Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Characters/Pairing: Hector Barbossa/Andrea Costello-Nightingale (OC)
Word Count: 762
Warnings: Corse language, sexual references.
Disclaimer: Andrea belongs to me and the rest to Disney.
Summary: She hates storms, he hates seeing her troubled.
Author's Notes: Andrea is a roleplay character I created over a year ago, she's one half of Barbea. Give her a chance? I intend to write more fanfics for her and Hector, especially with NaNoWriMo coming up.
The wind blew fierce and the sound of rain hammering against the window panes was almost too loud to bare. Hector had given up on sleep a good while ago and now found himself simply staring at the wooden ceiling of his cabin. With a frustrated sigh he dragged himself from his bed and pulled on his clothes, mentally taking note of just how much the Pearl rocked in the rough waves. She was anchored in anticipation of the on-coming storm; a storm that had been advancing on them since earlier that afternoon and that had been growing worse by the hour. After a moments thought, Hector decided to venture above deck to see for himself how the Pearl fared. The horrendous weather did not phase him; he had spent ten years longing to feel the cold wetness of rain against his skin and biter wind on his face, he wasn't ever going to take the ability to feel for granted again. It was only after he'd climbed the steps and walked out onto the main deck that he saw it; a lithe figure with long blonde hair standing at the side railings. Andrea. As he made his way over to her a flash of lightening lit up the sky causing her to jump. It was then that he felt it best to announce his presence.
"Andrea." He called gruffly, watching as she turned her head in his direction and attempt to smile. A crash of thunder caught her by surprise however, causing her again to jump backwards in fright. Just as she did he walked forward, and took ahold of her arms softly, turning her to face him. "I ne'er thought ye'd be one to fear a storm." He commented, looking into her dark emerald orbs. She wore nothing but a corset over her shirt and Hector could feel her freezing skin through the thin, wet material. She'd catch her death if she wasn't careful.
She smiled up at him sadly. "I've never had the best experiences with storms." She answered sullenly and he nodded in understanding. It was because of a storm that she had come to be in his company eleven years ago and he knew that such traumatic experiences were hard to shift. Another flash of lightening and crack of thunder sent her jumping into him and almost instinctively his arms wrapped around her shivering form, protective and comforting. It felt right. Usually when in each other's presence they found themselves surrounded by tension and such tension could only ever go two ways; they could either argue it out, or give in and fall into bed together. They always chose to argue. It was the simpler, easier option, but by far the more painful. If they chose the alternative they would not simply be fucking or having a bit of fun; they would make love. Deep, emotionally breathtaking love which would set their feelings for each other in stone and neither were quite sure if they were ready for such a commitment. But where they found themselves now was a rarity in itself, their lust and tension forgotten simply because she needed him, because she had lowered the solid walls of her soul and let him in. He tightened his arms around her, enveloping her in his embrace and gently lay his chin atop her head, breathing in her soft, feminine smell. Around them the storm was growing wilder and Hector decided that they'd both had their fill of the elements.
"We'd be'st be getting below." He said softly into her hair and she nodded her head in agreement, slowly pulling away from him. He let his hand trail down her arm before taking her by the fingers and leading her down the steps into the warm lower decks. They stopped outside her cabin and he let go of her hand as she opened the door. She turned to look up at him again, her eyes betraying the words she didn't want to say, asking him to stay with her, to hold her. But he couldn't. There would come a time when he would, but it wasn't now. His own eyes conveyed as much to her, apologising and sorrowful, but he knew she understood. Gently, hesitantly, he leant down and placed a soft, lingering kiss upon her forehead before turning away and walking to his own cabin. Tomorrow they would argue again; he would call her a whore and she would name him a bastard, but tonight he had been there for her, just as he always would.