Not Exactly A Garnish
***HUGE SPOILERS FOR POTC 2!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!***
Title: There’s A Pirate In My Soup
Rating: 15 (mostly for language)
Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Summary: ‘End of the world’ can be interpreted many ways . . .
Spoilers: Huge spoilers for the second POTC movie. You have been warned! S7 for BTVS.
~Not Exactly A Garnish~
“Is your soup ready?”
Willow Rosenburg swallowed the sigh of frustration that had tried to make its way out of her mouth. Previous subtle signs of her annoyance had gotten her nowhere, and therefore she would no longer be wasting her time with them. It was time for the direct approach.
Face schooled into a rather perfect picture of aggravation, Willow looked up from her work to give Dawn Summers a well-deserved glare. “It’s not soup,” she said, for what had to be the fifteenth time that day.
The younger woman scoffed, brushing strands of brown hair away from her face as she darted closer to peer over the edge of Willow’s cauldron. After a few seconds, she raised her head and wrinkled her nose. “Smells like soup,” she countered.
“It’s a potion,” Willow insisted, nudging the other girl not-so-gently with her elbow to move her away from said cauldron. “And it would probably be better if you stopped sniffing it all the time.”
“What would the sniffing matter, if it wasn’t soup?” Dawn asked, her eyes triumphant.
“Dawnie, really, what is the whole annoying thing today? Are you bored?”
“No,” she protested, her face almost indignant. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point. It looks like soup, smells like soup-”
“But is a potion for dissolving the bodies of Feryktar demons so the decomposing acids from their corpses don’t end up causing an environmental catastrophe,” Willow stated firmly as she gave the contents of her cauldron a good stirring.
“Fine, then it’s witch soup,” Dawn replied breezily. “You know, if you’re going to use a cauldron that freaking big, you could have at least dressed up all in black, chanted those lines from MacBeth, and cackle with great frequency. This would be less boring that way.”
“I’m not staging a theatrical production while making potions just because you’re bored,” Willow retorted. “You should have thought of your boredom before you opted for a summer at Cleveland HQ.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Please, how was I supposed to know that this Hellmouth would be boring? Sunnydale was always hopping-even on days when it wasn’t supposed to be hopping. This place so does not measure up.”
“Again, it’s Cleveland Ohio,” Willow spared the girl a small smile. “Hellmouth or not, nothing’s going to change that. You should have accepted Giles’s invitation for a stint in Paris.”
“But there’s no Scoobies there!” Dawn whined. “You’re the only stationary one at the moment. And since I miss having Scooby filled days, I came here.”
“You could have gone with Buffy on her rounds,” Willow reminded her.
“Yeah, and watch her suck face with the Immortal the entire time?” Dawn made a face. “Please, I have to deal with enough of that at home. I shouldn’t have to put up with it on my supposed vacation time.”
“You have a point there,” Willow muttered as she moved away from the huge cauldron situated in the middle of her workshop and ambled over to her desk to look over her spell book quickly. “But despite all the hooplah, this ain’t no Sunnydale. So if you’re looking forward to an action-packed summer reminiscent of the old days, you might be out of luck. There are too many Slayers here for any action to be left over for the likes of us.”
“Oh right,” Dawn grumbled, a scowl on her face. “Why did we activate all of them again?”
“End of the world?”
“Oh right, that,” Dawn pouted at the cauldron in front of her and gave it a listless kick. “Don’t suppose there’s anywhere that I can put in a request for some entertainment, is there?”
Willow gave a shrug. “Well, I hear D’Hoffryn’s still trying to recruit more bitter, delusional, and depressed people into the vengeance gig. Anya was sounded like she had lots of fun during her time at it.”
“Very funny,” Dawn growled. “Would it kill you to be a bit more understanding of my-”
A sudden thunderous boom resonated off the walls of the workroom, effectively cutting off anything the teenager was saying. Willow gasped as her hands instinctively went to clamp over her ears, eyes searching the room for any sign of trouble as the noise faded.
Seconds ticked by and when nothing happened, Willow inched closer to Dawn, eyes still scanning the room as she asked: “What was that?”
Dawn opened her mouth, but didn’t manage to get one word out before the sounds of splashing and cursing filled the room. Startled, Dawn gave a yelp and immediately stepped up to Willow’s side as she tried to find the source of the noise.
She found it soon enough. There, floundering around in Willow’s ridiculously huge cauldron, was a man. At least, Dawn thought it was a man. All she could really see was wet clothes stained various shades of brown because of the potion and long dark hair plastered across the stranger’s face. But the voice that was doing all the cursing definitely sounded male, and therefore Dawn was pretty sure it was a man-though she wasn’t sure where he came from or how he ended up in Willow’s cauldron.
The stranger finally stopped splashing about and yanked his hair out of his face. Dawn and Willow were treated to the sight of a tanned face with a braided goatee, complete with beads, a red bandana that struggled to keep clumps of tangled hair at bay, and dark eyes outlined with liner. He was dressed in what had to be the stupidest outfit Dawn had seen in ages, not to mentioned the rattiest. And in his hand, which was adorned with a couple of gaudy-looking rings, there was one of those old styled three corner hats.
The man saw them as well, his confusion easily readable on his face as he gave them and the room a look over. He seemed to be unsteady on his feet, as he was still kind of swaying about there in the cauldron, and as he raised his left hand, it took him a little while to get it straight and pointed in the right direction. Their direction.
“And who might you lassies be?”
He had a weird accent, and his words were kind of slurring over. When he spoke, Dawn caught sight of stained teeth intermingled with gold ones. She took a closer look at him and noticed he had a few tattoos on his arm. One of them looked like a bird . . .
“Who are we? Who are you?” Willow had snapped out of her stupor and was now glaring very menacingly at the strange man in her cauldron. Well, as menacingly as she could look, which wasn’t that menacing because Willow really was too adorable to be taken so seriously. At least, she was too adorable if she wasn’t in Darth Willow mode. Nothing too cute about that.
“Me?” The man seemed taken back by Willow’s question. He leant back and pressed a hand to his chest, swaying slightly as he finally answered her question. “Well, I’m Captain Jack Sparrow of course. And this most certainly isn’t the inside of a Kraken, unless it is and all the stories I’ve heard are nothing more than horrendous lies.”
And then it clicked for Dawn. She watched as the man, Jack Sparrow as he called himself, continued to ramble on, words slurring and blending together in almost unintelligible verbal vomit that Willow struggled to understand, and then Dawn got it. He was dressed like an idiot. Had gross teeth, weird tattoos, and beads in his hair. His accent was most definitely not American, and he was talking about the Kraken-a monster of the seas if she remembered correctly.
All of this information came together and crowded around in Dawn’s brain until it just snapped into all the right places. She nudged Willow repeatedly, her later nudges harder than the first ones because the witch wasn’t really paying her too much attention at the moment. But once Willow did turn away from the crazy man in her cauldron and looked over at Dawn, Dawn revealed her discovery.
“Willow, there’s a pirate in your soup.”