay here.” There is apology in that touch, one he is all too ready to hear.

The Captain’s room is warm and welcoming in the candlelight that beckons inside. A nervous glance shows the bed to be empty, and the hand on Samuel’s waist urges him to turn and accept the gift he is offered.

‘Tis the face of an angel before him indeed, the name altered for the black deeds of the Captain’s choosing. If those deeds include the marking of his soul, for this man whose claim on him is impossible to resist, Samuel cares not—for he traded honor for adventure some time ago.

Those full, perfect lips fill Samuel’s vision before closing on his mouth in sweet caress. In a flurry of jerkins, leggings and blouses they are soon skin to skin, need to desire, and every stroke and kiss gives reassurance to the questions that came before.

The Black Angel devours Samuel, though he gives himself willingly, and lost in the hazy bliss of sharp pleasure and contentment they bring everything full circle again.

A knocking sound rouses Samuel from his Captain’s shoulder sometime later, and he opens his eyes to the beginnings of daylight.

The sound comes not from outside, but from within the room—following a shadowy figure as it bumbles into furniture… and through it.

Samuel shakes the Captain awake, gesturing off toward their unwelcome visitor. “Yes, me lad? Oh nay, not again!” The Captain sits up, throwing bedclothes aside in shameless urgency.

“One-eyed Billy,” he growls. “What ‘ave I told ye about traipsing into me quarters?”

“Oooooooh,” moans the ghost, waving seaweed-covered arms.

“Nay, none o’ that now. We’ve talked on this before, laddie.” The Captain draws his sword and points it for emphasis. “Back into the walls with ye now, boy, or I’ll tell thy mistress about London Betty when next the ship docks.”

Samuel watches in amazement as the ghost fades rather petulantly into the wood.

“My apologies, dear lad. Old Bill forgets, and then he makes a pest of himself.”

“The ship is haunted, then?”

The Captain laughs. “They all be haunted, ship or shore. ‘Tis best to press on and take thy fortune where it comes. Naught shall stop us, not in this world nor the next.”

Samuel is struck by admiration for one so brave. Neither ghost nor gallows cause this one fear. ‘I shall follow wherever thou leadest, my Captain.”

The Black Angel sits beside him and cups his face gently. “I am honored to have such loyalty, sweet Samuel.”

“More than that,” Samuel speaks firmly. “’Tis a pledge made from the heart.”

“Then I shall never be careless with thy heart again,” the Captain says.

Samuel covers the Captain’s hand with his own .“’Twas already thine, when first we met.”

The Angel’s kiss speaks of promises longed for that may yet be broken. But Samuel cares not, when the moment has caught him so deeply.

“Now, my finder of fortunes,” the Captain asks finally, “where shall we journey to next?”

Samuel thinks, watching the Captain pour rum into a gleaming gold goblet. “Legend tells of a ghost ship, with the treasures of centuries locked in its hold.”

“Aye?” says the Captain, offering the drink to his friend. “And where be this ship, do ye think?”

“The South Seas,” Samuel answers. “Near Tortuga.”

“Months o’ travel,” the Captain muses. “But a worthy voyage if the spoils be as ye say.”

“T’would be months of time to study the art of battling ghosts,” Samuel offers. If bravery is catching, then he has likely found its source.

The Captain is pleased with Samuel’s cunning. “Then make it thy mission, dear lad, and we shall find it and best it between us both.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Samuel smiles up from the comfort of the bed.

And ‘tis such a fetching sight that the Captain leaves off scheming to join him again.

-------- fin ---------

Tags: my_fic, pirates, sn_slash, summercon, wincest

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