Author’s Note: Just a little snippet I couldn’t get out of my head. Silly Jack and Lizzie fluff.
Elizabeth woke to the odd sensation of someone curled against her back. She laid there confused for a moment before realizing that it was her husband, Captain Jack Sparrow. Her brow furrowed as she realized that he was completely wrapped around her, his leg and arm draped over her and his face pressed into her neck. Though they had been married for near a year, and lovers for longer than that, they never slept pressed together this way, both preferring the freedom to move in their sleep.
Elizabeth pondered this odd change for a moment before noticing that she felt uncomfortably warm. At first she thought it was simply because they were pressed so tightly together but as she gradually became more aware, she realized that it wasn’t simply that. Jack was burning up.
Moving carefully, so as not to disturb him, Elizabeth turned toward him. He looked awful. He was pale and sweating and now that she was more awake she could feel him shivering in his sleep. Just looking at him, Elizabeth could tell he was definitely ill.
“Jack…” she whispered, running a hand across his face, “Jack, wake up."
Jack grunted and pulled her tighter against him, burrowing into her neck and shuddering almost violently. Elizabeth winced with sympathy and put her arms around him, rubbing her hands up and down his back to warm him. He woke after a moment and his voice, when it came, sounded cracked and strained.
“Christ above, Lizzie,” he muttered without opening his eyes, “Must you always steal all the blankets? It’s freezing this morning."
“I’ve got none of the cover, Jack. It’s you. Your skin is burning up. How do you feel?”
"Like I had too much rum last night. Wait that’s not right... No such thing as too much rum.”
Elizabeth interrupted her husband before he could get into another of his rants on the wonders of rum, “Jack, you’re sick."
Jack gaped at her, looking almost wounded, “Take that back,” he demanded hoarsely.
She sighed, reminding herself that he was sick and trying to gather her patience, “It wasn’t an insult, darling. You’ve a fever. You’re ill."
"Luv, I’m Captain Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow does not get sick,” he scoffed, the gesture somewhat weakened by the minor sneezing fit which followed it.
Elizabeth merely raised an eyebrow, “You had better be ill as there is no other excuse for talking about yourself as though you were someone else."
Jack opened his mouth, no doubt to fire back some witty retort, but was suddenly wracked with a coughing fit so violent his whole body shook with it. Elizabeth’s brow furrowed with worry.
“You, Captain Jack Sparrow, need to stay in bed. You’ll make yourself worse running around on deck all day."
“And who’s going to captain my ship while I’m lounging the day away in bed?”
“I will,” she replied, laughing at the look of horror that crossed his face.
“You? But... but,” he floundered.
Elizabeth flashed a grin at him, “Go back to sleep, love. Rest will make you well. I’ll be back to check on you soon."
“Rest?”
Jack was incredulous. At that moment he reminded Elizabeth of a little boy, all pouting defiance and puppy-dog eyes.
“Rest,” Elizabeth replied firmly, kissing him on the cheek and climbing out of bed.
Jack watched her, still stunned completely speechless. He found his voice a moment later.
“Now you listen here. I am the great Captain Jack Sparrow! I do not get sick!”
Elizabeth merely arched an eyebrow, “That would be a lot more believable if you weren’t shivering from fever."
With that she plopped his hat on her head and sashayed from the room.
“Damnable woman,” Jack muttered, sneezing again, “Bring me back some rum!” he added as an afterthought.
