The apartment is honey-gold with late afternoon light, that weird hour that doesn’t belong to anyone.

Not morning. Not evening.

Just that quiet, suspended time night shifters live in, when the rest of the world is halfway through their day and yours is just beginning.

The clock on the stove reads 4:42 PM, but your brain still thinks it’s morning. Your body thinks it’s midnight. And Jack is wrapped around you like you’re the only solid thing in the room.

The blackout curtains don’t quite meet in the middle, so a stripe of sunlight cuts across the bed, warm against the sheets.

It lands right across his bare shoulder. Golden, soft. You trace it lazily with your fingers. He doesn’t wake.

He’s half on top of you, one leg hooked between yours, arm tight around your waist, face tucked into your neck. His breath is warm and slow and smells faintly like the toothpaste you both used at eight this morning before collapsing into bed.

Post-shift sleep always feels heavier, like drowning in cotton.

You shift a little. His grip tightens instantly. A low, sleepy hum against your collarbone.

“…don’t go,” he mumbles.

“I’m not,” you whisper.

“You’re warm.”

“So are you.”

“Good.”

He sinks closer, like a cat claiming territory.

You smile into the pillow.

This is your favorite part of night shift life, the world feels small. Private. Like you two exist slightly out of sync with everyone else. No emails, no traffic... No expectations.

Just him.

Your fingers slip under his t-shirt, tracing the familiar line of his spine; he sighs, then blinks one eye open.

“What time is it?” he croaks.

You squint at the clock.

“Four forty-something.”

He groans dramatically and buries his face deeper into your neck.

“Illegal,” he mutters. “The sun shouldn’t exist when I’m conscious.”

“You picked night shift.”

“I was lied to.”

You laugh softly, and his stubble scratches your skin when he kisses your shoulder, slow and lazy.

Neither of you moves to get up, you still have time. Report isn’t until seven. There’s always that dangerous illusion that you have plenty of time.

His hand slides under your shirt, resting warm against your stomach. Not sexual. Just… grounding, like making sure you’re real.

You turn to face him. His hair’s a disaster, pillow lines on his cheek, eyes puffy with sleep. God, you love him like this. Soft. Unarmored. Just Jack.

“Hey,” you murmur.

“Mm.”

“You okay?”

He nods, then shrugs. Then stares at you for a long moment like he’s trying to memorize your face.

“What?” you ask.

He studies you another second. Then, very casually, very quietly:

“What if we got married before shift?”

You blink.

“…what?”

“What if we got married today,” he repeats, like he’s suggesting takeout. “Before work.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow.

“Jack. We just woke up.”

“I know.”

“You still have pillow creases on your face.”

“So marry me anyway.”

You stare at him.

He doesn’t smile. He’s serious.

Soft. Calm. Certain.

“There’s that courthouse by the hospital,” he says. “Closes at seven.”

“…you’ve thought about this.”

“Maybe.”

“Jack.”

He exhales through his nose, thumb rubbing slow circles on your hip.

“I just keep thinking,” he says quietly, “how every shift feels like roulette.”

You know. You’ve both seen it. The calls that change everything. The families. The codes. How fast a normal day becomes the worst day of someone’s life.

“I don’t want to keep waiting for some perfect moment,” he continues. “Because we don’t get those. We get vending machine dinners and trauma bays and five minutes together in supply closets.”

You snort.

“Romantic.”

“Shut up, I’m trying.”

He cups your cheek, his hand is warm, steady.

“I already feel married to you,” he says. “You’re the first person I want after every shift. You’re the one I fall asleep with at eight in the morning. You’re home.”

Your throat tightens.

“So… what if we just make it official?” he murmurs. “Today. Before we clock in.”

“This is the least traditional proposal ever.” You reply, mid-laugh.

“I’m aware.”

“It’s very ‘we have forty minutes before report.’”

“Extremely on brand for us.”

You look at him, at the messy hair. The sleepy eyes. The absolute sincerity. No kneeling, no grand speech.

Just him. Choosing you. Right now. Every day.

You lean down and kiss him. Slow. Soft.

When you pull back, your forehead rests against his.

“Okay,” you whisper.

He freezes.

“…okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Let’s go get married before shift.”

He stares at you like you just rewrote gravity.

Then he laughs, bright and disbelieving, and pulls you into the tightest hug.

“Oh my god,” he says into your hair. “We’re insane.”

“Completely.”

“We’re going to show up to trauma married.”

“Dana is going to lose it. And Robby.”

“Worth it.”

Sunlight creeps further across the bed, reality creeping in. You groan.

“We have, like, an hour to shower and not look like raccoons.”

He kisses you again, quick and sure.

“C’mon,” he says, sliding out of bed and grabbing your hand. “Wife-to-be.”

*************

You stand in front of the closet in your underwear twenty minutes later, staring at your clothes like they personally betrayed you.

Scrubs, hoodies, old band tees, three identical cardigans… Why do you own nothing remotely bridal?

You huff out a breath.

“This is so stupid,” you mumble, rifling through hangers.

Then…

Your hand pauses in the back. The white dress. You’d forgotten about it. Simple. Soft cotton. Knee-length. Something you bought last summer for a friend’s birthday dinner and never wore again. Nothing fancy, no lace. No drama, but clean. Light. Easy.

You pull it out and hold it up. It looks… right. You tug it on. Bare legs. Minimal makeup. Hair still a little messy no matter what you do. You look like yourself.

You study your reflection… A woman about to get married before a 7 p.m. trauma shift.

Completely unhinged behavior.

You smile.

Perfect.

When you step out into the living room, Jack is buttoning up a clean dark shirt. Not scrubs yet, actual clothes. You stop walking.

Because… 

Oh.

Oh no.

He looks unfair. Dark jeans. Rolled sleeves. Hair still slightly damp from the shower. That stupidly handsome jawline, the faint shadow of stubble… like he accidentally walked out of a “small-town courthouse wedding” indie movie.

He looks up. Freezes.

“…hi,” he says softly.

The way he says it, like you just knocked the air out of him, makes your stomach flip.

“You look…” he trails off.

“Don’t say bridal,” you warn.

“I was gonna say beautiful.”

You swallow.

“Good. Stick with that.”

He steps closer, hands sliding around your waist, thumbs brushing the fabric of the dress like he can’t believe it’s real.

“You look like you,” he murmurs.

“That good or bad?”

“The best.”

He kisses you. Slow. Warm. Like you’ve got all the time in the world, even though you absolutely don’t.

***********

The courthouse is only ten minutes away. Early evening light spills gold across the sidewalk. People are still out, walking dogs, grabbing coffee, living their normal Tuesday lives. And you’re sitting in the passenger seat thinking: I might have a husband in an hour.

Your hand is laced with his over the center console. He keeps squeezing your fingers like he needs to check you’re still there.

“You nervous?” you ask.

“A little,” he admits.

“Regretting your impulsive life decisions?”

“Never.”

A beat.

“Okay maybe a little but in a hot way.”

You laugh.

God, you love him.

The courthouse steps are quiet, almost empty. You step out of the car, heart suddenly thundering.

This is real.

This is happening.

Jack glances at the building, then at you. Then…

“…shit.”

“What?”

“I forgot something.”

Your stomach drops.

“What did you forget?”

“I’ll be right back. Two minutes. Stay here.”

“Jack…?”

But he’s already jogging down the sidewalk.

You blink.

“Jack!”

He waves without turning around and disappears around the corner. You just stand there. Alone. Outside a courthouse. In a white dress. About to get married. Possibly abandoned.

“…cool,” you mutter. “Love this for me.”

You check your phone. No texts. No calls.

Five minutes pass. Then seven.

Okay.

Now you’re spiraling.

Did he panic? Did this suddenly feel too real? Did you both just speedrun a proposal and now he’s having a crisis behind a vending machine somewhere?

Right when you’re about to march back to the car…

“Hey!”

You turn and there he is. A little out of breath, hair wind-tousled, grinning like an idiot. Relief slams into you so hard you almost cry.

“You absolute jerk,” you snap, marching toward him. “Where did you…”

He holds something up between his fingers. Two small velvet boxes. Your brain short-circuits.

“…what.”

“There’s a jeweler two blocks over,” he says, slightly breathless. “I couldn’t… I didn’t want you to not have rings.”

Your throat closes.

“I know we said courthouse quick and whatever,” he continues, suddenly shy, “but… I wanted something you could look down at during shift and remember we did this. That it’s real.”

He opens the boxes. Two simple bands.

Gold. Clean. Classic.

Nothing flashy, just solid. Forever.

Your eyes fill instantly.

“You ran to buy rings?” you whisper.

“Yeah.”

“You idiot,” you choke out, smiling.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “But I’m your idiot.”

You throw your arms around him.

He laughs into your hair, hugging you tight. He presses his forehead to yours.

“C’mon,” he whispers. “Let’s get married before we’re late for work.”

***********

The courthouse doors open with a heavy, reluctant creak, like the building itself is tired.

Inside, the air smells faintly of disinfectant and old paper, the kind of scent every public building seems to share. The lights are too bright after the soft gold of outside, fluorescent and unforgiving, humming quietly overhead. Beige tile floors, plastic chairs lined against the wall, a corkboard cluttered with notices about parking permits and jury summons. It’s deeply, aggressively ordinary.

You look at Jack. He looks at you.

And something about the sheer lack of romance makes you both start laughing under your breath, like kids who snuck into somewhere they shouldn’t be.

“This is it, huh?” you murmur.

He squeezes your hand. “Five-star venue. Very exclusive.”

Your fingers stay threaded together as you check in at the clerk’s desk. There, a tired woman with reading glasses squints at you both.

“Marriage license?” she asks.

Jack nods.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She looks between you, then down at your dress, then at his shirt.Then back at you with the faintest, knowing smile.

“Night shift?” she asks.

You both freeze.

“…how did you-”

“Honey, I’ve worked this desk twenty years,” she says. “I can spot hospital people a mile away.”

You laugh. She slides the forms under the glass.

“Fill these out. Ceremony room’s at the end of the hall. Judge’ll be free in ten.”

Ten minutes. Your heart flips. Ten minutes until he’s your husband.

While Jack finishes the paperwork, you wander a few steps away, suddenly jittery with energy. There’s a tiny vending machine nook down the corridor.

And next to it…

A sad little stand. Plastic buckets. Half-wilted carnations. Baby’s breath. And one bunch of small white daisies wrapped in cellophane. Probably leftover from someone’s graduation or something.

You stare at them.

They’re imperfect. A little messy. A little crooked. You love them immediately.

Three dollars in coins from your scrubs pocket. That’s all they cost. You peel the plastic off and hold them in your hands.

Simple. Soft. Enough.

When you walk back, Jack looks up. Sees the flowers. His entire face melts.

“Where did you get those?” he asks.

“High-end floral boutique,” you say seriously. “Next to the vending machine.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“They were three dollars.”

“Still beautiful.”

He says it like he means you. Not the flowers. You feel heat climb your cheeks.

Your last names get called and you walk inside. The ceremony room is tiny, smaller than you expected, just a little office with folding chairs and a state flag in the corner. A fake ficus plant. A desk pushed against the wall.

That’s it.

No music. No aisle. Just you. Him. A middle-aged judge with kind eyes and sensible shoes.

She smiles gently.

“Just the two of you today?”

Jack squeezes your hand.

“Yeah,” he says. “Just us.”

Perfect.

Two courthouse employees linger near the wall with clipboards, polite and detached. Witnesses, apparently. One of them gives you a small smile, like she’s seen this a hundred times and still finds it sweet. It makes everything feel oddly real.

Not a dream. Not something private and imaginary. Official. Documented. Witnessed.

The judge says a few simple words. Nothing flowery, nothing long, just talk of partnership and commitment and choosing each other every day. The ordinary miracle of building a life side by side. The language is plain, almost practical, which somehow makes it land harder.

You barely hear half of it, because you’re too busy looking at Jack. At the way he’s looking at you like you hung the stars yourself. Eyes soft. A little glassy. Like he can’t quite believe you’re real, or that this is actually happening.

There are no vows. No speeches. No promises you rehearsed in the mirror. Just the judge glancing between you and asking, gently:

“Do you take this man to be your husband?”

“I do,” you say, voice steadier than you expected.

“And you? Do you take this woman to be your wife?”

“I do,” he answers, just as quick, like there was never any other option.

He reaches into his pocket, fingers fumbling slightly as he pulls out the small velvet box from earlier. For the first time since you got here, he looks nervous.

Not scared. Just… careful. Like this matters more than anything.

He slides the ring out and takes your left hand, his touch warm and familiar. You feel the faint tremor in his fingers as he guides the band over your knuckle. It’s simple gold, nothing fancy, but when it settles into place it feels strangely right, like something that’s always belonged there.

Like it was waiting for you. Your throat tightens.

“Okay,” you murmur softly, blinking fast. “My turn.”

You open the other box and take his hand. His skin is warm, pulse steady under your fingertips. You push the ring down slowly, feeling the shape of his hand, memorizing the moment. He watches you like you’re doing something sacred.

When the band slides into place, he lets out a quiet breath, almost a laugh.

Like relief.

Like home.

The judge smiles at both of you, satisfied, and closes the folder with a soft clap.

“Well,” she says gently, “that’s it.”

A tiny pause. Then:

“You may kiss your wife.”

The word hits you both at the same time. Wife.

His breath catches. His hand slides up your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye, gentle and reverent, like you’re something fragile and holy and he’s afraid you might disappear if he moves too fast.

And then he kisses you. Slow. Deep. Not rushed. Not messy. Just warm and sure and full of everything you don’t have words for. It tastes like toothpaste and coffee and him. Like early mornings driving home half-asleep. Like shared granola bars at 3 a.m. Like every shift you’ve survived shoulder to shoulder.

Like home.

When you pull back, your foreheads rest together and you’re both smiling like idiots, a little dazed.

Married.

Just like that.

No music. No aisle. No big moment. Just love. And fluorescent lighting.

You huff out a shaky laugh, tears threatening anyway. “We really just did that.”

“Yeah,” he says softly.

He turns your hand slightly, brushing his thumb over your new ring like he needs to check it’s real. “Hey,” he adds, quieter, almost shy. “My wife.”

Your heart does a little jump.

“My husband,” you say back.

You check your phone out of habit and immediately grimace. “It’s 6:18.”

He snorts. “Of course it is.”

There’s no dramatic rush, no sprinting for the door. Just the two of you exchanging a look that says yeah, that tracks.

You grab his hand, bouquet tucked against your hip, and he squeezes your fingers once before leading you back out into the hallway.

“C’mon,” he says, already walking. “If we’re late, you’re explaining it to Dana.”

“That’s not fair, this was your idea.”

“Yeah,” he says, a small smirk tugging at his mouth. “Worth it though.”

And together you head back to the car, rings catching the last light of the evening, two slightly underdressed, newly married idiots on their way to clock in for night shift like nothing monumental just happened at all. Like this is just another day.

Only now, you’re his. And he’s yours.

***********

Inside the ER, the familiar sounds hit immediately; phones ringing, someone laughing too loudly at the desk, the squeak of stretcher wheels, the constant low murmur of controlled chaos. The smell of antiseptic and stale coffee wraps around you like muscle memory.

Lockers first.

The white dress gets folded carefully into your bag, softer now, like it belongs to another life entirely. You pull on your scrubs, tie your hair back, wash your face quickly.

For a moment, you just stand there looking at your left hand. The ring catches the fluorescent light when you flex your fingers. Simple gold, nothing flashy. But it feels heavier now. Warmer.

You turn it once around your finger, just to feel it there. Still real. Still yours.

When you step out, Jack’s already finished changing. He bumps your shoulder lightly as you pass each other, an unconscious touch, the same as always, except now it sends a little electric current up your spine.

Your husband.

Jesus.

You’re going to lose your mind if you keep thinking that.

Dana is at the nurses’ station when you walk out, flipping through charts with the kind of focus that suggests someone’s personally offended her with bad handwriting.

“Nice of you two to join us,” she says without looking up. “Thought you called out together or something.”

“Tempting,” you reply, logging into the computer beside her.

“Yeah, yeah. You can rest when you’re dead.”

It’s normal. Completely normal. The same start to every shift you’ve had for months, which feels surreal, considering you got married less than an hour ago.

Report rolls on. Room numbers. Admits. Staffing gripes. Someone already asking about coffee. You jot notes automatically, brain sliding into work mode like muscle memory.

Across the station, Jack leans beside Robby, talking through bed assignments, one hip against the counter, arms loosely crossed. Calm. Focused. He looks exactly like he always does at the start of shift.

No one would ever guess. Your gaze drops to your hand as you type. The ring catches the fluorescent light. Just a small flash of gold. It sends a stupid, giddy warmth straight through your chest.

Your husband.

God.

You look down too long, and Dana notices. She pauses mid-sentence, eyes narrowing slightly at your keyboard.

“…hold on,” she mutters.

You instinctively still.

“What?” you ask, too quickly.

She doesn’t answer. She just stares at your hand resting on the desk. Then at your face. Then back at the ring. Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

“You were not wearing that yesterday,” she says slowly.

Your heart leaps into your throat. Across the station, Jack glances over at the shift in her tone. He watches you lean closer to her, shoulder brushing hers, like you’re about to share gossip.

You whisper, “Don’t react.”

Dana immediately reacts. Her hand clamps onto your forearm.

“You didn’t,” she breathes.

“Shh,” you whisper, already smiling. “Just- keep your voice down.”

“You didn’t,” she repeats, louder this time, eyes going wide and shiny. “You two did not-”

“What?” Robby calls from across the desk.

Dana looks between you and Jack like her brain can’t decide who to yell at first. You try to shush her, but it’s too late. She turns fully toward both of them.

“Are you kidding me right now?” she blurts.

Jack straightens. “What did we do?”

Dana points dramatically at your hand.

“Explain. The ring.”

Everything goes very still for half a second. Robby looks at your hand, then automatically at Jack’s… Because of course he does.

And there it is. Same simple gold band. His eyebrows shoot up so fast they nearly disappear into his hairline.

“…no way,” he says.

Jack exhales through his nose, caught, like a kid who just got busted sneaking candy. You and him lock eyes across the station. There’s that tiny, helpless smile again.

“Well,” you say softly, because there’s no point pretending now, “we had the afternoon free.”

Dana makes the most offended noise you’ve ever heard. “You got married and then just came to work like it’s nothing?!”

“Courthouse,” Jack says, shrugging like you’re talking about grabbing groceries. “Took twenty minutes.”

“TWENTY-” she chokes. “I hate you both.”

Robby lets out a low whistle. “Before shift? That’s… actually kinda badass.”

“It was impulsive,” you say, laughing.

“It was insane,” Dana corrects, but she’s already tearing up. “Oh my god. You idiots. That’s disgustingly romantic.”

She grabs your hand to look closer at the ring, then immediately grabs Jack’s wrist too, comparing like she’s inspecting matching tattoos.

“They match,” she says, voice wobbling. “I can’t deal with this. I’m too tired to be this emotional.”

Jack looks mildly alarmed. “Please don’t cry at the desk.”

“No promises.”

Robby claps Jack on the shoulder. “Congrats, brother.”

Jack just nods, a little bashful now, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Then he looks at you. Not big. Not dramatic. Just soft. Private. Like the rest of the room fades out for a second.

“Guess we’re stuck with each other,” he says.

It’s the most Jack thing he could possibly say.

You smile back. “Yeah. Looks like it.”

Dana sniffs loudly. “Okay, great, beautiful, love wins, whatever. Trauma room two is waiting and you’re both still on the schedule, married or not. Move.”

And just like that, the moment folds back into the noise of the ER, monitors beeping, phones ringing, someone calling for transport.

Life continuing.

Only now there’s a small band of gold on your hand when you reach for gloves.

And every time you catch Jack’s eye across the department, there’s that quiet, stunned look between you both.

Like you’re sharing the best secret in the world. 

By the time you get home, the sun is fully up and the world is already loud again; traffic, neighbors, someone mowing a lawn down the block. It feels wrong, somehow, after the strange bubble of the night. You barely make it through brushing your teeth before you both collapse into bed, still half damp from the shower, limbs heavy and boneless with exhaustion.

Jack falls into you automatically, like he always does, one arm slung over your waist, his face tucked into your neck. You tangle together without thinking, sheets twisted around your legs, his thumb drawing slow, sleepy circles against your side. Neither of you says anything. There’s nothing left to say.

A few minutes later, just before you drift off, he presses a lazy kiss into your shoulder and murmurs, “Night, wife,” like it’s the most normal word in the world. You smile into the pillow, pull him closer, and finally let sleep take you both.

***********

a/n: So... what I meant is... I know you probably can't just go and get married right away, but for the sake of the story let's pretend you can 😆

“Henry!” you gasped, hoping they mistook the horrified look on your face for innocent shock, “oh my god…” 

Without any warning, the next thing you knew, he’d yanked your stunned form into a hug, “how the hell are you?” he clapped your shoulder as if you were old school chums, “it’s been so long.”

“I’m–, uhm, fine,” you managed to reply. 

“Yeah?” he smiled, the insincerity in your tone completely flying over his head, “that’s great.” 

Simply to be polite, you awkwardly asked, “…how are you?” even though you truly didn’t wish to know the answer.  

“I’m good, yeah, life’s been kinda crazy lately because–, oh,” he suddenly paused to glance back at the girl by his side, “Y/n, you remember Rebecca, right?”

“Mhm,” you hummed and offered her a glance, fearing steam might billow out of your ears at any moment, “hi.”

“Hey,” she smiled brightly as she tossed her luscious locks over her shoulder, “and please don’t mind him,” she clapped a palm over Henry’s chest, “he’s just freaking out, you know, usual guy stuff before finally getting tied down.”

“I’m sorry,” you blinked, nearly pinching yourself to test if this was a nightmare or not, “before what?”

Rebecca then held up her left hand to flash you the massive rock nestled on her fourth finger. 

“I finally popped the question!” Henry grinned and draped an arm around his fiancé.

“Wow, oh wow, that’s–…” you sputtered as the blonde promptly shoved her hand in your face for you to get a better look, “that’s a really big rock, right there, on your finger…” your touch floated up and tilted her palm slightly, the light from the neon sign close by glinting in the diamond, “congratulations…”

“Thanks!” she smiled down at the ring herself before her fingers suddenly captured your own and twisted your hand around, “oh wait, congrats to you too!” 

“What?” you still simply tried to keep breathing through this agonising gut-punch of an encounter. 

“I know they say that size doesn’t matter,” Rebecca eyed the tiny green stone that adorned your grandmother’s ring, “and it doesn’t! I mean, that’s so pretty,” she uttered in a sugary sweet and insincere tone that made you feel as if you were back in high school again, “understated, simple.” 

“Ah, no way,” Henry peeked down at your hand, “you’re engaged too?”

“Uh…” you let out a shaky breath, “yep,” the lie then suddenly flew out past your lips before you had a chance to stop it, “that’s me! I’m getting married.” 

“That’s amazing,” your ex let out an airy chuckle, “who’s the lucky guy?”

But before your lips could part and let out another lie, Josie returned, “here you go, hon,” and slid four beer bottles across the bar to you before adding, “and would you tell Foggy to stop sitting on the edge of the pool table? It’s old and I can’t be responsible if it breaks on him.”

“Sure thing,” you promised and snatched up the drinks. 

“Is that your man?” Henry cast a glance to the lawyer Josie had gestured to, “Foggy, was it?”

“Foggy?” a soft giggle couldn’t help but bubble out of your lungs, “no! Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but no, sadly, he’s already taken.” 

“Then who is it?” 

“Is it the other guy over there?” Rebecca chimed in as they both sent their glances towards your friends, “the one in the light blue shirt and tinted glasses?”

“Uh, yeah…” you squeaked as you slowly turned to look at Matt as well, “that’s–, uh, that’s him,” you watched as he readjusted his grip on the cue stick in his hand, “that’s my future husband…”

“Hm,” a sliver of judgment slipped out of Henry, “wouldn’t have pegged him to be your type.”

“Well, maybe my type has changed,” you stated, letting your lingering resentment show before you noticed how harsh it had come out and your stomach immediately began to twist and knot in regret, “I–…” you swiftly winched, “sorry,” and averted your gaze, “have a nice evening, uh–, I’m gonna go back to my friends,” you stumbled as you tried to escape. 

Though as you turned to walk away, Henry’s voice found your ears one last time, “bye!” before you heard his fiancé turn to him. 

“Pookie? Would you order me a cosmo?” her voice began to fade into the background, “I’ll go find us a table…” 

You simultaneously felt as if a truck had just run you over as your feet carried you back towards your friends, yet also completely numb, as if you’d been turned into a floating ghost of the person you used to be. 

“Who the hell was that and why do you look like you’re about to throw up?” Foggy asked cautiously as he grabbed two of the bottles in your grasp and handed one off to Matt. 

Passing one of the remaining drinks off to Karen, you then lifted your own up to your lips before tipping it back and downing around half of its contents. Once you tilted the dark green bottle back down, you were out of breath as you began to explain, “that,” you wiped your bottom lip with one of your knuckles, “was my ex,” you used that same finger to hazily point back over your shoulder, “and his fiancé,” your eyes stayed fuzzy as you added, “who happen to be the girl that he cheated on me with for a year before I one day finally caught them together.”

“Oh my god…” Karen breathed, her bottle frozen halfway on its journey up towards her lips. 

“It was on easter,” you shared, “he thought I had gone back home to see my family, but I’d actually decided to secretly do this whole big surprise, like I thought I was in fucking rom-com or something,” you sighed at your past self, “but then when he got home from work, and I was all decked out, waiting on the bed, in bunny ears and everything,” you heatedly gestured to the top of your own head, “he wasn’t alone.”

“Wow…” Foggy stared. 

“Yep…” you exhaled heavily, taking another swig before you made the mistake of glancing back over your shoulder just as Rebecca shrugged off her coat and slinked onto a stool at one of the small tables, “fuck!” you exclaimed as if you’d just stubbed your toe, “she’s even hotter than I remembered. How is that possible?” 

“Oh, she’s not that pretty,” Karen tried, but you swiftly cut her off. 

“You shut your face, she’s basically a human-sized Barbie,” your glare roamed one last time from the top of her platinum locks to the bottoms of her high stilettos, “god…” you sighed as you finally averted your gaze and lifted your bottle to drown your sorrows, “I was such an idiot back there. It was like my brain just stopped working and–, oh my god!” your palm shot up to cover your mouth as you then suddenly recalled the lie that had slipped out. Slowly, your wide eyes drifted to Matt, who still remained silent, “oh no…” 

“What is it?” Foggy chimed in. 

“Matt…” you uttered tensely, knowing your friend well enough to be aware of just how much of the interaction with your ex he had overheard, “I am so sorry…”

“What?” Karen’s glance darted between you both, “what’s going on?”

Paralysing embarrassment churned your stomach and choked out any attempt you made to share the truth. But luckily, as your erratic heartbeat thumped and found Matt’s sharp ears, he eventually filled in instead, “…they thought that she was engaged as well and then assumed that I was the guy.” 

“I am so, so sorry,” you gasped, “I don’t know why I didn’t correct them.”

But to your amazement, Matthew simply shrugged and offered you a reassuring smile, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“I was just fiddling with my ring and then they just–…” you then snuffed out your frantic explanation and instead repeated once again, “I’m sorry…”

Saddling up beside you, Karen planted a palm on your shoulder, “hey, if that was my ex, then I’d wanna give him some of his own medicine as well,” she stated, “if not just straight up cut off his balls, which is what he really deserves.” 

A faint smile then began to soften your expression as you glanced around at your supportive friends, Foggy briefly reaching out to pat your other shoulder. 

But as you averted your eyes to the nearly empty bottle in your grasp, a thought suddenly struck you like a bolt of lightning, “wait, I have an idea…” your gaze slowly lifted to lock on Matt, “I mean, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, I totally get it, but would you mind, just while they are here, to–, uhm…”

Cocking his eyebrow, he finished your sentence, “…to pretend to be your fiancé?” 

“I know, it’s stupid, and I should probably just go home right now instead of playing some weird and immature game of revenge or whatever,” you uttered as you made the decision to lie in the grave you’d dug for yourself, “but I would forever be in your debt, I'm serious.” 

Sucking in a breath, he barely had to think about it before he murmured, “sure.”

“Really?” you gasped, your brows shooting up, “you’ll do it?” 

“Yeah, why not?” Matt shrugged, “it’s the very least he deserves for treating you like that.”

“Oh,” you crossed the short distance between you two and threw your arms around him. It took a second before you felt him hug you back, but when the alcohol got to your head and made you mutter, “I love you,” into his shoulder, a low chuckle rumbled in the lawyer's chest before you parted ways. 

“So,” Karen then began to fish out the colourful spheres and roll them back into the green felt, “do we still wanna play another game?”

“Hell yeah,” Foggy picked a cue stick back up before adding a playful threat, “you’re not beating me again this time, Page.”

Once the table was set up for another round of pool and you were a few turns in, your gaze couldn’t help but wander back towards the other end of the bar too often to keep track of. Though, soon on one of the fleeting looks, your eyes grew wide as you discovered you weren’t the only one sneaking glances.

Discreetly, you shifted closer to Matthew and leaned in to whisper, “he’s looking over,” however, when he then draped an arm around your frame, you couldn’t help but stiffen up, as you hadn’t thought that far in the plan yet, “what are you–”

“Shh,” Matt hushed your squeak, “just lean into me,” he shifted to stand tall behind you, arms enveloped around your form as he slowly drew you back against his chest, “smile,” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear and caused goosebumps to erupt across your skin, “and don’t look at him.” 

Redirecting your vision back towards the game before you, you narrowly managed to catch sight of the silent slut-shaming the other lawyer flashed his friend with but a glance, before he went back to the mischievous mission he was on. 

“Foggy, would you quit it?” Karen grumbled at the man beside her as he wildly waved both of his hands in her periphery, successfully knocking off her concentration as she tried to line up her shot. 

“No way,” he kept up his flapping, even causing Karen’s golden locks to get picked up by the breeze he produced. 

“You’re cheating.”

“Nope, I am not touching you nor the table,” he stated as if he was in court, “distracting you doesn’t break any rules.”

And as she finally made her attempt, the ball didn’t go in, causing her to explode in a roar, “damn it, Fog!”

“Ha, ha, yes!” he jumped as she straightened back up, “you know, I taste something right now, what could that be? Oh yeah, victory. And it tastes sweet as candy store.” 

“Urgh,” Karen rolled her eyes at him before her glare landed upon the both of you, “Matt, your turn. Would you please set him in his place?”

“Gladly,” Matt chuckled, and as he shifted closer to the pool table, he nudged your side and asked, “hey, would you give me a hand?”

Swallowing a chuckle as you already knew he very much didn’t need it, you cocked an eyebrow, “you want my help?”  

“Yeah,” he uttered clearly and let his real message seep through his tone, guiding your gaze to flicker back toward Henry, who’s stare was still locked upon you both, “so come help me.” 

“Oh!” it finally clicked in your brain, “right,” and you swiftly slid in beside him. 

With bated breath, you grabbed Matt’s hand that wasn’t clutching the pole, and guided it over the ivory ball that rested close to one of the corners. As you began to map out and tell him where each of the other spheres were, your eyes flicked over to notice just how close you now stood, as your nose nearly grazed against his stubbly cheek as you murmured guidingly. When you retracted your touch, you barely noticed how a few of Matt’s fingers reacted, faintly following your fading palm for but a second before it floated back down to the white orb below it. 

Once he’d made his shot, you lingered in the proximity and whispered, “do you think they’re buying it?” 

“Hm?” 

“This,” your eyes momentarily flickered back towards your ex across the bar, “us.”

Matthew’s brows then floated up as you reeled him back in to the matter at hand, “oh, I–, probably.” 

“Or should we do something else?” your mind kept on spinning, “I don’t know, I feel like I’ve completely forgotten how all of that works,” you shared, “kinda just numbed and cut off that part of myself after he broke my heart, it was just how I had to get through it, shut down a little bit because suddenly romance was terrifying…”

“...can I ask you something?” he asked quietly after a breath, and when you offered him a hum in confirmation, he uttered, “are you still in love with him?” 

Time stretched out before you finally replied, “I was, for a very long time…” your voice stayed small, “…but no, not anymore… I kind of thought I was, but then seeing him again cleared it all up. All I feel when I look at him now is rage,” you exhaled, “and pity, just because I know him too well, know everything that’s messed up about him…” silence encumbered you both for a moment before you then opened your mouth once more and said, “so, should we hold hands or something?” you asked plainly, though when a genuine laugh then began to billow out of Matthew, your eyes blinked up at him as your brows swiftly knit together, “what?”

“You know,” he tried to snuff out his chuckle, “if I was actually your fiancé, I wouldn’t just stand around and hold your hand all night,” he then leaned in the short distance till his lips nearly tickled the shell of your ear, “I would have dragged you into the bathroom by now and forced the whole bar to hear us fuck.” 

“I–, u-uhm,” you flusteredly stammered as your face began to heat up, “y-yeah, yeah, that’s good too,” you barely registered your own words as they slipped out past your lips, “if that’s what you wanna do–, I mean! Shut up!” you squeezed your eyes shut as soon as you regained your own senses, “just hold my hand, you dick,” you cursed over his laughter as he swiftly slipped his palm into your own.

“Cut it out, Karen,” Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and caught your attention. 

Glancing over, you spotted as Karen was giving him some of his own medicine, pettily leaning into his eye line, “what? You were the one saying that distractions weren’t against the rules,” she continued to glare in hopes of throwing him off his game, “why? Is this not working? Do you need me to scream directly in your ear instead?”

“Oh, would you?” he sarcastically looked to her, his pitch climbing up high at his words, “going deaf in one ear is exactly what I need to beat you.”

As your wandering gaze then flickered back towards the opposite end of the bar, your eyes grew wide as you spotted only Rebecca still seated at the small table, pink cocktail in her grasp. 

“Shit,” you spotted Henry as he crossed the room, confidently walking precisely in your direction, “he’s coming over,” you hissed, and in your muppet-like panic, your hands clasped each side of Matt’s face and yanked him in for a kiss. 

At first, he froze up as you continued to freak out, but then, as his broad palms slowly slid over your waist, all of your alarm began to melt away. It felt as if you were drifting off to sleep as you relaxed into the kiss. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined that kissing Matt would feel like this, not that such a fantasy was something you pondered often or even at all, but as you felt his tongue flicker out to dance softly against your own, your knees beneath you wobbled as you lost yourself completely. How long the peck drew out remained a mystery, as when you eventually parted, the reasoning behind it wouldn’t emerge in your memory no matter how hard you tried. 

Though as you stood there, blinking back at Matt, still utterly spellbound by the unexpected feelings currently bubbling and bursting inside of you, the man now standing off to the side cleared his throat and brought you back down to earth. 

“Bunny–, I mean, Y/n,” you whipped your head around to catch sight of your ex, “just thought it would have been awkward if I didn’t come over here to introduce myself before me and Becca took off,” he muttered before his gaze fell to Matt, his arms slowly fading from your form, “I'm Henry, nice to meet you,” your ex then offered his hand, though the lawyer by your side didn’t grasp it, even if his heightened senses had lent him to pick up on the gesture. 

“Matt Murdock,” he uttered on a cold exhale. 

Stuffing his rejected palm into his pocket, Henry then asked, “what do you do?” 

“Matthew’s a lawyer,” you took over, slotting yourself into Matt’s side before you dramatically clasped a hand over his chest, “saves people for a living. That’s actually why we’re out celebrating tonight, he just won yet another case.” 

“Oh, well congratulations then,” Henry offered in well-forged petty politeness. 

“Yeah, I was there, watching him do his thing,” you uttered as some bitter goblin of resentment then took over your soul and caused you to say, “and oh boy, I tell you, if only it would have been socially acceptable for me to interrupt the trial just to rip his clothes off, because wow.”

A scoff then rippled in Henry’s chest, “okay, sure,” his stare upon you narrowed as he then grumbled, “we both know you’re not exactly the groupie type of girlfriend.” 

“Well, maybe your sorry ass was never worth her supporting you in that way,” Matt suddenly cut in, “maybe because you never bothered treated her that way in return,” his guess hit the bullseye, “and maybe that has a little something to do with why I was the one to put a ring on her finger and not you,” your heart thumped in your chest as Matt’s touch returned to the small of your back, protectively sliding over your waist as he continued to speak in a low and chillingly stern tone, “that or you really are as terrible of a lay as she told me you were, during those very first nights when she finally learned what it was like to be with someone who wasn’t a complete fucking idiot.” 

Utterly stunned, you watched Henry’s expression as he scrambled his brain for a way to crawl back from that, but eventually, when no suitable words came to his pea-sized brain, his feet slowly began to shuffle back till his hand had snatched up his fiancé’s and he’d yanked her with him out of the bar. 

As the door swung closed behind the pair, a celebratory squeal burst from your lungs, “oh my god! Matt, that was incredible!” you jumped in place before throwing your arms around him, “I don’t know how to thank you.” 

Tangling his own arms around you, he uttered, “I’m sure we’ll come up with some way you can make it up to me.” 

And as you withdrew, just enough to smile back at him, your gaze began to drift back down towards his lip just before Foggy’s voice cut through the palpable tension.

“Do I need to remind you guys that you’re not actually engaged?” 

“No,” Matt then murmured as the two of you parted ways, quietly enough for his words to be completely inaudible, “but we could be...” 

“What?” you glanced over at him. 

“What?” he echoed in return, though a bit too quickly. 

“Did you say something?”

“Me? No,” he tried to conceal his lie with a cough, “I-I, uh, think it’s your turn,” he then changed the subject, gesturing to the pool table behind you. 

Elizabeth had stared at you with a quizzical look on her face when your brother and you had first approached her. You both shared the same expression of disdain for the situation. It was very clear to see that she was indifferent to your brother and surely was the very last man that she had any interest for. You, on the other hand, dearly loved your brother and wanted to save him from any heartache that she would cause him. You chewed your lip nervously, watching them exchange a few words of greetings before walking away. The commodore glanced over his shoulder, mouthing a few warnings to reign your behavior in for the biggest moment of his life before stalking away.

Huffing in annoyance, you picked the ends of your dress up and marched past the Governor who was just about to start a conversation with you. He awkwardly shut his mouth and watched you walk away to stand on the other corner of the pillar where your brother and Elizabeth stood. He leaned backward to get a good look at you, sending you another glare before returning his full attention to the woman in front of him with a nervous smile. You sighed, gazing out to the sea. Your brother had taken you once beyond Port Royal when you were a little girl and he swore it was something he very much regretted; all you could ever do since then was talk about sailing the seas. You desired to travel across the world, collect artifacts, and live a free life. Your brother scoffed at your desires, stating that he would rather die than see his little sister galloping around like a pirate of all creatures.

As you gazed out into the horizons with a look of yearning, you heard the loudest splash from below. Peering over the edges of the wall, you frowned at the ripples that seemed to bloom near the rocks and you instantly pulled back from your position and walked around to notice your brother screaming Elizabeth's name.

"What did you do?" You exclaimed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He pulled away from your grasp, beginning to take his coat off but you grabbed hold of him,

"The rocks, James! She's lucky that she didn't hit them on her way down! Come, we can reach her at the docks!" You urged him, yanking his arm. He seemed instilled with distraught, at a loss for words, "She must've jumped by your mere presence!"

Your brother sent you a nasty scowl and the playful smirk on your lips faded away instantaneously. You knew this was no joking matter; the poor woman could've died on her way down and she was to be betrothed to him anyway. As your brother scampered off with the rest of the guards, you found your feet rooted to the ground as you stared up at the sky. Something was amiss. The clouds darkened and circled about gravely, and the sea no longer held its silky blue blanket to comfort you. Before you could try and comprehend what must've occurred, you felt an urgent tug around your arms and you sharply turned to find yourself facing the Governor.

"Come now, my dear, you mustn't dawdle around when my daughter's life is in danger!" He exclaimed and you frowned at his words, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at him. Even if you wanted to help Elizabeth, there was surely no way you could swim into the waters with this puffy dress around you. You followed him down to the docks, pushing past the British officers to find yourself facing Elizabeth coughing up heaps of water from her lungs and then... a pirate.

With all the rifles surrounding him, you nearly thought they were aimed at your brother who stood in the way. You could only make out half his face, oblivious to the ensuing conversation that your brother was currently engaged in. You peeked around the Commodore's shoulder, carefully eyeing the strange man in your presence when his eyes flickered over to you for a sharp second before returning to your brother. Your breath hitched at the moment, taking in his disheveled and wet appearance as your brother remained as the shield between the man and you.

"He's a pirate," Your brother growled, his jaw clenching as he barked orders for his arrest. He ignored your gaping stare as he continued, "Sparrow, I assume?"

"Jack Sparrow?" You interjected, your mouth practically on the floor as you stared at him. The corner of the pirate's lips curved into a small smirk,

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," He smiled with a wink. You smiled back before your brother forcefully shoved you behind him once again. He made a mental note to have a discussion with you about your behavior as soon as you returned home. He took the pirate's belongings and derided him for his lack of proper weapons, but it bothered him so deeply that you were so enchanted by the man. It irked him to think that his sister would fall foolish to a PIRATE of all people. He forcefully grabbed onto Jack's arm and began dragging him off before you cut him off,

"James! James!" You cried out, and your brother halted in his tracks and sent you a menacing scowl.

"Not another word from you, (Y/N)." He hissed, and you scoffed before pulling your skirt up ever so slightly to march up to your brother,

"This man, pirate or not, has just saved your betrothed's life! I suggest you at least show some mercy upon him!"

"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man's life of wickedness," Your brother corrected you as Jack was being handcuffed by a Redcoat.

"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack added, and you offered him a sympathetic look before turning to your brother with pleading eyes.

"Brother, please. I beg of you, consider an alternative for this man." You prodded him, as your eyes fell onto Elizabeth who smiled softly at your words.

"Please do so," Jack muttered, before dragging his bound hands around your neck. You gasped in response, tugging at the chains as your brother panicked.

"No one shoots!" The Commodore bellowed, holding his hands in the air, "Let go of my sister."

"Only if you return my belongings," Jack taunted with a haughty grin. He leaned closer to lowly utter into your ears, "You must be regretting your kindness, do you not?"

"I don't, but it seems that you'll regret it," You whispered, as you watched the guards hand in his belongings in a bundle. Jack nudged your back with his knee ever so lightly to grab hold of his things and you begrudgingly did so, before sharply turning around to face him.

"Now if you'll do me the pleasure... my, I don't think I know your name..." He said with a sly smirk. You frowned at him,

"It's Miss Norrington to you," You spat, placing his hat on. As you placed his sword, belt, and other personnel around him, you could feel his intense stare burning deep into you. If it was of lust or attraction, you did not know and at the moment did not necessarily care. Your mind was fixated on other things, and your brother was seething in rage as he watched Jack give him a look regarding your body against his that made him want to hurl. To think his sister was so close to a gruesome pirate! It was preposterous!

As you tied the last remaining string of his belt around him, you looked up at him with disgust. Not only was he a pirate, but this would be the talk of the town, and your brother's and your reputation would be spoiled. Your brother could easily regain his good fortune, but you were never as lucky. You hated the way the women would gossip and to think it was all spoiled over one man you decided to be too merciful with because your curiosity could not be controlled made you ready to commit arson.

"Is this how you repay me?" You hissed and the pirate smirked at your words,

"I saved your friend's life, and now you save me. Besides, you did after all wish for me to live. Now, suffer those consequences. When shall a beautiful lady such as yourself realize to never mess with a pirate?" He chuckled, before harshly turning you around with his gun aimed at your head. Your brother flinched at the sudden movement, making sure you were alright. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, you will always remember this as the day you almost caught Jack Sparrow," The pirate's voice boomed from behind you and the very next second you found yourself thrust upon your brother and Elizabeth. As Jack Sparrow hurriedly began his escape, he did not fail to include a personal message from his heart, "Thank you very much, Miss Norrington. I shall not ever forget such kindness!"

And you weren't ready to forget him, either. It would be for another reason. As the night raged on with a surge of pirates infiltrating Port Royal, you felt a growing desire to do something about it. Your brother had joined the Governor for his safety and left you at home to be tended to by the maids. Upon realizing that the front door would burst open regardless of the circumstances, you quietly slipped out the window in your nightly attire and made your way to the blacksmith's quarters where you knew for a fact that your good friend Will Smith would be. Will and you had grown as siblings; he was there for you more than your brother had been. He had anticipated your arrival anyway but found himself in jeopardy when his ears gathered the news that Elizabeth Swann had been abducted by the pirates. He was pacing around when you arrived and he quickly latched onto your shoulders,

"They've taken Elizabeth! I tried my best but-" Will began but you silenced him, bringing a hand to his mouth.

"I know what you must be going through. But there is not enough time. I heard you helped imprison Jack Sparrow." You whispered and he nodded his head, eyes wide as he tried to make the best of the situation, "Come, I have the key with me, we can both interrogate him and seek his help." Your hand fell to his own and led him towards the streets.

"Wait a minute," Will stopped you, and with a glance over your shoulder you already knew what he was about to say. He was going to prevent you from going. "(Y/N), I know you've always wished to escape Port Royal, but I cannot bring harm to you once you step foot onto the waters."

"Will," You chastised him, "I am no longer a little girl. I am very capable of handling my own matters."

"You are inexperienced, that's all I can say." Will rebuked your claim and you gasped at his words, before furrowing your brows,

"So are you!"

"Ah, but I shall be bringing Sparrow with me to help find Elizabeth."

"Oh, don't be so dull! I can help Sparrow and you as well. Do not prevent me from doing so! If it is out of fear that a pirate may do something towards a woman of my status, I assure you that no such thing will occur! If he dares to even look at me, I shall see to it that his eyes are gouged out by his blade!" You reasoned and Will took a step backwards, his lips parting in shock at your words. You had the spirit of a pirate in you that was for sure, and that was exactly what he feared.

"I cannot let you join. Your brother is... already facing loss," He replied in an awkward tone, considering how much he cared about Elizabeth, "He would be devasted to find you gone as well. Just stay put for now. I'm sure there shall be something more exciting for you in Port Royal."

You muttered a few unladylike curses under your breath and reluctantly offered him the key to the jail cell, "At least tell Sparrow that I was... delighted by his presence."

Will raised a suspicious eyebrow at your remark, unsure of how to respond. He nodded his head and then left you alone, as you brought your hands over your arms as your mind wandered towards the sea once again.

To say that Jack Sparrow was surprised by Will's statement regarding you would be an understatement. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that you so willingly offered him the key to his escape, considering how he had humiliated your brother and especially you in front of everyone at the docks earlier in the day. He chewed his lip, his eyes dilating at the thought of you. The way you stared at him in defiance, your temples rising and falling with the way you clenched your jaw. Of course, who could forget the sensation of your fingers pressed up against him as you fastened his belt? As much of the ladies' man that Jack was, there was something different about you. You weren't like Giselle or Scarlet, complaining about superficial things or just merely trying to get into his pants. He could tell there was this curious spirit fighting to break free when he first laid eyes on you. The way you cautiously peered over your brother's shoulder had made him... well, he certainly wouldn't say his heart skipped a beat. He wasn't a silly little boy. He was a man! A grown man, a pirate! CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, mind you. And yet here he was, trying to justify to himself that what he felt for you was nothing more than just infatuation that would surely pass on.

But it didn't. It never did. While of course, his thoughts about stealing The Interceptor were his priority, he just couldn't stand still without his mind fleeting over to the very image of you, dressed in that regal bright blue gown and your hair all curled and pinned to form the most exquisite portrait of a woman he'd ever seen in his life. He smirked to himself at the thought of you, wondering what you must be doing at Port Royal at the moment. What if your brother had you married off to someone else? What if you were to live the rest of your life as a boring wife to an equally boring officer? He shook his head, wriggling himself free from those imaginative concoctions. He was a pirate, damn it. He had better things to think about than just a woman he had seen days ago.

"You've got to be kidding me," Your brother grumbled as he pushed past you. You had boarded The Interceptor with him, not because you had wanted to - even though you took every chance out on the sea with gratefulness - but because your brother was so worried about the possibility of your abduction that he wished you were beside him at all times. Including those incredibly still moments of him gazing out into the sea. To him, he seemed to have an air of control, all the world's burdens upon his shoulder. This was his duty. When you gazed out into the sea, however, it was a plethora of possibilities. The unmarked territories you could claim, the desire for you to seek out treasure from all corners. You could be free. And no one would stop you. Save your brother, but that was something he'd always do anyway. Your attention focused on The Dauntless a couple hundred meters away as you noticed flocks of the British crew on small boats were paddling towards the ship you were in. Your brother gazed through his telescope and snarled at the sight, hesitantly passing the device for you to see as well. From afar, you saw Will Turner and... Jack Sparrow? The pirate? Both of them were flapping their arms around trying to make use of the mast. You guffawed at the sight, laughing at them. You turned to face your brother who quickly reminded you with his gaze about your behavior and you swallowed the amusement away as fast as you could.

The two ships - The Dauntless and The Interceptor - were locked horns now and your brother ordered you to come with him to board The Dauntless and put an end to Sparrow's madness. You reluctantly agreed, your eyes scanning around to see any sight of the familiar pirate you had so longed to see. 

"Search every cabin, every hull," Your brother barked, before turning back to you, "And you stay close to me. Do not go wandering about like a fool like you always do." 

You glowered at him, electing not to anger him any further as you stood on the deck. You watched him disappear among the surge of officers onto The Dauntless. You sighed, pacing back and forth when you noticed two men swing over to The Interceptor. It was Will and Jack.

Eyes widening in surprise, you tried to call attention to the situation but your cries fell on deaf ears. You stomped your foot and watched Jack cut off the rope ties, one by one. His gaze was fixed downwards until he looked up momentarily, and there you stood. He stood there for a few more seconds, completely surprised by your presence. Deep down, as much as he hated to admit it, he feared that he would never see you again.

"What are you doing? Cut the rope!" Will cried out in confusion before he followed Jack's eyes to you. Jack looked upwards at the rope still connecting the two boats before turning back to you,

"Jump, Miss Norrington!" He instructed, and you stepped forward, holding onto a long piece of rope. Upon hearing your name, your brother rushed out of the Captain's Quarters, pushing past his men.

"(Y/N)!" He yelled, his eyes daring you to make another move. Realizing that this was the only opportunity to acquire what you had spent so long yearning for; the deep blue seas, the adventure, and the whimsical treasures, you sent him one final glance before running off the deck of The Dauntless and swinging onto The Interceptor. With the final rope now gone, and the ship sailing forward at full speed your brother looked at you as if you were dead to him.

When The Dauntless was far behind and there seemed to be no danger at the present moment, you walked towards your friend Will and the pirate beside him. Will seemed elated that you were there, and he hugged you so warmly that you nearly forgot that he was not related to you by blood. Releasing you from his arms, he sheepishly stepped aside as Jack Sparrow stepped forward.

"Miss Norrington, it is a pleasure to have you on board with us. I almost feared you might not have the guts to swing over," He teased, his hand graciously wrapping around your own as he kissed your fingers with such gentleness that it surprised you. You cracked half a smile at him, narrowing your eyes, before responding,