Title: Pintel and Ragetti, Kraken Slayers
Disclaimer: Joss owns the girl, Bruckheimer & Disney own the pirates
Summary: They weren’t the best of pirates, they weren’t the worst. They were just really weird little sidekicks. But there was no way in the nine hells they were Kraken slayers.
A/N: I’m waiting for the snow to fall and hopefully give me reason not to go to stupid work at the stupid gas station for eight mind-numbing hours of nothing (as I write this my sister the teacher is getting her second
snow day in five years of teaching. I‘m so thrilled
for her). I finally saw the last Pirates movie that I got for Christmas (stupid Sony made disc was not letting me play it and I had to swap out players before I could finish watching it TWO WEEKS after I started watching it!) and I so fell for Ragetti’s scene stealing lines and actions. Pintel was ok. Pintel and Ragetti, Kraken Slayers
The slim brunette glanced at the extremely unassuming pirates across the packed tavern. Brain trusts they were not. Clean and smelling of daisies they definitely were not. Kraken slayers, that much she highly doubted. She really hoped these two were the actual
Pintel and Ragetti, Kraken Slayers. Her source had only given her the briefest of descriptions of the one
in question, because that was who she was sent to personally reward.
Dawn felt her skin crawl a bit at the thought of what exactly his reward was supposed to be, because she’d seen some of these guys and there was a major ick factor for most of them. She shook her head in mildly disguised disgust at the thought of the toothless, greasy pirate leering at her currently before pushing herself away from the bar.
She glanced down at her clothes to see just what it was that warranted the leering. She was dressed in the gray Capri lounge pants, the crimson skull emblem hidden beneath her crimson beater. Luckily her ‘benefactor’ had provided her with a loose gray tunic-thing that covered her sleepwear. That and the kick-ass boots that covered her comfy socks. Still, the guy was just being appropriately pervy.
Dawn slipped through the drunken throng and went over the description of her rewardee. It was all she could do to ignore the great smoosh of unwashed and liquor drenched air that nearly made her eyes cross in pain. He’s skinny, tall enough to clear her own height by a few inches, blond hair - most likely a dirty blond at that, lightly tanned skin from a life of sailoring/pirating, prominent nose, scruff from lack of shaving and making port, and sporting a black eye patch over the right eye he was short.
Dawn blinked, taking in the crowd before her. Most of them were older, with darker complexions, and heavier, which surely matched the vague description of the other ‘slayer’. Short, portly, balding mullet.
Dawn rolled her eyes. That was half the men in here.
Her eyes landed on the pair that matched the description almost too well. All that was left was to go and actually ask if they were the famed Kraken slayers. She’d actually made note of him the second she came into the tavern. He got himself a dependable visage
. Dawn narrowed her eyes at the man now only a foot or so before her. He was younger than she’d thought, only a year or so older than she was herself. He wasn’t exactly ugly - just not much to look at. She wondered what exactly he’d done to get the attention of her ‘benefactor’.
The pair were engrossed in some conversation that if she weren’t pressed for time, she might actually feel bad about interrupting. But she was, so she didn’t. The older one gave her a pervy look, and she did her best to ignore it.
“Did I hear correctly that you two be the infamous Kraken Slayers?” Dawn said huskily, in her best immitation of the countless tavern girls she’d heard in her extremely limited prep time.
“Aye, poppet, that’s us, Pintel and Ragetti.” The older one blustered.
“Och, I heard tales of you brave souls, facing down Davy Jones’ very own terror,” Dawn fanned herself, slipping into a very out of time and into very early Southern Belle/Scottish Miss. They would never guess the slip, as they would probably never be in Scotland or the South.
“We did, at that, face down old Fish face himself,” the older one continued, while the younger
“Well, we helped bring down the Dutchman
,” the younger one spoke for the first time, stuttering a bit that reminded her almost painfully of Tara.
“Oh, how daring
!” Dawn blinked brightly at them. She gave them a small, coy smile before continuing, because honestly, they could still be lying. “And which o’ ye be Pintel and which be Ragetti?”
“Pintel,” the older one pointed to himself, before jabbing a finger at the other. “He be Ragetti.”
“I have been looking all over for you!” Dawn sighed, her eyes locking on young Master Ragetti. She smiled as he pulled back a bit, shock and caution showing clearly on his face. She leaned forward, hands up in a very cautious peace offering before speaking very low, so only they could hear her. “Pintel and Ragetti, Kraken slayers you so not be. ‘Tis only Davy Jones what can kill that beast that answers the Dutchman’s
Pintel grabbed at his gun, but she continued ignoring him, eyes locked firmly on Ragetti’s.
“Kraken slayers you be not,” her voice was still low and husky, and she watched as Ragetti wetted his lips in nervousness. “But you were the one who set the goddess free, were you not, Master Ragetti?”
“C-Calypso?” Ragetti stuttered, his eyes flicking over to Pintel.
“Yeah?” Pintel looked severely agitated.
“She was very
pleased with you,” Dawn murmured, leaning further into Ragetti’s personal space. She smiled brightly at him, her lips an inch or so from his own. “She sends her thanks for your part in it all.”
Dawn braced herself for a second before tipping her chin up and kissing him gently on the lips. It was a very nice kiss, once he got over the shock of her forwardness. His lips were a bit chapped, but it wasn’t an overly sloppy kiss, and he tasted of slightly of rum and sea salt. His hand had even come to rest on her shoulder as she broke the kiss, his touch gentler than she had imagined. She smiled as she pulled away, backing away from them.
“What about my reward?” Pintel objected, his eyes flashing indignantly at them.
“You held the rope that bound her,” Dawn snapped.
“I did question if that was all there was to it, poppet,” he retorted, to which she only rolled her eyes before looking back at Ragetti.
“She gives her thanks, Master Ragetti, and wishes you safety on your voyages. Be sure to hoist the colors high,” Dawn smiled, tipping the hem of her shirt up to flash the skull and crossbones at him, earning a little shocked expression from his dazed face.
Dawn could hear their protests as she slipped away from them through the thickening, stifling crowd. It was too much and she’d done her bit of the bargain. She was no more than ten feet outside the tavern door when she felt the tug and found herself back in her own suite of rooms at the Council headquarters, face to face with the heathen god herself.
“I gave him your thanks and your reward, so are we square?” Dawn said, bowing her head a bit in reverance. Gods tended to make her a bit jumpy, but the whole Key business was a non-issue. She didn’t open anything anymore.
“Aye, I will tend to my domain and see to it that there be no more unnecessary slayings for ye girls,” Calypso nodded. “We ‘ave an accord.”
“Good, because I was so afraid that the whole ‘reward’ thing was going to be -” Dawn started to say before she was cut off.
“Where are we?”
“Are we in the locker again?”
“- so much more than a stupid kiss…” Dawn groaned.
“Tis that. Ye must keep them from harm, especially the sweet one what freed me from my human bonds,” Calypso smirked over at the now blushing Ragetti. “That be the price what must be paid for peace, little Key.”
“Buffy is so going to kill me,” Dawn groaned as Calypso vanished without another word. She narrowed her eyes at her two new charges. “It figures. Okay, First things first a bath and a shave for you both,” Dawn stepped forward to Ragetti, her fingers gently flicking up his eye patch. He stiffened at the contact, blushing and stuttering a bit. She winced at the all too familiar sight, and the scratches and splinters in the empty socket. “And then we get you a nice glass eye.”
“A real glass eye?” Ragetti’s face lit up as if there was a treasure chest in front of him.
“Yeah,” her face had no choice but to soften at his eager, puppy dog look. Her nose crinkled a bit. “But first a bath and a meal. You know, before my sister strangles me for bringing home two stray pirates from the 1700’s.”